Hello to you all, my dear readers. Well, after my last chapter, here it is a new one, and I finally introduce a character that probably some of you have been wanting to meet. Oh, and I forgot to mention at the beginning of my fanfic, this fanfic is going to be a crossover with several other series, movies, and things of the like. Among those things is the British comedy 'Allo 'Allo!, but I'll leave to you readers to find out which of the characters from that series is here! I don't know how many - or even if any - of you know 'Allo 'Allo!, but if you don't, you may see it, because it's good - or so I think. Now that is over, let's begin.


Chapter 4 - The caged writer

Carl made his way to his cabin, dragging his two bulging suitcases angrily behind him. He didn't feel the Venture's engines working beneath his feet yet. Why the hell was Englehorn taking so long? Why couldn't the stinking German just get the ship moving? Didn't he realize that Carl was in a hurry? Didn't the man realize they were going toward the greatest discovery in modern history? No, of course he didn't, but that didn't make Carl any less annoyed. It seemed as if the man enjoyed annoying Carl.

The last two times he had hired Englehorn, the captain seemed to go out of his way to harass Carl. This time was no different, it would appear. The man was taking forever to get his vessel underway and the captain had accepted those two English snobs as passengers. Carl was sure they would spend the entire voyage complaining, getting in the way, and trying to take everything over. Maybe it was those two that were holding things up. If Carl ended up arrested because of those two English…

A wolfish snarl came out of Carl's mouth at the idea. He had more than half a mind to go back out there, grab the Captain by his collar, drag him to the ship, and make him leave. The mental image of him trying to do any physical coercion of Englehorn made Carl realize what an utterly ridiculous idea that was. He would have to wait, damn it. He had no choice.

Carl thought of the 'lemonade' he had instructed Preston to pack. A swig or two of Tennessee's finest would calm him right down. Heaven help Preston if he had forgotten. Carl pushed his way through the dining area and saw his cabin's door down a short passage and off to the left. He dropped his bags and turned the doorknob. It gave way easily and the door creaked open. He took two steps inside.

Someone else was already inside. Carl jumped. It can't be the cops!

But as soon as he caught a glimpse of the profile of the person inside of his cabin, he knew exactly who it was. No one else Carl knew had a shnoz like Jack Driscoll.

"Jesus, Jack, you scared me!"

Carl grabbed his two suitcases and flung them into the cabin.

"If someone comes in, you haven't seen me." said Carl.

He headed straight for the crate of 'lemonade' that was sitting on a table.

"Say I got depressed. Say I committed suicide. Say I stuck my head down the toilet. Say I was kidnapped by a flying elephant. Say whatever the hell you want. Just don't say that I'm here!"

Carl slipped one of the bottles out of the crate, yanked off the bottle top, grabbed a glass, and then poured himself a healthy measure of whiskey.

"You want some?" asked Carl.

The tall, dark-headed playwright had been watching the flurry of activity with a look of impatience on his aquiline face.

"I can't." said Jack.

He got up and put on his brown overcoat.

"I've got a rehearsal to get to for which I am now…" he glanced at his wristwatch, "…three hours late."

Jack produced a small sheaf of papers and thrust them at Carl.

"What's this?"

"The script." replied Jack.

Carl skimmed through the pages that Jack had given him. He counted them. Fifteen. Fifteen?

"This is a script? Jack, there are only fifteen pages here."

"They're good. You have fifteen good pages."

Carl's face screwed up with irritation.

"It is supposed to be a feature-length picture."

Jack put his hat on. "You said I'd have more time. Sorry, but I have to get to rehearsal."

Desperation welled up inside of Carl that had nothing to do with being chased by the police.

"You can't do this to me. Jack, this is the beginning, but I need a middle and an end. I've gotta have something to shoot."

Jack gestured toward the pages Carl was holding. "You've got my notes. Sorry, Carl, but I have to get going. See ya."

With that, Jack turned on his heel and headed toward the door.

