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Pearl Tales
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|
a Harden Up by
Lorraine |
| aaa |
| James Norrington came awake swiftly, going from sleep to alertness instantly as he always did shipboard. It was about six bells into the midwatch by his internal clock. He took a moment to lie in his darkened cabin and listen to his ship. From the feel of her, he could tell that the wind had increased somewhat but the helmsman was not paying the attention he should and had let her fall off the wind a shade too much. Her movement was easy, too easy to be efficient. He swung his legs over the edge of his cot, stood and buttoned his breeches and the top three buttons of his shirt, tucked the latter into the former and was ready to go. Turning in all standing was perhaps not the most comfortable sleeping arrangement to be had, but on ships, especially this ship, it was a necessity. Even now, years after they had come to an understanding and even love, he knew better than to ease his attention even the slightest. He decided to forgo the uncomfortable shoes and made his way rapidly to the quarterdeck. He stopped in the shadows, silently watching for a while before making his presence known. Gillette was at the helm. Of course it would be him tonight. James looked at him closely in the dim light. The crusty corners of his eyes and the dark circles beneath told most of the story, the dying bulge in his breeches told the rest. James smiled to himself and caressed the rail beneath his hands. He remembered vividly the first time he had the dream. It had been March in the North Sea and the gales never seemed to stop blowing. The decks were covered in water or ice constantly and for nearly two weeks the Dauntless had been testing him, throwing blocks at his head, sending lines snaking across her slick decks to trip him up, blowing sails out repeatedly while he tried to do his duty to keep the ship and her men safe despite her attempts to sabotage him. She had given him the dream when he was at the helm in the dead of night during yet another blow. It had been the most difficult thing he had ever done to tear himself from that beautiful island and from her and back to the helm where the vicious wind lashed tears from his face and his cold hands cracked and bled and he gripped the spokes of her wheel. He had done it, though, because it had been necessary. And when he did, it suddenly came to him that standing there at her helm, battling the storm together was even better than being in the dream with her. He remembered feeling the wheel warm beneath his fingers and Captain Cunningham's pleased look as he clapped him on the back. "Mr. Gillette, your attention appears to be lacking. I suggest that you harden up immediately." Gillette jumped when he said this and looked exceedingly guilty. James almost let his smile show then. If Gillette survived this voyage, James would strongly recommend he be given his own command. ~.~ Nautical vocabulary and slang:
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