Home of the White Dolphin - Segment 02

Chapter 06

October 03, 2008 – Walker’s apartment at Maison du Renard Rouge

Many days passed before Walker remembered Elizabeth Templeton’s diary. With no new problems to challenge him, an uncharacteristically bored Walker restlessly padded on bare feet around his apartment. When he passed the coffee table in front of the sofa, the White Dolphin’s ship log caught his attention.

“Okay, let’s see what’s so important about this log to survive all these years.” While saying this to himself, Walker plopped down on the sofa and put his legs up on top of the coffee table. When he opened the log to the first entry dated March 17, 1845, he realized this was no ordinary ship’s log. Instead of the usual instrument readings, Walker found the rambling thoughts of the ship’s young captain, Mitchell Whiting.

“Today we arrived in London after almost a year at sea. I planned to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day on shore and ended with more than I bargained for. Leaving Cripton in charge of my ship, I wandered along the London dock searching for excitement. After those long, lonely months, I was ready for the embrace of a willing doxy or two. The rowdy noise coming from a nearby pub promised more than the company of other seafaring men. Since I knew whores entertained sailors in back rooms for a few shillings, I eagerly headed in that direction.”

The sight of Jack Notting coming into the living room interrupted Walker. Reluctantly, he closed the log to welcome the young man who was both a friend and an employee. For the next two hours, the men discussed plans for hiring qualified teachers for Hannah’s Home. The orphanage was quickly filling with unwanted or abused children, and Walker planned on giving them the best education money could buy. Only after Jack left to contact the mansion’s many recruiters did Walker return to the log entry for March 17, 1845.

“When I entered the pub,” Walker read, “there was a loud commotion in the back near the crowded bar. Drunken cries of ‘Sully, beat him good. Learn the little blighter we don’t go for no stealing of our hard-earned coins. That’s it, Roscoe, get the blood going so he don’t soon forget!’ I pushed my way through the crowd and saw a youngster huddled on the floor, terrified and bleeding. The boy, who couldn’t be more than a dozen years of age, wore torn clothes barely covering filthy arms and legs. Mingled with the dirt was blood from the many vicious kicks delivered by the heavy work boots of the angry sailors. On the floor next to him, the blood from those wounds slowly dripped onto broken glass shards and several small coins.

“I reached down and grabbed the child by the scruff of his frayed shirt, dragging him roughly to his feet. Getting the miserable urchin out of the pub alive and in one piece took a lot of shoving and use of my fists, but we finally were standing outside in the fresh air. Blood covered my hands, but I felt no pain. There was only exhilaration from the fight, knowing I’d left men inside lying unconscious on the pub’s wooden floor

“The whore and the desperately needed release she’d give me would have to wait for another day. Instead, I returned to White Dolphin, my new cabin boy in tow. In this way, the orphan Robbie joined my crew.”

Walker closed the log, pleased to learn Mitchell Whiting was another man who cared to help abused orphans. He looked forward to reading more about this interesting man, but for now mansion business took priority.

Chapter 07

November 23, 1845 – After midnight below deck on the ship.

Mitchell walked slowly toward his cabin located at the bow of the ship. His usual practice, before retiring for the night, was to relax on deck for a few minutes. Tonight had been no different. His quiet routine changed upon reaching the bottom of stairs. Mitchell stopped when he thought he heard footsteps nearby. They weren’t the heavy steps of one of his crew, but more like those of a barefoot woman.

“Is that you, Miss?” he called out, dreading a run-in with the annoying Jane Templeton. In the weeks since she had surprised him in the ship’s head, Jane seemed to always be underfoot. Mitchell groaned at the thought of the temptation she offered him whenever they met. The provocative way she smiled, while brushing against his chest whenever they passed in the narrow passageways, was getting harder to ignore. Once, he had almost given in to her unspoken invitation, but his common sense took over just in time.

Tonight, though, his whole body ached with exhaustion after fighting to keep his ship and crew safe during yet another fierce storm. The ship had come close to foundering in the heavy swells, and his arms ached from holding the wheel steady for those long hours. During the height of the storm, an alert sailor rescued a careless crew member when a high wave crashing over the railing nearly washed him overboard. Now, while Mitchell waited for Jane to appear, his thoughts went from the pragmatic, She’s spoken for, and I have to avoid her without being insulting to the more sexually frustrated, It’s been too long, and she is a tempting bit of fluff. Why not take what she’s been letting me know I could have for free?

