Romancing a Fisherwoman

Chapter 1

Wiry Henri Reynolds (28) watched his deckhand Tony Finch close the doors of the refrigerated light truck after he and the driver had loaded 27 trays of live crayfish (saltwater spiny lobster). As the fisheries driver left, Tony waved goodbye to skipper Henri and went to his old pickup and drove home to his wife and two kids after five days at sea.

Satisfied with the catch, Henri glanced at the woman who'd been sitting on top of copper-capped wharf pile for 20 minutes watching them unload. He then turned on the pump and hosed down the aft and foredecks and the floor of the wheelhouse and then removed his waterproof apron and hung to drip-dry under the protecting roof over-hand of the wheelhouse.

"Ahoy, may I come aboard Lady Rigby?"

It was the woman, now standing, appearing ready to board.

"Yep, I'm about to make coffee. Watch your footing and come into the wheelhouse," he said, thinking his mum would kick his arse if she was told that her son was paying for sex aboard their fishing boat.

The presumably 'loose female' placed a hand on a stanchion and vaulted effortlessly over the safely railing and on to the wet deck.

Fit, strong, mobile right-handed and probably incorrectly identified, Henri mused, thinking no such luck, that sex was very unlikely.

He changed his line of thought to wonder if she'd come about the deckhand job to replace Tony at the end of next week as Tony's wife, heavily pregnant again, wanted him ashore working shorter hours and being home most nights when he could look after the kids, especially when she was nursing the third one.

This babe, no older than thirty, was wasting her time though, because no way would he employ a female deckhand who'd fear breaking fingernails and bawl uncontrollably when lashed by a flying rope that had broken free of the hydraulic pot winch and, even worse, complained constantly about the noise of the Volvo shaft-driven inboard engine that drove the 40-ft aluminium commercial fishing boat along at a cruising speed of 16 knots (18.4 mph)

He was pouring coffee when she entered the cabin.

"Hi, I'm Linda Davies, now residing around here with my Aunt and Uncle. You run a tidy boat."

"Yeah, I'm not comfortable about living in mess at home or at sea. Here's your coffee, add additives from the wall box as you desire."

"May I add a dash of rum?"

"It's on the tray as an additive, help yourself."

He scratched an unshaven cheek and thought, so she fancied a toddy, eh? She may have been at sea a few times in small boats.

Linda joined Henri on the sofa at the rear of the small table on the port side, presumably oblivious that her great body was under casual inspection.

"I'm here about the job. Tony's wife told me about it but warned I'd probably be rejected because you are a macho-man and use women for only one thing."

"Oh yes, and what is that one thing?"

"Fucking."

"Gee, with lies like that spreading through town, little wonder girls and women under the age of 65 cross to the other side of the street when they see me approaching."

Linda laughed and said he was funny.

"Ah Linda, I like you for being upfront and talk bluntly when you think it might impress me. And I suppose Mary-Anne told you I fuck her when her husband takes the kids to visit her parents?"

"She certainly did not and you don't appear to be the type who'd do the dirty on his trusted work pal."

"That's true and can confirm I haven't had sex with Mary-Anne since she got married almost five years ago, which was a year before Tony was declared redundant and his wife told him she'd heard I was looking for a replacement crewman."

"And now, Henri, a similar opportunity has arisen for me to join you at sea."

He avoided saying like hell. He would listen for longer and then pull the plug on her aspirations. Then, despite being very disappointed, she might still stay for sex, although some people would call that a long shot.

Linda cleverly avoided talking about the upcoming vacancy and pointing out that he would be running out of time to fill if he were sailing an hour before daybreak on Monday. Henri wasn't to know that she was used to handling independent and stubborn males and that she was aware the technique was to hang them out to dry and they would either yield or shout and curse or hit her or leave. Or curse, hit her and leave as her husband had done and they were now divorced.

So, they chatted on for twenty minutes, much about nothing, that they both would later agree had to have been a load of rubbish, because neither of them could recall that petty conversation. They also agreed they would have recalled some of it if it had it been about fishing, sex family or parties.

After twenty minutes, Henri stood and gathered the coffee mugs and said he must go.

"What about my job interview?"

