Mosby’s Scenario:  Innovations.				By jonwI’
6/20/98

It was sweltering hot belowdecks, but that’s where the work had to be done, and 
therefor that’s where he had to be.  Stripped nude, panting in the heat, he 
checked his work one final time.  The channel now extended from the base of 
the foremast all the way back to the mainmast, under the deck.  It contained 
five PVC tubes, carefully smoothed, with no sharp edges, and pulleys at every 
turn.  Each tube carried the halyard, the rope used to raise and lower a sail, 
from the base of the foremast, under the deck, through the hold, and the cabins, 
to the base of the mainmast, where pulleys brought the ends to the windlass 
powered by the donkey engine.  With this modification, he should be able to 
raise and lower every sail with the donkey engine.  A major advantage for a 
ship over 100 feet long, with a crew of one.  The anchor had its own windlass, 
designed to handle chain instead of rope, but now that had an electric motor, 
running from the schooner’s solar-cell recharged batteries.  He’d even rigged a 
switch by the helm, at the far end of the schooner.  The original ratchet handle 
was retained for emergencies, of course, as nothing ever worked perfectly.  The 
real treasure, though, was a windvane controlled autopilot at the stern.  The 
wind, working against the vane, controlled a small rudder at the very back of 
the schooner to hold the ship on course.  Not having to hold the wheel all the 
time would be a big leap forward....

Emerging from the sweltering cabin, to the bright sunshine of the deck, the lion 
grinned to himself.  Like the armored fighting vehicles he’d inhabited for so 
long, a steel ship grew HOT in the tropical sun.  still, this was home and he 
was used to the heat.  The deck still got hot underfoot though, but not so hot as 
to make him think about wearing shoes.  He had arranged a few days off from 
his trading routes through the islands, a few days to remain docked at the 
WaterWings resort, to work on his projects.  Sometimes you had to spend time 
now to save it later...  He still had a few days before he had to set sail, to head 
for Timora, with a load of fishing boat parts, an icemaker, and a generator.  It 
was a good time to test his innovations.  Looking up with the skill of an old 
sailor, he read the wind, the sea, and the position of the sun, and concluded that 
conditions were right for a field test, before he had to get back to business.  
Turning, he started undoing the sail cover that held the canvas between the 
main boom and the yardarm.

Sylvia Slipsunder wandered down to the dock, from the main lodge, the hem of 
her sarong trailing behind her on the sandy ground.  Things at the resort were 
quiet, and with the small breakfast crowd out of the way, she felt like "getting 
out of the house" and going for a walk.  Motion caught her eye, and she saw 
John Mosby moving about the deck of his schooner, purposefully, as if 
preparing for something.

Padding out onto the dock, she watched for a moment, and then with a smile, 
called;  "Morinn’, John.  Whatcha doing?"  John looked over his shoulder, as 
he struggled with a knot on the foresail sail cover.  As he saw Sylvia there, he 
suddenly realized that he wasn’t wearing a stitch.  Well, aside from the 
eyepatch that is....  "Uh, Mornin’, Sylvia, just getting Rusty here ready to go 
out.  Want to make a short run, and check out some of the modifications I’ve 
been makin’...  Sylvia looked back at the main lodge, and then around the quiet 
resort, and then back at John; "I haven’t had a chance to go for a ride with you 
on Rusty yet; would you mind if I tagged along?"  John smiled; "Not at all, 
come on aboard.  If this stuff doesn’t work, I’ll probably be able to use a 
hand".  Have a seat until I get the sails ready, and then we’ll slip the moorings 
and get underway."

As he stowed the foremast sail cover and bent to work on getting the fisherman 
ready, he told himself that Sylvia’s seen him nude enough times in the past, he 
shouldn’t be shy.  Besides, dang near everyone at the resort dropped clothes as 
soon as they got off Kari’s seaplane anyways....  Still, he was amazingly 
self-conscious as he padded forward to prepare the jibs.

Finally all was ready and he started the auxiliary engine, the diesel thrumming 
softly belowdecks.  He untied the lines from the schooner, draping them over 
the pilings, awaiting their return, and kicked the diesel into gear.  As they 
slowly motored across the lagoon, and out into open waters, Sylvia reclined on 
a bench the lion had built for guests and passengers, against the windward rail.  
She watched the land slide past, watched the seabirds wheeling, and watched 
the lion at the wheel, as he guided his ship.

