by Buzz Harcus
She slashed the knife back and forth before her, slashing at Bert. As he back-peddled, his eyes followed the dancing blade. Figuring he could outsmart her, he suddenly feinted to his right and charged trying to grab her knife hand with his left hand. It was a costly mistake for him as the knife sliced deep across his left arm drawing blood. He let out a sharp yelp of pain. And just as quickly, Osa had the bloody knife before her, ready for another attack.
Having heard the yelp of pain, Hans turned, horrified at seeing Bert grab his arm, holding it in disbelief. Blood flowed profusely through his grasping fingers. Hans realized instantly that Bert had attacked his boss and she had defended herself. Grabbing a knife from the dirty sink, he rushed to help Osa.
Bert knew when he was outnumbered. “Later, bitch!” he called, clutching his badly bleeding arm as he quickly retreated. “We ain’t done yet!”
Badly shaken, Osa felt the knife slip from her grasp as her attacker ran from the room. Hans grabbed her by the waist and helped her into her small office. Through tear-stained eyes, she thanked him again and again for coming to her assistance. Dropping exhausted in her chair, Osa started shaking, crying and shaking. No, she assured Hans; she would be okay, she just had to rest.
She was not a violent person. She knew that. She hated violence. And here, just now, she had fended off her attacker with a knife. Sadly, what Harry had told her about protecting herself had come true, and for some ungodly reason, she had fought back, had protected herself—and stabbed Bert.
Opening the bottom drawer of the desk, she reached inside and pulled out a new fifth of cognac from the back of the drawer. Harry had placed it there one day when they were feeling frisky. A wan smile crossed her face. Harry. God but she missed him. He was her anchor. He was her love. With shaking hands she uncorked the bottle and took a stiff drink of cognac as tears again began streaming down her cheeks.
Quickly she wiped at them. Hans had gone for a cold towel to put on her forehead and would be back any moment She didn‘t want him to see her crying, not weak. No! She took a couple of aspirins. She knew she’d be sore from fighting off her attacker. More important to her at the moment was getting word to the captain about that animal, Bert Kilgrew! Captain Alward and Sigmund had to know Bert was out of control!
Bjorg, the ship’s trained medic, was quick to staunch the flow of blood from Bert’s nasty cut. “I dropped my knife and cut myself,” mumbled Bert in answer to Bjorg’s question as to how he got such a deep cut. It took ten stitches.
“Keep your mouth shut about this,” Bert warned Bjorg as the medic wrapped a bandage around his arm and taped it securely. “You don’t say nothing to nobody,” he added. Quickly he left the first aid office and headed for his cabin. He had to lay low, out of sight, until his watch; he didn’t want Alward to know about this. No sir, not him. He was the meanest of the mean. But, he vowed, that damned snooty bitch was going to be his one way or the other!
CHAPTER 25
Sigmund Stirs Feelings
Alward and Sigmund had listened tight-lipped to the young boy who had rushed up the steps two at a time and burst into the wheelhouse breathlessly blurting out the story of the attack on Osa.
“Dat man Bert Kilgrew is dangerous,” thundered Sigmund angrily thrusting his face into Alward’s. “He is a loose cannon. You get him under control or I vill!”
Before Alward could utter a word, Sigmund stormed off the bridge, hurrying down to Osa’s cabin. She needed his support now more than ever! He knocked on her door. When she asked who was there, he answered, and was quickly let inside. Why, he didn’t know, but she rushed into his arms. All he could do at that moment was just hold her and comfort her.
The enormity of what she had done to protect herself suddenly hit her and she went limp, almost slipping from his grasp. “I’m so sorry. I just can’t stand up,” she whispered apologetically in Swedish.
Sigmund swept her up in his arms and carried her to her bed, laying her down gently. Pulling out her vanity chair from her dresser, he said, “I’ll sit here for a while, if that makes you feel better.”
She managed a weak smile. Yes, she would appreciate his presence.
As her eyes closed, a softness settled across her beautiful face, blonde hair swept outwards fan-like, an aura of beauty about her. Sigmund sat quietly studying her. Her husband must have been crazy to chase after that young whore.
