Winds of Fate [Books I-III]

Chapter Five: On Deck

Nigel's usual kind face is tight when Eleanore finally leaves the galley and walks up to the deck. He waves her over. She meekly follows, glancing over her shoulders as the deck bustles with life and energy. Sailors are going about their day: polishing their swords, cleaning pistols, raising or lowering the sails as the Captain hollers the orders to them from the helm.

Nigel is holding a mop and her eyes widen. "Your number one job." The boatswain thrusts it to her hand. "Swab the deck. Must be shining so I can see my face on it!"

She gapes at the last command. He tries to grin, but it does not stay or even lift a little. She briefly wonders what has changed. But Eleanore simply nods and moves to the bucket full of seawater Nigel had pointed to the side. She takes it and as she looks up, meets the hawk-like eyes of Moody - who is wearing a brown hat today in tandem to his mariner's wear. Moody then sneers at someone behind her, and she finds it is directed at Nigel.

Nigel simply shrugs and walks away, before turning back. "Start at the stern."

She blinks at him. "Stern?"

The man rubs the back of his neck. "The back of the ship, that is the stern. The front is the bow," Nigel patiently teaches. "Facing the bow." He turns to face the bow and holds out his left arm, "Port." Then he sticks out his right. "Starboard." Eleanore nods eagerly. The boatswain smiles then sighs before he shooes her away. "Off you go then, doll."

She trots off to the stern, bucket in one hand and mop on the other. So the Captain talking about the bowsprit, he means to send her in front of the ship? Eleanore frowns. Does he intend for her to replace the golden woman there?

Eleanore clicks her tongue and settles at the far back near the quarter deck She dips the neat mop in the pail, but the swerving makes her light on her feet, as if carrying her away. 

Getting a decent wet mop is a challenge when the bucket slides every now and then as the ship careens over waves. She huffs, and plants the bucket between her two feet in anger. 

"There," she whispers, quite pleased.

The familiar heat of a gaze sears her left arm. Eleanore dare not look up to find who it is...but when it does not leave - she tries, only to meet the Captain's dark eyes. He is, as usual, scowling. "How will you walk, trapping the bucket like that?"

She freezes. Eleanore tries to answer, but finds nothing to say in her defense.

"You have many duties ahead. Do this one with haste and a sense of urgency," The Captain sternly orders, "Work your way around your problem, sailor. Figure it out."

She nods, narrows her eyes at the floorboards. Eleanore dunks the mop in the bucket rather harshly than she intended, sending water splashing over her feet. 

"Crap." 

The Captain raises a dark brow. "You have a message for me?"

"No, Captain!" She straightens up and tries to gather her scattered wits. The familiar chill whenever Mrs Hartley gave her a dressing down now creeps up her spine. Eleanore shivers.

The Captain's face show nothing but utter displeasure. 

"Forgive me, Captain. I did not mean to-"

"Sulk around and I will give you something to ask forgiveness for," he snaps, and from the corner of her eye, Eleanore sees his figure move to the other side in large strides. 

Now he is just downright cruel. She is most definitely not sulking. What does he expect? For her to be singing while mopping the deck? Eleanore shakes her head. Cruel or not, whether she likes him or not, he is the captain of this ship - and she is merely asking for their mercy.