Carl's brain lurched into high gear. There was no way he could let his scriptwriter just walk out the door. Without a script, Carl knew his picture was in trouble. It didn't matter how fantastic the shooting location was. He needed words. Bolting down the last of his drink, Carl noticed a number of sailors bustling around outside the small round window of his cabin. They were finally preparing to cast off. If Carl could just distract Jack for a few more minutes, well, he was sure Jack needed a vacation anyway.

"Alright." called Carl. "Let's settle our account."

Jack stopped, his hand frozen to the doorknob. He turned around slowly.

"You're going to pay up?"

"Yeah, sure."

Carl took out his check book and began to write, but then dramatically paused and glanced up at Jack.

"How does two grand sound?"

Jack's eyes brightened, but then immediately narrowed. "I've never know you to volunteer cash before."

"You've done me a huge favour here. I don't want to stiff a friend."

"Then I guess it sounds great." replied Jack. He smiled.

Carl handed Jack the check. He was silently begging for Jack to look at the thing.

The writer took the check with a smile, but his smile disappeared instantly when Jack noticed what Carl had actually written.

"You've made a mistake." said Jack. He jabbed a long finger at the check. "You've written 'two grand'."

Carl tried to keep himself from laughing out loud. "Sorry…" said Carl.

He ripped the useless cheque in half, and as he wrote a second one, he purposefully muttered out loud, two…thousand…dollars.

Carl grinned and handed over the second check. "It's the 29th, right?"

"It's the 25th!" replied Jack. "You know it."

Carl sighed exaggeratedly, and then ripped that check in two as well, but at that moment, the cabin's floor began to shake and shudder. The Venture was leaving!

"Pay me when you get back!" shouted Jack.

He jumped down the stairs, ripped open the door, and then ran out into the passage.

Carl beamed. He poured himself another drink and then made a toast to thin air.

"To Jack Driscoll, the best screenwriter a director could ask for!"


Jack careened around the corner and bounced unceremoniously off the opposite wall. Finding Carl's cabin had seemed so easy at the time. Now that he knew he had precious few moments to get off the ship, he suddenly couldn't remember if it was a right at the coal chute or left at the engineer's quarters. The ship began to vibrate even more beneath his scurrying feet. It was going to leave. With him on it!

Jack tripped on a bucket and went sprawling on the floor. He jumped, and began running down the passageway. There was a lurch, and then the ship moved.

Jack panicked. He charged through a door. It slammed open and hit a sailor in the face. Jack didn't stop to apologize. The gangway was only several feet away. He rushed forward and then stopped short. The dock was slowly retreating. Jack glanced down at the dark roiling water the Venture was kicking up. His eyes darted toward the dock again as he quickly calculated the distance. He surged forward, but then stopped himself.

Too far. Too late.

"God damn it!" shouted Jack. He slapped his grey fedora against the railing. He continued shouting abuse at the docks, the water, and anything else that happened to be listening.

But something he saw on the rapidly waning pier stopped the stream of curses flowing out of his mouth. The flashing blue and red lights of police cars lit up the dock. Several men swarmed out and began shouting and shaking their fists.

Jack heard footsteps to his left. He looked over his shoulder and saw Carl walking towards him, a confident smirk on his face and hands calmly in the pockets of his overcoat.

Alternating his focus between the angry men on the docks and the expression on Carl's triumphant and relaxed look, it wasn't that hard for the writer to put two and two together. Carl had gotten Jack into a mess, and it wasn't the first time.

Jack recalled the time he was at auditions for the lead in his play, Break. Among the candidates, there had been one girl who had quite a bit of potential, but she also had a problem: she got nervous too easily. That wasn't something Jack exactly wished in actresses, but he hadn't known how to say it to the woman without being offensive.

