Shipmates

I would like to take this opportunity to thank Randi for her help, support and assistance in developing this story. It is long, but I hope you will still enjoy it.

Note: All people engaged in any sexual activity in this story are 18 or older.

Any sexual activity depicted in this story is consensual and between people over the age of eighteen.

There she goes, off on another crazy quest. There's probably a weed somewhere that has been endangered by some poor innocent sap.

She did make a dashing site on her old bike, pedalling as if she was in Gira De Talia. She was no fashionista, but she still cut a very attractive image. The tattered black jeans and scruffy flannelette shirt may not have won her any awards, but I liked it. Kira was an enigma: hated by most of the locals, unless they wanted something from her. Sex mostly. Okay, she had weird beliefs and dressed appropriately. She was still pretty. She always had been. Even at school, where I admit I had the biggest crush on her, she always was pretty. Her facial features were nice, she had delicious lips. I know that sounds strange, but they always looked like they would taste like peaches. To me, anyway.

Her eyes sparkled, big green glistening wells of intrigue, that's how I saw them. Skinny, she never developed a womanly curvy figure, she wasn't tall, and god she was as skinny as a damn rake. Gorgeous legs though. Way to long for her height, they seemed to go on forever.

At school she was not one of the popular kids. The teachers disliked her as well. I think mostly because she was prepared to stand up and be counted. Never afraid to say, I don't agree.

She was always a solitary soul. The other girls hated her, because she was clever; always got good grades. She stood out in a crowd that's for sure. Couple that together with the fact she didn't want to gossip or pay the usual games girls play, and her popularity with the girls was always destined to fail. I think what annoyed them the most though, was, she didn't care that they didn't like her.

The boys of course, lusted after her. Even although she showed them the same indifference. For most of our younger years, I might have been her only friend.

Her parents lived up the road from my family. Her father ran a small business turning the leftovers from the local fish factory into fertiliser. My folks ran a small dairy farm. We weren't rich, but we I guess we did all right. I always had shoes to wear.

After high school, I quickly lost interest in Kira. She discovered boys, when she was younger, she didn't care about them at all. Suddenly, she recognised, she had something that changed everything. Sex, they wanted it, and she could give it to them, what's more she was happy to give it to them.

She quickly developed a reputation as a slut. I knew several of my mates slept with her. Then she went off on this weird tangent.

She had always been rebellious, never prepared to compromise. With school behind us, she ran off and joined Greenpeace. She vanished from our little world. I guess it was her uncompromising nature, that made her a hit in Greenpeace. She seemed to be at the forefront of every protest, every demonstration. There she was, front and centre. Her picture appeared in several newspapers and TV articles.

I saw her at one time hanging from a Kauri tree that was in danger. She was camped in the damn thing. Hanging twenty metres in the air on some platform thing. Greenpeace flags flying. She lived in that tree for nearly two months until they were able to get a stay of execution for it.

Yeah, seems she was crazy as well as a slut.

She had moved back to town about a year earlier. It must have broken her heart to be working at her father's place. Although, maybe not; apart from some of the chemicals he used, it was ecologically and environmentally a good project. Her father was an old man by then, and no longer able to run the business. His wife ran off with some other bloke when Kira was still at school. That in itself fuelled a lot of gossip.

I remember it well. At the time, Poor Kira was absolutely devastated. We were still close at the time. Me being her only real friend, she confided in me a fair bit. Our relationship didn't start to wane until she started sleeping with blokes from all over town.

I inherited my Grandfather's fishing boat. She was only small: thirty six feet, but she was strong and seaworthy. I used to work on it with him during school holidays. I loved it, he and I got on so well, and it got me off the farm. He was a grumpy old bugger, but he had the most amazing stories to tell. When he left the army, he travelled the world: worked as a merchant seaman, worked throughout Asia, building projects.

When he returned to New Zealand, he brought the fishing boat, Joanna B. It wasn't named that when he brought it. That was the name of an old girlfriend who he met in America and fell in love with. She was his first love, and he wanted to marry her, but circumstance got in the way. She was from a black religious family and he was a pesky white boy, her brothers gave him a pretty severe beating and chased him away. It was the biggest mistake of his life, or so he told me. He said it was the single biggest regret of his life, leaving her behind. He wished he had been stronger, because he knew she loved him, as well. That story got retold several times, depending on how drunk he was.

