Mayday

Author: Sch

“Get those hatch covers on!” the First Mate yelled, pushing seamen toward the treacherous deck.
“We’ll be killed,” a young man yelled.

“Then be killed, dam you, but save your ship. Get those hatch covers on now,” he threatened.
Jason, Mat, and Peter reluctantly ran out on deck. They took the hatch covers and fought the wind and waves to put them into place. Waves washed over the ship, threatening to wash the men overboard. Their yellow rain gear wouldn’t help to find them in such a storm, if they did go over the side. Of course they wouldn’t live long in the freezing waters 300 miles off the costs of Newfoundland.

Below decks a cute little brunette in rain gear sat with one hand on each side of the tiny toilet, as she tried to pee without getting the dangerous chemicals splashed into her pussy. She didn’t need toxic shock now, not when all hands were needed on deck. But nature called, even in a massive storm.

Pee gushed from the tiny pussy into the blue liquid sloshing below. On some women a pussy was simply a huge ugly gash between their legs. But on Mandy, it was a tiny, intricately-carved treasure of great beauty. A perfect replica of a 12 year old girl, only larger. In addition to being tiny, her pussy had small delicate lips, a perfectly-rounded mound, and it was surrounded by clear, unblemished skin. It was neat and clean, or as sailors were fond of saying, it was eating material.

At the moment, it was just something that Mandy peed with. She wiped her small, sparsely haired pussy on a wad of toilet paper, then stood and began pulling on clothing. She wiggled into her wet panties, grabbed her wet trousers and pulled with all her might, while squirming and wiggling like a snake. It seemed that every particle of wet clothing wanted to stick to her slender white legs. Her yellow rain trousers were last. These slid on easily. Snapping the suspenders, she pulled on the ugly hat and ran up the ladder while snapping the strap beneath her chin.

Mandy Baker started to spring out on deck, but the First Mate grabbed her arm and slammed her back against the bulkhead.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Out there to help.”
“No you’re not. I’m not coming back with the only woman onboard dead or lost at sea. Back down below.”

Mandy knew he had a crush on her. Most of the crew did. She couldn’t help it if men found her attractive. She didn’t join the crew to flirt, she simply wanted to work like the rest of them. And long line fishing was the easiest way to make a lot of money fast.

“Fuck you,” she said, pushing past him. She immediately regretted her perseverance. A wave hit her full in the face, smashing her head into the cabin. Her ears rang and white lights flickered in her eyes. Slowly her vision cleared. She found herself in the firm grip of the First Mate.
“Th… thanks,” she said reluctantly.

“You’re welcome. Now get back to work, break’s over,” he said, pushing her into the melee.
“You are such an asshole,” she screamed as she ran to help with the hatch covers. She heard a hammer banging away. The ship was old, made of wood. Nailing was the only way to guarantee that the covers stayed sealed. She ran forward and plopped her rounded ass down on a cover. She felt the vibration of the hammer striking the hatch through her ass and pussy. It was quite a thrill.

She saw the next wave curling over the ship. She yelled a warning, then grabbed the edge of the hatch cover. The wave tried to tear her free, but she held on. The water cleared and she saw the other three seamen running for cover. She shot to her feet and ran for the cabin. She had a brief glimpse of the Captain, up on the bridge staring down at her. He looked frightened. But there was so much wind and rain in her face, it was hard to see anything. She could be mistaken. Only the wildly flickering lightning, lit the deck so she could find her way.

The First Mate met Mandy at the hatch. “Bilge pump can’t keep up with the water. We need a bailing party right now,” he yelled, pointing below.
“Are we sinking?” she screamed to be heard against the wind. It was easier for a man’s voice to be heard over the wind, than a woman’s.
“Yes.”
“Don’t sugar coat it on my account,” she murmured as she ran down the ladder. Buckets were being passed out. Her descent was stopped by a five gallon bucket, half full of water, being shoved against her chest. She started to hurry up the stairs, but found the First Mate waiting with his hands out. She passed the bucket on to him and turned to receive the next. The first bucket went flying past her face, down to Peter, who was dipping. He started to complain at being splashed, but stopped at the First Mate’s dark scowl. Mandy handed the next bucket up the stairs. In a moment it barely missed her face, on the way back down. She glared and the First Mate signaled that she should stand back on the right side of the stairs. In a few more minutes the bailing party was running smoothly. But it wasn’t enough. The water came in around hatches, the gangway near the front of the ship, and the matching hatch and gangway beneath the bridge. They were losing the battle.

“Isn’t there some kind of emergency pump?” Mandy screamed.
“Yes,” the First Mate said, as he took the next bucket.
“So why aren’t we using it?”
“It’s on the pier. It needs maintenance.”