Carl, who happened to be at the audition and unfortunately in a flaming bad mood had called the woman pathetic, stupid, and useless. He cursed her up side and down the other causing the poor thing to burst into tears. At that point, the woman's overprotective boyfriend entered the fray. The man, in no uncertain terms, told Carl where to go and how to get there. Unfortunately for Jack, the two irate men came to arguing. Jack's producer had decided to call the cops just in case – but when they arrived, arguing had passed to brawling. Carl and the protective boyfriend came out with a black eye each, and they had almost ended up behind bars, but Jack had managed – with a lot of fast talking - to smooth the matter over. The worse was that it had been a large drop on his playwright popularity to know that brawling happened during his auditions – and his play, Break, was almost thrown in the trashcan.

Another time, about three years ago, was when Jack and some of his friends had a meeting. Carl was among those friends, and he was just a wreck. His latest movie about sea lions had not been as well received as Carl had wished. Carl had taken it very hard, saying that movie was his best, and had been made at the cost of his sweat and blood – although, he admitted it later, most of the blood at which cost the movie was made wasn't his. Jack and his other friends had tried to give him moral support, and Carl had suddenly produced a crate of prohibited drinks.

The bottles were attacked by every person in the apartment, except Jack. Everyone became roaring drunk, and eventually the apartment was ruled by absolute chaos. Unfortunately, the craziness had spread to the rest of building, and Jack had to calm down a bunch of neighbors who were very angry for the late noise. Carl made matters worse by aggressively trying to shoo the neighbors out of the apartment. Fortunately that as a writer he knew how to get messages across.

"I keep telling you, Jack, there isn't any money in theatre. You want the big bucks? Stick with film." Carl took out his pipe and knocked the dottle out of it.

Jack leaned against the railing and rubbed his temples. "I don't do it for the money, Carl. It just so happens that I love the theatre."

"No you don't." said Carl. He leaned slightly towards Jack and took his pipe out of his mouth. "If you really loved it, you would have jumped."

Jack didn't know what to say to that. He couldn't stand the thought that maybe Carl was right. Part of him had wanted to jump. He could have, after all. He knew perfectly well how to swim. But for some reason he was unable to do it. Why, he'd dearly love to know.

Clearly attempting to lighten the overall mood, Carl patted Jack's shoulder and asked, "Since you're here, how about you do me the favor of writing the rest of the script?"

Jack grumbled, before turning to Carl and saying with resignation in his voice: "It's not as if I have many options left."

With that, he walked off, trying to get used to the idea of spending undetermined time on the tramp steamer.


Kendra stopped for a moment on her way to the wheelhouse and watched New York City shrinking into the horizon. It was part of her life, watching every place her husband's ship stopped coming closer and closer and then going further and further away. Fortunately, there was one thing that always stayed close to her, no matter where she went; Eric.

Of course it had not always been that way. She had not always spent her life on a ship, and she had not always been married to a German captain. In fact, if her dear father had known that she had married the enemy, he would have probably flayed them both alive. But he was not around anymore. He had already been dead when she met Eric.

She watched the water again. The movements of the East River reminded Kendra a lot of her relationship with her father, Ronald Wright. Somewhat stormy at times, always in motion, but seldom perfectly peaceful. Their relationship was never one she wished for. If her mother hadn't died giving birth to her, things would be very different. But she had, and because of that, Kendra and her father had developed a certain distance in their relationship that could never quite be breached. She always thought she could see the slightest bit of accusation in his eyes. Not that Kendra didn't blame herself on occasion, but to see that blame mirrored in her own father's eyes was a difficult thing to accept.

Having spent a good part of her growing up years moving from port to port following her father, she felt cast adrift when her father had suddenly died. With no family to speak of, and no permanent home, she had nowhere else to turn but to the familiar sight and smells of the docks. She had gone down to the Wall Street Pier after her father's funeral to try and sort out what she was going to do next.

That was the first time she had ever seen Eric. When she first laid her tearful eyes on him, he was just a normal sailor, standing about 10 feet away, smoking a cigarette. In fact, the first thing coming to her mind when she saw him was that he, with his two day stubble and dirty clothes, definitely wouldn't have passed the inspections her father had conducted. But for a moment, he had looked at her, and his deep blue eyes had definitely made her throw the inspection factor to the waves so they'd drag it under. For a moment, she thought she'd seen a hint of interest, even worry. But Kendra had been too wrapped up in her grief to give the blue-eyed sailor another thought.

