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A Boy Crusoe by Allan Eric
Early Life; Off for a Voyage.
I was born in a little town in the State of Maine, near the close of the Civil War. My boyhood life did not differ materially from that of the average farmer's son in the remote country districts of New England--except, perhaps, that I read more and thought more. Hard work on the rugged soil, two terms each year in the little yellow country schoolhouse, a day's fishing now and then filled the early years of my life full to over-flowing. In the winter it was work in the woods, cutting up the year's supply of fire-wood; and then, before the spring ploughing time, my brother and myself found pleasant labor and recreation combined in the maple woods, tapping the trees, gathering the sap and tending the fire under the great kettles where the sweet product of the maple was transformed into syrup and sugar.
I really think that I was more thoughtful than the average boy. I know that I read more. I do not remember ever feeling dissatisfied with my life or with the prospects that the future held out for me. Probably I was too young for these things to trouble me much; but I read everything in the way of books and papers that I could borrow, or purchase by saving a little money earned in various ways. I was fond of stories of adventure; but travel and adventure combined, interested me most. Therefore, as I grew older, I became imbued with a passionate desire to travel in foreign lands. The tropics were my ideal, and this feeling became stronger as the years went by.
When I was fifteen years of age my father removed to a large village where there was a graded school, and I entered the grammar school, then the high school from which I was graduated.
The passion for travel still had a strong hold upon me, but I saw no immediate prospect of gratifying it, for I was obliged to look about for some immediate means of earning a living for myself. When everything else fails, one can always find an opportunity to canvass for a publishing house or a novelty concern; so, soon after leaving the high school, I was trudging up and down the banks of the Penobscot river, calling from house to house. It was discouraging work, but I succeeded moderately well.
Late in the fall I went up to Bangor to canvass that city, and it was there that I made the acquaintance of a gentleman, which led to the experiences that I am about to relate, and which changed the whole course of my life.
Mr. William H. Sargent was a wealthy, retired merchant, with impaired health. His wealth had been acquired by trading with the South American countries, and the West Indies, and he still retained large interest in many vessels sailing to that part of the world.
It was his idea to make a voyage in one of these vessels, and the friendship which had developed between us, mostly through meeting in the reading room of the Public Library, caused him to suggest that I accompany him on his voyage to the Southern seas.
I accepted only too gladly, and that very evening I wrote a long letter to my mother, explaining my good fortune, bidding her not to worry by exaggerating, in her own mind, the dangers to be encountered.
The next few days I spent mostly with my benefactor, for as such I looked upon him, helping him in various ways in his preparations for the voyage. As for myself, I required little more than a modest supply of clothing.
Mr. Sargent was thoughtful and considerate, however, and insisted upon my procuring much that I deemed unnecessary for my modest requirements, paying for the same from his own pocket.
Our craft was a trim bark called the Ethelyn Hope, built at Searsport three years before. She was two hundred and fifty tons gross measurement and sat in the water jauntily and buoyantly. From her load water-line to the tips of her topmast she was as trim a craft as one could wish to see. As she lay at the wharf ready for sea, everything on deck had been made snug, and not a coil of rope or spare block was out of place. Her cargo consisted of case oil, salt fish and flour in her hold, and she carried a good deck-load of lumber. She was bound for Cayenne, French Guiana, on the north coast of South America.
The Ethelyn Hope was commanded by Captain Thomas Witham; and the first, second and third mates, with nine able seamen before the mast comprised the crew.
Nothing remained to be done except to cast off the lines, when, released from her bonds the bark slowly moved down the river. The sails on the lower yards and jib-boom were set, and with a light breeze favoring her, aided by the swift current, the city was soon lost behind High Head.
By daylight the following morning we had passed through the "Narrows", and just at sunrise all sails were set and the bark squared away for the mouth of the bay where she was laid on a sou', sou'-east course as she took her final departure.
My spirits were decidedly buoyant as the bark glided out of the bay into the open sea, and a delicious sense of elation took possession of me as I realized that I was really on board a ship, with the land fading away behind me, bound for a foreign shore, the wonderful tropics, the land of palms of which I had read so much. I should see for myself the curious things of the sea, strange countries and people; and perhaps encounter fierce animals in the virgin forests, the home of birds of rare and beautiful plumage.
With a strong northwest breeze the bark stood away on her course, with every sail filled out and drawing handsomely. Although the weather had been clear and the sea fairly calm, by sunset a thin haze rendered the outline of the horizon dimly visible, and the Captain began to fear a blow. His nautical instinct made him sure that there was to be a change in the weather, and he gave orders for everything to be made secure. And, sure enough, at dusk the wind freshened and hauled around into the north-east.
It was about this time that I suddenly became conscious of a peculiar feeling, a sudden dizziness, like the sensation caused by a boy's first cigar. I knew well enough that I was experiencing the first sensations of seasickness, and, suddenly losing interest in the sailing of the ship, I went below and tumbled into my berth.
Feeling somewhat better, while I lay quiet, I had nearly dropped off to sleep when I was aroused by a tremendous noise, which brought me to my senses, when I realized that the vessel was rolling and pitching wildly. I could hear the howling of the wind around the deck-houses, and the snapping of the great sails. Now and then I heard the sound of the Captain's voice on deck as though he were giving brisk orders; and I rightly concluded that we were having it very rough. I looked across the cabin and saw that Mr. Sargent was in his berth, but as he was apparently not asleep I spoke to him, asking if there was any danger.
"Oh, I guess not," he replied. "We are having a pretty stiff blow."
Strangely enough, I suppose, I did not now feel sick, though my head was a little dizzy, so I concluded to go on deck. I cautiously ascended the companion way, and found the Captain standing near the wheel, enveloped in oil-skins, his head being covered by an ample sou'wester.
