A/N: Inspired by, Little Tim and the brave sea captain, by Ardizzone, Edward
When Mrs. Figg broke her leg, the Dursleys had no option but to take six-year-old Harry Potter, their orphaned cousin, with them on their holiday to the seaside. The Dursleys did not particularly like Harry. They liked being a small, normal unit of two parents and one child and had found it an imposition when Petunia's sister and her husband died, leaving the then one-year-old Harry in their care. They would have found it an imposition even if there hadn't been something odd about Harry that they hated.
Harry knew he was odd because he was a smart enough boy and had overheard some discussions between his aunt and her husband Vernon. They tended to talk when they thought he was safely asleep in his cupboard under the stairs, and sometimes they whispered about him in the kitchen. So far, Harry couldn't figure out just exactly what was wrong with him because the whispers always stopped the moment they saw him. Lately, he's taken to listening behind doors, but it seemed the less they talked about him and his oddities the happier Petunia and Vernon Dursley were, so he didn't learn much more than this: whatever was wrong with him scared them.
Once they reached the seaside, Petunia Dursley told him to stay out of their way for the duration of the two weeks: she didn't want to see him, she didn't want to hear him, and he was to take his meals on his own and not bother her for it. That was fine with Harry because not having to deal with them would be a relief for him too. The only one unhappy with these rules was his seven-year-old cousin Dudley. Bullying Harry was his usual entertainment when bored, but his mum took him to waterparks and fed him enough ice cream to forget about Harry's existence by day two of their holiday.
Their rental cottage was a bright yellow, two-story detached right by the sea. You only needed to step out of the front door, cross a not-so-busy road unimaginatively called Sea View Avenue, and then you were on the beach. There was no cupboard under the stairs, so they gave Harry the smallest bedroom which was in the attic. It held a bed and a small dresser, and the walls were a pale blue. A painting of a sailboat on a stormy ocean hung over the bed, and the previous occupant had left a handful of sandy seashells on the windowsill and a lone red sock in the bottom drawer. The roof was sloped low overhead, but he was only six and could stand up straight without bumping his head. The best part of it was the view. He wouldn't have minded if ever his aunt had wanted to lock him inside this room, for he had a round window that looked out on the sea, and he could spend ages sitting there, looking at the endless sky and the boats dotting the blue water.
When the day was fine he spent it on the beach in front of the cottages. Harry didn't fear he would bump into the Dursleys for all three of them hated the sand and spent their days in amusement parks, movie houses, zoos, and restaurants. Harry on the other hand enjoyed playing in and out of the boats and made friends with the old boatmen who were happy enough to talk about everything they knew if you showed a little interest and respect.
He didn't know how old they were but they were wrinkled and their skin leathered and mostly forgot they had already told you something and he heard quite a few stories twice. But he didn't mind that for it meant they were never bothered by seeing him yet again. Besides the stories they taught him things they knew about the sea and the tides, how to find the best fishing spots, when it would be sure to storm, and many other things such as the seven essential sailor's knots and the taste of chew tobacco.
Sometimes Harry wished his cousin was less of a bully because he would have liked to share his new knowledge with someone and surprise them by saying things like, "Look at that ro-ro." Which was a roll-on/roll-off cargo ship designed to carry wheeled cargo such as cars and trucks that are driven on and off the ships on their own wheels. There were other children on the beach besides Harry and he had ample opportunities to make friends had he thought of it but his mind was overrun with thoughts of the sea and ships and it never occurred to him to play with them.
When the weather was wet and everyone stayed in bed or in front of the telly with hot cocoa, Harry snuck out of the house, careful not to be noticed as per instructions, to visit his new friend Captain Sparrow.
The Captain's cottage was identical to their own except for the fact that the outside was painted a bright blue and the inside was stuffed with a life's worth of things from the sea. There were boats in enormous bottles and when he asked, Harry was told they were made by magic. There were seashells and oars on the walls and life jackets on piles of newspapers in the corners and pots of snuff and tobacco on the mantle of a hearth in which a kettle was constantly brewing tea. Harry and Captain Jack would sit in the large plush sofas in front of the fire, warm and snug as two bugs in a rug, and have toast with tea and rum.
Captain Jack had started his career on the sea as a stowaway and would tell Harry of his voyages and the people he met and the treasures he found along the way and sometimes would give him a sip of his rum. Sometimes the tales turned wild and fanciful and would be full of merpeople and sea dragons and Harry would listen agog, sitting forward in his chair, eyes shining behind his glasses, wishing with all his might he could be a sailor too.
He thought his aunt and uncle wouldn't mind if he left home early to become a sailor but when he asked on the one occasion they were all in the house at the same time, he was laughed at and told he was too young, though they wished he wasn't, and told off for showing his face. This made Harry quite maudlin and he took his face off to his room to sulk in front of the window, pining for a life at sea.
That might have been the end of it had the boy not been the product of two stubborn and optimistic people. After a good bit of sulking, he pulled himself together and decided he would find a way to run away to the sea. He couldn't imagine it would be too difficult. For one, his aunt would not bother to make a missing report with the police. That he knew for sure. For another, the sea was just across the road.