Kendra didn't know how long she had been lost in her own thoughts, but suddenly Eric was sitting on the same crate that she was. He had asked what was going on with her, and delivered a handkerchief for her to clean her tears. In spite its slightly dirty appearance, Kendra accepted it. The two started talking.

At first, she had been shocked to find out that he was German – with Kendra being daughter of a U.S. Naval Commander who had fought in the Great War, it was somewhat inevitable – but when she and Eric talked a bit more, they realized they had more in common than not. In the end, wanting to get away from it all, Kendra had asked for passage on his ship. In exchange, she agreed to work as one of the crew.

After several shared experiences on some of the voyages, their relationship grew deeper. It seemed that not even a World War could keep them apart, and after a year, they married. Nearly from the first moment she had stepped foot on the Venture, Kendra took to the seafaring lifestyle as strongly as a barnacle to a ship's hull. It was not a difficult decision to break standard procedure and accompany her husband everywhere as a full fledged member of the crew. The tramp steamer was the only place where life had something to give her, she realized, and she would not give it up.

Kendra pulled her mind back to the present as she entered the wheelhouse. She hoped Eric would have a decent explanation for the Venture's sudden early departure.

"Eric." Kendra called out.

Englehorn looked up from the map he was perusing. The stern look on his face softened a bit. "Kendra."

"We need to talk."

"Of course." The captain crushed out the cigarette he was smoking and gestured for Kendra to lead the way out of the wheelhouse.

As the couple withdrew from wheelhouse, Kendra could feel anxiety clenching her stomach. She walked to the wheelhouse railing and grabbed on to it. Eric followed suit. Kendra knew he would wait until she was ready to speak. Several moments slipped past. She felt Eric's arm pressing against hers.

"We were supposed to have left tomorrow. Why the big hurry?"

"Denham paid us more to leave earlier."

Kendra clenched her jaw.

Money.

Their last voyage had been disastrous. More than half of the animals had died en route, and a mutinous crewman had set a fire in the hold that had nearly destroyed the ship. It seemed nothing was as important as money these days.

"You know we may get in trouble for leaving without filing the updated manifest."

"We need…"

"…money..." Kendra finished. She sighed. "It's always the money."

Kendra felt Eric tense up beside her.

"We don't have a choice." He nearly hissed. "If we lose the Venture, we lose everything. One misfiled manifest is worth the extra $1,000 Denham paid us."

"Is he good for it?"

"He has been in the past."

Kendra trusted Eric more than anyone else in the world, but even his judgment could be clouded, she supposed. They certainly were not the only ones who were in trouble. The whole world seemed to be caught in a financial panic. She looked out over the dark waves and hoped things would go their way this time. Kendra felt Eric move closer to her.

"You won't be mad at me for the whole trip like you were the time that we accidentally trapped that stink badger, will you?"

Kendra laughed out loud. What an absolute disaster that had been! It had happened during their second expedition together. They had been on the Philippine island of Palawan trapping cockatoos and parrots. When Eric had told Kendra to go and check the traps, she had discovered a very angry stink badger. The animal had let her know in absolute terms how it felt about falling into a parrot trap.

It had taken six weeks to get the reek completely out of her hair.

Still giggling softly, Kendra turned to face Eric. As soon as she looked into the icy blue eyes of her husband, she felt her annoyance and uneasiness slowly drain away. He kissed the tip of her nose, and her heart quickened. She blushed like a schoolgirl. Even after seven years of marriage, he could still do that to her.

"Is that all I get?"

He grinned wickedly. "Take it as a down payment."

"How do I know you're good for the rest of it, Captain?" She teased.

Eric reached out and hooked his arm around his wife's waist and pulled her to him. "Oh, I'm good for it." He murmured fiercely into her ear, as his free hand stroked Kendra's long, thick black ponytail.

