A Dream
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Cavendish Young was a man on an adventure. He had, at his father’s request, gone up to Oxford and had stuck it for fully 7 weeks, though by the end of the first week he knew he could not stand being there. He still regretted that he had not then upped and left. Instead he had stuck out 6 more excruciatingly boring weeks.
At 11 he had won a scholarship to the local Grammar school and had done well. He was clever, keen on sport and good to look at. That was what the school liked. Cleaver, his friend, had not been so clever, had disliked sport and was weedy and untidy to look at. He received more than his share of beatings, whereas Cavendish was often excused his wrong doings as merely high spirits. School liked Cavendish and he excelled, in particular he was good at one sport above others, that being boxing. He was quick and sharp in his retaliatory strikes, which produces some school wins and made him popular, but he also had a kind streak. His friendship with Cleaver did him no favours, but he maintained it. They had been friends at primary school and even though they had drifted separate ways, they had maintained that friendship.
Cleaver avoided the occasional bullying on account of his friendship, and was helped in some of the more difficult algebra and Latin by Cavendish. The friends didn’t see school as a competition with other pupils as some did. When it came time to take the scholarship exams for Oxford he was put in as a matter of course, and he passed, if not with flying colours, at least with enough to be offered an interview and then a place.
He did not want to go university, he had said; and the ensuing discussions with school, parents, vicar and others had ranged around ‘he owed it to his country’, ‘he owed it to School’, ‘he owed it to his parents’. There was much about duty and little about what he wanted from life. He had given way and agreed to read for Natural Sciences; within a week he knew it had been a mistake, within four weeks he had all but stopped listening to the interminable drivel the lecturers spouted. He found his fellow students variously patronising, overbearing or just thick. It was irritating that he, who had arrived through the (metaphorical) sweat of his brow and his natural intelligence, should be looked down on by these over-subsidised and undeserving upper class twits. At week seven he packed his bag, wrote a letter to his father begging forgiveness for failing to fulfil his father’s dreams and a letter to his mother promising to return one day. He had taken a train to Birmingham and then one to Manchester and then to Liverpool. There in the docks the Daconia was preparing to sail. He bought a second class ticket (because adventure has limits and the lice ridden third class was one of his) with nearly the last of his cash and vanished from the shores of the British Empire. The Empire did not find it missed him.
The vessel was not the most luxurious on the Atlantic run, it made a profit by packing in third class passengers; some of them looked like they wouldn’t survive the trip. Arriving at Hull they were shepherded straight from the port onto trains across England and back onto another ship. It wasn’t uncommon for arrivals in Hull to think they had arrived at their promised land, they were soon disabused of that notion, there would still be days of an uncomfortable journey to make. Still, they had taken the plunge, taken the chance to leave for a better life or die in the attempt. Those who stayed wished them well or ill depending upon their character.
First Class on the Daconia was limited to two cabins, it was a small ship by the current standards and would be replaced and broken up in a year’s time. These first class passengers found they shared much of the facilities with the second class. Their cabins were better, and they were served at the first class table with the captain; their food was better and they were served wine; but the gallery was open to all in second class also to sit and watch out when it was too rough to go on deck, and the reserved deck was similarly shared.
The young lady who staggered into him as the ship broke into the open sea from the Mersey was flustered. “Forgive me sir, I am unused to the movement of the ship”
“Please. I am delighted to have been able to stop your unexpected progress across the deck. We have left the shelter of the estuary. The waves...” Another lurch made them bounce into each other again “the waves will be higher. I understand the Irish Sea is notorious. Here, take my arm and let me escort you to a chair” She did not refuse, she was not sure of the propriety of taking the arm of a stranger, yet she was sure that falling on deck would be worse.
He asked if he might sit beside her. At that moment a younger girl called “Emelline! There you are!”
Cavendish stood up. The young lady said “This is ... oh dear, how remiss, I do not know your name. I am learning the American manners already”
“My name, mademoiselle, is Cavendish Young. And may I know who I had the honour to assist? Since we are to be travelling companions”
“Emelline Darcy” The younger girl interjected “And I am her sister, Madeline. And you will find, if you had listened to Miss Cavor that the American etiquette is in some ways stricter than ours Emelline.”
But Emelline Darcy, daughter of Lord Emel Darcy, was not listening; she was contemplating the appropriateness or otherwise of Cavendish suggesting they were travelling companions. Did that not imply something? Oh, perhaps not. He was clearly uneducated in the politest terms and allowances had to be made.
