Author's note: Hello there! This is one of my many attempts at historical fiction. I've tried to make the details as accurate as possible without over-describing. But if you see any errors in historical detail, tell me, because I absolutely DESPISE historical fiction that's not historically accurate.
Henry was watching from his cabin as the supplies were loaded onto the ship. As he looked out, a young man - likely a boy no older than twelve - scampered up the gangway and onto the deck. Henry scowled, opening the window and sticking his head out.
The boy didn't look much like a crewman. From what little he could see because of the distance and the wide-brimmed hat that hid much of the boy's head, the boy had a pale, pretty face. This was quite unlike the rest of the crew, who were leathery, tanned, and weatherbeaten.
"Oi!" he heard a sailor yell to the boy in a thick accent. Welsh of some variety, Henry supposed.
The boy turned around, his slender arms poised like he was a bird about to fly.
"What d'you think you're doing?" hollered the sailor. His fellow crewmen, all busy loading the ship or working on the rigging, looked up but otherwise made no other move. "Are you a stowaway?"
"I'd be an awful stowaway, wouldn't I, letting you see me like that?" volleyed back the boy in a high, musical tenor voice. His accent was light and difficult to place, likely that of a native Londoner.
The other sailors laughed at the boy's cleverness but the first did not seem to find it amusing. He made a threatening move towards the youngster but the boy, quick as a bird, darted away and up the mainmast, out of the man's reach.
Henry ground his teeth and hauled himself to his feet. He trekked out of his cabin. As he made his way onto the deck, he could hear the Welsh sailor shouting and swearing and the boy calling back tauntingly.
The moment he made it out onto the deck, he saw the boy hanging off the rigging, laughing. But he stopped when his eyes met Henry's.
Every man on the deck stood at attention the moment they caught sight of Henry. Henry glared at them all.
"Mr. Hawking!" he shouted. The first mate scurried towards him. "What the devil is going on here?"
"I don't know, sir," Hawking replied. He'd taken off his hat and was twisting it nervously in his hand. As he'd been one of Henry's friends for many years, Hawking surely understood that Henry was not pleased with the circumstances.
"You, boy! Come down from there at once!" shouted Henry to the boy.
The boy scampered down the mainmast and stood before Henry. Henry paced towards him. Up close he could see the boy's delicate features: the slim, arched eyebrows, the round blue eyes, the pale, smooth, unblemished skin, and the chestnut-coloured curls that were tied in a braid behind the boy's head.
"What are you doing on my ship?" snarled Henry.
"I heard you were a man short, sir," said the boy, staring up at him. He was very tall for his age.
"A man short, not a boy," said Henry, for he would have no boys on board. He was used to boys about his ship, usually several little urchins scampering around the more dignified midshipmen, but this was not one of the Navy ships he'd commanded before.
There was laughter from the assembled sailors as the boy's face fell with disappointment. Henry regarded them with his sweeping, arch gaze before turning his attention to the boy.
"Sir, I heard you didn't have a cabin boy," said the boy. He looked up at Henry with winsome eyes.
Henry glared down at the boy. "What's your name, boy?" he asked roughly.
"John Manning, sir," he replied.
"Well, John, do you know where this ship is going?" asked Henry in a low, ominous voice. Based on the boy's attire - bare feet, a pair of ragged trousers, and a loose man's shirt that was far too big for him - it was obvious that he was not clad for the weather they would doubtless experience on their voyage.
"I know you're an explorer, sir," said the boy. Henry, not ungrudgingly, found the boy's slight air of petulance charming. "And not just any explorer, but one of the most famous and intrepid ones. You're Henry Kent, aren't you, sir?"
"Captain Henry Kent," snapped Henry. After all, not only was he a former Navy captain, but he was also captain of this vessel, something he was not keen for the crew to forget. "And so I suppose you understand the dangerousness of this voyage?"
"Oh, yes, sir," said John enthusiastically. "I long for adventure, sir, and I thought that I could get it as a crewman on this ship. It's going to the Arctic, after all, sir! What could be more exciting than a voyage to find the North Pole?"
Henry had to admire what was either the boy's supreme foolishness or extreme bravery. But he continued in a sombre tone:
"Where I have been I have seen men starve to death and eat each other out of desperation. I have killed four men with my bare hands and I have seen others go mad at the deed. I have seen men freeze to death until there was nothing left of them but ice."
John blanched but nodded. "I understand, sir," he said. "I also understand that as the cabin boy, I am likely to be eaten first."
Henry had to chuckle a little bit at the boy's endearing impertinence. "Well, I suppose we do need a cabin boy. Very well, Mr. Manning, you've earned your place as a cabin boy."
John smiled dazzlingly. "Thank you, sir," he said.
Henry nodded. "Well, the first thing I need you to do is climb aloft. Scout out the weather on the horizon. I feel as though it might rain, and I wish the men to finish loading the supplies onto the ship before it does."