"Uh, Skipper?" asked a voice.

The Englehorns abruptly separated.

"What is it, Choy?" Kendra tried to disguise her annoyance, but she failed. Such interruptions were frequent, but that didn't make them any less annoying.

"We have extra passenger." said Choy.

Englehorn grunted. "Who is it?"

"Jack Driscoll." said Choy. "Writer for Mistah Denham motion picture. He stay on ship because it leave too early."

Englehorn swore. "Just what we need. Where are we going to put him?"

"He can sleep in hold for now. Prenty room down there."

Englehorn nodded his approval. "Get him some blankets and get him situated down there."

"Yessir, Skipper."

Choy threw up a clumsy salute and turned to leave, but he stopped and smacked his palm to his forehead.

"Forgot. One more thing, Skipper."

"Yes Choy, what is it?"

"That Mistah Dollar. He want to talk to you."

"On your way to the hold, tell him he may talk to me up here. I'll be waiting for him." Englehorn said.

"Yessir, Skipper."

Choy left the wheelhouse. Englehorn turned to Kendra.

"What do you suppose Mr. Dollar wants this time?"

Kendra shrugged. "I don't know," she said, "but what I do know is that it is horrible down in the hold. That poor Mr. Driscoll."

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

Kendra shrugged. "I guess not. I should go and see that he is as comfortable as possible."

"Sounds good." replied Eric. "You're better than me at dealing with passengers."

Eric's brow furrowed. "On second thought, I had better go do it."

Kendra recognized the look on her husband's face. "Eric, how many times must we go through this?"

"Is it wrong for a man to want to protect his wife?"

"Of course not. But I think throwing a man overboard goes a little beyond protecting your wife."

Eric affected a posture of mock indignation. "That happened two weeks after we were married. I haven't thrown anyone overboard since."

Kendra found herself laughing again. "Don't worry. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can." said Eric. "You always do, but a man can't be too careful when he has such a beautiful wife."

"He hasn't even seen me yet." said Kendra. "For all you know, he prefers blondes."

"You know what I prefer."

Kendra grinned. The Captain would pay up in full, the first second she could get him alone.


As Kendra left the wheelhouse, Mr. Dollar arrived. He was followed by his four huge body guards.

"There we are, Captain." said Dollar.

"Right then, what do you want to speak with me about, Dollar?"

"I guess I just wanted to ask where will we sleep." said Dollar. "You see, none of your bloody crew told us yet."

Englehorn's face darkened. "I'll take care of that." He turned and grumbled something to a sailor standing next to Hayes. The young man nodded and scrambled out of the wheelhouse.

Englehorn turned to face Dollar again. ""I've sent Mr. Brainard to go and get Mr. Crabtree. He will escort you and your men to your cabins. I apologize for the delay."

The Captain reached into his pocket and extracted a cigarette. "Since you are here, I do have a question for you."

"What is it?"

"All those crates you and your men brought into the ship. I need to know the contents."

"Digging equipment." replied Dollar. "Shovels, pick axes, brushes, sifting pans and the like."

Englehorn lit his cigarette. "I get the point. What else?"

"Nothing that you're not used to."

"I don't like the sound of that, Dollar. This is my ship. I know what comes on and what comes off. Tell me what is in those crates – exactly, or I'll have one of my crew crack open each and every one of them."

Dollar lifted his arms in an appeasing gesture. "Calm down. We carry firearms as a precaution. An archaeological expedition ain't some easy walk in the park, you know. Pardon me if I want a little 'life insurance' with me."

"What kind of firearms?"

Dollar considered the captain. "A few rifles. I have a Colt 45. Mother of pearl handles. It's a beauty. Now, again, where will my men and I sleep?"

Englehorn fixed Dollar with an intense stare for a few more seconds. Dollar matched his gaze.

Another sailor appeared at the door of the wheelhouse.

"Sir?"

Without removing his ice blue eyes from Mr. Dollar, he said:

"Show these men to their cabins."