Osa was a beautiful woman, a woman that stirred feelings deep within him, and he recalled the lightness of her earlier kiss, the fragrance of her perfume.
It sickened him that Bert would even try to touch her again. The poor woman had been through enough! She had lost her uncle and her fiance; wasn’t that enough! He vowed he would do his best to protect her—and at all cost if necessary!
Before long his eyelids grew heavy as tiredness overtook his body, his mind slowly closing down. Resting his elbows on his knees, Sigmund held his head in his hands. He wanted to lay down so badly. Maybe he’d best go and sleep outside her door.
“Sigmund!” Osa gasped coming erect at the noise as Sigmund fell off the chair. He gave a sleepy, apologetic grin. Sensing his tiredness, she patted the bed. “Come, lay down here on the bed with me. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize how tired you must be. Come. You can lay here.”
Sigmund shook his head no. It would not be right. Yet, even as he tried to ignore her pleading, the tiredness of his body overcame his mental restraint. Reluctantly, he eased onto the bed and relaxed beside Osa.
In moments she could hear his gentle breathing and an occasional snore that caused her to smile. From where she lay on her side facing him, she could study his noble face, fine features and strong jaw line. She grinned; her protector asleep on her bed. Suppressing a laugh, she rolled over on her side with her back toward him, and soon, she too, fell asleep.
She recalled later that she had awoken with a start! Harry? Harry had lain close to her in the past, tight against her backside, spoon fashion. No! It was Sigmund!! And his hand was resting on her waist! Instead of jerking awake, she lay still, puzzled. This was not right, yet it felt good having his hand resting on her. It was reassuring. Fear of Bert faded with the strength of Sigmund’s gentle touch.
Sigmund was the exact opposite of Bert. He was a gentleman. And, after all, she was a lady. However, their lying there like this was definitely not right. Conversely, at that moment for some unknown reason, she felt a faint familiar itch coursing through her, an itch that demanded to be scratched. No! She told herself, and quickly pushing his hand away, bounded off the bed. That was an insane thought! Absolutely insane!
Sigmund came awake at the sudden movement of the bed. He caught the perplexed look on Osa’s face. “What?” he asked, still sleepy.
“Lunch,” she blurted. “I must go and fix lunch for the crew.”
Suddenly realizing he was on her bed, Sigmund scrambled to his feet. “Osa!” he gasped, “I should not be here. I should be outside your door. What will they think?” Before she could utter a word, he hurried to the door, opened it and stepped out, slamming the door behind him.
She sat down on the bed shaking her head. Poor Sigmund, so innocent! Yet, it mustn’t happen again. Laying together like that. No.
And yet that damnable itch persisted.
It was utterly ridiculous that she had actually just thought of him in a sexual context. No! It was an accident! Besides, he was thirty five, ten years younger than her.
Harry had told her about the cute Chinese girl at the University in Qingdao, how she had flirted with Sigmund and how he had hurriedly left the building. How could he be that old, and still basically innocent about women?
CHAPTER 26
Bert Loses to an Angry Woman
Captain George Alward angrily paced back and forth the width and breadth of the bridge as he had done many times since Hans brought the news about Bert and Osa.
Kilgrew was a loose cannon. Even before their ship had sunk off the Shantung peninsula, he’d become a thorn in his
side. Give him a bit of authority and he felt like he knew everything there was to know about commanding a ship—and he’d only made him a damned mate because he needed his help. No problem with Doyle. No problem with Ace. Just this macho stud sonofabitch! He had warned him for the last time! He’d rein him in good, or he’d take care of his problem himself!
Dirk Pedersen stood at the wheel eyes forward. No comment. He’d been at the helm when Sigmund had yelled at the captain. Now the two were back on the bridge and the silence was deafening! Sigmund stood at the rear of the bridge by the chart table. He’d checked the charts himself: they were two days away from Manila. Why Manila?