He did fall in love again, with my Grandmother Mary. Again, when he was drunk he often said it was fate. None of my family would exist without her. It was a sad day when they died in a car accident. It devastated the community. Granddad was a very respected and revered man.

My family wanted me to stay on the farm and take over from dad, when the time came. I guess I had my own rebellious streak, because, that's not what I wanted. Granddads fishing boat gave me the out I so desperately wanted. I wasn't a scholar, never going to be an accountant, or doctor. I loved the ocean, and Grandad taught me well. I loved the boat, and I knew her well. One of the things I am still grateful for was Grandad insisting that if I wanted to work on the boat with him. I had to get my deck hands certificate.

That made getting my skippers ticket easy. Because of his skill and knowledge, I knew all the best fishing spots. And because of his persistence, I knew most of the tricks of the trade.

So after I left school, I broke my fathers heart, and took over running the Joanna B.

I watched Kira cycle past on her way to save the planet. One weed at a time. I had been on the front lawn, with my ripped net strung out as I sewed in a new section. Watching her cycle past, brought back a lot of old memories, some good, and some not so good. She still managed to get my blood pumping.

With my net mended, I loaded it on my Ute, and drove down to the wharf to load it back on the boat. It was a nice day, the sun shining bright. I decided to top up the diesel tank, and prepare for my fishing trip later in the week.

As I topped up the tank, I was interrupted by a strong male voice. "Mr Martin."

Looking up, I laughed loudly. Jackson Winters, who was the local fisheries agent. "Hey, Jackson. What's with the Mr. bullshit."

He smiled broadly. "Bad news I'm afraid, Tim. Can I come onboard for a chat?"

"Yeah, come on down, mate. I'll make a brew." I flicked on the kettle as he clambered down on deck.

"So, what's got you all in a tither? Didn't I fill in my paperwork properly or something?"

"Nah, not that. It's about this new program fisheries is running."

"Come on, Jackson. We have cameras, we have documentation. Surely they aren't serious about putting inspectors on every fucking boat?"

He chuckled. "Well, not every boat, just random ones."

I felt a dark foreboding sense of unease grip me. "Oh, fuck no. Tell me you're joking."

"Sorry, Tim, me old mate. You're it. For the next month, you are going to have a passenger."

"Bloody hell, Jackson. Who's going to pay for that?"

"We will cop all the costs, food, clothing. We will pay for everything. I mean, you could make a few bucks. Include your own food, as well. We'll cover it."

"You'll cover it, aye? Well whoopee. I have to put up with some arsehole onboard, counting fish while I do all the work. Sounds wonderful, not."

"Sorry, Tim. It's a directive, there's no escaping it. All the boats are going to have somebody over the next year. It's only a month, mate. Sheesh, it's not the end of the world."

"Jesus, Jackson, you're going to owe me big time. Next time I see you, it better be with a slab in your arms."

He chuckled. "Already got it. You're still drinking that Monteith's shit, aren't you?"

I laughed at his jibe. "Yeah, mate, and it's not shit. It's the best bloody beer, I prefer to think of it as amber mothers milk."

"Yeah, whatever. Anyway, I have a slab on the tray of my Ute. You can carry it down yourself."

"Okay, who is this fucking loser I'm getting lumbered with?"

He tried, god he tried, but he couldn't hold back the tears of laughter. "Kira Solomon."

"Oh, no fucking way. Oh, fuck no." I cried out in disbelief.

Wiping away his tears of joy, he replied, "Yeah, sorry mate. We asked for applicants and she was one of the few who applied. I knew you guys were friends, so I chose her for you. Come on, mate. You might get lucky."

"Lucky my arse, I'd have to tie a plank across my arse to stop falling in. Every bloke in town has been through her."

"Not every man, Tim, you used to be friends."

"That was a long time ago. Now she's just a fucking weirdo."

"She's the weirdo who is going to keep you company for the next month to six weeks. Depending on how often you go out."

"God fucking damn it, Jackson. Has she ever been out on a boat?"

"She's done all the courses, health and safety stuff. Not sure if she's ever been to sea."

Shaking my head, I growled. "The price just went up. Two, no make it three cases of Monteith's."

He laughed snidely at my retort. "I knew you would say that. There's two boxes on the Ute. Take them both."