"Yes sir, captain."

"Hurry up, man. We're tired. Come on bud. March, do as you're told!" barked Dollar.

Crabtree looked at Englehorn, who nodded. Only after the sailor received confirmation from his captain did he turn to leave the wheelhouse. Dollar and his four Herculean men followed Mr. Crabtree.

Englehorn leaned his back against the wall. He didn't know why, but something about that man made him to feel slightly apprehensive. Maybe it would be better to keep an eye on the millionaire.


Kendra walked down the stairs that lead to the ship's hold. Since Kendra had joined the crew, she had seen animals of almost every type housed down there. Eric was a very good at what he did – live animal capture. He supplied zoos and private reserves all around the world. Because of his expertise, his customers were willing to pay top dollar – except, of course when something happened to the animals. Illness and accidents happened a lot, it seemed.

The previous accident was nearly the last. Kendra recalled grimly as she looked around the space that had nearly burned down not more than two months ago.

The first thing that she became aware of at entering the hold was the smell of animal detritus that ruled the place. But she ignored it. She had lived on the ship for eight years and was used to it, but she remembered almost fainting the first time she had smelled the hold. Jack Driscoll was probably close to fainting right about now.

"Skipper get any wild animal you want." Choy's voice reached her ears. "He'll do you real good price on white rhino."

As much as advertising their services could be good for business, advertisement had to be made to the right people and on the right measure. A New York City playwright was not the right person to be discussing white rhinos with, certainly. The poor man was probably already tired of Choy's incessant talking.

"Choy."

The mere sound of her voice was enough to silence the crewman.

Turning around, Kendra saw Jack Driscoll. He was a tall hooked-nosed man with black hair. He was holding a blanket, a pillow, an overcoat, and a felt fedora in his arms. He looked dreadfully out of place dressed as he was in a neat dark brown tweed suit. Definitely a bookish city boy to the core. She could tell he was already sick from the ship's rocking.

As soon as the playwright saw her, his eyes went wide and his mouth worked silently. It was only by a miracle that he managed not to drop everything in his arms.

Kendra folded her arms and cocked her head to one side.

"Surely you have seen a woman on a ship before, Mr. Driscoll."

"I don't spend a lot of time on ships, Captain." Jack Driscoll grimaced and leaned up against one of the cages.

"That's quite obvious."

Choy piped up. "This not Skipper. This Skipper's wife."

Jack looked at Kendra, then Choy, and then back to Kendra.

"You're not the Captain?"

Kendra smiled and shook her head.

Jack sat down on a crate still clutching his belongings. "I thought you were the captain." He muttered.

Kendra laughed. A ship captained by a woman! She was certainly the unofficial co-captain alongside her husband, but an official captaincy for a woman would be definitely too much, even for her.

Stifling her laughter, Kendra tried to be more welcoming.

"I'd like to apologize for the lack of cabins. You see, we have an unusual amount of passengers on this voyage. All the cabins are full."

Jack Driscoll rolled his eyes. "Of course they are. You should have hung a 'No Vacancy' sign on the hull. I would have stowed away on a different ship."

Kendra tried a different tact. "You should consider yourself lucky. No one else has this much room, not even the Captain."

"Oh yes, I feel very lucky indeed." Jack replied sarcastically.

"You should. There aren't any animals down here right now. Anyway, it is the best we can offer you at the moment. Take it or leave it."

Jack squinted up at her through the gloom and the smell. "If that's the best, I'd like to know what the worst is."

"What kind of person are you, Mr. Driscoll?" Kendra asked, a smile still playing on her lips. "We have enclosures of many kinds."

Turning to the door of the cage he was sitting next to, Jack said, "I guess that I'll take this one."

"We keep lions in there, Mr. Driscoll."

Mr. Driscoll did not seem like the lion type.

When Jack opened the door, she realized that his choice was wrong for more than one reason. A crate fell out of it and a bottle rolled toward her. She trapped it under her booted foot. Even before reading the label, she knew that was chloroform, the chemical they used to put most of their animals asleep. If one of the bottles broke, the liquid would wreak havoc on the ship. Now that Kendra thought of it, it was Choy's job to keep the chemical locked up.

