My Father the Czar
                             Copyright 1998
                   Library of Congress number: 98-96138
                          by AUTHOR22@aol.com
                          All rights reserved


Chapter Eight

The Standart got underway Friday morning. It was a flat calm journey
that took most of the day, arriving about 2030 hours local time.

Though I had never been outside of Russia, the two-hundred-fifty mile
voyage westward to Helsinki seemed little more than a pleasant boat
trip across an extra large lake.  There certainly was little
difference in climate.  As we approached the Finnish coastline, I
began to notice some subtle differences.

Of course one may argue that we were still in Russia. Our relationship
with the Finns was historically a comfortable one. The small grand
duchy had, at one time or another, been a possession of both Russia
and Sweden. The harsh environment and long hours of work produced a
tough, hardy people. The Finnish peasant differed from the Russian
since he had never been subject to serfdom. Finland offered more
freedom and a more desirable place to live. The Czarina explained this
to her children, trying to provide a window of reality to what they
had learned in school.

The weather became a little warmer as we moved further west during the
day. Lack of direct sunlight made the cruise somewhat gloomy.

The northern sky was beautiful with pastel shadings transcending
beyond delicacy and into deeper reds. To the south the light was less
diverse in the direct glow of the hidden sun.

The Tsarevich stood close to me. He was even better insulated from the
weather than was I. I had chosen to wear a full length woolen dress.
It was designed for travel and kept the wind out ...almost. Occasional
gusts drove cold currents of air under the skirt chilling my balls.

"Have you ever been in a Canoe?" he asked.

"Of course. Haven't you?"

"No. But it looks like a lot of fun. Olga says that she is going to
try and talk mama into taking us for an outing on one of the lakes
near Helsinki. But, I doubt that mama will agree. We would not have
sufficient security. Anyway, all of those extra people would ruin it."

I felt sad for the Tsarevich. He had never experienced the peace and
quite of being alone with nature and probably never would. I put my
arm around his waist and snuggled him next to me. "There is much about
me that you do not know."

In response he kissed me on the cheek and said, "Oh how I wish you
were really a girl."

I laughed and whispered, "You miss our early mornings together?"

He looked at me sadly, "You will never know how important you have
become to me."

The warmth and affection that I felt coming from him made me
uncomfortable. For a moment I thought he would try to kiss me on the
mouth and _that_ I was not prepared for. Our playing around in the
early mornings was just fantasy, this was becoming too real.

From our geography lessons, I had learned that the coastal lowlands of
Finland were anywhere from forty to eighty miles wide and that they
extended along the indented coastline of the Gulf of Finland. Hundreds
of rocky islands lay off the coast. Forests covered most of the
lowland area with pines and spruces. As we drew closer we could
distinguish the individual trees that covered some of the off-shore
islets.

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. Turning, I saw that it was Piotr.
He addressed Alex-T. "Luncheon is being served in the aft salon.
Tatiana has asked that I join you." He laughed and added, "She knows
my secret. I cannot say no to Caviar."

We were in for a pleasant surprise. During lunch the Captain told us
of a Radiogram he had received. The Imperial family had been invited
to be the guests of honor at a sporting event the next day.

The Czarina frowned and was about to say "no" when Anastasia asked,
"Is it Hockey? Oh I hope it is Hockey." The Captain said that it was.
The invitation was from Helsinki's mayor and proper security for our
party was assured.

Everyone was so pleased and excited that the Czarina could not say
'No'. As though by magic the girls appeared on deck with roller skates
and began trying to out do each other.

As much as anyone there, I was eager for this new adventure. I had
never seen the sport played ...at least not by a real team.
Ice-skating was something I felt comfortable with. The boys of my
village frequently pushed pieces of wood around with sticks on frozen
ponds.

Anastasia offered to loan me her skates, but I had never used the
wheeled variety. Additionally, I was still wearing the long woolen
dress, so I declined. However, I did challenge them to an ice race at
the first opportunity.

Several small patrol boats met the Standart as we came near to
Helsinki's harbor. A pilot came aboard to assist in our maneuvering in
the busy deep sea channel. In the distance we could see a huge crowd
and strings of multicolored lights. Our welcome was far grander than
anything I had seen in St. Petersburg.

Long before we could distinguish individual people in the dockside
crowd, we could hear a brass band. The deep notes of a tuba were the
first sounds that gave a clue to the fact that a fast paced polka was
being played. As we approached the dock, the band began to play "God
save the Czar". Their uniforms were white with blue trim, but the
reddish gold light from the night sky gave the white cloth a unusual
metallic appearance. Their standard bearers were carrying both the
Finnish and the Imperial double golden eagle flags.

Most of the musicians were tall and thin except for the tuba player
who was dwarfed by his instrument. The bass drummers were setting the
rhythm. A brass band is what we usually saw at festivities -- joyful
men in colorful suits, white gloves, white military hats, brass horns
and a bass drum. But this music was weathered by the harsh streets of
a Helsinki winter. It was a fierce blend of hard second line beats,
not quite military, but nevertheless stirring.