Alward stopped pacing. Bert was just one of his problems— and where the hell was he? No one had seen him since the incident. He’d better have a damned good excuse for not being on watch on time! He glanced at his watch. It was 1900 hours. Dusk was settling across the horizon. Damn that fool! Alward put the binoculars to his eyes scanning the horizon, fuming inside.
Sigmund stood quietly. A multitude of thoughts criss-crossed his mind, but not of Bert or Manila. Osa! He had lain beside her, touched her, perhaps could have had her. No! No such folly; clean up your mind he ordered himself! Osa was a lady Surely she would never consider him in any sexual way; it was just in his fantasies!
Why was it that he never got the girl. It was true; he was very bashful when it came to women; bashful and very introverted. He hungered for intimacy but was fearful because of an incident that had happened in his youth. He remembered the night it happened, the exact moment that seared his mind and shook up any relationship with a woman. His MOTHER!—the night she had burst into his room!
The family nanny, Helga, had always been kind to him. When she put the children to bed, she always made sure she put him to bed last. He was older, thirteen now, and he enjoyed the way she teased with him. She was eighteen and would be off to the university next year and he had the worst crush on her. Helga had taken it upon herself to sit on his bed and talk. She always turned off all the lights except a small light by the window, a light that shown her smooth face, playful eyes, full lips and long blonde hair. They had talked about many things, but their whispered conversations always seemed to circle around to the subject of sex. She had asked him if he knew much about sex. His face burned in the dark from embarrassment. No, he didn’t.
She had lain on his bed several times since then talking about sex. It got him very excited, his young manhood had stood uncomfortably erect and he had shifted in bed so she wouldn’t notice, but she had. In the darkness of his room she had unbuttoned her blouse and encouraged him to touch her, let him touch her firm young breasts, had even stripped off her brassiere to let him caress the softness of her flesh, the hardness of her nipples.
Over several nights she had lain next to him in bed whispering, encouraging him, enjoying the feel of his hands caressing her nude upper body, and under her skirt up along her thighs. In turn, she had caressed his youthful manhood bringing him to ecstasy in release. Before long she no longer wore her underclothes when she came to tuck him in. She looked forward to the intimate moments they shared.
That night, that fateful night, the two were laying on his bed, she naked to the waist with her skirt bunched up around her waist, him totally naked. She had urged him to try sex, it was good. She and her boyfriend had sex often. He would like it.
Even as he had moved between her open legs ready for his first moment of sex, the door to his room had slammed open, the light switched on filling the room with brightness, and there stood his mother glaring at them. His erection suddenly went limp.
“Tramp!” she had screamed at Helga, amongst several other nasty names. She fired her right on the spot. The poor girl had quickly thrown on her clothing and fled from the room. “And you, young man!” his mother had screamed, “you’re going to an all boy academy where you’ll be with other boys. No more female shenanigans like this!”
The next day he was enrolled in an all male academy. It was awful.
Yet, his most pleasant thoughts were of Helga and her tenderness. Now he was faced with growing thoughts of Osa. He wanted her so badly, so very badly, but he was fearful, the thoughts of what had happened with Helga and his damned mother always interrupting. The scare his mother had thrown in him had resulted in many lost opportunities over the years.
With a hopeless sigh he turned back to the operation of the ship.
Earlier that evening, as Osa headed up to the galley to prepare dinner, she thought she saw the door to Harry’s cabin open. Hurrying down the corridor, she peered inside. Ace Dingman was sitting on Harry’s bed in deep concentration. The door to Harry’s closet was open.
“Vot are you doing here?” she demanded stepping inside the door. “Dis is Harry Martin’s cabin. You should not be in here!”
His head snapped around at the sound of her voice, seeing her in the doorway. A nasty grin broke across his face. “I go where I want on this ship. Captain Alward’s in charge now. I can check out any damned cabin I want, and at the moment, I’m checking out this one. I might even want it for myself!”
“You get out of here right now!” she screamed. “You get out und you stay out! I vill speak to Captain Alvard about dis!”
Ace hesitated at the anger in her voice. At the moment, he wanted to paste her one. Suddenly he rose, squeezed past her, and left the cabin. Osa loosed a sigh. of relief.