“This sucks,” Mandy said, feeling her fear intensify. In all likelihood, they were going to die. She knew that fishing was a dangerous job, but she always believed that it would claim others, the sloppy or ill-prepared, not her. Her life was too ordered, too planned to die at such a young age.
“Tired?” the First Mate asked.
“Exhausted.”
“Take a break.”
“Not unless everyone else does.”
“We will, one at a time. You’re first.”
“Oh,” Mandy said, collapsing on the stairs.
“Not there, up on the bridge. Give the Captain a report on our status, and get some coffee into you, it will be a long night.”
“What IS our status?”

“Fucking grave. I think there’s a hole somewhere. The holds are half full, we will sink in… three hours, maybe four unless the weather clears. The only good news is that the flooded holds have steadied the ship so it’s easier to bail.”

“Oh hell,” Mandy said, climbing past the First Mate. She stopped and looked back at the hectic scene below, it seemed surreal. The harsh emergency lights gave a ghostly aura to everything below. The First Mate tossed a bucket full of water out on the flooded deck, then motioned for her to leave. She gave a shudder and hurried up the ladder to the bridge.

“How is it?” the Captain shouted over the roar of the wind.
“Bad, Captain. The First Mate say’s we are going down in three, maybe four hours.”
“I figured. I want you to go to the forward section and see if you can find any damage. I think a hard wave may have cracked her ribs. Look for a hole up forward.”
“I… I don’t know anything about ships.”
“Do you know about water?”
“Yes sir.”
“Then get forward and look. This storm is predicted to last for another 8 hours. We don’t have that long.”
“Yes sir,” Mandy yelled, running down the ladder. She explained to the First Mate on the way past, then went out on deck. It was hell. In normal weather the 87 foot long liner seemed short. But in the wind and waves, it was pure death. It took Mandy seven minutes to make her way 20 feet across the open deck. She arrived at the forward hatch battered and drenched. She didn’t want to make that trip back again.

The comparative silence inside the forward compartment was a blessing. Salt and mold assailed her nose. Tar and old ropes filled the compartment. The ship had been built in 1947, it was made of wood, unlike most new vessels. The tar was used for patching and maintenance. Now, as she looked at the black buckets, they were floating in water. She took the emergency light from where it hung beside her, and shined it around the locker. She immediately saw the problem. A broken board was allowing a deluge of water inside. Could she fix it? Mandy was getting hot in the small cabin. She took off her rain gear and approached the hole. She pried open a black bucket and retrieved a wooden slat floating in the water. She dipped the tar out of the bucket, then dabbed it at the hole. The running water kept most of the tar from sticking. It simply shot inside on the gush of water, and bobbed around her with the assortment of trash. It wasn’t working. She stopped, pressed her foot against the hole, and pushed, trying to push the two pieces closed. The broken board disappeared through the hole, letting in three times the amount of water.

“Oh fuck,” she yelled. They were lost and it was all her fault. Of course she didn’t have to tell them that.

“Oh shit,” she screamed, quickly pulling on her rain gear as the water collected in the little room up to her knees. Before she had her rain gear on, it had reached her hip pockets. The water was as cold as death.

“No!” she screamed again at the water. She hurriedly climbed the wooden ladder and undid the hatch. She slammed the hatch cover down and locked it. A wave roared over her. She felt herself going over the side. She screamed and grabbed at the railing as she was about to be flung into the water. She held on for dear life, watching the wake of the bow crash beneath her face. After a brief struggle she regained her footing. The crew was rushing around the deck, the First Mate screamed orders, and the Captain yelled down at them all indiscriminately. He saw Mandy approaching and yelled to the First Mate. The First Mate turned and handed her a life preserver.
“What about the survival suits,” she screamed over the wind.

“No time. We are going directly into the liferafts.”
Mandy shrugged into the life jacket, then froze in terror. She couldn’t believe her eyes at first, then didn’t want too.

“Look!” she screamed. The Captain turned and looked at the wave curling over the boat. He let go of the wheel and hurried down ladder to join the others. The inflated liferaft was jerked out of their hands by the wind. It flew over the side, but Peter and Mat held it’s rope to keep it from flying away. As each crewmember grabbed the rope, they dove over the side, one at a time. None turned to see the ship rolling over on it’s side and disappearing beneath the waves. The lights were still on as it sank, leaving an erie trail of light as it made it’s way to the bottom. An endless wave washed over Mandy, submerging her for several minutes. She held her breath, kicking toward the surface with the rope still in her hands. She broke surface and took a gasp of air, just before another wave hit her in the face. Rather than trying to swim to the raft, she began pulling on the rope, one hand at a time. In a moment she bumped into another body.

“Pull,” she screamed in a shuddering breath. “Go the other way.”
Mandy was chilled to the bone. At first the water had chilled her neck and ribs, as it worked it’s way beneath her rain gear. Then it struck her pussy and chest and she was really cold. Now she was cold clear to the center of her being. She knew her core temperature was dropping. It was hard to hold onto the rope, with her frozen hands.

