Life aboard the Dutchman was dull.
After three years, the tasks of finding shipwrecks, dragging the dead and dying aboard, offering them a choice…Well, the choice changed from man to man, but it still offered only two paths. Either they joined his crew, or he ferried them to the other side.
Will was board, and lonely, terribly lonely. Every day of those three years had dragged along.
Three years gone, only 7 more to go.
He had it figured down to the day, the hour, the minute when he could hold Elizabeth in his arms again.
But that only seemed to make the days longer, the unchanging seas of World's End all the more depressing, and his lifelong task just that. A task, a chore.
The men, of course, knew what to do upon approaching a shipwreck.
They'd fish the souls out and wait for the captain.
And the Captain knew his part. To be the ferryman or the captain.
The Rosa-Marie had been a small trading vessel, who'd run afoul of a storm. She'd sunk with all hands.
Will's crew had to fish every one of the souls from the water.
The Captain sighed, leaning against the side of the ship as the crew began the onerous task of fetching the souls to the deck.
On occasion, the newly dead might fight, or fuss, or scream and cry. But as long as the ship remained on her task, there were no grand ship-to-ship battles, or any real risks for her crew and Captain.
The Dutchman liked that.
The Captain found it dull, after the life he'd led on the seas before.
He was sliding back in his dreaming when an unholy sound sounded from the deck.
Will turned quickly, fearing an attack.
The crew was trying no to laugh.
Sitting in the middle of the deck was a soaking wet cat.
Will stifled a laugh as the bedraggled creature gave him an imperious look.
The Dutchman hummed beneath her Captain's feet.
The cat got up, stalked to a pile of rope, and made her self comfortable, settling down to get her fur lying in the correct direction and dry.
He exchanged an amused glance with his father, and then walked to the cat, accepting that the crew would have a few more laughs at his expense.
The Boson was already snickering.
Struggling to keep his face straight and the laughter out of his voice, Will looked at the cat.
She gave him an arch look, and then went back to cleaning her tail.
He cleared his throat, coughing to cover a laugh and asked. "Will you serve, Cat?"
The cat responded with a single meow and contained her task.
Perhaps his task wasn't always tedious.