"You were supposed to lock this up." She accused Choy.

"Sorry, Ma'am." said Choy. "Lumpy said…"

"Lumpy doesn't give the orders!" she cut him off in a harsh whisper. "You know how dangerous this is. I want you to get this locked up immediately."

Choy executed a clumsy bow. "Yes, Ma'am."

After making sure that the chemical was stowed in a safer place – the lockable closet attached to the wall that existed exactly for it – Kendra turned away and began her way out of the hold. Before she left, she called out to Jack Driscoll.

"Sleep well, Mr. Driscoll."


As she walked through the corridor towards the wheelhouse, Kendra saw one of the cabin doors swinging open in front of her. She didn't give it a second thought until she saw who was coming out of the cabin.

She recognized him instantly. It was Bruce Baxter, one of the film actors Carl Denham had hired. From what Kendra knew of the man, he was an arrogant, preening 'ladies man'. She had only seen one of his pictures, Dame Tamer, and that had been more than enough.

As she approached, the man actually rubbed his hands together and whispered:

"What have we got here?"

To her greater surprise, he stepped completely out of his cabin and stood in the middle of the passageway effectively cutting her off. He gave her an oily smile.

Kendra stopped and stared at the man. She kept her expression as indifferent as possible. One thing was obvious in her mind: the actor would learn that she wasn't like the women he had tamed. There was only one man in the world that could tame her, and his name was not Bruce Baxter.

"A good night to you." said Bruce. He leaned back in a somewhat casual way against the corridor's wall.

Hoping he would just get the message, Kendra replied icily, "Good night."

"And a lovely evening as well, don't ya think?"

"So it seems."

"As lovely as you are, Ma'am."

This time she just stared at him.

He responded by trying to take her by the forearm.

"Say, how about we…"

Kendra held up her left hand. She wiggled her ring finger under his nose. "I'm married."

"So?"

"To the Captain."

Baxter's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Kendra pushed her way past the actor and stalked down the passage. She could still feel his brown eyes pinned on her. This would be another on the list of those that would have to be taught how to behave.


Captain Eric Englehorn leaned against the wheelhouse's wall taking deep drags of the cigarette held between his lips, reducing its size at an amazing speed. He was a little worried. Kendra was taking quite some time to return from the hold. He trusted his wife, but he knew she was beautiful. More than once a man on his ship had overstepped the bounds of propriety. Eric was not by nature a jealous man; he preferred to think of himself as protective. He knew Kendra could look after herself – oh, that he certainly knew – but the idea of some man trying something inappropriate still disturbed him.

Turning his head towards the now distant shore he recalled the first time they had met, eight years ago, on the New York docks. He had just unloaded a cargo of animals and was looking for ward to a few days rest and relaxation. One of those nights he had seen Kendra sitting down on a crate, her long black hair blowing in the breeze. It was undeniable that she had caught his attention from the first moment – both for being on the New York docks, a somewhat undesired place for most women, and for wearing men's clothes. When he came closer, her beautiful green eyes caught his attention even more.

After a conversation they had – during which she told him a summed up version of her life – she had asked for passage on his ship. Eric had asked why she wanted to come, but her explanation was that life had nothing for her in New York City.

Eric remembered that he had thought her explanation was very sad. But it wasn't only sad – it was surprisingly similar to the reason why he had boarded the Venture for the first time. He had spent almost four and half years of his life fighting in the Great War. Four and a half bloody, miserable, and wasted years, spent in the Deutsche Luftstreitkräfte, blowing planes out of the sky and constantly trying to avoid the same fate.

When the War finally ended, Eric had made his way back to his home through the shattered country-side of his homeland only to find that his family had been among the victims of the blockade of Germany, and that his house had been rented to another family by their landlord. Having nothing left for him, he left Bielefeld, and ended up ended up wandering homeless, destitute and starving. On a fateful day in September 1919, Eric found himself on the docks of Emden, where Albert Jansen, the Dutch captain of the tramp steamer S.S. Venture, took pity on him and hired him.