She didn’t like the idea he had access to the cabin. She checked the door lock; it had been jimmied. He was definitely in here looking for something, and that could only be Harry’s money! How would he know about it? Quickly she checked Harry’s closet. All of his clothes hung just the way he had left them before. The money jacket was still hidden in plain sight; even she couldn’t have picked it out.
She definitely had to move Harry’s jacket to her cabin. It was too risky what with Ace able to break into his cab the way he had. At the moment, however, she was late for preparing dinner for the crew. Checking the lock she found it still worked. She locked the door with her key. She would be back right after dinner to get the jacket.
Dinner was a disappointment for her. Sigmund had hurried through the line not really having any eye contact with her, nor any smart remark, not even a compliment. Something was bothering him. Were things not going well on the bridge?
Or was it because she had shared her bed with him? There had been no sexual connotation to it. It was just that they were tired and had slept beside each other. Simple. Innocent. That was all there was to it. If that was what was bothering him, then she would have a long talk with him later.
As for the rest of the crew, they were their usual healthy, happy, hungry selves, full of foolishness, fun and smart comments. It cheered her up. Hans, too, was in good spirits. Since the incident with Bert the other day he kept on eye on his boss lady; she had had a bad moment that morning. And, as far as Bert was concerned, the word had spread about the guy and what he had tried to do to Osa. If he was caught, they’d surely beat the hell out of him!
At seven P.M. with the dishes done, the food stored, and a menu worked out for the morning, Osa cheerfully bid goodnight to Hans and headed for her cabin.
She hadn’t been in her cabin but a moment when she recalled Harry’s jacket. Yes, she’d best get it right now. She didn’t trust Ace, the way he was snooping around, and besides there were two million reasons for making sure the jacket was safe—and the safest place was in her cabin.
As she fumbled at the damaged lock, she had an uneasy feeling that Ace might have beat her back to the cabin because of the way he had rushed through dinner and left so abruptly. The door to Harry’s cabin suddenly opened and, as she started inside a hand roughly shoved her violently into the room. Osa stumbled forward, bounced off the double-decked bed frame and fought to regain her footing as she spun around to face her attacker.
“Now, bitch, it’s you and me!” came Bert’s cruel voice.
“You get out of here, Bert Kilgrew!” she yel
led angrily. “You get avay from me!”
Bert stood in the doorway staring at her, a hard, nasty grin across his face, eyes dark, menacing. He slammed the door shut.
“Just you and me cookie,” he growled. “No boyfriend to save your ass!”
This time he’d have his way with her! He unbuckled his belt and slipped it from it’s loops, folded it and held it like a strop in a barber shop. He’d whip her ass with the belt and leave welts across her buttocks and back if she resisted. He knew how to hurt a woman, even this stuck-up bitch!
Osa warily eased backwards looking anxiously around the cabin. She knew she couldn’t get past him, that she had to do something to stop him. She needed a weapon, anything!
“Just you and me, babe,” Bert grinned knowing the panicky feeling surging through her, knowing he had her cornered in her dead lover’s cabin. “Just you and me!” he taunted her, saying, “I hope you enjoy it as much as I’m gonna enjoy it!”
Suddenly grabbing the desk chair, Osa threw it at him. Bert warded it off with a twist of his arm. “You want rough sex, huh, bitch!” he laughed. “Is that what you want?”
He lunged for her grabbing a handful of blouse, ripping the material, popping off several buttons, bringing a scream of fear as she stooped, ducked under his other hand, and ran for the door. He was on her in a flash, his hand tight across her mouth stifling her scream, his other hand around her waist jerking her back toward the lower bunk.
In desperation, she stomped on his foot bringing a yelp of pain. Twisting, she scratched at his face with her long fingernails drawing blood.
With a roar of anger, Bert lunged for her again. Grabbing her around the waist, he flung her back across the bottom bunk where her head banged hard against the bulkhead leaving her momentarily stunned. Her skirt had ridden upwards across her thighs.