Deciding on the latter course, Mitchell moved into the shadows by the stairway and waited for Jane to appear around the passageway’s corner. Instead, he heard the footsteps slow to a stop, as if she knew he was waiting in the dark for her. For long seconds, the only sound he heard was the sound of his own breathing. Suddenly, she appeared around the corner and slowly walked toward him.

Instead of the blonde temptress he was expecting to see, the dark-haired woman coming toward him surprised Mitchell. With each step of her bare feet, the long cape she wore swung wide open. Mitchell saw the school-girlish nightgown underneath and didn’t need to look at her face to know this was the other, more reclusive sister.

His annoyed question, “What are you doing wandering around the ship this late?” startled Elizabeth into letting out a loud shriek. She had been heading for the stairs on her way to the deck when Mitchell stopped her. The sudden appearance of the man she often daydreamed about left her too frightened to speak. Elizabeth turned to run away, back to the safety of her own stateroom. Before she could take even one step, she found herself caught and held tightly against Mitchell’s body, made captive by his unyielding arm.

“Please, I didn’t mean any harm,” Elizabeth whispered, tears of fright streaming down her face as she struggled in vain to get free. “I just wanted to get some fresh air.” She remembered what Jane had told her just that afternoon about this ship’s Captain. Knowing the man holding her could punish her for even the most minor infraction made Elizabeth fight even harder to get away. At one point, the long cape came untied and fell next to her bare feet.

When she felt Mitchell’s free hand touch her face, Elizabeth stopped struggling and simply waited for him to push her away in disgust. Instead, she felt his finger gently trace the jagged wound. He started where the scar began below her eye and slowly ran his finger down her cheek to her mouth. At that point, he realized Elizabeth was silently watching him, waiting to see what he’d do next.

Mitchell felt her trembling body through the simple nightgown she wore. He knew the innocent 16-year-old was unaware of the danger she put herself in by wandering around alone during the night. Mitchell wanted to shake some sense into Elizabeth. Instead, he decided to show her what would happen if one of his crew saw her in a deserted area dressed only in her nightclothes.

Elizabeth gasped in shock when Mitchell roughly picked her up and started walking, all the while holding her effortlessly in his arms. He ignored her protests until they were inside his cabin. After putting Elizabeth onto her bare feet, Mitchell slammed the door shut and locked it. Mitchell’s anger at Elizabeth’s foolish nighttime behavior grew when he turned and saw her shivering in the cold room. She seemed unaware of what was about to happen until he started to drag her none-too-gently toward the bed.

Chapter 08

October 14, 2008 – Walker’s apartment at Maison du Renard Rouge

Walker finally convinced Samantha to continue reading Elizabeth Templeton’s dairy. She appeared recovered physically from the recent traumatic events, but Walker still worried about her mental state. The memory of finding the woman he loved near death after Colin Edgeworth kidnapped, tortured and sexually assaulted her never left him. Often in the dark of night, he woke up in a cold sweat. At those times, he swore a putrid smell from the cavern’s decayed corpses filled his bedroom.

With the heavy rain keeping everyone inside, the lazy afternoon seemed a perfect time for Walker to get her alone. Trying not to be too obvious, he watched her take up the diary and open to the page where she had left off reading. Walker opened the ship’s log, but only glanced now and then at the page in front of him.

The two of them sat like an old married couple side by side on the living room sofa. When Walker saw Samantha’s big grin, he stopped pretending to read. Instead, he asked, “Okay, Sam, what’s funny?”

“This girl is so gullible, Walker.” Samantha started to read aloud what Elizabeth had written in her diary. “Today, Jane told me all about the absolute authority Captain Whiting has over everyone on his ship. He can throw anyone, even me, into the brig for doing even the littlest thing wrong. All his prisoner would get to eat would be moldy bread and scummy water from the bilge.

“At first I didn’t believe her, since Jane sometimes exaggerates, but she swore she was telling the truth. She said she overheard that old guy with the red hair talking to another sailor about something that happened on their long trip from England to Boston. The cook’s helper had spilled hot coffee on the captain while serving him dinner. Captain Whiting picked him up and threw him into the brig. After that, everyone forgot all about the helper until they found him weeks later starved to death.”

Walker chuckled at hearing the last sentence. “Her sister sounds like she needs a good spanking for telling such tall tales. I wonder why she said that.” He motioned for Samantha to ignore his interruption. “What else did she write? Anything else for that day?”

