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

Chapter VI

Verona walked below deck, too awake to stay in her cabin, yet too tired to join the conversations the men were having upstairs. The storm had startled her as much as everyone else on the Essex, and the shock was only starting to settle in. She stopped in her tracks, though, when a familiar voice came from her father's office, pulling her from her thoughts.

"You wish to see me, sir?" Owen asked, leaving the door to shut on its own, giving the raven the opportunity to keep it cracked open just enough to hear the conversation.

"At six bells tomorrow," George replied, not looking up from his papers, "you will assemble the crew. Inform them that we will be returning to Nantucket for repairs. You will then apologize to them for interfering with a captain's order, which nearly cost the lives of every man on this ship today."

Verona clenched her fists. She'd already known her father didn't like Owen much, but now he was simply pinning the blame on someone else, trying to take the weight of his own stupid mistake off his shoulders.

"What?" Owen asked, his tone filled with distaste.

"I'll accept your resignation upon our return to port. That will be all."

But Verona knew Owen was far from being done. "It was your order to set stunsails, sir," he said bitterly.

"That decision was sound," George snapped. "The men needed testing."

"So you send them into a storm."

"That," George paused for only a split second as he looked for the right words, "was unlucky."

"No," Owen argued, frustration clear in his voice, "It was bad seamanship. And blaming misfortune is just plain weakness."

And that was the last straw. George jumped up from his seat, slamming his hands hard against his desk, his eyes so filled with rage it seemed as though the storm had slipped into his orbs. "Damn your impertinence!" He yelled, making Verona take a step back from behind the door. "Do you know who you're speaking to?" George continued, "My name is Captain George Pollard. Pollard!"

Verona's eyes started glossing over, partly from rage, partly from disappointment. She'd always known her father's soul was swelled with pride for their name, but the girl knew he would sometimes take things too far with it.

"And you," George went on, "Mr. Chase, no matter how many whale pins you may have on your lapel, are nothing more than the son of a farmer who's managed to bully his way into an officer's tunic. Now," his tone lowered considerably, "get out."

Verona leaned against the wooden frame of the door, crossing her arms when Owen didn't make his way through it.

Then he started speaking. "To return to port without a single barrel of oil would be a mistake, sir." His tone was calm, soothing almost. When he didn't receive a reply, he went on. "And not behoove a man whose name is Pollard. Or Chase, for that matter," he added quickly. "And the best thing for both of us would be to work all hours God sends us, fill this ship with oil and be home inside a year and rid of one another as quickly as possible."

"Ms. Pollard?"

Verona jumped, covering her own mouth to muffle her shriek when she heard a voice behind her. Turning around, she placed her hands on her hips, letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, ready to scold whoever had snuck up on her, but her eyes softened when she noticed the boy's amused expression.

"Thomas," she breathed, letting her lips twitch into a grin. She quickly placed a hand on the boy's mouth when he was about to speak, and signalled for him to stay quiet, leaning back towards the door.

She furrowed her eyebrows, though, when all she heard were footsteps making their way towards the door. Her eyes widened when she realized one of two men –probably Owen– were going to catch the two kids if they didn't leave. Verona immediately turned, grabbing Thomas's wrist, the poor boy stumbling as he tried to grab the bag of vegetables he'd been carrying before the raven had stopped him, letting her drag him towards the kitchen, surprised at how agile she was being with the waves below them lulling the ship.

Thomas halted once they were behind the door, emptying the sack as Verona ducked behind a barrel, knowing well she wasn't allowed in the working areas of the Essex.

Owen made his way through the wooden frame of the kitchen entrance, stomping past Thomas, who took a sigh of relief when he left.

"They sounded like an ill-married couple," Verona chuckled, crawling out from behind her hiding place and going to lean against the table next to Thomas.

Thomas smiled, confused as to what the girl meant.

Noticing this, Verona spoke again. "Before you came along, Mr. Chase was discussing some matters with my father. I doubt I was supposed to hear, but..." she trailed off, leaving the boy to understand that she'd stopped to eavesdrop. The crew often spoke of the captain's daughter, of her stubbornness and constant search for something out of the ordinary for young girls such as herself. He wasn't surprised by her actions in the slightest.

"Anyways," the girl went on, "I believe Mr. Chase is right. My father wanted to return the Essex to port, but Mr. Chase insisted on staying on route." She paused for a moment, her expression darkening. "I don't know why they made my father captain. Sure, we come from an important line of whalemen, it's in our blood, but..." she took a breath, lowering her gaze as though she were ashamed of her next words. "Being a captain isn't about the blood that runs through our veins. It's about the actions we take, the decisions we take time to consider and the ones that run out of instinct. My father was never a good leader. I doubt he ever will be."

Thomas stayed silent, not knowing what to say. Instead, he placed his hand on hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Your father," he started, "is a great man. I just believe he feels responsible for keeping the family name respected."

Verona sighed, choosing to end the conversation there by not replying, instead leaning her head on the boy's shoulder, the events of the day finally catching up to her.

A few minutes later, she bid Thomas goodnight, carefully stepping out of the kitchens and making her way towards her sleeping quarters, wondering why she had told the greenhorn her thoughts. The way he'd reacted to her saying the truth about her father wasn't at all what she's been expecting, but she was thankful for it either way. A friend might be what she needed, and that was the last sentence to make its way out of her head as she shut her eyes, letting the ocean lull her into oblivion.

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hey hi hello good morning/day/night.

I AM SOSO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING IN SO LONGG
PLUS THIS IS A REALLY SHITTY CHAPTER
I promise I'm going to try and update more often but
i have so much shit to do ughhh

hope you liked it thoughh