After we finished our cuppa, Jackson shook hands and climbed back up to the wharf. "Get your beer, Tim. I'm going down to talk to Paul. See you later, mate. Have fun."

"Fuck off, you prick," I yelled back as he walked off up the wharf laughing to himself. "Sadist." I yelled at him. He just stuck his finger in the air.

When I got to his Ute, I found there were half a dozen slabs of beer. Not all Monteith's, though. I took the two Monteith's, and another one of Steinlager. That'll teach the smart arse.

Going over the boat, I thought about having another person, a woman on board. There was no shower, only one toilet, and the fo'c'sle wasn't really designed for more than two crew members, and certainly not a female. It was just bunks. There was no separation.

Later, as I was hosing down the decks, I got another call from above, "Hi, Tim."

Looking up, there was Kira. A big beamy smile stretched across her face. "Hey, Kira."

"Can I come down?"

"Yeah, come on. Have you been on a boat before?"

"Nah, first time."

I watched interestedly as she tried to catch her balance. She shifted her weight as the boat moved easily beneath her feet. Her smile became nervous as she adapted. A little chuckle escaped me. We were still moored at the wharf.

"What are you laughing at?" She asked, irritation seeping through her voice.

"Well, Kira, I was wondering how the hell you think you are going to cope out on the ocean."

She scowled deeply. "I'll get used to it."

"Do you have sea legs?"

"I'll get used to it, I said." she snapped back.

"No, dummy. Sea legs are a seasickness tablet. Might make your initiation a little easier."

"I said I would be okay." She snipped curtly.

"Suit yourself, Kira. Once we get out on the water, there's no coming back. When we head out over the bar, we are gone for six days."

"Yeah, I get it. What clothes should I bring?" she asked.

"Jackson said that they were supplying your kit. So go and catch up with him. He'll sort you out. Make sure you bring warm clothes, though. Oh, and bring a sleeping bag."

"Where do we sleep?"

Giving her a frown, I said, "Follow me." I gave her the guided tour: the wheelhouse, the loo, the fo'c'sle, freezer and the engine room. I thought she was going to freak out when we got down into the engine room. It was small, low head-room meant you couldn't stand up, and you had to suck in to squeeze past the engine.

I could see the disquiet, the unease. "Claustrophobic, are you?"

She turned and clambered up out through the hatch. When I got up on deck, she stood hands on hips, sucking in deep breaths. Her eyes closed. "Sorry, Tim, I didn't know. I've never been in small spaces. God that was scary."

I chuckled softly. "Kira, if something happens to me out on the water, never go down in the engine room while it is running. There's too much spinning shit."

Fright, nervousness edged her voice. "What could happen? It's safe, isn't it?"

I nodded. "I've been fishing for three years. I'm still here. But, it's the ocean, anything can happen. You need to know that, it's unpredictable."

She nodded. "How's your dad?" I asked to lighten the mood.

"He's good, a bit unsteady these day's."

"Who's going to run the factory while you're out on the ocean playing sailor?"

"We sort of put the factory on hold. I was concerned about the chemicals. I want to make it organic, get rid of the toxins and poisons. That's why I took this job. I need some money to make it happen. Dad can't do it any longer. If I'm doing it, then it has to be toxin free and totally organic."

"Wow, look at you. The passionate investor."

The little smile came back, that I remembered from when she was younger. "I'm not a complete nut job, Tim. I just need it to be natural."

"Is that how you're justifying working on my diesel burning monster?"

"I'm not justifying anything. I am trying to make my own future. Walk my own road."

I nodded. "Sounds good. Be here at four-thirty in the morning. We sail at five."

She did a little double take. "Yep, okay. I'll be here." I could see the unease on her face. All she had was her bicycle.

I decided to throw her a lifeline. "I could pick you up if you want? You're going to have a pile of shit to bring. By the way, if you have special food requirements, bring your own. I eat meat."

She nodded. "Understood. Thanks, Tim." She clambered back up onto the wharf and disappeared, as I finished my prep.

It was late when I saw Jackson's Ute drive by, Kira's bike sticking out over the back. He gave me a wave as he drove by. My turn to give him the finger.

Three-thirty, I was parked outside Kira's place. I waited and waited; in the end I gave the horn a honk and watched as the light turned on and I saw movement. Kira staggered out her arms full of crap.