"I don't require a cook and bottle washer."

Henri, please don't patronise me. Be professional and interview me as if you meant it.

For a moment, Linda thought the skipper might be thinking of dragging her out of the cabin and tossing her overboard. And then his green eyes appeared to almost hood and he sat away from her, spinning around the seat of the helmsman's chair bolted behind the (steering) wheel and said, "Shoot and try to make me do something that I don't want to do."

"Which is?"

"Sail with a fucking female as crewman, err crew assistant, even if it's you."

"May I negotiate?"

He either was retching or had said a muffed yeah. Linda preferred the latter choice.

"All that I ask that you treat me as a person, not as a man and not a female masquerading as a man."

She saw the grin, yep, the macho skipper actually produced an unmistakeable grin before he said clearly that even if she had talent, she'd never be able to pull off that masquerade convincingly, not with her looks, body and ingrained deportment.

Linda rejected the idea that macho-man might even have a clue about deportment and then she accepted that she didn't know a thing about this guy and for all she knew he might live with his parents still and may had occasionally glanced at his mother's magazines.

"Okay Linda, and imagined that skinny unsuccessful guy I interviewed yesterday with missing front teeth from when his mate's girlfriend hit him with a heavy metal frypan containing two half-cooked whitebait fritters when he'd moved in on her and attempted to finger her pussy."

"Oh, a sensitive moralist, are you? Linda said, unbelievingly.

That was ignored.

"I rejected him because he struggled to lift even two trays of crays, when the standard requirement is to lift is three trays of even the heaviest crays for loading, and for handling the deep-water pots (steel and mesh traps). Obviously, you'd have to do better that that weakling who probably masturbates too frequently, not that I wish to know your masturbating habits."

Linda launched into a scathing response.

"Before marriage, my name...

"Stop," Henri yelled. "I know why I appear to recognise you looks. Your mother Irene is the long-time editor of Southern Waters Fishing."

Linda looked astonished.

"And that means before marriage, you were Linda Galloway."

Linda nodded and said, "How is it you get my mother's bi-monthly magazine? It only circulates in the South Island?"

"People outside that area like me get it by annual subscription. Subscribers extend throughout the South Pacific and both coasts of North America in particular."

"Oh."

"And that means you are the daughter of Irene and Walt or Walter Galloway, now permanently ashore, who's a living legend crayfish fishing in New Zealand. You are hired, let's discuss terms."

"But my father's reputation has nothing to do with my deckhand abilities."

"It would have had a lot to do with you in your younger days. Linda, I'm aware of your early history. When you were 14, you wanted to become a deckhand on one of your father's boats but you were told by your parents to wait another year until you reached the minimum school leaving age of 15 (now 16 years). Then you were blocked again, this time by the marine authorities refusing to accept your application as a deckhand until you were 18, declining to say that was because you were female.'

"When you are fifteen, your father swam that late spring beside you at every opportunity in his busy life in the chilling Southern Ocean waters, both of you in wetsuits, training for your big challenge."

"Then, early summer, with half the nation on holiday and the news media scratching for news, you proved your ability before a huge crowd including news media core landing on a beach at Invercargill to witness your ability to survive at sea in the event of any boat you were on sinking of having to be abandoned at sea. You swam the 16 miles plus long miles of tidal drift in your battle across rough seas of almost 14 hours, with a support crew including your parents."

"Wow Henri, you remembered that all those years ago."

"Yeah, I would have been two or nearing three years younger than you, I think, having just started at high school at that time when you and your father decided to show that you were long out of nappies, and show them you did. I featured your swim at such a young age as my first social studies assignment at the start of my first year at high school. I recorded that special provision had been made to register you as a female deckhand on one of your father's boats under the skipper's special supervision in the summer when you turned 16."

"The years went by and then I saw in Southern Waters Fishing Magazine the wedding picture of you and your travelling salesman husband outside the church after the wedding service standing with Walt and your mother."

"You call him Walt. Does that mean you've met him?"

"Yes, Miss Sharp One. In my earlier days, I attended one of his fishing industry sponsored safety seminars in Dunedin on 'Safety at Seas on fishing boats' and another in Nelson on "Dealing with Possible Threats and Calamities on Fishing Boats."

