With the Seas ~ A Hetalia Fan Fiction

Chapter 7 ~ Excitement

 ***Six days later***

 The sun beats down on me from above, and I can’t contain the tired sigh that I’ve been restraining. I pause from my work of swabbing the deck, leaning on my deck brush for support. Drops of sweat roll down my face.

 After almost a week at sea, I’ve become accustomed to the strenuous life of a sailor. Each morning, I wake up just past dawn, get ready, then go down to the galley to eat breakfast with the rest of the crew. After that, it’s mostly hours of work with few breaks in between and a noontime meal.

 Just as Iain ordered me, I’ve been helping anyone who needs it. Many men refused my assistance, which confirmed that unfortunate sailor’s earlier claims; but some eventually gave in and allowed me to help with small things. I’ve helped with almost everything, from taking care of the rigging and manning the crow’s nest to accounting for our supplies and swabbing the deck, as I am doing now. Every evening, I fulfill my duty as chronicler and bring my writings to Captain Kirkland. I’ve also helped Iain often, once to break up a fight. Despite his gruffness, Iain is actually quite civil and kind to me so I sit with him during meals. He’s quick to spare me a small smile that he never shows to anyone else. Most of the older men ignore me. Some of the cabin boys are all right, and the rest of the crew I’m wary of.

 I continue to swab the deck after my brief respite.

 The crashing waves drown out the sounds of the crew. To break down the wall of tediousness built by the endless to-and-fro motion of my arm guiding the brush, I hum a little tune. The notes go up and down in time with the waves lapping at the sides of the ship.

 Where did I even pick this song up from?

 “Agh!” I exclaim, hands grabbing my head.

 The deck brush clatters to the floor. I clutch at my temples with my eyes shut tight. Slowly, I sink to my knees.

 What’s happening to me?

 “Slacking off, I see.”

 Just as quickly as it had come, the pain goes away. When his words finally sink into my frazzled brain, I spring up from my kneeling position.

 “I was not slacking off. Is it so wrong to need some rest every now and then?”

 Captain Kirkland ignores my words.

 “You know, I could throw you in the brig for neglecting your work. Or maybe I could have you thrown overboard,” he drawls out with a devilish smirk.

 “And I could hit you across the face with this deck brush. But the things we both could do to each other aren’t really welcomed by either of us, so I suggest we refrain from doing what we could do and instead do what we should.”

 “And what, may I ask, should we do?”

 I pick up the fallen deck brush and start to scrub furiously.

 “I should finish cleaning, and you should leave me alone and go back to captaining this ship.”

 At this point, I know I’ve probably gone too far. Looking up at him, I am shocked to find no anger in his expression. I had expected a sword or gun to be pointed at my face again. Instead, his smirk had grown wider. Captain Kirkland goes over to a nearby crate and sits on it, arms folded, legs crossed. Despite the less-than-regal setting, he still manages to have the air of a pompous king.

 “I am always captaining this ship, girl, no matter what I happen to be doing. And as it’s my ship, I can go wherever I want to on it.”

 I stop scrubbing and look over at him with cautious cerulean eyes.