It was a fun band which was trying to impress the Imperial family by
putting joy and happiness into the evening's event. Everything wasn't
"rehearsal correct" but there was energy clear to their fingertips.
The tuba honked away while a ragged melody sublimely underlined the
thumpings of the bass drums.

The parade drummers came from a different camp, maintaining the
historic second line grooves that have propelled the polka through a
hundred years of beer drinking and dancing. Attacked by cymbal and
back beats, the bass and snare drummers were out to break all of the
rules. Neither were they military nor dance musicians. What they were,
however, was full of fire and energy. In an attempt to be noticed, the
boy on the cymbals made solid single strokes rather than press rolls
projecting a steely brilliance into the cold night air.

The beats from the percussion section were a natural fit to the
transition from "God Save the Czar" to a polka; yet, the segue was odd
in its structure as each sixteenth bar seemed to alternate between the
two pieces until the piece had transcended from the official welcome
to a lively invitation to have fun.

I could see that our girls were anxious to go ashore and participate
in the community entertainment. But the Czarina refused to allow it.
There was not enough security to guarantee the safety of the Imperial
party. The mayor, accompanied by two police officers, climbed the
gangway, saluted the officer of the deck and then were led to the
fantail where we were waiting.

"Your Imperial Majesty, the people of Helsinki welcome you. The band
was not planned, but we are so overjoyed at your accepting our
hospitality that we could not restrain ourselves."

The polka had attracted Piotr. He was showing Tatiana the proper
steps. The mayor noticed the seaman dancing with the Grand Duchess,
smiled and said, "Ah, romance is already in the air. But alas, we have
not prepared for your safety. I fear the crowd would be unruly." He
paused, looked at the couple and added, "Perhaps the Band Master will
continue to play dockside for the pleasure of the ships company. Yes?
And perhaps your Imperial Majesty will allow me to introduce my two
sons who have become quite expert in dancing the polka."

Olga stepped forward pleadingly, "Oh yes Mama, please. It looks like
so much fun. Please." The Czarina paused only momentarily before
accepting the mayor's offer. He stepped to the railing and waved at
two youths who were obviously anticipating the signal.

The two boys could not have been more different if they had been born
on opposite sides of the world. The youngest one was chubby. He walked
with a rolling gait. His slightly older brother was tall and thin. I
would have guessed the oldest to be in his late teens or early
twenties; however, the oddest thing of all was the way both boys
moved--surprisingly graceful with a bounce in their step.

"Your Imperial Highnesses, may I present my two sons Eric and Hans?"
Each boy bowed at the waist but Olga's eyes caught those of the older
boy and held them fast. "Eric? That is a nice name. Your father tells
me that you can teach me to dance the polka."

There was a look in the boy's eyes that told me a great deal. I would
have wagered that he had lost his virginity at an early age and was
very experienced in fulfilling feminine wishes. Olga had always been
"True" to her Cadet boy friend and thus it was that her three sisters
just stood there, jaws agape, as the couple moved to the center of the
deck.

The younger brother said, "This dance is based on an ancient Finnish
folk tale. Do you know it?" Eric, in a disdainful voice said: "Not
that old tale again."

The boy continued, undaunted. "A long time ago there lived a powerful
King Baltyk who ruled his kingdom from an amber palace located at the
bottom of the Baltic Sea. King Baltyk had a beloved daughter who
helped him rule his underwater kingdom. This beautiful maiden was a
mermaid, a 'syrena' in Finland. Syrena had long blond hair and blue
eyes, not too unlike this young lady," he said, gesturing toward me.
"But from the waist down she was covered with silvery scales all the
way to her tail. The bottom of the sea was her world and it was the
only world she knew."

The royal party became quiet having been caught up in the ethereal
story being told so well by their youthful host.

"One day, while swimming in one of our northern rivers, she narrowly
escaped being caught in some fish nets and she swam to shore. When she
lifted her head from the waters, she saw the vista of a strange new
world. 'Where am I?' she asked the river Oulujoki, whose waters
eventually emptied into the Baltic Sea. 'In Finland,' answered the
river, 'and if you want to find out more about this land, swim
upstream with me.' Being a good swimmer, Syrena managed to do this.
She saw things she never knew before: forest lands, animals and birds.
Finally she came to the plains of Lapland in the very heart of
northern Finland. The people there had cleared the forest, built homes
for themselves, and lived from fishing and hunting. "Syrena fell in
love with the brave Sammi tribe and decided to stay with them. In the
evenings she sang her nostalgic, haunting melodies.