Miss Ever So Sharp said, "Then you will be aware know from that big report in mum's magazine of that accident on this boat when Tony's open jacked was caught on the rapidly descending pot when released the boat rolled heavily to that side at that moment, resulting in Tony being hauled overboard and into the murky depths of the wave-torn seas. You flung the engine gear box into neutral and dived overboard. You hauled yourself down as fast as you could, and caught up to him with the pot, unreleased, on the seabed.

According to the official marine accident inquiry, Tony would have been almost depleted of oxygen when you released him and you brought him to the surface and got him breathing again while in the water in the lea of the wave action. You climbed aboard and hauled him up on the pot winch and pumped him out on deck."

Henri said well he did his best for his crewman and pal.

"Yeah, well it was also a big deal for you in respect of bravery and doing the right thing for a crewman but the question is, did you kick him in the backside when he was fully recovered?"

"I, um, later tutored him again on safety measures. At the time, I was unnerved by his wife. Mary-Anne, who wanted me to have sex with her in appreciating my saving Tony's life."

Henri's eyes narrowed. "I think I know what you are getting at, Linda. Why did the news media credit me for saving my crewman for a ghastly death when he was hit by 'A rouge wave?"

"Linda, I remember as clearly as the day I say it enacted eight years ago with your father standing on stage during that seminar held in a disused wool store in Port Chalmers, Dunedin, on safety at sea attended by 88 skippers and crew from the southern area of the South Islands.

"Guys, there's were all aware of the threat of so-called unexpected rouge wave. Waves suddenly looming up higher than other waves or suddenly coming in from an unexpected direction can occur at sea for any reasons and so always expect the possibility and remain alert and prepared. "

However, when your father was describing that normally accepted description of a rogue wave, a burly guy, even bigger than your father, who'd come in late and was obviously drunk, making something of a nuisance of himself bellowed out, "That's bullshit, utter bullshit, Mr Fucking Know-nothing Galloway."

"Your dad yelled, 'Come up front and say that to my face, Meathead'."

The big guy lurched to the front and climbed on to the temporary stage and said, "You Fucking Known-Nothing. Want to make something of it?"

"I certainly do. I'm doing my best, to assist these guys here to save themselves from accident, injury and even possible drowning and you are mocking my thoughts, undermining my good intentions."

"Your father stood statue-like, as the guy came close enough to almost touch nose-to-nose and then when the challenger was removing his jacked, your father walloped him in the gut and decked the guy who yelled, panting, 'That wasn't fair, you hit me when I wasn't prepared. I didn't see your fist coming'."

"Smiling, Walt pulled the guy to his feet, patted him on the back and said loudly, 'There you go Mick, you provided the perfect acted-out example of what I was lecturing about. You thought you were ready for anything and probably thought that size and weight were in your favour but that fucking rouge punch out of nowhere felled you. Just think, if it had been aimed over your heart it may have killed you. Get to your feet, go to the urinals and have a piss and then cross to the bar and have a consoling beer in pre-midday quietness. We'll join you over there within the hour'."

"The seminar attendees were laughing so much and so loudly, that dust began dropping over the sides from the top of the old and solid exposed lateral strengthening ceiling joists supporting the roofing structure. I've neither forgotten that point in that lecture and I would think others beside me always would make that point, to expect the unexpected from waves, to new crew and to emphasise that truism periodically."

"Well that ends my sermon for this day. Come, let's expect the crew quarters that sleep three, with one bed and a stand of two bunks. I find I only need one crew to usually fill our quota of crayfish with hard work.

"And there's a skipper's cabin fore or aft."

"No, I sleep here in the wheelhouse that has 3-way cross ventilation. This table dismantles pretty easily and the sofa pulls out to become a double bed but I usually prefer to sleep on the sofa at single width. That makes my bed ashore appear luxurious."

"And it means you don't have a bed to make up."

"Indeed, my understanding is guys left alone appear to minimise housework."

As they were done below inspecting the empty live fish tanks (allowing the crayfish to be delivered alive), the engine, the crew quarters and the undeveloped area where normally the crew accommodation would be, Linda asked, "Would you prefer I have a week or even a month's trial first."

