Blood ⤘ In The Heart Of The Sea [Thomas Nickerson]

Chapter XI

"Verona!"

The raven, who had been throwing yet another rope onto one of the boats, turned as sh heard Thomas's voice.

The boy was jogging towards her, no doubt to climb into the boat that had just been loaded with harpoons.
It only took one look at her for him to notice something was wrong.

"Are you alright?"

The raven shook her head, watching as three men climbed onto the boat, calling Thomas's name as they waited for him.

"My father won't let me hunt. Hell, it's a miracle he's even letting me stay on deck."

Thomas looked at her for a moment, wondering if there was something else, another reason as to why she seemed so upset hidden behind those stormy eyes, but as he watched her look anywhere that wasn't him, he chose not to ask. Instead, he reached out, lightly taking her hand in his. He didn't say a word, but she knew he realized how much the small gesture brought her comfort.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

Thomas looked at her, his eyes giving her a questioning squint.

Verona took a breath, shrugging and tightening her grip around his hand. "Just— be careful out there, alright?"

Thomas waited for a comment after her sentence, maybe a 'I can't protect you out there,' or 'you'll drown without me saving you', but nothing more came out of the girl's mouth. That concerned him more than the warning itself.

"I'll be careful, I promise. I'll see you when I get back, alright? Maybe I can give you something to write about in your journal."

Verona finally looked at him then, a ghost of a smile etched onto her lips.

"I'd love that." She leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on his cheek before heading out to the crow's nest, the place where she'd started spending most of her time, much to her father's disagreement.

The boy stood still for a moment, smiling at himself as he reached up to touch the place where her lips had brushed his skin.

"Thomas!" Mr. Lawrence yelled from the boat, "Wake up, loverboy! We have oil to gather!"

Thomas shook his head and headed for the boat, but not before looking back at the crow's nest, watching the Pollard girl smiling down at him.

It wasn't the first time the two had had an intimate moment similar to that one. During their fourteen months at sea, the youngest members of the Essex had found comfort within each other's presence. Thomas had told the girl everything he could remember about his parents, and Verona had told stories about her mother— the few ones she could remember. They'd often be seen by the crew as they held hands, or playing around, and Thomas's arm was often around the girl's waist or shoulders, and if it wasn't Verona would be holding onto it.

However, the fact that these moments would happen often didn't take away the fact that the boy always felt the same, electrifying feeling whenever the raven was around.

"For God's sake, boy," Owen said as they parted from the Essex, "quit looking at her like she put the stars in the sky and get to rowing." However, he smiled as he said it. Spending fourteen months with the boy had taught him that to him, Verona could have put a harpoon on a boat or the Earth in the galaxy— he would have still looked at her the same way.

△

Five minutes. It only took five, miserable minutes for Verona to finally acknowledge that horrible, nauseating feeling she'd been having in her stomach ever since they'd spotted the whales. The young girl found herself rummaging through her affects, trying to find her third journal. Ever since Ecuador, she'd read that exact one about ten times, trying to find any other hidden descriptions about the White Whale Captain Pelaez had mentioned. The last time she'd read it was the night before. However, she'd gotten so frustrated with it she'd ended up throwing it into her wardrobe, onto a pile of old skirts she'd refused to hang up again. But it seemed the clothes had absorbed the journal.