Abandon Ship: Part 1

Abandon Ship!: Part 1 Two virgin shipwreck survivors share a lifeboat and a few more discoveries in the Victorian-era By Big galute. Listen to the Podcast Steamy Stories. "Man the lifeboats! Abandon ship! Abandon ship!" We had been at sea for ten days when the storm hit, our splendid vessel battered and broken into no more than firewood, all the passengers and crew seemingly lost. I came to, my legs dangling in the water and my arms and upper body atop some flotsam timbers. The sea around me was calm, with small pieces of wreckage everywhere. I tried to look around, the throbbing pain in my head and the low morning sun making it hard to focus; no one to be seen, just me. I pulled myself up onto the driftwood, too tired to think, my mind too blurred to do anything other than curl up and sleep. Davy, Davy Arthur that's me, eighteen years old and on my first ship. I'd grown up by the Thames, my father worked on the tugs but died when I was young. It was in my blood and I'd always dreamt of being at sea, then my mother died and I got a job as a stoker on the SS Cadwallader, sailing to the new world. In other words, I assisted in tending the boiler furnace for this steam ship named for a Welsh king from centuries ago. The several months I spent shoveling coal into the furnace, reduced my once-stocky six foot frame by more than 2 inches around my waistline. "Hello, Hello. Are you okay there, are you alive?" I tried to follow the voice, a ladies voice, young and a bit wispy & screechy as she shouted out to me, "Hello, I'm over here, can you see me?" I slowly turned my head and body to the left, maybe 3 rods away from me was a small wooden life boat, a damsel frantically waving her arms at me. I managed to raise one arm to let her know I was alive and she started to paddle with one oar, the boat turning sideways rather than towards me, then I think I passed out again. "Hello, are you alright, can you move?" The voice was much closer now, kind and posh, like the ladies I had sometimes overheard in coming out of tearooms in London. The boat was now less than a fathom from me but I felt hardly able to move, all my strength needed to perch up on one elbow. "I'll hold out the oar, see if you can grab it." The wispy voice directed. I used my free arm to grab it, then held on for dear life and found myself getting right up to the starboard, till a soft hand grasped my wrist. "You'll have to help me, I can't pull you in by myself. Can you get onto your knees?" I did as she said, and rolled up over the rail, then plonked myself onto the small lifeboat, almost tipping us as I did so. "Oh you poor thing, you're all cuts and bruises." As she said this she supported my head and offered water to my lips, "Drink slowly in case you get sick." Consciousness was a fleeting state, and I could not decipher reality from delirious dreams. I looked up at her pale lips and beautiful green eyes and wondered if she were an angel and I was dead; my thoughts slipping as my eyes closed; the ripping of material and my angel saying "We must cover you from the sun." being the last sounds I heard. I felt a wet cloth on my forehead and heard soothing words being spoken, the smiling face of my ‘angel’ looking down at me as I opened my eyes. "Hello again." Came her pleasant greeting. I think I smiled back and then tried to sit up "Take it easy, let me help you." She offered. I felt the wonderful softness of her body against mine as she set me upright. The spinning in my head slowed as I tried to focus and clear the fog in my brain; shipwreck, lifeboat, angel. "Do you remember going overboard and the ship sinking?" My angel asked. I shook my head, in the affirmative. "I think you must have banged your head pretty badly’” she assessed. “You have a nasty bruise on the side of it." I put my hand up and felt the tender area above my ear. "I think you have what Professor Gower refers to as a concussion, are you familiar with Professor Gower's work." I again shook my head in the negative. "He's the eminent neurologist of our time. I think you should be okay in a day or two." I nodded, then asked; "What's your name, and are you an angel?" She looked taken-aback and then burst out laughing. "Oh my dear thing, no I'm not an angel and you are very much alive. My name’s Jemima Fairweather but you may call me Jemi, all my friends do. What's your name?" "Davy Arthur." "Nice to meet you Davy Arthur; & may I call you Davy?" I nodded to her. At that point I could care less what the skipper of the only lifeboat decided to call me. "Now, how do we get out of this pickle." She asked, expecting me to be a seafaring expert. I followed her gaze as she looked around, nothing but water and us in a small wooden boat, no more than fifteen feet long. I looked around our boat; there were three small wooden boxes, only one rowing oar and Jemi, her elaborate bustle dress torn with several parts missing, and what looked like some ...