The Accidental Watch 8th in the STOPWATCH SeriesChapter 14
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The Accidental Watch. 8th In The STOPWATCH SeriesChapter 23 free porn video
In the dead of night ... you know, I've always wondered why it's called 'the dead of night'? The night is Not dead ... it's very much alive. Alive with the things that go bump ... and chirp ... and snap ... and huff and snort ... scurry and cry. Yeah ... the night's not dead ... it is people who are dead to the sounds.
Not all of them though ... there are those who know the night ... who understand that the cry is the rabbit taken by owl, panther, fox, wolf, ... snare. They understand the huff and snort ... could be a moose, panther, bear. The snap might be the passage of the bear, moose, deer, elk, ... human? The chirp that sudden stops is a warning that something this way comes. And the bump? ... well ... it's the things that go bump in the night that keep the night alive.
So, rather than the dead of night, the Baltic 50 sailed silently through the night guided by the reflected light of a sliver of a silver moon and myriad of stars and ghosted down the channel. No Wake. Nothing to alert the Lifeboat Service crew. Next year the Coast Guard would move in. They would be much more alert.
"Nick ... open the bridge," came the voice to his ear. Nick Andropolis, the Bridge attendant, woke up, jumped to his feet in the little shack on the side of the turnstile bridge and started the one lung make-break engine ... Pop ... pop ... putt-puttputt-putt. Each putt and pop sent a round smoke-ring to fade away in the night sky.
The gears meshed, the clutch let out ... squealing just a little. Nick advanced the throttle, Puttputtputtpopaputt putt. Nick poured water from the water bucket into the cooling chamber. The Bridge was sideways to the roadway now. He threw in the clutch ... shut down the engine and climbed up on the bridge. The ghostly white sailboat rippled its way past ... a girls voice, "Catch." He reached to the deck of the bridge, caught up a paint bucket and fielded the incoming coin.
CLANK and the coin rattle-rattled around the bottom of the bucket.
"For the summer, Nick."
Nick doffed his Greek fisherman's hat and dug around in the paint can ... a brand new double eagle ... three weeks wages and a full summers worth of tips. He was lucky to get a dime from the Chicago crowd. He looked up and a gold tooth gleamed in the faint light from the stern of the passing boat. He tucked the coin in the lining and donned the hat.
Setting the bucket in its usual place, Nick dropped off the edge of the bridge and went to the little cabin. He spun the flywheel on the make-break engine ... backwards ... the motor started ... backwards. In with the clutch, connect the gears, out with the clutch. The bridge putt putted its way closed. There was a reverse gear but Nick had never used it. Didn't know what it was for ... the engine ran fine backwards ... why bother?
He picked up the water bucket by the rope tied to its handle ... the other end was tied to a loop in the wall. The water bucket went splash as Nick tossed it in the black water of the channel to refill it. The bucket full, he pulled it out of the channel and set it in its accustomed spot. The gland nut around the piston rod leaked and he would need water to cool the little engine the next time a boat wanted in or out of the lake.
He took out a little blue notebook and a stub of a pencil. Licking the tip of the writing-stick, he made note of the double eagle and the boat that gave it so freely. The coin went in his jar, the notebook in it's place and the stub of a pencil in his pocket. He turned out the oil-light. In seconds the bridge reverberated with snoring.
At the end of the channel, the boat dropped sail, the small crew furling the main. The helmsman spun the chrome plated Destroyer wheel, the boat turned, losing way. The crew scurried to the stern and starboard side and dropped the handmade rope fenders over the side. The boat had nearly stopped ... with the boat barely moving the stern fenders kissed the new seawall ... one of the crew jumped to the pier and tied off to a bollard. The remaining crew ran to the bow and tossed a second line to the dock crew. One line to the dock-end bollard, a second line from bow to stern side bollard and another from the stern to the dock end bollard. A final line from stern to the seawall.
"Leave the main cover off the boom ... we'll hoist and let her dry in the morning. Lets go to bed."
A cover over the wheel and binnacle, a quick pass through the staterooms with the garbage bags, a lock on the hatch and the three stepped off the yacht. One of them picked up a box ... bottles clinked. They hurried up the walk to the newly built home. There was a scrabbling over the door and the key was found. Applied to the lock the key worked the mechanism ... they went inside. A light came on, jackets were shed and hung on pegs, sea boots placed in a neat row and slippers donned. The man hugged his helmsman and second mate.
They bustled. Edmond Huntly started a fire in the new stove to take the chill off the house. Persephone Huntly took small glasses from the quarter sawn maple cupboard and Missy Huntly picked out a Mason jar of clear liquid. She passed the jar to Seph who poured about an ounce in each glass.
The trio took glass in hand ... clinked them and said.
"May the winds of fortune sail you," they took a sip.
"May you sail a gentle sea," and took another sip.
"May it always be the other guy
"who says this drink's on me."
"Bottoms up ... no heeltaps!"
A fine way to start a new life.
They turned and smashed the glasses in the fireplace. The three checked the doors, windows and fire ... climbed the stairs to the master loft and went to bed. Morning comes mighty early when it's the shriek of the work whistle from the steam powered saw at the mill that does the waking.
Missy and Seph did a lot of shrieking of their own ... but it was Ed that caused it.
In the garage was a 1926 Royce Springfield Ghost but it was only two blocks to the bank. They walked. Ed carried a Letter of Credit drawn on the Bank of England. The girls window shopped, waiting on Ed. He walked in the door, past the guard and up to the counter. Ed presented the Letter of Credit.
"I'd like to open an account with this," he told the teller.
