Ok, well I had to write this for my English class, this isn't usually the sort of thing I write about, but I figured I put it up anyways! Lol, well review! I hope you like it!
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Charlotte Doyle: The Second Voyage
Slowly opening her eyes in her hammock aboard the Seahawk, she felt her body move to the lull of the ship. It had been almost a week since she ran away from home, or should she say jail, to her real home, the Seahawk. She rubbed her eyes, shifted to get off the hammock, and felt her feet touch the slippery, worn wood. She knew it would be time to start her watch soon with Ewing and Foley. Brushing back her mangled hair with her fingers, she started out the door.
"Ready to go Charlotte?" asked Ewing, as she stepped out the door from where they slept, "Looks really bad today, might be a gale coming in."
"Yeah, it sure does, shouldn't we be taking precautions in case of a real storm?" asked Charlotte as they walked toward the bow.
"Well, Captain Fisk doesn't really think we need to, and the crew has to obey him," he said, pulling himself up to a sitting position on the side of the boat.
"Do you think we should pull down some of the sails?" asked Charlotte.
"The captain doesn't think we should, therefore I don't," he said, "And Charlotte, you should too."
She looked at him and rolled her eyes, "It's not as if I've got a choice, does it?"
They continued the watch, and when it was over, she went down to eat and talk to Zachariah.
"Zachariah, have you been outside today?" Charlotte asked, drinking some tea Zachariah had given her.
"Yes, it seems very nasty outside," he said with his back turned, cooking lunch for the others who were due to come any minute.
"I'm worried that we might hit a storm unprepared," she said twisting her fingers.
"Did anyone tell you that you worry too much?" he asked playfully, wagging a finger at her.
"Zachariah," she said, "I'm being serious."
"I know you are," he said, bending down under the table to get a pot, "And if Captain Fisk doesn't think we need to, we won't. We do the captain's orders always. And at least he's a good, honest captain."
"He is really great," Charlotte said, putting her cup with the dishes to be washed, "Thanks, Zachariah, for the tea."
"No problem," he told her as he closed the door behind her.
"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed, when she had gotten up to the main deck. It was raining, and he was coming down in torrents, the waves getting bigger and bigger by the second. She saw members of the crew running to secure the masts, and she went by the sails to help Grimes secure the sails. They had done all they could, Fisk staying at the wheel the whole time of the storm. The saw lightning strike not far off, but it didn't hit the ship.
"How much longer do you think the storm will last?" she screamed over the wind to Zachariah.
"Not too much longer hopefully, I'd say through the night though!" he screamed, trying to make his voice heard through the rain.
She had finished securing all the sails, and ran back into the forecastle, to get out of the rain. She was shivering, but she knew all would be okay.
She stayed in there through the night, with the other members of the crew. None slept; they all instead waited out the storm, while taking turns staying at the wheel, and watching the deck. None of them reported any bad news, only that the storm was as strong as ever. She must've fallen asleep during one of Ewing's ghost stories, because the next thing she knew, she woke up and it was morning.
She walked outside and saw clear blue skies. The sea looked as if no storm had hit last night, and the deck was fairly clean because they had taken most of the boxes and supplies to top cargo. She ran up to the bowsprit and was about to shout her joy to the skies when she looked down.
Laying on a piece of wood which was being shifted closer and closer to the ship, not six feet in length and three feet wide was a boy, tattered and looking close to death, but she knew he was alive because a mouthful of seawater had swept into his mouth, and he had a coughing fit.
"Castaway! Overboard! A boy down in the water!" she screamed until Fisk, Grimes, and Foley had come and taken him out of the water.
The boy lay coughing on the deck floor. He had shaggy, dirty-blond hair, very strong facial features, and he seemed to be about five feet, eleven inches. Charlotte couldn't tell what color his eyes were, because he seemed unconscious.
"Men," began Fisk, "The boy needs care, he has a very bad fever. Put him to bed, and we'll need someone to take care of him."
