Captive On The Ocean

Littlebere Cove is one of those places where you don’t go in July and August because it is choked with tourists but, out of season, it is a haven of peace and beauty. I loved to go there to sit on the sand and soak up the view and watch the fishermen or to stroll along the clean, sandy beach. There are always a few yachts moored out in the cove and I just took them as part of the scenery; it was only later that I knew about the man on one yacht watching me through his binoculars.

I did notice a bearded man on one of the yachts climbing down into his dingy and untying from the yacht. Watching him as he rowed for the shore and brought his tiny boat up onto the sand gave me some entertainment. He was not tall for a man but certainly not so short that one would remark on the fact. The beard was grey and the grey hair escaped around the band of his white sailor cap. I noticed the healthy tan as he strode up the beach and I realised that he was coming towards me.

“HI there.”

An American.

“Is there anywhere here I can get a drink?”

I took in the weathered look about his hands and face. This was a man of the sea used to hauling on ropes and handling wet sails in gales. There was a confidence about him. Somehow the way he moved broadcast, “I am at ease with myself and if you don’t like it, well fuck you”.

I told him that The Fisher’s Arms was just up the hill and his next line seemed entirely natural.

“It would be great if you could come with me. I would love to buy you a drink….if you don’t have a boyfriend or someone waiting for you.”

Well, I was my own mistress and it would have seemed churlish to refuse him especially as the pub is a public place and not some scary dark alley.

It was only a three-minute stroll up the hill and I learned that he sailed alone and had helmed his boat from USA which really impressed me. The pub was not crowded, just busy enough for there to be a good atmosphere. We sat at one of the small, round tables next to a window where we could watch people outside going about their business. He asked my name and I told him; his name was Alec. In answer to his casual questions, I said that I lived in the village and was a student; he had that genuine interest in people which some folks have. I felt a connection with this man who, like me, was not into trivial talk – what a nice day, what a pretty village…you know the sort of thing.

He asked if I was hungry and we ordered a baguette each with more drinks. After the meal, we seemed to have so much more to talk about so he bought some more drinks; it always seems rude to take up space in a bar and not actually give them any custom.

When our lovely interlude seemed to have reached a natural conclusion, we both stood up and I nearly fell into the table.

“Whoa there, let me help you with that.”

He reached out an arm which I took gratefully rather than send the empty glasses crashing to the floor. We were both laughing as he assisted me out into the street and we went back down the hill. I was feeling very swimmy and my eyes would not focus – how much had I had to drink? I didn’t know about the little pill dissolved in my drink until later.

Before I knew what was happening, we were at the shoreline and he was helping me into his dingy.

“You just focus on keeping upright and I’ll handle the oars.”

It never occurred to me to ask why I was getting into the boat with him; I was just following his lead. I did sit pretty much upright and I enjoyed watching the confident way that he rowed to his yacht. He moored us alongside and made a sort of slapstick comedy of manhandling me onto the deck. I don’t remember much after that.

There were a series of disjointed impressions which I think my mind somehow pushed together into an overall picture. I was in a metal tube a bit like a sewer pipe or a submarine and there was a huge man. He filled the entire space and he was the only thing which would fit into my field of vision; he had a long beard right down to the ground and he spoke like something out of a black and white film.

“Howdy Ma’am.”

And then the man was helping me to get free from my clothes. For some reason I could not move but, if I could just get out of my clothes all would be OK. He was freeing me from my shorts and my top and my undies; it would be easier if I could get free.

Then I think some time passed but this is all very hazy. I was lying in the dark and I could hear water splashing; I thought someone was running a bath but no-one takes that long to run a bath and a shower doesn’t make that much noise. I listened for what seemed like a very long time and then I opened my eyes – why did I not think of that before?

I wasn’t in a tube, it was some sort of small cabin and I was on a narrow bed along one side. Two shocks hit me more or less simultaneously – I couldn’t move and I seemed to be naked. Suddenly, I was very alert indeed. I struggled to move and I felt the ropes digging into my legs and arms. It was narrow, white rope and it refused to budge. I don’t know if he had been watching me the whole time or if he just came into the cabin but suddenly, he was staring down at me and a whole new level of terror took hold of me.

“I see you’re back with us.