"One day, a big hunt was held for the Sammi prince. Chasing a
reindeer, the prince got lost in the forest. He also lost his golden
arrow with which he was hunting. Searching for it, he came to the
banks of the Oulujoki River. There, in amazement, he saw a white arm
extending from the water holding his arrow. He became enchanted with
Syrena, the beautiful half-fish, half-woman creature. She smiled at
him and, handing him the arrow, pointed in the direction he was to
take. He soon came to a clearing in the forest where stood a small
cottage, the home of the fisherman Lahti, his wife and their twin
sons. Mrs. Lahti gave him a good supper and asked him to stay
overnight as their guest. The next morning, she refused any payment
from him for her kindness. Their hospitality and their way of life
moved the prince. 'If you like,' said the fisherman Lahti, 'we would
be honored to have you come back and stay with us.'

"And that is what the prince did. He returned with his people and
together they cleared more land and built a small settlement, called
'Lahti,' which means 'the village of Mr. Lahti.' "We do not know how
much of this story is true, but we do know that the emblem of the city
of Lahti is a mermaid holding a sword and a shield. If you visit
Lahti, you will see a bronze statue of Syrena gazing at the gray
waters of the Oulujoki."

Hans turned toward me, "And now Miss, may I have the pleasure of
showing you how to really dance in the true style of Finland?" I
curtsied, "Of course my fair prince. But I should warn you I know
little or nothing of the polka. It is the dance of the gypsies that I
do best." Hans replied, "There is little difference. They are both the
music of the people. The rhythm starts in the heart. Watch me, then
you try it."

He separated himself from me. His body took on the cadence of the
Brass Band. His chubbiness dissolved into a myth as he became one with
this native dance. He spun, raised his left foot and tapped it with
his right hand, then spun again, extended his left hand toward me and
said, "Come young lady. We shall dance until we can dance no more.
Yes?"

He was wrong, because the Band tired before we did. The music changed
to a march. As I looked over the side of the ship I saw them marching
down the dock, around the corner and out of sight.

The mayor then addressed the Czarina. "With your permission we will
accompany you to the game tomorrow afternoon."

Hans smiled at me and said, "And may I have the great pleasure of your
company tomorrow? Our team is playing one from St. Petersburg."

                              + + + + +

As hockey games go, this one was religious... Almost immediately after
the puck had been dropped in a gentlemanly fashion, one of the St.
Petersburg forwards dumped a Helsinki player headfirst onto their own
bench. Then all hell broke loose... Their Center threw his stick, not
AT anybody but just to get rid of it before he skated in to join the
fray... A huge Russian came lurching off the bench and was restrained
by teammates an eyelash before he would've been in it hip-deep (and
both teams would've had a bench-clearer on their hands). Dozens of
pieces of gear littered the ice. It took more than ten minutes to get
the game back underway. The crowd, needless to say, became fervently
emotional.

Neither team had yet to play into their opponent's territory, yet the
fans were already polarized. The Imperial family and the crew of the
Standart became the rooters for all things Russian, while the rest of
the audience shouted and screamed in support of the Helsinki team.

The mayor looked uncomfortable, seated amongst the Russians, obviously
wishing to support his team, but fearing retaliation from his guests
should he do so. Hans was smiling from ear to ear and jumping up and
down every time his team made the slightest progress. A defensive
forward was penalized and sent to the Finnish penalty box. The crowd
booed while we shouted ourselves silly. Even Eric had abandoned Olga
and was directing all of his attention to the ice battle.

It was then that the big Russian became entangled with the largest
Finnish player on the ice. That erupted into a fistfight as the
Russian swiped him across the left cheek. That bought our team a ten-
minute penalty. Between the fist fights and the wrestling matches, the
game progressed far enough for the Finns to slam their puck into a
Russian goal net.

As both the crew of the Standart and the Finnish spectators got more
and more involved, as it became more and more an emotional event, less
and less attention was being paid to matters of security. And then a
piece of soft vegetable struck the face of a police officer sitting
directly in front of the Czarina. Instantly our section was surrounded
by a barricade of men and we were escorted back to the Imperial yacht.

Both Olga and I were disappointed when our escorts (Eric and Hans)
elected to stay and watch the end of the game.

The next morning, we were all in for a surprise as the two boys
arrived on the ship's quarter deck seeking an audience with Olga and
me. What they had in mind was exactly what Olga had hoped for: an
outing on the lake just north of the city.

What they proposed was ingenious and instilled a lust for adventure
among all of the children. All of the girls (myself included) were to
dress as Standart crewmembers. Then Piotr would accompany us to the
edge of town where Hans and Eric would meet us with a horse and wagon.

The mayor maintained a vacation cabin on the western edge of a nearby
lake, and that was our destination.

When Alex-T and I both changed into naval uniforms and the blonde hair
was tucked up under my cap it became obvious that this would not do.
Alex-T and I looked too much alike. With an abrupt change in plans, I
adopted the identity of the Tsarevich disguised as a seaman and he
became Catherine.

At ten o'clock four young seamen, accompanied by the mayor's sons,
entered the small dining salon unannounced. The Czarina was already
seated, impatiently awaiting the arrival of her children. She looked
somewhat annoyed that crewmen had interrupted without asking
permission. Before she could react, I stepped forward and said, "Mama
the mayor's sons, Hans and Eric, have asked us to go canoeing with
them."