At first he thought he might buy a boat and sail off on his own in which case money was an issue, for he had none. That was not surprising because you had to rely on pocket money from your parents when you were six and he had none of those either. He knew children like himself, without parents to support them, had to work for it mowing lawns or delivering papers, none of which was possible while on holiday. But Harry was not daunted by that and soon took to doing odd jobs for the boatmen, and he would receive small change in turn for running about to deliver messages or helping to carry their fishing gear. But by the end of the week when he sat in his room and counted his haul he realised he had enough to buy himself an ice cream.
The next morning was a good day for being on the beach, not too many clouds and the sun peeking brightly through them. Harry was eating his ice cream, sitting on his favourite rock, watching the boats anchored in the bay when a boatman asked him if he was still interested in doing chores.
"Always," Harry said, stuffing the last of the cone in his mouth and chewing furiously. He jumped off the rock and dusted his hands. Perhaps this week he might make enough to buy a boat. "What shall I do?"
"What a good lad," the boatman praised. "I need some fetching and carrying done."
He went on to tell Harry that he was taking his boat out to the old-fashioned steamer in the bay. The captain was an old friend of his and he wanted to say bon voyage.
Harry enjoyed tasks to do with boats the most and he happily set about making himself useful. He stowed the gear into the small boat while the boatman filled the petrol tank. When they were done he gave Harry his coins and asked, "Would you like to come too?"
What a question! He was never going to say no. He let the boatman tuck him into a lifejacket and helped give the boat a push down the shingle beach into the water. And off they went.
It was a lovely day for your first boat trip. The sea was blue and calm, the water sparkling in the sunshine. Seagulls called out to each other and dove into the water after their meal. They puttered past many boatsmen out and about, readying for their day's work. Harry was familiar with most by now and he waved and greeted them all. He got more and more excited as they neared the steamer and spend a few giddy moments pretending he was a sailor off to his job.
When they arrived they climbed up a rope ladder and Harry was left on the deck while the boatman went off to see his friend, carrying a bottle of rum. There was no one about though he could hear voices aft. This was when Harry got a bright idea. He might never be able to make enough money before the holiday was over to buy his own boat and he was too young to actually become a sailor but he was not too young to be a stowaway. The Dursleys would be delighted with him gone the same, no one might miss him for days maybe weeks and he knew exactly how to go about it because Captain Jack had been an excellent tutor.
His plan was simple. Harry knew by now the effects of rum on old boatmen's memories. He would hide under a lifeboat and when the boatman left he would not see Harry and forget all about him. It would work fine as long as no one else saw Harry on board and when the voices neared he quickly sprang into action and dove in under the lifeboat, pulling the sail over himself.
"No one is to touch my trunks," someone was saying and footsteps passed his hideout. "And my cabin won't require cleaning; I'll manage myself."
"Aye, this isn't a passenger ship. We don't do room service," someone else said and laughed. "Best stay out of our way and we won't bother you either, mate."
"I assure you I have no interest in being in your way."
The footsteps disappeared and then he was alone again. Harry planned to stay hidden until they were far enough away that they would not like to turn around and only then he would show himself.
The hideout was nice and warm, the boat rocked gently under him, and Harry soon yawned and removed his glasses. He snuggled into a more comfortable position in the bottom of the boat, and quicker than you could say 'naughty stowaway', he was asleep.
His plan worked out just as he imagined. The boatsman left and did not remember Harry.
He slept when the steamer left the harbour and only woke late afternoon when his stomach asked him if he thought ice cream was enough sustenance for a small child, or would he consider adding something more substantial to his diet? It rumbled and grumbled and Harry was surprised no one came to investigate what the noise was. He could hear more voices now and took his courage in hand, slipped his glasses back on, and showed himself to the sailors.
"Oi!" the sailors chorussed and one took him to the captain.
"Ow! Ow!" Harry said for the sailor was holding him tightly by the ear. "You're hurting me!"
The sailor paid him no mind and took him to the captain's cabin. It was everything Harry thought a captain's cabin should be, complete with a nailed-down desk on which lay an open map and compass. Thankfully the sailor finally let his ear go and Harry rubbed it ruefully. Violence was never necessary.
"A stowaway!" exclaimed the captain angrily and asked him what he thought he was doing.
Some of his bravery left him in the face of the ruddy captain's wrath but he straightened his knocking knees and said that he had run away from home intending to be a sailor.
"Do you not mind that your parents will be worrying?"
"My parents are dead, sir," Harry said. "And my aunt and uncle won't mind."
Captain Tom was a man of the world and he thought that might be true. He looked at Harry's dirty face and oversized clothes that was definitely castoffs. These were all clues; sadly some adults did not care for their children as they should whether their own or others. That didn't make the captain any less angry for if they wanted they could accuse him of kidnapping or of child trafficking and he told Harry off and said he must work for his passage. No stowaway was going to be a layabout on his watch.