“No, that’s about it except for the two scribbled sentences written the next day.” Samantha read them out loud, unsure of what the young girl had meant. “Jane is such a stinking, rotten liar. He never did what she said he did.” Samantha looked up from the diary. “That’s it, Walker. She wrote nothing else until a few months later.”

Only mildly interested in the actions of a teenage girl, especially one who was long dead, Walker merely said, “I guess we’ll never know, Sam, what she was talking about.”

Chapter 09

November 24, 1845 – Early morning in Mitchell’s cabin on the ship.

The sunlight shining in through the many wide windows of his cabin eventually woke Mitchell from a troubled sleep. Still groggy, he moved to the edge of his wide bed and swung his bare feet down to the floor. The early morning chill in the room washed over his naked body.

“Damn, I didn’t light the stove last night,” muttered Mitchell. He followed this complaint with a few salty blasphemes. Looking down, however, Mitchell saw the blood on his flaccid penis. He slowly turned, dreading what he would see.

On the bed among the rumpled sheets lay Elizabeth, her legs still spread wide with streaks of dried blood and semen staining her inner thighs. The torn shreds of her modest nightgown lay tangled around her body. Mitchell’s memory of the previous night’s debauchery flooded back in full detail.

During his angry frenzy to teach her a lesson, he ignored her panicked screams. Using his body to hold her down on his bed, Mitchell ripped the cotton material at the neckline all the way down to the gown’s hem. This exposed her body, ripe for the taking. At this point, Mitchell’s anger at her foolish behavior quickly turned to uncontrollable male lust. In a menacing voice, he whispered, all the while using a knee to move her legs apart, “You stupid bitch, I’m going to give you the ride of your life.”

Mitchell found himself thinking back to the first time he forced himself inside his helpless prisoner. Since all his previous sexual conquests consisted of whores who delighted in servicing such a handsome man, a virgin was a new experience for him. Remaining beside the bed, he closed his eyes. In this way, he brought back the memory of intense, overwhelming pleasure when he breached her maidenhead. Even her cries of pain failed to stop him from plunging the full length of his thick penis deep inside her.
Now in the blinding light of day, Mitchell saw on her naked legs the result of his failure to pull out of her in time.

“Please, I want to leave.” Elizabeth’s pitiful plea came as she sat up and pulled her legs together. This attempt at modesty failed, and she watched Mitchell grow hard once again.

Chapter 10

October 14, 2008 – Walker’s apartment at Maison du Renard Rouge

“What’s the next date in the girl’s diary?” Walker’s curiosity came back full force when he noted what Mitchell had written in his ship log’s entry for November 30, 1845. He wasn’t sure he should read it aloud, given the bluntness of the seaman’s language.

Samantha frowned when she heard the hesitation in Walker’s voice. Recently she became annoyed whenever someone treated her like a broken doll, just as Walker was doing now. The flashbacks of the horrible days underground as Colin Edgeworth’s victim were slowly diminishing. She never would forget what Edith, Walker’s birth mother, told her shortly after her rescue. Walker, the gentle man sitting on the sofa next to her, was the one who first saw her battered and unconscious on that fateful day. Samantha knew Walker carried her in his arms out of the underground torture chambers, thus saving her life.

This knowledge helped Samantha control her current irritation, and she read from the diary, “January 5, 1846. Why?” After that, she waited for Walker to say something. When he remained silent, trying frantically to figure out how to delicately rephrase what Mitchell wrote, Samantha’s irritation returned. “Walker, if you don’t say something, I’m going to read it for myself.” Without waiting for him to respond, she pulled the log from his hands and started reading.

Her shocked, “Oh my goodness,” brought Walker out of his daze. When Samantha continued to read, her face starting to match her red hair, he knew she’d come to the more sexually explicit section. Finally, she slowly closed the ship’s log. Still blushing, Samantha stood and handed the thick book back to Walker.

“Sorry, Sam. I did try to warn you.” Walker found himself talking to her back since she was walking toward the apartment’s door.

When he stood to catch up with her, she suddenly stopped. Without turning around and in a barely audible voice, she asked Walker, “Is what he wrote about even possible?” She didn’t wait, but was gone from the apartment before he could answer.

Continued in next segment

Home of the White Dolphin - Segment 03  (GC) Chapters 11 thru 15 #2091559 by J. A. Buxton