The weather was too horrible to distinguish features, she could only see a flash of yellow in the raging waters ahead of her. The man screamed and flailed at the water, then pulled himself toward the raft. The could see the raft in the frequent lightning flashes. A light flashed atop the canopy, barely discernable in the rain, wind, and waves. The trip seemed endless.

Some time later, Mandy was pulled into the raft by a group of frozen, desperate hands. She was so cold she could barely feel her body, but she did feel a pair of hands touching her breasts in the darkness. She didn’t care, the hands were warm. She passed out or fell asleep.

“We are going to die,” a small, frightened voice said from the darkness. Mandy’s eyes blinked open. She looked around. It was early morning, she could barely distinguish the shapes of men leaning against the yellow rubber tent around her. The raft was full of water, up to the tops of their reclining legs. Nobody had bothered to bail.

“Of course we’re going to die,” the First Mate lashed out. “We don’t have a chance in hell of surviving long enough to be rescued.”
“Why?” Mandy asked in a scratchy voice. She tried to move her legs and found a heavy body laying across them. She kicked it away. It was a dead body.
“There’s a dead man in here,” she shivered.

“The Captain,” the First Mate said regrettably. “He couldn’t swim, he drowned. I found him tangled the end of the rope. He got off easy. It will be a long haul for the rest of us.”
“Why won’t we be rescued?” Mandy insisted.

“Because we have been blowing ahead of this storm for the past 8 hours, with the tent on this liferaft acting as a sail. We are now a hundred miles northeast of where the ship went down, or in other words, the middle of the ocean. And to top that off we don’t think our mayday was received. You can fool yourself, but we are fucked.”

“Bullshit,” Mandy said, kicking the dead Captain away. “Somebody get rid of the Captain, please, we need the room.”

“We might need him,” the First Mate said sullenly.
“Why,” Mandy regretted the question the moment she asked it. Suddenly the answer was clear. He might be their only source of food.
“Get rid of it,” she insisted.
“Go ahead,” the First Mate shrugged. Two seamen leaned forward, pulled the dead Captain to the opening, and slid him out.
“These rafts have fishing gear and emergency water gear, don’t they?” Mandy asked.
“Yeah, for all the good it will do us.”
“You stupid shit, you are the First Mate. You are supposed to be trying to save us!” Mandy screamed.

“I was First Mate of the Victoria, not this fucking raft. If you want saving, do it yourself.”
“Somebody please find the distillery,” she said to the dark faces around her. She saw a figure digging into a canvas pouch. He handed her the inflatable distillery. He retained the fishing gear, knife, and flashlight.

“The catch basin is full, but salty,” Mat called after sucking briefly on the rubber straw. Rain water had collected on top of the raft and run down into the catch basin. But so much saltwater had blown around, as to make the water undrinkable.
“Drain it,” Mandy said reluctantly.
“We don’t have bait,” Peter called anxiously.
“You just chucked it overboard,” the First Mate growled.
“Oh shit,” Mandy said, putting a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t think of that.”
“He’s right there,” Jason said. Mandy could see him pointing through the opening. She crawled to the opening and looked outside. Captain Rinker was floating face down, just a few feet away. She leaned out and pulled him close.

“Does anybody have a knife?” she asked. She heard the click of three knives. She accepted the first one and cut the rope trailing from the raft. The Captain was starting to drift away. She paddled the raft closer and grabbed the Captain’s shirt. By poking a hole through his collar, she anchored him to the boat with the shortened rope. She felt a hand on her rounded ass as she began to reenter the raft. She turned to find Jason facing her.

“Did you lose something?” she asked.
“You have a nice ass… Well I figured if we are about to die anyway, I would like to… I wanted to touch…”
“I understand. You’re a virgin, aren’t you.”
“Yes.”
“Well let’s get the line out, and the distillery going, then we can fuck. It would be a great way to warm up and get our minds off things. But first, can you guys bail this damned water out of here? I would like to sit on something dry.

“What with?” Mat asked.
“Well… use your shoe,” she said, seeing nothing else around. Even the First Mate began to bail. Licking his lips, his eyes never left her ass. Mandy knew what he wanted, it was actually the same thing that she wanted. She hadn’t had a good fuck since… 11th grade?
“Oh gross,” Peter said, cutting into the dead Captain’s arm. “Somebody else can do this next time,” he said, tossing the three baited lines into the water.

“You won’t need him next time, save the fish innards for bait. They work better anyway, unless somebody feels like opening the Captain up and using his liver.

“You guys can do what you like, but I’m getting out of these wet clothes,” Mandy said, pulling up her shirt. The eyes of the men widened in anticipation. Her white bra-encased tits jiggled as they sprang free. Jason inched forward, licking his lips in anticipation. The sun suddenly appeared over the horizon, giving the scene a pleasant orange glow. Mandy smiled sweetly, seeing that she had the men’s attention. She reached behind her and unsnapped her bra. Her tits were white, cold, and covered with ridges from wet clothes. But to Jason, they were the best pair of tits he had ever seen.