"Hello, boy," was his greeting, "what are you doing up here? The best place for you is below; you might get blown over-board."
But I begged to be allowed to remain a little, arguing that I felt better on deck, and the Captain relented and found a sheltered place under the lee of the cook's galley, telling me not to try to move about the deck.
The bark was rolling and tossing, but appeared to be bounding through the water like a race-horse. Soon I heard the Captain tell the mate that the wind had shifted around into the east, and that they were in for a stiff blow, and rain, too, before long.
So it proved, and it was not long before the squall struck in earnest. The ship careened, and a sea came over her weather rail, until the lee-scuppers spouted green water, wetting me a little, even in my sheltered retreat.
The rain began to fall, and the sailors had their hands full. There was a great commotion of loudly spoken orders, the tramping of feet, the creaking of blocks, the rush and roar of the sea and the howling of the blast through the rigging. All hands were called to take in sail, and the bark, soon close hauled, was lying over nearly to her lee rail. The heavy sea beat against her bows with all the force which tons of water could exert, while the staunch little vessel, quivering for a moment would seem to hesitate, and then plunge forward to meet the next onslaught like an animate thing possessed of sensible emotions. The spray, flying back over the bows, drenched the deck from fore to aft. The topsail halyards had been hauled taut, and the sails filled out and backed against the masts with a noise like thunder.
I did not long remain in the scanty shelter afforded by the house, but made the best of my way to the cabin. To make matters worse, I was again off my "sea-legs," and was getting terribly sick.
Life was a bed of roses for Debra, the daughter of Alpha. That was until she had a one-night stand with Caleb. She was sure he was her mate as determined by Moon Goddess. But this hateful man refused to accept her. Weeks passed before Debra discovered that she was pregnant. Her pregnancy brought shame to her and everyone she loved. Not only was she driven out, but her father was also hunted down by usurpers. Fortunately, she survived with the help of the mysterious Thorn Edge Pack. Five years passed and Debra didn't hear anything from Caleb. One day, their paths crossed again. They were both on the same mission—carrying out secret investigations in the dangerous Roz Town for the safety and posterity of their respective packs. Caleb was still cold toward her. But as time went on, he fell head over heels in love with her. He tried to make up for abandoning her, but Debra wasn't having any of it. She was hell-bent on hiding her daughter from him and also making a clean break. What did the future hold for the two as they journeyed in Roz Town? What kind of secrets would they find? Would Caleb win Debra's heart and get to know his lovely daughter? Find out!
Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."
Corinne devoted three years of her life to her boyfriend, only for it to all go to waste. He saw her as nothing more than a country bumpkin and left her at the altar to be with his true love. After getting jilted, Corinne reclaimed her identity as the granddaughter of the town’s richest man, inherited a billion-dollar fortune, and ultimately rose to the top. But her success attracted the envy of others, and people constantly tried to bring her down. As she dealt with these troublemakers one by one, Mr. Hopkins, notorious for his ruthlessness, stood by and cheered her on. “Way to go, honey!”
Betrayed by her mate and sister on the eve of her wedding, Makenna was handed to the ruthless Lycan Princes as a lover, her indifferent father ignoring her plight. Determined to escape and seek revenge, she captured the interest of the three Lycan princes, who desired her exclusively amid many admirers. This complicated her plans, trapping her and making her a rival to the future Lycan queen. Entwined in jealousy and vindictiveness, could Makenna achieve her vengeance in the intricate dance with the three princes?
"You're a creepy bastard." His eyes smolder me and his answering grin is nothing short of beautiful. Deadly. "Yet you hunger for me. Tell me, this appetite of yours, does it always tend toward 'creepy bastards'?" **** Widower and ex-boss to the Mafia, Zefiro Della Rocca, has an unhealthy fixation on the woman nextdoor. It began as a coincidence, growing into mere curiosity, and soon, it was an itch he couldn't ignore, like a quick fix of crack for an addict. He didn't know her name, but he knew every inch of her skin, how it flushed when she climaxed, her favourite novel and that every night she contemplated suicide. He didn't want to care, despising his rapt fascination of the woman. She was in love with her abusive husband. She was married, bound by a contract to the Bratva's hitman. She was off-limits. But when Zefiro wanted something, it was with an intensity that bordered on madness. He obsessed, possessed, owned. There'd be bloodshed if he touched her, but the sight of blood always did fascinate him. * When Susanna flees from her husband, she stumbles right into the arms of her devilishly handsome neighbour with a brooding glare. He couldn't stand her, but she needed him, if she was ever going to escape her husband who now wanted her dead. Better the devil you know than the angel you don't. She should have recalled that before hopping into Zefiro's car and letting him whisk her away to Italy. Maybe then, she wouldn't have started an affair with him. He was the only man who touched her right, and the crazy man took no small pains in ensuring he would be the last.
"I stood at the edge of my heart and watched him choose her. In the end, I was not the one he needed. I was simply the one he settled for." - Noelle ~~~~~~~ I thought I was the one he loved. But a few days before our wedding, I saw him in a way I never had before. His eyes softened as he spoke to her. His first love, and the very woman who had left him in pieces. Heartbreak was something I knew too well. And as I watched the love he still held for her in his eyes, I realized what I had to do. I couldn't marry a man who wasn't truly mine. With no means to cancel the wedding and lacking the courage to confront him, I made a desperate choice to leave. I painfully gave his first love my treasured engagement ring thinking it was for the best and the only way to free myself. But when he saw that ring on her finger, the fragile world I had tried to escape began to shatter. His obsession to find me and bring me back ignited a dangerous game of cat and mouse.