He was after her instantly, but panic winged her small feet. She beat him to the door and slammed it in his face, and even tried to hold it against him until convinced of her folly by a big fist which, crashing through the panels, grazed her dainty nose, filling her eyes with stars and tears. She yipped pitifully, abandoned the door, and fled up the companion-way, a startling figure in slippers and pink chemise. After her came Captain Harrigan, a bellowing, red-eyed, hairy monstrosity whose only passion was to sweep the deck from poop to forecastle with that supple, half-naked body.
In their different emotions of fright and fury they were not, even then, aware of the clamor going on upon the deck, until they came full on a scene so unique it even checked Harrigan short in his tracks.
Kiss of the She-Devil
Not so Raquel; she scampered across the deck, unnoticed by the mob milling in the waist, and sprang into the main shrouds before she turned and stared at the spectacle which had halted Harrigan. Hemmed in by a ring of blaspheming seamen the mate, Buck Richardson, was locked in combat with a stranger whose breeches his only garment dripped sea-water. That Mr. Richardson should be battling a stranger was not unique; what was unique was that Mr. Richardson, the terror of a thousand ports, bucko deluxe and hazer extraordinary, was getting the prime essence of hell beaten out of him.
He fought with gusto that horrified even his hard-boiled audience. Richardson was bleeding like a stuck pig, and spitting pieces of broken teeth. He was blowing like a porpoise and in his one good eye there was a desperate gleam. His boat sunk under him before he could get it to the ship, and he swum for it. Then he swore as Clanton bashed Mr. Richardson on the snout with appalling results. From the remarks they passed before they was too winded to cuss, I gathered that Buck stole a gal from Clanton once.
A mallet-like right-hander to the jaw and Mr. Richardson went reeling backward and brought up against the rail with a crack that would have fractured the skull of anybody except a bucko mate on a trading schooner. He stopped short, batted his eyes, his mouth wide open as he glared wildly at the ivory-tinted vision posed against the blue, in a sheer wisp of pink silk that tempted even as it concealed little. Richardson, a bloody ruin, lurched away from the rail with a belaying pin.
But Clanton anticipated his design by drawing up his legs, after the manner of a panther fighting on its back, and, receiving the hurtling mate on his feet and knees, he catapulted Mr.
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Richardson over his head. The mate smote the deck headfirst and reverberantly, and this time the impact was too much even for his adamantine skull. As no spectacle could have pleased the crew better than Mr. Harrigan ran forward blasphemously and tugging forth an enormous revolver thrust it under the nose of Mr. Clanton who eyed it and its owner without favor. Clanton ignored the command. He was again staring at the vision clinging to the ratlines. Raquel peeped at him approvingly, noting the clean-cut muscular symmetry that was his.
Harrigan roared like a sea-lion with awakened memory. Clanton reached the rail with a tigerish bound, caught her wrist, and whipped her down onto the deck before she knew what was happening. He was bronzed by the sun of the Seven Seas, and his torso was ridged with clean hard cords of muscles. In fierce admiration his gaze devoured her from her trim ankles to the foamy burnished mass of her hair. Threw away my chart! The only dash-blank chart in the world that could show me how to find the island of Aragoa!
A barrel full!
At thirty-two dollars an ounce! Why, I can steer you to Aragoa without any blasted chart! Take the wheel and lay a course for Aragoa. Then get hold of that wheel. A heavy toe emphasized the command by a direct hit astern, and she fled squeaking for the companion. Clanton scowled, descended into the galley, and bullied the Chinese cook into setting out a feed that would have taxed the capacity of a horse.
Having disposed of this, he swaggered up the poop ladder and took the wheel.
The men watched him with interest, which was shared by Raquel, peeping from the companion. She had heard of him: who in the South Seas had not? A wild adventurer roaring on a turbulent career that included everything from pearl-diving to piracy, he was a man at least, not a beast like Harrigan. Her flesh tingled deliciously with the feel of his strong grasp on her rounded arm; she was consumed with eagerness for more intimate contact with him, but the opportunity did not come until night had fallen and the powerful figure stood in solitary grandeur at the wheel.