He asked Harry's full name and address, and Harry thought himself smart to only give his name, keeping his surname to himself and pretended he didn't know his address. If he was going home he would try to delay it as long as he could. This made the captain even angrier and he sent Harry off with the sailor to be put to work. "And less of the ear pulling," Captain Tom told his sailor. "If you please."
"Aye, aye, sir!"
Harry was glad to hear that at least and he stopped covering his ear. "Thank you, sir!" he told Captain. "I'll work very hard!"
"See that you do!"
Unbeknownst to Harry, Captain Tom set off to radio the authorities. It was still possible to turn around, he told them, they could let Harry's parents, or caregivers, if his parents had truly passed on, pay the costs. They were not a passenger ship. But whoever was on the other side of the line imagined themselves with a six-year-old versus the six-year-old safely aboard a ship with someone else, and said no, drop him off at your next port of call.
In the meantime, Harry was given a pail and a scrubbing brush and the sailor set him the task of scrubbing the already spotless deck. Well, spotless as far as ship's decks went. It was very hard work. Harder than his chores at home. For one it was under the sun and his sweat soon joined the scrubbing water. For another it was a job done on your knees and knees had little padding, especially those of scrawny kids. Harry thought about it and imagined his Uncle Vernon would have an easier time of it. Or his cousin, if his uncle and cousin ever did chores. Both his uncle and cousin were enormous, the doctors used words like 'morbid obesity' when they visited and 'strict diet' and then they would all eat lettuce leaves for a week.
Harry scrubbed and scrubbed and thought all sorts of thoughts to while away the time, trying to keep the ones of his family to the minimum for he was on a ship at sea and exactly where he wanted to be. He thought of meals and imagined they would mostly be fish soup. He thought of showers when he smelled himself sweating, and imagined it would be a bucket of saltwater thrown over the head. But not one moment did he cry and not one second did he wish he hadn't run away to sea. He did wish for food, though, his stomach rumbling every now and then to remind him it was empty.
Sailors came and went, everyone pausing to look at him, chewing on their pipes. They asked him his name and where he was from and quite a few sailors laughed and praised him for his spunk. One time a shadow fell over him and he looked up to find a tall man dressed all in black staring at him. His eyes were dark and menacing and he had a hooked nose that seemed too large for his face. He said not a word but kept frowning and after a long while he left.
The sun was low on the horizon when a sailor came to tell him he could stop working. "Good job, lad," he said. "Not bad for a pint-sized runt."
"Thank you," Harry said and his knees creaked and wobbled when he stood up. He held his aching back and tried to stretch surreptitiously. "Is the captain still very angry?"
"Quite."
Harry sighed and picked up the brush and pail. "Where shall I put these?"
The sailor, whose name was Jim, and who had a normal-sized nose, threw the dirty water over the side and showed Harry where to stow the brush and pail. He took Harry to the galley and left him with the cook.
The galley was as large as their kitchen at home. The difference was that everything was nailed down and instead of windows it had portholes through which he could see waves. Harry looked around and saw bags of flour on the floor and baskets full of potatoes and vegetables. On an enormous black stove were pots and pans with things in them, bubbling away. The cook was a large man with bulging, tattooed arms, and unlike the sailors who all seemed to be wearing a uniform of blue or red striped shirts, he was dressed in only trousers and an undershirt with an apron tied at his waist. But like the sailors, he was sporting a pipe. Harry hoped he would not have to start smoking if he was going to be a sailor, he had tried Captain Sparrow's snuff when offered, and it had set him sneezing for an hour.
"Harry, I presume?" Cook said and smiled around his pipe.
"Yes, sir," Harry said and stood to attention. "I can peel the potatoes if you want."
"A lad that can peel potatoes will go far in life," Cook said. He took a mug and picked a pan from the stove, pouring the contents into the mug. The smell of warm chocolate wafted through the galley, and Harry's stomach rumbled. It was probably too much to hope it was for him. Things like cocoa and sweets were rarely for him because it was a waste of money.
"Here you go," the cook said. "Sit there and get this into you, lad. I heard you worked hard without complaint."
Barely believing his ears he scrambled to obey. He was also given a plate with thick ham sandwiches and told to eat as much as he wanted. Harry watched the sunset through the portholes and ate until his stomach bulged. This, he decided, was the life he wanted and none other.
When he was done and had helped wash his plate and mug, Cook called another sailor to show Harry to a bunk bed. The sailor's name was Timothy; he had acne and was no more than eighteen, but it was already his second year on the ship. He was happy to answer any questions Harry had, talking a mile a minute. The cabin held nine bunks, three by three on top of each other, and all were neatly made with blue and red striped sheets. The stripes seemed to be a theme on the ship, and Harry wondered if it was like that on all the ships or if they just liked stripes here. Timothy was still telling Harry his life story, and he didn't want to interrupt to ask. Harry was exhausted and he climbed into his bunk, clothes and all; he was still waiting for Timothy to take a breath so he could ask about the stripes when he fell asleep.