When they were clear of the lagoon, John motioned Sylvia over to the wheel; 
"Hold her into the wind while I get the sails up; I’ll be right back."  Moving 
forward to the mainmast, he started the donkey engine, watching critically as it 
coughed into life.  Taking the jib halyard, he wound the rope around the drum, 
and pulled tight.  Kicking the winch into gear, he took in the rope hand over 
hand as the jib slowly rose at the front of the ship.  When that line was tight, 
the small triangular sail fluttering in the breeze, he flipped it off the still 
turning drum, tied off the line, and turned to the halyard for the mainsail.  This 
was the largest sail on the ship, and the most difficult one to raise.  The yard 
arm, also known as a gaff, liked to stick as its forked end moved up the mast, 
despite rollers and grease.  He took three turns around the drum, kicked the 
winch into gear and watched, muttering a silent prayer, as the yardarm slowly 
rose.  As it rose, he pulled on the other halyard, the rope that adjusted the angle 
of the yardarm with respect to the mast, trying to keep it pretty much above the 
perpendicular.  It was quite a juggling act.  Finally the halyards were both tight 
and he kicked the winch out of gear, the donkey engine speeding up as the load 
was released.  Tying them off, he turned to yell back at Sylvia; "Head off to the 
east a bit."  As the ship turned from pointing straight into the wind, to taking 
the wind across the starboard (right) bow, the lion pulled in the jib sheet (the 
rope that controls the angle of the sail with respect to the wind) until the sail 
filled with wind and started pulling.  He then pulled in the main sheet, 
trimming that sail as well.

Padding back to Sylvia at the wheel, he turned to look critically at the sails and 
then reached down to take the engine out of gear, shutting off the auxiliary 
engine, and feathering the prop so that it would turn the generator to recharge 
the batteries.  The solar cells were good, but as expensive as they were, he had 
not yet been able to afford enough to meet his needs.  Giving Sylvia a quick 
kiss he grinned; "Glad you haven’t forgotten how to sail".  She kissed him 
back, and as he padded off to raise the other sails, calling back; "I get in a little 
practice every once in a while, but I’ve never handled anything THIS big!."

Using the donkey engine, the lion raised the staysail (innermost of the three 
jibs), then the foresail (the rectangular sail behind the foremast), and then the 
flying jib (outermost of the three jibs).  The fisherman, the huge rectangular 
sail stretched between the peaks of the foremast and mainmast came next, and 
he breathed a sigh of relief as all his modifications worked as he had desired.  
He now had all the sails set with a LOT less running around, and a lot less 
physical effort.

The schooner sliced through the waves on a broad reach, the wind 
perpendicular to their line of travel.  This was the direction that would yeild 
them their best speed, given the wind.  It also yielded enough force to heel the 
little ship over at a considerable angle, the leeward (downwind) rail almost in 
the water.  The lion watched for a moment or two, and then padded back to the 
stern, to fiddle with a strange contraption.  He adjusted a tall thin vane, sticking 
vertically up from a gymballed gear mechanism hung off the stern.  It remained 
vertical even with the way the ship was heeled over.  When he had it as he 
wanted it, he watched it move for a minute and then returned to Sylvia and the 
ship’s wheel.  Watching the indicator, he carefully centered the rudder and then 
threw a lever, locking the wheel.  Wrapping his arms around Sylvia’s waist, he 
pulled her back from the wheel, to hold her close, as he watched the sails, 
turning occasionally to look at the ship’s wake, and at the vane.

Sylvia looked at him curiously, her head tilted up and back.  Catching her 
curious expression, John grinned; "wind powered autopilot.  Had to build it 
from drawings, as you can’t buy them anymore, but I admit, the design seems 
to be a good one.  The wind acts on the vane, and the pressures turning the 
vane cause it to move a small rudder behind the ship.  The small rudder acts as 
a "trim tab", correcting our course.  As long as the wind doesn’t change 
direction, neither will the ship.  Lets take a seat and see how it does..."

John sprawled on the deck, leaning back against the weather rail (in this case a 
steel "wall" just about waist high, on the windward, or weather side of the 
ship), his head tilted back to watch the sails.  Sylvia grinned, and walked past 
the bench he’d settled next to, to join him on the deck, snuggling against him, 
her gaze on the horizon, in the direction the ship was headed.

