The Last Seaman

At the dinner table he watched her; perfectly erect, the posture an example to her class, a stern schoolmarm. He took a perverse delight in the knowledge she knew he was looking at her. Nervous, fluttery, dropping her fork, napkin. Did she dream wild fantasies of ravenous seamen clawing apart frothy feminine under-apparel in search of the closest portal to appease their gross sexual appetites? He was crazy. He tried smiling at her but she only shrivelled up, trembled.


Marty Leigh, his young heart beating wildly, his blood racing, his suitcase held together by a leather strap, climbed his first gangway. He would walk down his last bitter, disillusioned. The sea would change him irrevocably, keep him within its folds all his working life. It would call him many names but take away the one he loved best of all, seaman.