"I'll do it," said Charlotte, "I wouldn't mind, and anyways I might be better at this sort of thing."
"You probably are," muttered Foley, and the rest of the crew started laughing.
They put the boy in a hammock by Charlotte's and she spent hours mopping his forehead and feeding him food and water when he would open his mouth. She would sing songs to him and read to him, even though he probably couldn't hear it. But she wanted to feel better as quickly as possible, and every time she sang, she saw the shadow of a smile upon his face.
In three days, he woke. "Oh, hello," she said, "How are you feeling?"
"Much, much better," he sighed, "May I ask the name of the beautiful woman who has nursed me so carefully this whole time? How long was I asleep?"
"My name is Charlotte, Charlotte Doyle, and you've been asleep about three days," she said, smiling at him, "What's your name?"
"Thomas Nolan," he said, "Where am I?"
"You're on the Seahawk," she said.
"Oh," he said, "Do you think I could get up now?"
"Why are you asking me?" Charlotte inquired.
"You are my nurse," he said, teasing her.
She started laughing. "Come on," she said, "I'll take you to the captain."
She brought him to Fisk's cabin and led him inside.
"Ah, our sick castaway is better now?" he asked.
"Very," he said, shaking the hand of Captain Fisk.
"Well," asked Captain Fisk, "What happened to you?"
Then he started on a long story of a ship called Justice. They had been through at terrible storm, most likely the same one as ours. But instead of surviving the storm, the Justice sank and all the members aboard her had died. He was almost dead, but grabbed on to a piece of wood, and that was the last thing he remembered.
"I'm guessing that was when we found you, and I nursed you back to health," Charlotte said, after he had finished his tale an hour later.
"Me too," he said agreeing.
"Well, Nolan, that is your name?" Fisk asked, to which Nolan replied with a shake of his head, "We'll probably be back to Liverpool in about a month, or a month and a half, but until then, you can work with the crew, we need all hands we can get."
"I'd be happy to sir," he replied, a grin on his face.
"Ok, well, for now, until I can get you a proper schedule," Fisk said, rubbing his chin, "You'll work with Charlotte, and if that seems to work out, we'll keep it like that."
"Sir, I'm very sure that will work out," he said, glancing over in Charlotte's direction.
They walked out onto the deck. The skies were clear of no skies, and the wind was going strong. She slid her feet on the deck, feeling her feet slip on the water.
"So, Char, can I call you that? Char?" Nolan asked, shoving her softly on the shoulder.
"You'd call me that anyway, if you wanted to," she said, giggling slightly.
"No I wouldn't… Char," he said, bursting out into laughter after the last word.
"No, I don't mind. And if you don't mind my asking, how old are you?" said Charlotte.
"Sixteen this fall," he said, "And you?"
"Fourteen," she replied.
"So, you hungry?" he asked.
"Yeah, let's go see Zachariah and get lunch," Charlotte said.
"Ok," he said, hesitating, as if thinking, "And Char? You can call me Thomas. Only people I am not close too call me Nolan."
"Okay…Thomas," she said, smiling.
While they ate she couldn't help admiring him. For fifteen he was very muscular looking, and his hair and face were really nice for someone who is a sailor. His eyes, she noticed, were such a pure and radiant blue, she couldn't help melting when she looked at them. She felt a little dizzy and light, but in a good way.
"So, Char, what are we doing right now?" Thomas asked.
"Just stand at the bow and watch for anything…unusual," she replied back.
She had been watching the sea for awhile, staring to the sea and imagining they were back in England, thinking about future trips she would take on the Seahawk. Suddenly, two hands grabbed her shoulders, and Thomas face peeked out behind her.
"Hey," he said, "Did I scare you?"
"No, I don't get scared too easily," she said.
"Yeah, I'm so sure," he replied, with a challenge in his tone.