John figured that when she cuddled against him on the deck, instead of sitting 
on the bench, that that was sufficient invitation for him to put his arm around 
her.  They snuggled wordlessly for a while, just enjoying the motion of the 
small ship, and the sights and sounds as the schooner moved away from the 
island.  After a while, John’s paw started to draw lazy circles in the fur of 
Sylvia’s shoulder, and a short while after that, her paw rested on his thigh.  
Gradually, they started caressing each other, the motions tentative at first, but 
growing with intensity as the land receded behind them.  By the time the island 
was out of sight, they were kissing hotly, John’s paw cupping one of Sylvia’s 
breasts as her paw stroked the length of his now quite hard shaft.

John broke the kiss, and gave a quick look at the sails, the straightness of the 
wake, and the motion of the windvane.  With a grin, he rose, to take Sylvia’s 
hand, leading her towards the bow of the ship.  "Got an idea, something you 
might like..."  Sylvia giggled as he led her down the length of the schooner to 
the very bow.  The bowsprit stuck straight out from the ship’s bow, angled 
slightly upwards, but on either side was a heavy net, like a cargo net, stretching 
from the tip of the bowsprit aft to the heavy brackets that held the anchors, 
forming a sharp "V" on either side of the bowsprit.  Taking one last look 
around, John climbed over the bow, on the windward side of the bowsprit, to 
lay down on the netting on his back, his cock standing proud.  

Sylvia watched for a moment as the ship crested another ocean swell, the bow 
rising and falling.  As the bow plowed into the next swell, the spray spattered at 
her, and soaked the lion.  She grinned and followed, climbing over the rail, to 
settle herself on top of John, her legs on either side of his hips.  Moments later 
he drove his cock up into her pussy, finding her quite wet and ready.  Their 
lovemaking was slow, matching the rhythm of the ship moving through the 
swells, the motions of the ship powering his thrusts into her, the breaking 
waves refreshing them.  John’s paws found her breasts, to squeeze lightly as he 
slowly thrust his hips upwards, sliding his cock deep into her wetness, his eye 
closed tight against the spray.  After a while, Sylvia rose to a more vertical 
position, one hand on the bowsprit to her side for balance, the other curled in 
the netting as she started to ride his cock at a rate and frequency at odds with 
the sea.  As she moved, she watched the look on his face, knowing that he 
wasn’t far from cumming.  

John felt her shift, watching through slitted eye.  He took advantage of her 
move to slide one paw down her belly, to rub hard at her mons, one finger 
seeking out her clitty...

Sylvia moaned as he rubbed her, his touch triggering her climax.  She gasped 
and moved even faster, as her pussy spasmed around his cock, her juices 
flowing, only to be washed away by the sea spray.

John shuddered, able to hold back no longer.  Arching his back, he let out a 
roar as his cock started spurting, filling Sylvia with his cum.  Unfortunately, 
the next swell was a particularly large one, and the schooner dug deep, the 
wave breaking over his head, filling his mouth, leaving him spluttering.

Sylvia eeped and then laughed as the water swirled around them, gone almost 
in an instant, leaving John spluttering and choking.  Finally, when he’d caught 
his breath, he started laughing too.  "Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea" he 
gasped.  Sylvia just shook her head and bent to kiss him, as the bow dropped 
again, water swirling around them both once more.

John climbed out of the aft companionway (sheltered ladder to the lower deck), 
and handed Sylvia a large towel.  In the heat and the sun, they were both 
almost dry again, but still, the towel was helpful to get the water out of her ears, 
and her long hair.  John was rubbing his mane vigorously, as he padded over to 
the helm.  A grunt drew Sylvia’s attention, and she wandered over to see what 
was the matter.  "Wind’s shifted" he rumbled.  "The windvane took the change 
OK, but we’re now headed a lot further North than we were."  Pulling a chart 
from a locker, he studied it for a moment, and then the compass.  Padding back 
to the windvane he made a small adjustment, the schooner slowly turning under 
them.  After a moment trimming the sails he turned to grin at Sylvia; "now that 
we’ve worked up an appetite, how about some lunch?"

Bethany was helping with lunch back at the main lodge when Rale walked in, 
to poke at the food, searching for something to eat.  "Seen Mom?" she asked as 
she concentrated on slicing coldcuts.  Rale, his mouth full of cheese slices, only 
nodded.  After a moment he swallowed, and nodded again; "She went out with 
Captain Mosby on Rusty.  Guess they’re making a day of it"  Bethany just 
smiled.