I helped her load it on the back and we hit out for the wharf. "You said four." She hissed in a very unfriendly snarl.

"I meant we would be at the boat at four. It'll take us half an hour to get ready. We need to sail on high tide. It makes it easier to get over the bar."

I handed her the pack of sea legs. "Take two."

She frowned. "Do you take them?"

"No, I learned when I was young. I used to take them though."

She swallowed both.

It took every bit of an hour to load the boat.

As we cast of the lines and the old Gardener 6LXB dug deep, nosing us out into the high tide, I watched as Kira made a grab for the gantry. She suddenly looked very unsteady.

It was one of those beautiful cloudless mornings. Still dark, the sky filled with stars. The water's calm, the moonlight glistening as the Gardener pushed us into the small swell. In the wheelhouse, the radio playing as a backdrop, Kira asked, "How do you know where you're going?"

I pointed out through the windscreen. "See that bright star just above the horizon? The one that stands out from the rest?"

She nodded as she peered in concentration through the spray covered screen. "Yeah, I see it. Do you aim for that?"

"No, I just admire it. I actually take my course from the radar." Her face dropped and she gave me a nasty glare. "Smart arse."

"I'm sorry, Kira. Here, come and sit here." I climbed out of my seat and she sat down. Leaning over her shoulder I placed her hands on the wheel. I showed her the course on the radar, and said, "Just keep the bow of the boat heading towards Northwest, but that star should always be in the front of the screen."

I went to the galley and made some tea. "Do you like toast?" I asked, breaking her concentration.

"Yes, please."

"How do you have your tea?"

"Black, two sugars."

I made the breakfast and carried it up to the front of the wheelhouse. Kira gave me an appreciative nod. "Thanks, Tim."

"How's the stomach?"

"Good so far."

We ate in silence. The news on the radio added a little interest. As we cleared the harbour and worked out into the Bay, the swell built a little and the bow drove into the sea with a commanding burst of spray.

Kira still gripped the ships wheel as she tried to keep us on course. Two hours later, we were nearing the fishing grounds. Sunlight, now cutting over our port beam. It was going to be a good day. The wind was light, the swell only about two feet.

"Okay, Kira. We are going to set the gear. If you keep us heading straight, I'll set the first net."

Over the next hour we set four nets, in total. Kira kept her hands glued to the wheel as she concentrated hard.

Up under the cover of the spit, I got the deck ready for dragging the nets. We steamed back to the first net. I hooked the buoy and tied off the lead onto the winch. Kira came back to watch and I explained, "Okay, this is important, Kira. I'm going to put the boat into reverse and we will idle as the winch pulls the net in." If you want to help, I'll get you to operate the winch. We will need to stop, then start as I clear the fish from the net."

She nodded, but I could see by her blank expression she didn't understand at all.

It was a pretty good set. I barked orders at Kira as I untangled the fish, making sure that the species I took on board were all legal and oversized.

"Isn't that a waste?" she called.

"How do you mean, Kira?"

"Well, throwing all those dead fish back in the water?"

"Most of them survive. I'm careful. Come and see." She watched as I untangled a few smaller ones and tossed them back. She said, "Wow, that is cool. I thought they were all dead."

We worked the rest of the morning, lifting, and resetting the nets. I gutted the fish that needed it and loaded them down into the freezer.

Kira actually did okay. She helped where she could and didn't get in the way."

Later, after picking up the last net, we dropped anchor under the spit head. With the wind blowing from the north, it meant we would have a peaceful night.

"Kira, you can get the evening meal. Do you eat meat?"

She shook her head dismissively. "No, I'm a vegetarian."

"All right then. Can you cook?"

She nodded, and I said. "Good, you can cook. There's some chicken in the fridge. Chuck a couple of pieces in for me. You get whatever you want to go with it. I want some vegies, as well."

Leaving her to it, I set about cleaning up the decks and getting ready for the morning.

Kira stuck her head out the wheelhouse door. "Grubs up."

For a vegetarian, she did a damn good job. The meal was nice. I cracked open a beer and offered her one. She accepted, and we had another couple as we cleaned up. It was such an incredible evening, I went out onto the deck, grabbed a deckchair and sat back to stare at the stars.

Kira came out with another couple of beers and pulled out the other deckchair. Like me, she stretched out and glanced up at the stars. "Is it always this beautiful out here?"