Roommate ShiftChapter 2
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USAChapter 5 free porn video
We were steering in circles searching for a breeze. We were never going to get to Amsterdam like this. Any direction is better than standing still.
"Wendy!"
"Yes dear?"
"Whistle us up a wind," I said.
"Why don't you do it?"
Ooo, she's a sly one. Along with a grape allergy, she knows I can't whistle.
"Wendy."
"Yes, sir," she started whistling. Wendy whistles like a good coin silver flute. The problem is what to do with her hands. So ... she started messing with the watch.
Now it's pitch black ... can't see your hand in front of your face dark, and drizzling rain and maybe a little sleet in the mix. The sea is rough as all get out and we still don't have a breeze.
"Wendy? What did you do?" I asked.
"I don't know," she complained.
She ran below and grabbed our rain gear.
I heard the kids.
"Mom? What did you do?" they both asked.
"Oh sure, blame me," she replied.
"Mom ... you're the one with the watch." Art said.
"Yeah, mom," Ink agreed.
She came back to the wheel and took over while I put on my wet gear. Not that it was wet ... it's to keep me from getting wet. Lookit ... don't blame me ... it's what sailors call it. Unless they call it foul weather gear.
So she's minding the helm when we hit something.
"Errk," I said.
The kids came running out on deck in their wet gear. "Daddy ... the keel hit something."
"I know that," I said. "What is another question entirely."
What ever it was we were scraping it ... still.
Finally ... it stopped.
Wendy and the kids went below to check the bilges...
"No leaks! The bilge pump hasn't run in days."
"Maybe it's plugged?"
While we were contemplating that possibility, off the starboard side there was a racket of doors slamming and whooshes like fast moving air. There was running on metal decks and yelling in German. A huge diesel started running and there was the clunk of gears and propeller noises. What ever it was ... was mad. Then a searchlight flicked on and wobbled a bit. All too soon they had our sail illuminated and the light found the cabin and helm.
"Welches Land (What Country)?" came the hail.
"Finland!" I shouted back.
There was a commotion on deck ... a huge ... well it looked like it ... even a fifty cal looks huge ... this was much bigger. Like inches bigger.
It was soon realized that we didn't speak German and nobody on the boat spoke Finnish ... we shouted what we did speak back and forth ... We both spoke English!
"What home port?" the man asked.
"Uusikaupunki," I shouted.
"Where is that?"
"Southwest," I decided to be more specific. "Valmaat Motors. We build some of your engine parts."
"Who are you?"
"David Valmaat."
"Your business?"
"My father."
"Your boat?"
"Yes, the Vellamo."
Good God! It was a U-Boat! They had been maneuvering and were suddenly right next to us. Three sailors with MP-28, II Schmeisser Sub Machine guns threw out bumpers and jumped aboard. The man who had been speaking to us was the captain.
"You broke our periscope," he said.
It was easily seen. The top foot was bent at 90 degrees to the rest of the tube.
"You're the one who hit us," I said.
"Not intimidated?" He said.
"Not a bit," I said. "Come now Captain, you've caught us ... what next?"
"What is your destination?"
"Amsterdam," I said.
"Oh my. You simply must come visit Germany," the Captain said. "Once our periscope is repaired you can go on your way."
"Objecting won't do a bit of good?"
"Not a bit," the Captain said, "Put on a good face and follow us." He shouted to the three men in German and they settled in for the ride.
"Wendy?"
"I'll call the Powers that Be, I don't know what I did, so I can't fix it."
Gert
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