She looked more closely at the interlopers and then realized the
Tsarevich and the Grand Duchess's were disguised as sailors.

                              + + + + +
              A small lake 2 hours inland from Helsinki
                        by Alex-T as Catherine
                              + + + + +

There aren't many places like this left where the owl and wolf try to
out-hoot and out-howl each other in the evenings, and trout rise
before breakfast, where Falcons still soar and the lonely call of the
loon is an eerie reminder of an old Siberian superstition.

In this pristine area you can paddle for days and meet nary a soul.
Pillow your head on a mound of lakeside moss at night and marvel at an
infinity of shooting stars. Absorb the panorama of a glacial lake
covered by a cirrus-swept cobalt sky. Sandwiched within is an endless
stretch of verdant forest. In a corner of your mind, where you store
only pleasant memories, you can capture this rare masterpiece.

This area of Finland is a pocket of ancient wilderness encompassing
many lakes and ponds. Some people think it is the soul of the Finnish
forest. You must carry the canoe you bring, and paddle and carry and
paddle still further if you wish to hear the loon and see those
brilliant stars. You will be more alone than you've probably ever been
before.

When a tree falls in the forest -- or, more precisely, across a path
-- no one knows, that is until the silence of the forest is disturbed
by the sawing and removal of the tree. There is no noise in this area,
save the wind whistling through the forest of spruce, white pine and
hemlock, or the occasional slap of a beaver's tail, the rising of
brook trout to snatch a mayfly hatch, or the beat of your heart.

As you sit atop a stump at the point of a tiny peninsula that reaches
out toward North Pond, enjoying the quiet beauty, the only sounds you
hear are the crackling of your breakfast fire... and loons... and the
soft voice of your inner self explaining the haunting calls of the
loon as though they were the voices of spirits.

Here, you are already at the best table in the house. You may scoop
out fresh oranges for juice, then crack eggs into the cupped rinds and
place them on the fire's coals. And then there's the sizzle of the
brook trout which minutes before were at the end of your fly line,
causing a bit of a rumble to rise from the depths of your stomach as
whisps of aroma tickle your nose.

After breakfast, you relax on the point, a second cup of steaming
Russian tea cradled in your hands, as you ponder an Osprey circling
overhead. Then you wonder what he must see from where he flies and you
begin to realize how privileged you are because, beyond the forest
before you there's another pond that's a bit deeper. Beyond the trees
behind you is a pond that's a bit clearer. And on either side, sliced
into the landscape by glaciers, are ponds that are just a bit broader
than the one that quietly laps at your feet. Your mind focuses on the
glaciers and your brain slows to an even pace with the pondering ice.
You don't even know that you've slipped away till the brook trout in
your dreams start weighing in at six or eight pounds.

Then there's your inner-self again, talking almost at a whisper, as
the canoe slides along in your daydream. You dream of finding an early
morning school along the sunny side of the pond. Later you can try
trolling some streamers on the next pond. By midday you should be at a
real productive deep-water spring on the south end of that pond. There
you can stop for lunch and then try to find an early evening shelter.

The canoe gradually cracks the silver mirror of the pond as you paddle
toward the far shore. Halfway across you see a baby reindeer slip
timidly from the tree line, curtsy daintily, and begin to slake her
thirst at the shoreline. You stop paddling so as not to interrupt her.
When she's finished drinking, you dig your paddle deep, and with a
single stroke the canoe is pointed back on course.

"Ya know," you hear your inner-self say from behind you in a voice
that rises a halfnote. "Ya know. I sure am happy to be here." You feel
the first morning sun on your shoulders and spy trout rising dead
ahead. Blip-blip, the fish sips at the surface from beneath. The
Osprey continues to soar way overhead.

"He won't bother that trout. He knows you saw it first." You raise
your fly rod and lay a perfect curved line out over the water. It
slides silently onto the surface of the pond. Blip-blip.

My companion finished reading, "I wrote that for an essay contest and
it perfectly describes this place."

I was reclining at the rear of our canoe as Hans lightly paddled our
way toward the center. "It is beautiful. You keep surprising me with
your talents. How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"In many ways you seem older than Eric."

He pulled the double bladed paddle into the boat allowing it to gently
come to rest. Carefully he crouched and moved back toward me. "I want
to be a writer. It is probably just as well as Eric has all of the
skills with girls. They cannot get enough of him."

I grinned evilly at him thinking of Olga and asked, "You do not like
girls?"

"Oh yes, but they do not like me."

One part of me wanted to take him in my arms and let him have his way
with me, while another part kept reminding me that under this dress I
too was a boy. I was surprised at a thought that had entered my mind:
I wished that Piotr possessed the poetic talent of this chubby lad.

He sat opposite me and looked down at my feet. "Those look chilled.
You should have worn boots like mine. Would you like for me to rub
some warmth back into them?"