Without better choices, Englehorn had accepted. It wasn't long before he discovered that Captain Jansen was a kind and well respected man, and even began looking up to him like a son looked up to his father. And although the crew were expected to work hard; Captain Jansen ran a tight ship. For Eric, this new life on a tramp steamer was so much easier than the business of making war. Unfortunately, Captain Jansen became sick and died about four years after their meeting. Shortly before Jansen's death and much to the surprise of the whole crew, he officially left the ship and the title of Captain to Eric Englehorn. He had been Captain for little more than two years when he met Kendra.

Eric had been pleasantly surprised that Kendra took so quickly to life at sea. About a year later, they had married. Kendra never for one moment even considered staying ashore; in fact she insisted that she remain on the Venture with him. Of course this was exactly what Eric wanted because being away from her for so long would have been unbearable.

"Finally." Eric muttered as he heard Kendra's light step on the stairs.

"There you are."

Kendra nodded. "Yes, here I am. And as you can see, safe and healthy."

"The playwright remembered his manners?"

Kendra leaned against the wheelhouse door jamb and looked at her husband.

"Between his obvious seasickness, his displeasure at having to sleep in a cage, his dizziness at the smell in the hold, and his amazement at finding a woman like me on the ship, he didn't have the strength to have poor manners."

Eric exhaled some of his anxiety with a cloud of smoke, and then crushed the cigarette into a tin ash tray.

"That's good to hear."

Eric watched Kendra as she stood there chewing her forefinger. She only did that when she was nervous or upset.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Eric put his hands on his hips and turned to face his wife.

"Kendra?"

Kendra guiltily dropped her hand to her side and looked at a point above and to the right of Eric's shoulder.

"It was nothing. Nothing I couldn't take care of."

Eric took two steps forward and gently took Kendra by her upper arm.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Kendra met his intense stare with flashing eyes of her own.

"Eric…"

Englehorn recognized the tone in his wife's voice. He forced his anger down and took a deep breath. They'd been through this before. Of course it was partly his fault. After he had pitched that Charlie Abbot overboard, Kendra had been slow to tell him if anyone had bothered her, preferring to 'take care' of it herself. He both loved her independence and was frustrated by it at the same time.

Eric relaxed his grip on her arm and rubbed it instead.

"Go ahead, you can tell me. I promise I won't throw anyone off the ship."

Kendra bit her bottom lip. "It was that Bruce…"

Eric's face darkened. "…Baxter."

Eric was very familiar with that name. Kendra had suggested that they go to the picture show and see a movie. She had read that Mr. Baxter was quite an actor and that his movies were exciting. Eric was mildly intrigued, so they had seen Dame Tamer. Twenty minutes into the picture both he and Kendra came to the conclusion that it had been wasted money. It was obvious that whatever cinematic critics that had spoken well of the arrogant peacock had even worse sight than that of the rhinoceroses Eric had captured on some of his voyages.

"He's as bad in real life as he is in his movies." Kendra said.

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"Don't worry." she assured Eric. "When I told him who I was married to, he seemed surprised. I don't think he'll give me any more trouble."

Eric glowered. "If he puts one finger on you, Kendra, I reserve the right to pitch him overboard."

Kendra smiled and wrapped her arms around her husband. "Calm down, Eric. You know you are the only one who can…"

"Kendra!" Hissed Englehorn. He gestured behind them with his head.

Kendra peered over her husband's shoulder. She sighed.

Both the first mate, Benjamin Hayes, and the helmsman, David Adams, were smiling at the two of them. Hayes winked.

Kendra blushed.


Well, this is it. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter, and also that the Englehorn fangirls who read it don't feel too jealous for not being in Kendra's place! And tell me if you found out the character from 'Allo 'Allo! that features in this chapter. Anyway, please, leave a review!