"Do you want to know how I even became a sailor?" she challenged, staring into those blue eyes, wordlessly accepting his challenge.
She then told him about her previous voyage, with Captain Jaggery, how he had killed Mr. Cranick, and Mr. Hollybrass. She told him how he had blamed her, then convicted her of his murder and had planned to have her executed. She told him about the captain's sad, but somewhat deserved death, and how she had been named captain of the Seahawk.
"Wow," he breathed, "I've never been captain of any ship."
"Well, obviously, I'm not the captain now," Charlotte said.
"Yeah, you're really brave; I probably wouldn't have even done as well as you in a situation like that!" Thomas said.
"So, how long have you been sailing?" asked Charlotte.
"Well, as of now, for about three years," he said.
"You know, you sound very refined for a sailor," she said.
"Well, the truth is, I don't really want to be a sailor forever," he said, looking out across the horizon, the sun was starting to set.
"What do you wish to be?" she asked.
"I want to be a doctor," he said.
"Why?" she asked, curious.
"I really want to help people, and save lives. I also want people looking at me with respect in their eyes." he said seriously.
"That's certainly interesting," she replied, "I think you'd make a great doctor."
"Thanks," he said as the bells chimed for a signal that their watch was over.
"Night," she said as she climbed into bed.
The next morning, things were as calm as ever, Ewing, Thomas, and Charlotte splicing ropes on t he forecastle deck.
The hours fell into days, the days into weeks, and soon Charlotte knew that they would be in Liverpool very soon. Charlotte and Thomas had become very good friends, Captain Fisk leaving them together, because they worked very well together.
"And he says to me, 'Boy, you best watch out, these things will bite pretty bad' all drunk, and then he puts his hands in the bowl, and wouldn't you know it, the guy gets his fingers almost all they bitten off!" said Ewing, in the middle of a story, making Charlotte and Thomas burst out laughing.
"What was in the bowl?" questioned Charlotte.
"Piranha!" Ewing cried.
"No way," she said.
"You can go ask the guy when we get to Liverpool, he works in the docks," he said crying from laughter.
"So," interjected Thomas, "How long until we get back, do you think?"
"It's been about six weeks, so I'd say we'll be there in about a week," Ewing said.
"So, Thomas, where will you be going once we dock in Liverpool?" asked Ewing.
"I'll probably be going to school," he replied.
"And you Charlotte? Will you stay on the Seahawk?" Ewing asked.
"I don't know," she said, "Depends on whether I'd like to go to London or keep on sailing.
"Aye, lass, I know you'll succeed wherever you go," Ewing said, patting her on the back and got up to go down to the galley.
"Would you go with me if I went to London?" asked Thomas.
"What?" exclaimed Charlotte, surprised, almost slipping on the deck floor.
"Well, that's where I plan on going to school at," he said.
"But where would we live, if I was to say that I would go with you?" she asked hesitantly.
"Don't worry, I know people," he promised.
One week later, the ship docked in Liverpool. Charlotte sat on a barrel at the dock, staring up at the Seahawk, trying to decide. Should she go with Thomas, someone who had become her closest friend, or stay on the Seahawk with the crew?
She screamed out in frustration, not knowing someone stood a few feet away.
"What is wrong with Charlotte?" asked Zachariah, walking up to stand beside her.
"It's everything, I'm not sure if I should go or stay," said Charlotte, a few tears leaking down her cheeks.
"Zachariah thinks you should go with Mr. Nolan, he would bring much joy to your life that the Seahawk can't," he told her.
"But what if I don't see you again?" she said, "Or any of the crew?"
"You know we'll always come back to Liverpool," he told her, giving her a piece of cloth to wipe her eyes with.
"I'm still not sure," she said.
"I know, but you will have to decide soon, the Seahawk leaves tomorrow," Zachariah said.
She sat there, thinking about her choices and options, and went to bed that night. In the morning, when she woke, she made her decision.