It was beyond me to say "No". He lifted my right foot, resting it in
his lap. It took him but a moment to loosen the strings and slide it
away. The warmth of his crotch heated my foot. His hands began
massaging. As he did so, he applied extra pressure while pulling
toward him. It soon became obvious that my foot was providing him with
a good deal of pleasure. My heel was resting on his hard penis.

"Oh! Look at that beautiful bird." He pointed high in the sky behind
me. I turned to see what he was looking at. When I returned to face
him I noticed he had moved his penis vertically so that the bottom of
my foot was now pushing against it.

His hands moved to my ankle and then continued pulling down touching
all of my foot in gentle but firms strokes. I smiled inwardly
wondering how far he was going with this charade. When he reached the
calf of my leg I wiggled my foot against his lump and said, "I think
my other foot needs your attention."

Without removing my right foot he reached down, lifted my left one,
removed the shoe and shared his massaging with both my feet. My
response, unintentionally, encouraged him. We were both enjoying his
ministrations to the point that there could be little doubt that we
both knew what was going on.

His rigid instrument was sandwiched between my two feet. His face was
flushed and his breathing heavy. Cautiously he began using both hands,
reaching slightly above the calf, digging his fingers in, pulling my
legs and feet into his body. Gradually he moved further up till they
were cupped behind my knees. I, too, had a rod so stiff that it was
throbbing. I knew that within a few seconds he would be in for quite a
surprise if I didn't take some action.

"Don't you think we should be getting back to the cabin? We don't want
Olga and Eric to come looking for us." Sadly he replaced my shoes,
knowing that I had put a stop to his attempt at making love. His face
expressed the resignation that comes from always being refused in his
offerings. I wished I could have told him that I really would have
preferred his going all the way.

We had been playing "Cat and Mouse" for more than an hour when the boy
finally gave up and we returned to the cabin. Alex-P, Tatiana and
Piotr were throwing snowballs at one another. Olga and Eric were
nowhere in sight.

Tatiana caught Piotr just below the knees in an excellent flying
tackle that brought the boy down into a bank of snow. They were both
so occupied with their game that they failed to see us cross almost in
front of them. The noise of our feet on the porch brought them out of
their reverie, "You were certainly gone long enough." Then Piotr
stated in a louder than necessary voice, "I wouldn't go in there if I
were you. Olga and Eric are trying to get the fireplace going."

Hans put his ear to the door and bid me join him. There was no sound
only a gentle shake of the floorboards in a slow steady rhythm. What
ever the occupants were doing they were doing together as the movement
was absolutely synchronous.

It was quite late in the afternoon when we finally returned to the
docks. Captain Prokoshov was impatiently standing on the quarterdeck.
He addressed Piotr as though he were our leader. "Veliky, her majesty
is most displeased. His Imperial Highness, the Czar, has radioed us
that we are to make for Kiel. The Kaiser has agreed to meet with the
Czarina day after tomorrow."

Olga stepped forward, "Captain you are forgetting yourself. It is I
that you should address if you have a grievance." There was a deadly
silence as the Grand Duchess asserted her authority over the ship's
master. She turned toward Piotr, "If we are to get underway, you must
have a duty station to attend to. Go. Leave this matter to me."

She looked toward Alex-P for support. I felt compelled to intercede
but could not as I was still disguised as Catherine. The mock
Tsarevich felt none of the usurping of power and so was not inclined
to contribute to this momentary conflict.

"By your leave, Grand Duchess, I have other matters to attend to
before we can fulfill the wishes of your father." He saluted Olga,
turned on his heel, and strode toward the bridge. He addressed an
officer who was moving toward us. "Lieutenant would you find the
Czarina and ask that I be granted an audience as soon as possible. We
need to radio our ambassador in Germany with our estimated time of
arrival."

The atmosphere aboard the Standart had changed from a pleasant
vacation to something more urgent. We had not been there during most
of the day and were not privy to whatever had occurred. I signaled
Alex-P that we should go below. It was important that we stop this
charade before anyone realized that I was not the Tsarevich of the
moment. He had not felt compelled to back Olga in her confrontation
with Captain Prokoshov and that was uncharacteristic of the heir to
the throne.

I felt the Standart move out into the channel as I was putting on my
uniform. Then I sought out Catherine/Alex-P. Mother had told one of
the stewards to inform us that a late snack would be served in the aft
salon in forty-five minutes. I inquired about Catherine, he said she
was still in her cabin.

I knocked on her door. "Who is it?" was the response.

"Me, Alex."

"Are you alone?"

"Yes." I heard the latch click, the door swung open but there was no
one in sight. "Come on in and lock the door behind you."

Alex-P was standing behind the door still dressed as the Tsarevich.
"You had better change clothes. Mama wants us in the aft salon as soon
as possible. I think Olga may have caused a problem." I secretly hoped
that the Captain would not take his anger out on Piotr.

He looked at me somewhat accusingly, "I can't! You have the hair piece
and you'd better get my dress back here before the cabin attendant
finds it and puts two and two together to come up with five." I stared
at him a moment while deciphering his logic. Then I laughed... pushed
him back on his bed... jumped on top of him, and began humping in a
playful charade. "Hans tried to fuck me while we were on the lake, but
all I could think of was you."