It was left to the younger Madeline to explain to Cavendish (who had been invited to sit again) the nature of their travel. He listened politely whilst observing the two young ladies. Emelline was aware enough of the world to know this was what he would be doing, Madeline was not. Emelline sat up straight to display herself at her best, this was something Madeline did notice; he was, she admitted to herself as she spoke, really rather nice to look at. Emelline Darcy was older than him, he guessed, perhaps twenty? She was clearly first class rather than second, her clothes and gloved hands demonstrated that. He quietly took in her body and face. Her waist was small, tightly held by a corset, but this emphasised her bust to great (and gratifying) effect. She was quite well endowed in that area so the emphasis was enhanced by her naturally larger than average bust. Her mother had insisted on her quelling the bust in her dresses a little; Emelline was convinced it was jealousy, but perhaps she would have looked top heavy if her dresses had not slightly compressed her breasts. Her face was white with a surrounding frame of yellow curls. She would make the journey brighter, even if he was only allowed to look at her. Madeline, who was happy to chatter to anyone, was in the same mould. Her bust was a little smaller, as would be expected of a fifteen year old, but aside from that she could be a reflection of her elder sister.
They were travelling, Madeline explained, with an aunt. They had one of the first class cabins and the aunt had the other. It was implied, though never said, that this maiden aunt was a nuisance to be borne rather than enjoyed. As luck would have it, as soon as the ship untied their aunt had retired to her bed with a headache and then seasickness, she would not be seen much in public until the ship tied up in New York. As a chaperone for these two attractive young ladies, therefore, she left much to be desired. There were travelling to stay with their uncle in Washington. Partly this was to broaden their minds, partly for Emelline to acquire a rich husband if possible. Perhaps mostly the latter.
Despite having the largest empire the world had ever seen, there were signs of the atrophy which would eventually cause that empire to be essentially bankrupt and moribund. The large noble estates were an example; most had failed to invest in the new world of industry and now were often seeking to keep the bailiff away by marrying sons and daughters into this new nobility of money and power. America was busy raping the land of its resources – wheat, iron and coal – and was therefore a suitable target for these sons and daughters.
They were three young people with little to do on a ship, it was natural that they would find themselves in the same places and slowly would break convention and talk to one another. Perhaps the turn of the conversation was more unusual.
“Could you help me Mr Young? It is a delicate matter. I wish ... oh dear, I find I am not up to the task in hand. I wish to spy on my aunt.
I see I have shocked you. I apologise. Please forget the conversation.” He indicated by waves of the hand that she should continue “Well ... I fear that she is in some difficulty. I accidentally saw a steward leaving her room.” He looked confused, how could that indicate anything? “Ah, you see his jacket buttons were done up askew. Does that not seem strange? That a steward would be so inappropriately dressed?” He agreed it did seem odd that a first class steward would be so remiss “Ah, but you see, now you have said that I realise. He is a second class steward. He had no business to be in the room at all. And my aunt was in there too. I knocked, to see if she was any better from her sea sickness, and she was in bed! She looked flushed when I entered.
Oh Mr. Young! I fear ... I fear ... I do not know what I fear. But I fear. I have observed and seen the same steward enter and leave twice since.”
“What would you have me do? Your aunt’s cabin is not overlooked or...” he stopped, she was beckoning to him to follow and, to his great surprise, she led him into her own cabin, the one next to her aunt’s.
“Madeline is playing deck quoits I think. We will not be disturbed” He felt a frisson of excitement, he was in a lady’s chamber for the first time, and the lady was the prettiest member of the nobility in the whole world, he was sure. “There!” She pointed at a ventilation grill. “There is one into Aunt A’s room. The two grills stop one from seeing through, but I am sure if this was removed, one could see through the other grill.” He noticed that she never referred to her aunt’s name, always ‘my aunt’ or ‘Aunt A’. In a trice he had agreed to help. It was not an act of a gentleman, perhaps, but then she was concerned for her aunt; and he was bored and this was something unusual to relate one day.
Later, after negotiating with a workman for the loan of a screwdriver (for which he paid £1 with the agreement that 10 shillings would be returned when the screwdriver was; the screwdriver was probably worth barely a shilling, but the man could tell when there was a bargain to be made) he thought about the ungentlemanly act of unscrewing the ventilator in his own cabin, which was next door to a young married couple. No, he was sharing with a man in any case, who would want to know why the ventilator grill had been removed.
At a signal from Emelline, Cavendish followed her to her cabin unobserved. Madeline was talking to the Grovers – a family with two young children who seemed to have adopted Madeline as a temporary aunt; such friendships aboard these boats was not uncommon. “He has entered, I saw him. Oh, hurry Mr. Young!”
He unscrewed the only screw holding the grill in place, the others he had removed the day before. Then they moved a box so the two could stand on it and peer in. What they saw was not what they expected – though neither knew what they had expected.
Lying entirely unclothed on the bed, Aunt A was holding the steward’s unsheathed cock in her hand and stroking it. He was taking off all his upper body clothes. Emelline gave a little gasp. It was clear from the start that there was no force involved, but was there perhaps blackmail to make her aunt behave so? Then he lay on her! He lay fully on her, arched his back and she held his erection to her lower body. He straightened and moved up slowly. All the while no words were spoken, but now she sighed deeply and contentedly. She was a willing partner in this, of this there was little doubt. They watched as he slowly, lovingly made love to the aunt.
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