They had a picnic lunch on deck, in the shade of the sails.  The chicken was 
cold, as were the baked beans.  As was the Ale.  Snuggling, they watched the 
small island appear and grow close.  As Sylvia put away the lunch plates, John 
disconnected the "autopilot", and guided the schooner into a small cove, 
turning into the wind at the last moment.  With the sails fluttering, he hit the 
button that dropped the port anchor.  Nothing happened.  As the ship started to 
drift towards shore he hit the other button, and the starboard anchor hit the 
water with a splash, chain rattling out of the chain locker.  John checked that 
the anchor had took hold, watching the shore carefully, and then went about 
lowering the sails, leaving them heaped on deck.  All but the jib, which he left 
fluttering like a flag.  Returning to the stern, he took a smaller anchor, and 
swinging it around and around over his head, he tossed it out to one side of the 
boat.  He then used this anchor to pull the stern of the boat to one side, so that 
the ship was now angled into the wind.

Sylvia watched curiously, wondering what he was up to.  As he returned to the 
bow, she padded padded after him.  He turned to grin at her, and holding the 
lower corner of the jib.  Waiting for a lull in the wind, he backed to the far side 
of the bow; as the wind freshened, the jib filled, ballooning out.  As it took the 
wind, he took a short run and leapt, the sail carrying him some twenty feet to 
the side of the schooner, raising him high in the air.  Just as he was at the peak 
of his arc, he let out a yell, and released the corner of the sail, to dive into the 
clear blue water with a splash.

A moment later he climbed from the sea, using the ladder rungs he’d welded to 
the hull.  Dripping, he grinned at Sylvia, and gestured to the now flapping sail; 
"care to give it a try?"  Sylvia grinned and shrugged, and moved to the far rail, 
as the lion caught the corner of the sail, and waited for a lull in the wind.  
When it came, he pulled the sail back, handing it to Sylvia.  As the wind 
freshened, he took her by the waist, helping the sail lift her, watching with a 
grin as she went flying upwards, hanging on the end of a wind-powered swing, 
to release the sail and with arms and legs waving, to splash down into the 
water.  They laughed and played, acting like children, the years forgotten, 
swinging from the sail, until exhausted, Sylvia swam to the beach of the little 
island.  She lay on the sand panting, her chest heaving as she stared up at the 
blue sky, and puffy white clouds.  John swam over a minute later, to flop down 
on the sand, in a comical manner, his head landing square between her thighs.  
She eeeeped as his rough tongue licked upwards against sensitive flesh.  
Jumping to her feet, with a giggle, she dashed off into the jungle, with John in 
hot pursuit.

They played "hide and seek", with John "stalking" Sylvia, never quite catching 
her, until finally he surprised her, pouncing from the bushes in a small jungle 
clearing.  Their bodies dappled by the sunlight filtering through the trees, they 
made love again, John covering her body with his, his hips bucking sharply as 
he drove his cock into her hard, until they both screamed with release.

The water again hissed under the bow of the schooner as they sailed back 
towards WaterWings.  John had been daring, raising the sails while still in the 
inlet, the remote control for the anchor windless working pretty much as 
desired, the small ship gaining way and clearing the island.  Once again they 
were sailing under the "autopilot" as John struggled with a tangle of anchor 
chain left by the windless.  The system wasn’t perfect.  Not yet.

Sylvia padded forward to where he was working.  Tapping him on the shoulder, 
she waited while he extricated head and shoulders from the chain locker, and 
then she handed him a cold bottle of ale.  He purrrrred and nodded his thanks.  
When he tilted his head back to drink the bottle, almost at a single gulp she 
giggled and bent over to nuzzle his neck.  Putting down the bottle, he grinned 
at her; "Again?"  When she grinned he just shook his head;  "Sylvia, you 
certainly are amazing.  Not that I’m complaining in the least!" 
 
Taking her by the paw again, he led her to the windward side of the schooner 
by the mainmast.  "This time we have to keep a lookout for land; we should be 
getting close, and I don’t want to run aground.  The best view, of course, is 
from up there."  He gestured upwards.  The masts were supported on either side 
by shrouds, strands of heavy stainless steel wire running from the edge of the 
deck to near the top of the mast.  Horizontal lines connected the shrouds 
forming like a ladder; these are called ratlines, and permit the crew to climb the 
shrouds, to get to the upper reaches of the mast.  Anyone who’s ever seen an 
old pirate movie should know about them.  