"Are you a resident?" the teller asked, rather snidely. He failed to open the letter. Failure wasn't really the situation, he ignored the letter.
"Aye, that I am, laddie, but you would do yourself a deal of harm continuing in this line and with that attitude. I highly recommend you summon your boss."
The Teller ... instead of summoning the bank president called for the guard who came forward.
"Having a problem, Jimmy?"
"I am ... with this man." Man was said in a derogatory voice.
Ed was not the prettiest this morning ... he'd come straight from home and neglected to dress in a manner befitting his station. He had no collar, tie or hat. He looked like a sailor on the lakes. His satchel was common and his boots unshined.
"Excuse me officer. If you can convince ... err ... Jimmy to return my letter I'll be taking my business to Ludington."
"Here now ... what letter?"
"The one ... err ... Jimmy has in his hand ... made out to Edmond Huntly. And we can easily settle this by reading the letter."
"Is there a problem?" asked a nattily dressed man coming from the office behind the counter.
"Yes ... I'd like my Letter of Credit back from yon ... err ... Jimmy. I had intended to open an account but my reception has been less than satisfactory. I'll be taking my business elsewhere. Ludington probably, Grand Rapids if I must." Ed was doing his best to keep his temper. "This whole shindig would have been easily solved if he'd looked at the Letter rather than my appearance."
The nicely dressed man looked Ed up and down. Poorly dressed or not there was an attitude that spoke of wealth. A decision made, the man held out his hand for the letter. Opening it, he read the first line and then down at the amount. "Jimmy, gather up your things. You're fired." He turned to Ed, " ... Mr. Huntly ... what can I do to convince you to bank with us?"
In the meantime ... err ... Jimmy was standing aghast. "Fired ... for this? ... this ... bum?"
Mr. Banker held up the letter and pointed to the bottom line.
"Errk," said Jim.
"You'd probably be best off, Jimmy, by going to see your dad at the mill. The annual gross income from the mill isn't half this."
"Yearly," said Ed. "As soon as I set up an account, that sum will be deposited yearly ... you didn't read past the amount. I watched your eyes."
"Holy Shit! ... Jimmy ... get out. Your dad could pull every penny he has on deposit and it wouldn't be a patch on this."
"Well..."said Ed, "Actually, I need to talk to Mr. Mears about the land his mill sits on. You ought to give young ... err ... Jimmy, a second chance. I'll make it a condition for deposit."
"Jimmy ... get behind the counter." The banker and Ed walked back to the office and shut the door, Persephone and Missy walked in.
Did I mention the really neat things the watch can do? Well ... it's like this. It was 2018 when the needle from outer space skewered the planet just off Seattle. In 2018 Missy was twenty-four,
Persephone and Ed were thirty. In 1926, Ed and Persephone were twenty four and Missy was just turned eighteen. Nifty watch.
"May I trouble you for change?" Persephone asked James ... err ... Jimmy. Seph was quite marvelous ... not that ... err ... Jimmy noticed. He had only eyes for Missy.
"Yes, Ma'am." He took the bill, glanced at it and gave her change.
"Skewered by indifference," said Seph, flinging her hand to her forehead ... nicely dramatic ... quality acting. Melodrama acting. "To think, my daughter could look so good as to outshine me."
"Oh, Ma, you're such a wicked stepmother," laughed Missy.
"James?" Seph was reading the tellers placard. Jimmy looked up. "Is my husband here?"
"Rather tall man with a Letter of Credit?"
"That's him ... tell him, please, that his wife and daughter are at the Antler."
"Yes, Ma'am."
"There's a rare treat, young James," said the guard, nodding after the two ladies stepping out the door. "I've not seen anything so fetching as those two since Mrs. Muldoon died." The fashions of the day and the youth of the two beauties had every man on Main street out looking.
Jimmy looked shocked, "But, your wife's name is Smith ... same as yours."
"Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy ... I know. To my regret, I know." He burst into laughter from looking at the shock on Jim's face.
The two ladies walked down the street, the Antler was middle of three from the next corner.
On the south side of the bank, all was rubble. The night of the fire was windy so the fire had swept through the wooden buildings, jumping from one to another like children swinging from rung to rung on a horizontal ladder. The bank was stone ... the store next to the Antler was brick so the fire chief put all their efforts in defending the two businesses that possibly had a chance to survive. That fire was more than thirty years ago.
The rubble spoke more to the finances of the town than any thing else could. In the coming thirty years, the town would barely survive the war but the aftermath of that most destructive of man's inhumanity would see a wave of new construction on the north shore. Chas Mears State park, the repair of the piers and reinforcement of the Lifeboat Service with an added Coast Guard Cutter or two helped the town become a resort.
As they were walking past the rubble, Seph said, "We'll have to do something about that."
The Antler used to be a bar, now that the Nation was engaged in the great experiment the Antler was fumbling along on what it could bring in as a lunchroom by day and a speakeasy in the basement at night.
The ongoing conversation about the Eighteenth Amendment and it's disastrous results had slipped from the politicians to the Protestants and their uneven morality, stopped when the girls stepped up to the counter and greeted the counter help by name.
"Frank, is Ernest the chef today?"
"No Mum ... He's got the flu ... I'm pulling double duty." A simple glance around the room confirmed the fact that Frank was pushed to keep the coffee going out and countertop wiped up ... and little else.
"Hmm ... Well, Missy. There's no help for it. Let's get to work." They hung their hats on the hatrack, draped their bolero jackets over two chairs at a table, stripped off their gloves and slammed through the kitchen double doors. A shriek was heard.
Emely
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