Just as I reached for his belt buckle the sound of the stewards voice
accompanied his knocking, "Miss Catherine. Your presence is requested
in the aft salon as soon as possible." Alex-P said, "Thank you. Please
tell them I will be but a moment. I am brushing my hair."

As I heard his footsteps fade away I stood up, pulled Alex-P from the
bed and then patted his buttocks, "I will be back with the wig in just
a moment. In the mean time find the sexiest frock you can. I intend to
have my way with you sometime this afternoon." He replied, "Are you
going to teach me some of the things Nijinsky taught you?" I could
feel the blood flowing into my face as I closed his cabin door behind
me. And then I began to wonder.

                              + + + + +

Piotr was standing at attention as the Tsarevich escorted his sisters
and me into the aft salon. Olga was already there slumped down in her
seat. The Czarina was obviously quite angry. In short burst of speech
she directed us each to sit in specific chairs. "You children have
behaved most abominably. We are in a foreign country, yet you ignore
the most fundamental rules for your security. And you, Olga, had the
effrontery to reprimand Captain Prokoshov... ", she paused to take a
deep breath, "A man who has been like a father to you. A man who would
give up his life to protect yours.

"His Imperial Majesty has arranged for me to meet with the Kaiser in
just a few days. Willie appears to be displeased with us. It has
something to do with an uprising in some of those districts between
Germany and ourselves. We are enroute to Kiel where our ambassador
will meet to acquaint me with the details. You and the Standart will
then continue to Hamburg. After the meeting I will join you there."

As though we were of one mind, the Tsarevich, Tatiana, and I made our
way to the bridge to examine the navigation charts. We had planned on
visiting both Stockholm and Copenhagen. This change of plans meant we
would be traveling close to a thousand miles and that meant almost
three days at sea. I was surprised to see that Hamburg was a short
distance from Kiel by land, but almost another thousand miles by sea.

Captain Prokoshov came up behind us and silently watched what we were
doing. "Fortunately we do not have to travel all the way around
Denmark. The German's have built a canal linking Kiel with Hamburg and
the North Sea. Being inland it will be a more pleasant voyage. But I
do remember the days when going around the northern finger of Denmark
was the only way.

"The canal was originally an old Viking portage. Seagoing vessels were
hauled on rollers across the narrow isthmus between Kiel Bay on the
shore of the Baltic Sea and Heligoland Bay on the shore of the North
Sea at a point just north of the estuary of the River Elbe." His
fingers traced along an almost invisible line on the chart. "About
sixty years ago they started to make the canal a suitable waterway.
There were pre-existing cuts which were widened and deepened to take
large oceangoing ships, particularly those of the German navy. It is
sixty miles long, has a surface width of almost three hundred and
fifty feet, with a depth of more than five fathoms. Two massive sea
locks at either end can accommodate a vessel as long as a thousand
feet. We will probably dock at the Kiel Naval Base. About that I am
not certain. The Kaiser may decide to show his displeasure by refusing
us that courtesy. Either way we only intend to be in port for a few
hours before proceeding to Hamburg."

As we approached the German mainland, our ship was intercepted by two
sleek gunboats.  These vessels were fast and low to the water. Until
their guns became visible, they could have been mistaken for small
fishing boats unless the observer took note of their speed and
maneuverability. Their flag was being blown about making their country
of origin more a matter of guess work than a clear display.

The Standart found herself flanked and escorted into the Kiel Naval
Base. Permission had not been granted, it had been ordered. As we
stopped all engines and coasted in toward the dock, a half dozen
civilian workmen were deployed to take our mooring lines. The only
sign of protocol was the arrival of a long black Mercedes bearing two
Russian flags; one on each front fender. The instant the gangway had
been put in place, a man stepped from the vehicle. He was dressed in a
formal black suit, complete with a tall stove-pipe hat. I heard
someone whisper, "That must be our ambassador to Germany".

Without the usual military routine he came aboard and was escorted to
the aft salon. The Czarina was already seated, awaiting his arrival.
Olga spearheaded the children's invasion. That was when we overheard,
"The Kaiser will arrive tomorrow and has made arrangements for you to
stay at Holstein Castle."

She raised her eyebrows in annoyance as we marched into the room.
"Please convey to his Majesty my pleasure for the accommodations.
However it will only be for myself as the Standart will proceed to
Hamburg where it will await my return."

Captain Prokoshov had been standing in the doorway. "Captain, please
observe international procedures in Hamburg. With the Kaiser's
permission you may grant shore leave to the crew; however, I do not
wish either the Tsarevich or the Grand Duchesses to go ashore. It is
my desire that our presence be low profile. She then turned to Olga
and ordered us from the room.

An hour later, a small truck arrived. Several wardrobe trunks were
transferred accompanied by her Majesty's Lady-in-Waiting. The Czarina
quietly left the ship. The Ambassador's limousine then led the way and
disappeared from sight.