"No."

"Why not?"

"For one thing, you're Walt's daughter. The even more importantly, you spent much of your time from the age of fourteen until your marriage cray fishing. You may well have forgotten more about cray-fishing than all I know about it."

"That's highly unlikely."

"But it's something good to tell your parents, and tell them my code is I don't have sex with married women."

"That's interesting, because I'm divorced."

Henri cleared his throat hastily and claimed, "You cut in before I could finish that sentence. That self-imposed code also means that previously married women or even my friend's mothers would have to go down on their knees and beg for it before I would think about doing, um, such an ungentlemanly thing."

"Henri, really."

"Please don't mock my code,"

"Oh, dear, I wouldn't do such a thing," Linda said.

While looking around the crew cabin at the clothes on the floor and over chairs and almost ready to hold her nose, she asked if she signed on, could the cabin be sanitized for her.

"Yes, of course Linda. You give me the receipts for reimbursement of the sanitizing mask, brushes, mops and cloths you'd need and please attend to your cabin on Sunday morning because we won't want sanitary smells permeating the boat on Monday if I am to have you aboard. The odour of unremovable old fish to bad enough to endure."

"I understand," she sighed.

They went back up-deck and she said, subject to suitable terms employment, she would sign on sometime next week.

She was handed two copies of the terms of employment and read one.

"I have three points to discuss."

"Proceed."

"I require an immediate pay rise of $1 per hour."

"The counter offer is 25c per hour, take it or leave it."

"I'm leaving it. Ah, wait on. My final offer is 50c per hour PROVIDING you do your best to ensure we fill our quota each week over four days of fishing,"

"Accepted."

"Thanks, that will be written into your contract."

"My second point is I want written into my contract that my skipper regards me as a fisher person RATHER than a fisherman or fisherwoman."

"Agreed."

"My third point is that (i) my skipper allows me to hang my washed underwear topside and (ii) that my skipper agrees not to have sex with me unless I drop to my knees and plead for it to happen forthwith."

"The first part of discussion point three is agreed to provided that that any female clothing is hung from the drop-down lateral yardarm above the wheelhouse cabin. Agreement 3(i). Point (ii) can only be agreed to on behalf of management if it simply appears as 'Agreement 3(ii) 'Sexual Activity Policy (see stamped copy of policy document held either by the Skipper or Crewmember Galloway)'.

Thanks Henri." Linda smiled. That discussion ended quickly and mutually satisfactorily to both of us, I believe."

"Yes indeed."

"I was worried about how to display flapping and drying women's underwear from my boat, especially sailing through a popular fishing possie inhabited by fishermen half-believing they are sex-starved or sailing into ports to take relief from approaching storms that have regulations controlling the display of clothing items hanging on any vessel from the size of a one-person fishing kayak upwards in size."

"In turn, I request acceptance of a pre-signing-on requirement that we present ourselves to my joint partner in our company to secure her approval of my choice of err, crew person."

"Wow, that was unexpected."

They laughed, Henri watching Linda carefully and telling himself that her jest was aligning his story about rogue waves and his surprise announcement without obvious disquiet.

"I owned this expensive and very sea-worthy boat that I can operate single-handed if required, and fish, albeit slowly, partly from the inheritance I received from my late father. My mother was left the valuable crayfish catch quota licence and as you know you need a commercial catch quote to fish commercially and profitably."

"Yes, of course, I understand Henri. Many of my extended family either own shares in my father's boat-building and fishing interests or benefit by leasing their crayfish quotas to his fishing company."

"Allow me to take you to dinner tonight and I'll invite my mother along as well."

"Could you make that tomorrow evening, as that would be more convenient for me."

"Yes, of course."

Chapter 2

Henri arrived home land invited his mother to dinner next evening.

Henrietta said, "I'm glad you didn't make it tonight as I would have had to decline, as tonight is my Bridge evening. Mrs Mather had prepared you a steak and kidney pie and the vegetables are ready for roasting. She's left a note about oven temperatures, the trays to sit things on and when to insert each container so that everything will be ready at the same time and when to turn on the prepared gravy to reheat on the stove top."