My world turned from a good job I liked, two good tugboats, a comfortable though small house in a decent neighborhood, you know all the good things, to a harsh reality one fine afternoon. I knew better, that was the worst part of it all. But my small and very stiff lower brain was doing the thinking at that time. She learned, I paid. Dearly.

Julie was a beautiful and lively lass that asked the question as she rubbed her body on mine. That wouldn't have been so bad but at only ten years old, she was too young to know what she was offering and too immature to understand the consequences. She went home a virgin in body but a dozen good orgasms effected her more than she could keep inside. Something must have snapped or she just HAD to tell someone what she'd experienced or mommy found her damp panties, hard to say. Whatever, she couldn't hold it in.

A week later I was pushing a barge into final position when the police boat came alongside. The next few weeks were absolute hell, at least I thought they were at the time. It only got worse. Three years in the slammer taught me things can be worse than I could imagine back then. Much worse than I wish my mind could comprehend even today. Then it was forced confinement for another year until the shrinks decided I was serious when I said touching my neighbor's little girl was a horrible mistake on my part and something I'd learned was terribly harmful to her as well. I almost believed it too by that time.

It was a mistake, one brief afternoon that destroyed my life and nearly ended it as well. But harmful? I don't believe that for a second. Julie smiled and wiggled her tongue at me the one time we were in the same corridor at the courthouse before her mother frowned her down. Oh well, no matter what I felt about it or what feelings she had, my life was already over. I hope Julie's turned out well.

Lost the business, my boats, my crew, my house. Signed it all over in the vain hope that paying for Julie's unneeded counseling (and all the bloodsucking lawyers) would help appease the fanatic prosecutor that wanted me roasted. Only got half the sentence others got so perhaps it did help.

My thoughtful (hah!) actions didn't gain any respect with the inmate population at all as I survived two stabbings and a few other things I don't want to remember when the laughing screws turned the other way. I kept the hope I could rebuild something when I got out. That was false illusion. Nowhere to live but in a laughingly referred to 'residential hotel'. Sweeping streets did help the thought process though. Sort of brought everything into focus. Then the rat and flea infested building was condemned and I was looking for a roof over my head. A derelict freighter, the MV Perseus, came along as a method of confining and controlling me and fifty other child sex offenders and we jumped on board, so to speak, all hoping for a chance to be human again.

As a former tugboat skipper I became the navigator and, by default, the purser. No one else had could control the budget or wheedle supplies and sales out of the local area like I could, like I learned to do. Barter and trading for labor seemed the only thing that worked so that's what we did. There was so little at the beginning my sole job was to make sure the state paid the bills on time and kept us provisioned, at starvation level, mind. A few had jobs off Perseus, and though it was good for them, our living conditions remained pretty horrid. It was a long and difficult journey to get back to being human.

The first improvement came when Wilson came on board. He built boats. I managed to trade a few things around and came up with a load of hardwood and a few tools, gave them to a most delighted man and stood back to watch him caress the boards and mutter to himself for awhile. After a few minutes he took a tape measure out of the tiny tool box and he was off in his own little world. Had to come out to persuade him to come to dinner he was into it so deep.

A week later and our first boat was nearing completion. Wilson got three others to help him and it was a sight to behold as the assembled ribs came together, boards steamed, clamped, bent to shape to make a boat that wasn't there a few days before. I sold that one to a local fisherman to use with his trawler and he spread the word. Soon we were getting inquiries, most serious but a few gave me a look of disgust and turned their back when they found out what boat I represented. Can't please everyone. 'SS Pervert' they called us. We weren't very popular for some reason.

A year later and half the residents on board were engaged in boat building and repair in nearly every way. We found we had a couple computer whizzes and that spread into electronics repair and installation. Then engine repair and tuneup done in a very nice little machine shop we managed to install, painting, woodwork, galvanic protection, the whole nine yards. Even security training by some formerly employed by various police organizations. There were complaints about us and more than a few threats but we had little to lose and a life to gain. The bad attitudes hounded us everywhere we went and for everything we tried to do but we were actually turning a small profit after a year or so. Everyone worked, everyone felt good. I felt good.

Next thing I knew I was getting visited once a week by the probes as to where everyone was and how closely they were being watched. I had everyone's file ready and proved their whereabouts every minute of every day. Even had the truck mileages and phone records in a neat format that the idiots they sent could figure out. They grumbled their way through the files for two hours before tossing them back. The lead probe glared at me and I glanced at his partner wandering around the cabin, seeming to nonchalantly touch things within his reach. So obvious.

Hands on the desk with his leaning body blocking my view the first one snarled, "Richards, we're keeping an eye out on you. Every move you and the rest of the degenerates on this rust bucket make will be watched. If I hear even the slightest hint of anything going on, we'll shut you down so hard you won't have a piece of cardboard to put over your head. As far as I'm concerned all of you should have been left to rot. Whatever shithead came up with this ... pariah ship ... idea should be thrown in with you and left to rot as well." A flourish, a final grumbling snarl and he turned for the door.

"We'll be watching, Richards." ......(cont)