The bosun's whistle preceded the announcement that we were getting
underway. A tugboat came along our port side and began towing us out
of the harbor after transferring a pilot to take our helm. Instead of
heading out to the Baltic sea, we held close to the shoreline of the
Kiel Fjord until we reached the first lock of the canal.

Traffic was lined up on both sides of the massive gates while the
Standart took sole possession of the lock. After looping lines through
vertical dockside railings, a rumbling screeching sound accompanied
the closing of the doors. That was followed by the sound of water
flooding in and lifting our vessel some 18 feet while our crew kept
tension on the lines, assuring our position was mid-channel.

Once we were clear of the lock, we proceeded west toward the Elbe
River. Our progress was slow. Even though we had power, our speed was
not sufficient to provide good steerage control. Therefore, our center
canal position was maintained by lines stretched to horses on both
banks. The channel connected to the Elbe River which flowed toward the
North Sea. However Hamburg was to the east. We maneuvered the turn and
soon found ourselves at the Hamburg lock. Beyond that were the docks
of the city.

I had been standing alone watching the port side activity.
Unexpectedly I felt an arm encircle my waist. It was Piotr.
"Mademoiselle Catherine, the Czarina has forbidden the Duchesses or
the Tsarevich to leave the ship, but the crew can go ashore. I hear
there is an active nightlife in Hamburg. Would you care to join me?"

I looked up into his soft blue eyes. There was a gentle smile on his
lips. His fingers drew a small pattern across my hipbone which
conveyed a totally different meaning than did his words. I wondered
what messages Alex-T had sent him while playing the part of Catherine.
"That might be fun. But I must wait and see."

Eventually we found ourselves at the Landungsbrucken Dock in the St.
Pauli district. At 1630 hours a bell rang which signaled the crew that
dinner was being served. Piotr disappeared and I made my way aft to
the small dinning salon where the Imperial family usually took their
meals. The girls were seated but Alex-T was no where in sight. Tatiana
intercepted my inspection and said, "Alex doesn't want any dinner. Are
you going to join us?"

I decided instead to have a snack later on, so I excused myself and
went to the Tsarevich's cabin where I told him of the invitation from
Piotr and wondered if I should have accepted. Alex-T said that we
should change rolls. Then he would seek out the sailor and accept the
invitation.

                              + + + + +
                        Alex-T and the Sailor
                              + + + + +

It was eighteen hundred hours when Piotr tapped on Catherine's cabin
door. He was most pleased with what he saw. Catherine was dressed in a
bright green woolen gown over which she had drawn a white fur jacket.

Together they made their way to the gangway. Captain Prokoshov
intercepted them and suggested that Catherine wear something less
attractive, something more in line with what the girl friend of a
common seaman might be expected to wear. After changing into a fur
lined cloth coat the two marched down the gangway and strolled toward
St. Pauli's Hafenstrasse.

Piotr was busy describing what his shipmates had told him were the
pleasures to be found in the Repperbahn district and therefore did not
notice they were being followed. Even had he been aware, it would have
been unlikely he would have recognized the man in the bearskin
overcoat ...he had only seen him once, and that was in St. Petersburg.

When they turned on to Repperbahn it was as though they had entered a
different world. All along both sides of the street were brightly lit
signs and marquees.  A multitude of bars and clubs lay along their
pathway advertising the latest in provocative dancing from both London
and America. In the windows, open to public view, were women with
breasts augmented to extremely large size, advertising the world's
oldest profession.

Some of the buildings that had once been sail lofts had become
brothels. Both boys and girls leaned from the second story windows
attempting to engage prospective customers of either sex in
conversation. A dark haired youth whistled at Piotr and Catherine
offering to provide unimaginable pleasures to both of them and at a
price that suggested he might be willing to do it for free. Piotr
laughed and said "Maybe Later". The prostitute responded, "Be certain
to drop into the Trakenhner a little later. You won't be sorry." When
Catherine explained to Piotr that Trakenhner meant "Prussian Royal
Stud", his chlen lurched to attention. Both the boy above and
Catherine noticed the effect, but it was the boy who shouted, "Please!
You won't be sorry. I can make you both feel real good. Guaranteed."

From deep down in Piotr's mind there arose an arousing thought. Drop
the "P" in Prussian and that was what he wanted desperately to
become... "The Russian Royal Stud." Two thoughts kept fighting each
other: A fantasy of having his way with Catherine and his affection
for Tatiana; but, as they continued their stroll along the street of
the Rope Makers, his chlen got even harder and would not obey his
conscious mind. It was becoming down right embarrassing. Ahead they
saw a sign bearing a horse's head outlined in red and green light
bulbs. Below that was the single word, "Trakenhner".

A cacophony of sounds were hurtling toward them from the entrance.
There were shouts of greeting, shouts of pleasure, shouts of people in
a crowd who could not be heard. A burly black man dressed in light
gray lederhosen touted passersby. His thin shirt bore the likeness of
the horse's head. Unlike the sign above the door, this rendering was
detailed and artistic. Nostrils were flared. Passion was depicted in
the animal's eyes.