Sylvia grinned and climbed the ratlines almost to the mast.  With the schooner 
heeled over towards leeward (downwind), the angle was less than steep; it was 
more like climbing a sharply angled ladder.  Carefully she turned, to face the 
sea and sky, leaning back against the web of steel and rope, her legs spread, her 
feet braced in the outermost rungs of the ratlines.  John climbed behind her, to 
again cover her body, settling in between her thighs, pressing her into the 
rigging, his hard cock pressing once again against her sex.

As the boat pitched, riding the swells, John slowly drove his cock in and out of 
her wet pussy.  He’d lost so much of the edge that he’d had earlier, their bouts 
of lovemaking leaving him in a position to take it slow, to draw it out, until he 
was sure that she’d had several climaxes.  In the rigging, they swung and 
swayed, the motions adding to the effect.  Seeing how the island was drawing 
close, John knew he couldn’t take much longer, and slowly he increased the 
speed and power of his thrusts until he was slamming his cock into Sylvia, 
grunting with each thrust, his balls swaying forth to slap hard at her ass with 
each stroke.

Janet kissed Phil softly, her body pressed against his.  She’d seen her friend 
fishing off the north shore and had swum out to his boat to say hello.  Of course 
things had progressed, and they’d wound up doing things other than fishing.  It 
was a favorite rendezvous of theirs.  As she lay there sleepily, something caught 
her eye and she rose up, to peer at the schooner racing past several hundred 
yards distant.  She grinned as she saw the two midway up in the rigging, the 
lion obviously making passionate and energetic love to her mother!"

Again John came with a roar, head thrown back, fangs bared, his cock spurting 
what little jism he had left into Sylvia’s willing pussy.  He held her there, 
pressing her against the rigging until his panting had quieted.  Kissing her 
softly, he slowly climbed down, his softening cock dropping free.  After helping 
her from the ratlines to the deck, he turned to trot back to the stern, to 
disengage the autopilot, and to swing the ship towards the lagoon.

James lowered his binoculars, and shook his head.  "More energetic than I 
would have thought" he chuckled.  "And more imaginative!"

It was just at sunset as they moored the schooner, both still nude, both with 
matted fur, both oblivious to any onlookers, not caring what anyone might 
think.  However, nothing went unnoticed, especially by Sylvia’s children....

Sylvia kissed John goodbye as they stood on the dock.  As they hugged, she 
couldn’t resist a small tease and tilted her head up to whisper in his ear; "No 
little lions in my family yet; what do you think?  Might that change soon?"  She 
could tell instantly that something was wrong, by the way his face froze, by 
how his body stiffened.  Then  he relaxed and grinned; "Not yet, Sylvia; not 
from today, I’m afraid.  It seems that years ago, my unit was part of a test, 
perimeter guards, way out in the desert.  The test was of an enhanced radiation 
weapon.  You remember all the controversy.  Kills everything living but leaves 
the buildings standing?  At any rate, some Staff idiot sent us to guard the 
wrong crossroads, and then the weapon proved to be more powerful than 
expected.  We all got a real healthy dose of radiation."  He chuckled and shook 
his head; "you should have seen us; sicker’n dogs for about a month, most of 
our fur falling out"..  The upshoot is, I’m quite sterile.  On the other hand, its 
no big deal (or so THEY say).  There’s plenty of my sperm, frozen, in storage.  
Funny thing, that; you’d almost think they expected that to happen, that they 
did it on purpose....  Its possible for me to have children, just not in the 
normal way... so you’re safe.."  John bent over to kiss her again, softly.  
When they separated, he gave her a soft swat on her rump and grinned; "for the 
moment anyways".  And then he had swung back up onto his ship, to start 
folding the sails, cleaning her up for the night.

Sylvia wrapped her sarong around her waist, and slowly padded back to the 
main lodge.  It had been a most interesting day, one she’d remember.  But for 
now, she was tired and wanted some dinner, and a bath, and some sleep in that 
order.  As she stepped into the kitchen, to search for the dinner leftovers, 
Bethany and Janet grinned at her.  Bethany shook her head; "mother, I can’t 
believe you’d EVER participate in such a hackneyed and worn out cliché!  
Sylvia just blinked; "What?  How’s that?"  Bethany broke into laughter as Janet 
grinned; "Friggin’ in the Rigging!"  Sylvia just smiled.  It would be  a 
memorable day.