His shoulders bulked against the South Sea stars as he held the schooner to her course; he might have posed for the image of intrepid exploration until a slender figure glided up the poop ladder.
A luxurious shudder ran through her supple body and she snuggled closer within the bend of his muscular arm and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. He lashed the wheel, casually sighting at a star on the horizon, and sat down by the rail. He shook his head to clear the swimming brain, took a deep breath and dived.
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When he came up for air, she was gasping too, quivering from the dynamic impact of his kisses. Contentedly he knocked the neck off the bottle, took a deep swig and held it to her lips. She merely sipped; the night was still young, and she needed no alcoholic stimulant to drive the hot blood racing through her veins. It was already breaking all speed records.
Clanton did not need any stimulants either; but drank because he was thirsty; because liquor was to him what moonlight and perfume are to some men. Boekverslag door een scholier woorden 27 juli 42 keer beoordeeld.
THE BRAT AND THE SHE-DEVIL CHP 39
The life and loves of a She-devil. Fay Weldon. Psychologische roman. Eerste uitgave. Geschikt voor. Oorspronkelijke taal. Meer details. Boekverslag Reacties 2 Andere verslagen She gets her power from the devil by destroying other people's life and making love to men. At the age of twenty, armed with an MA from St. Andrews' she took a job at the Foreign Office shuffling papers that sent spies to an uncertain fate in the East Bloc.
She left when pregnant with the first of her four sons and subsequently worked for a succession of leading advertising agencies in increasingly exalted positions. Since then she has become one of Britain's leading literary writers, screen written successfully for film and television, and in her journalism acquired a reputation for wit and controversy.
Her work sells worldwide in translation. I've also found this biography: Fay Weldon was born in Worcester, England in or Her father was a doctor and her mother was a writer of commercial fiction under the pen name "Pearl Bellairs. She lived with her mother, sister and grandmother until she started college and, as a result, grew up believing "the world was peopled by females. Her actual christened name was "Franklin Birkinshaw" something to do with her mother's interest in numerology which she feels contributed to her being accepted at St Andrews and permitted to study economics: the school assumed she was a male student applicant.
Sounds very much like a Fay Weldon novel, doesn't it? In her early twenties she was briefly married to a man more than twenty years her senior. It is not clear whether she had her first son during this marriage or earlier. Raising her son as a single mother, she looks back on her twenties as times fraught with "odd jobs and hard times. She then embarked on an extremely successful career as an advertising copywriter becoming famous for her slogan 'Go to work on an egg'. I did it for about eight years. She then went through a mid-life crisis: "I was thirty, inadequate and depressed and ignorant, and knew it.
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Her first novel, The Fat Woman's Joke, was published in , but by then she had already written some fifty plays for radio, stage, or television, the most well-known being Upstairs, Downstairs and her adaptation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice For the next 30 years she built a wonderfully successful career, publishing over 20 novels, collections of short stories, television movies, newspaper and magazine articles and becoming a well-known face and voice on the BBC.
She and Ron divided their time between bucolic splendour in Somerset and a flat in London. Eventually they did divorce in Fay subsequently married Nick Fox, a poet, and her writing and career continue to flourish. They live in Hampstead, London. I don't know which edition of the book this is, because I couldn't find it anywhere. I do know that the first publish was in , and in was the first publish in paperback. Ruth and Bobbo loved each other at the beginning of the book, but than Bobbo falls in love with Mary Fisher. Then Ruth wants revenge: she's going to ruin Bobbo and Mary's life. The story takes place in different places.
Ruth is going to live at the Travelodge for a while, she's going to work at Lucas Hill Hospital and at the Old Ladies House, and she is going to live at Judge Bishop and his family. Ruth also is going to live at Father Ferguson's house. In short: the book takes place at many locations. She was married with Bobbo and she has two children: Nicola and Andy. Ruth is a very mean person. She has black hair and a very big hairy mole on her chin.
She has also a large nose.
Bobbo: Bobbo is a good-looking accountant. He was married with Ruth.
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