Almost in desperation Piotr pulled Catherine into the crowded pub. He
reasoned that the pressing throng would hide his condition. Everyone
was pushed tightly against everyone else. He was wrong.

As they moved further into the bar, a hand "accidentally" brushing
against his chlen. He thought it was a pleasant mishap until it
happened again. The second time there could be little doubt that he
was being groped. Different hands even cupped and fondled for a few
seconds as the two moved along toward the bar.  What he did not
realize was that one of the hands seeking his organ was Catherine's.

He could feel a spot of wetness begin to spread from the tip of his
chlen. He shouted to the bar man, "Two schooners of ale if you
please." The barman's hand was already on the tap as the amber liquid
filled and then overflowed two large mugs.

Piotr pushed a ten mark note across the counter and handed Catherine
one of the glasses. Intentionally, he spilled part of his on his
trousers. Catherine immediately grabbed a napkin from the bar and
rubbed across the wet spot. She knew what she was rubbing, but she was
unaware of the explosion that took place just on the other side of the
two layers of cloth.

Too late to prevent the bursting of the tide, Piotr grasped Catherine
by both hands, then kissed her fingers. As he looked up he saw a
gaudily dressed girl staring at them while talking with a male
companion. "Oh dear me! Johann baby you wouldn't believe what we girls
have to put up with."  Her voice carried over the raucous noise of the
patrons, each of whom appeared to be pitted again another group of
"performers".

"Anyway darling, you should have seen this gorgeous sailor. I was just
sitting there in my window looking down. He was talking to the ugliest
girl I have ever seen." She paused, looked Piotr straight in the eye
and winked. Her companion asked, "Were you in your drag?"  "No. If I
had been I would have dragged him upstairs and given him the best..."
Sound ceased to come from her mouth as her lips formed words which
shocked Piotr.

He bent to whisper in to Catherine's ear, "Let's get out of here."
Suddenly he felt someone's palm caressing his buttocks. He whirled
around to confront his attacker but there was no one giving him the
slightest attention. Catherine looked towards the bar. The gaudily
dressed girl spoke in a stage whisper, projecting her words directly
at Catherine, "Honey, you must learn to dress and ACT like a lady. You
amateurs will give us a bad name."

Alex-T's face turned red. His jaws clinched. He raised his hand and
tossed the remains of his ale into the girls face. As Piotr
frantically attempted to drag him out of the pub all hell was breaking
loose as the bar girl screamed, "Just look what he did to my best
gown. Let me at her I will scratch his eyes out." The barman motioned
for someone to stop any fight that might erupt but, by then, Piotr had
dragged Catherine/Alex-T out onto the street.

Had they stayed a minute longer, they would have seen the man in the
bearskin overcoat elbow his way alongside the transvestite and begin a
conversation. Arm in arm Catherine and Piotr continued their stroll
down the Repperbahn.

The orgy of the Repperbahn had sounded like fun to Piotr when in the
company of his shipmates but, here and now, it suddenly seemed like a
tarnished toy; old, used, and worthless.

They had come upon a squat bronze statue of a beggar woman holding a
child in her arms which seemed more Russian than German. The figures
were heavy, blocky forms quite similar to wood carvings depicting
peasants that they had seen in St. Petersburg. A plaque informed the
passerby that the sculptor's name was Barlach; he had been a student
at the Hamburg School of Applied Arts from 1883 to 1891.

Within a few blocks they had had enough, crossed the street and
retraced their course to the Hafenstrasse. The man in the bearskin
coat was eagerly pursuing his story in the intimate company of those
at the Trakenhner and thus had no idea that his quarry had called it a
night and returned to the safety of the Standart.

It was early afternoon when a long black limousine parked alongside
the ship. The Czarina came aboard and immediately called a family
meeting in the aft salon. She wanted to discuss her meeting with the
Kaiser before composing a radiogram for her husband.

The meeting with cousin Willy had been embarrassing. The topic of
conversation was the political unrest in the Balkan countries. He
stated that if Nicholas (the Czar) were firmer with his people, this
upheaval would cease.  He said that he understood the problems that
the Czar had and even made the comment that organization was never a
part of the Russian soul. As a gesture of friendship he offered to
send German troops into Russia to support the Czar's autocratic
position. Olga said she doubted the sincerity of the Kaisers offer.
Once the German troops were "assisting", they would soon take control.

The Czarina looked questioningly at her son, expecting some kind of
response. In fact she was looking at Alex-P in the guise of the
Tsarevich. Alex-T was still masquerading as Catherine. She frowned
momentarily, then shooed everyone from the room while she wrote her
communique.

All author22 books are available in paperback from Amazon.com, and are
also available as with colorful illustration in html format for viewing
on your own PC, or in Franklin Rocket-eBook format.

Contact author22@aol.com for further information.