"Yes, sir," said John. He turned about and made for the mainmast.
"Shouldn't you give him your spyglass, sir?" asked Hawking as they pair of them watched the boy scale his way aloft on the rigging, agile as a monkey.
"No need. It isn't going to rain, Edgar," said Henry.
At the use of the first name, Hawking dropped all courtesy from his voice. They had an agreement that Hawking would show him all due respect in front of the men, but when they were alone they could simply behave as good friends. "Then why have him climb, Henry?"
"I just want to see how well he climbs. I need him to be useful," said Henry. He looked over at Hawking, who shrugged. "As much as it will be pleasant to have someone other than the cook serve me coffee in the morning and run errands, I also need him to work."
Hawking nodded. "As you say, sir."
As they watched the boy staring out over the horizon, Henry sighed.
"Are the men almost ready? I do want to depart before noon," he said.
"Just about, I should say," said Hawking, scanning where the sailors had finished loading the ship and were simply lounging on the deck or the pier.
"Tell them to cast off, Mr. Hawking," said Henry.
Hawking nodded. "Aye aye, sir," he said, and touched an imaginary hat. Just as he was about to leave, Henry caught him by the arm.
"Oh, and find some proper clothing for the boy. He might be content to wander about like that in May here, but he certainly will not be comfortable dressed like that in the High Arctic," he added, gesturing to the boy's ragged attire.
Hawking nodded once again. As Henry approached the mainmast, he heard Hawking roar in his powerful voice, the one that came from commanding men as a lieutenant back when Henry had been a Navy Captain:
"Oi, all you idle men! Are you sailors or landlubbers? Cast off!"
"What do you see, boy?" called Henry over the sudden clamour of the sailors as John descended.
"Clouds, sir," he said. "Big black clouds, just to the west of us."
Henry nodded. "Damn," he said. Then he turned to John. "Go below and find the cook. I would like him to become familiar with you."
"So he knows who to cook should we run out of food?" asked John petulantly.
Henry chuckled, not sure if he should tousle the boy's hair or box his ears. "Yes, but I would also like some coffee. Bring it to me in my cabin."
John nodded. He seemed about to depart when he turned back to Henry.
"Sir?" he asked.
"Yes?" snapped Henry.
"Where will I find the cook?" John's voice was hesitant.
Henry glowered down at the boy. "Have you never been on board a ship, then?" he asked. But he felt pity for the poor child - he looked confused and worried.
"Never, sir," said John.
Henry heaved a sigh and then did something entirely out of character. "Well, then, I shall show you about. If you are to be my cabin boy, you ought to know your way around the ship. Follow me, John."
The pair of them descended down the steps. Henry had to smile as he saw John's eyes light up with wonderment at the sight of the creaking wooden beams of the hold of the ship, looking in the dim lamplight like the ribs of some giant creature.
"If you've never been on a ship, how do you know how to climb like that?" asked Henry.
John grinned. "I climb a lot of trees, sir."
Henry chuckled. As they reached the small, slightly squalid kitchen, they heard the sound of snoring. Henry threw open the door to reveal a slightly plump man dozing off at a table, a pail of partially chopped carrots sitting in front of him.
The man jolted awake, snorting a tad. The moment he saw Henry, he sprang up, upsetting the carrots and scattering them all over the table and the deck.
"Sorry, sir," he wheezed. "I must've - what I mean to say -"
"This is the new cabin boy," said Henry coldly, cutting him off. Without further ado, he departed, leaving John with the cook. As he went back to his cabin, he shook his head in exasperation.
They managed to make it out of the harbour on time. Henry had been sitting on his bunk, reading a book, when he'd received a knock on the door.
"Come," he called.
It proved to be John, who breezed over to him with a shocking amount of hauteur and grace for being bare-footed and ragged and set a mug of coffee down in front of him.
"Your coffee, Captain," said John.
Henry grunted appreciatively and John had smiled dazzlingly. Henry had been shocked by how pretty John's face was up close; his features were very delicate and he was positively girlish. He looked far more like a girl than a boy. He was one of those boys one knew would grow into a dashingly handsome man.
"And Mr. Hawking told me to relay the message that we're just about ready to cast off, sir," said John.
"Are we?" said Henry, looking out of the window. He saw no cargo or sailors left on the pier and heard the characteristic sounds of yelled orders and shouted responses. Under his body, he could feel the ship creaking as sails were unfurled and rigging tightened.
"Very well," he said, giving John a pert nod.
John seemed confused and remained standing in the cabin. Henry smiled. He closed his book and said to John:
"That means you're dismissed."
"Oh," said John. "Of course, sir."
And with that, John vanished out the door, his bare feet not even making the boards of the deck creak as he scampered out.
Henry stretched lazily and wondered if he should go above to give orders. He decided against it - Hawking, while not the better sailor of them, was still remarkable and no doubt able to get them out of the harbour and on their way north.