cgraven
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Sep 6, 2001
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She rode easy, the lines dropping from her scuppers to the billiards and cleats of the dock. Her masts bare and naked against the slate gray sky, her standing rigging shrouded with snow. She was a two master built in Scotland at the turn of the century, the fore mast square rigged with four yards arms, the aft mast barkentine rigged, and her bow sprint pointing to seaward. She looked like a caged bird, a wild and free thing, tethered to the dock, a creature not quite in her element yearning to be free running before the wind. There was a small cabin aft just forward of the helm, the main hold lying between the mast, a smaller hold just forward of the main mast and a companion way on the forecastle. Her taft and fife rails worn well polished by years of running lines. She was neat, shipshape and in Bristol fashion, her bright work reflecting the dim sunlight. A gray haze of smoke rose from the little stove pipe by the after cabin. She had been built at the turn of the last century, for trade and as steam ships became the norm the little Bark had found her way to China and the island trade.
I slid the hatch open and ushered Mist below decks t the warmth of the main cabin. It was neat simple but elegant in its own right. A chart table lay just right of the ladder, a gimbaled table the filled the center of the cabin There was a teak door that led aft to the Master’s cabin.
“Well what do you think of her Mist?”.
I slid the hatch open and ushered Mist below decks t the warmth of the main cabin. It was neat simple but elegant in its own right. A chart table lay just right of the ladder, a gimbaled table the filled the center of the cabin There was a teak door that led aft to the Master’s cabin.
“Well what do you think of her Mist?”.
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