Author's Note
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Yay, chapter dos. I love you all! And I'm not going to put a disclaimer on every chapter, because it's just so boring and after a while I have nothing new to say to you about what I own and what I don't, so don't sue me. I wish I did own Will, but I don't. *cries* ah well.
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Chapter Two
Not Your Average Sailor
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Serenity sat down with her relatively small family and the servants for dinner that night. The people staying in the rooms had the option of eating there, or eating at the community table in the other room. However, Serenity, her parents, her older brother Thomas and their servants sat down at a small round table in the kitchen. Her father spoke with Bartholomew and Thomas about business and what the British Navy was doing, her mother quietly mentioned to Liza something about knitting new quilts for the beds, as winter was drawing near, and Serenity sat gazing out the window towards the sea. She couldn't see the ocean, as the curtains of rain obstructed her view, but she could imagine the Caribbean blue of their ocean turning the slate gray of the North in the storm. Serenity fancied hearing the crashing of the waves over the babble of conversation from the other dining room as she picked apart her chicken with her fork.
"Serenity," her mother said quietly, "It's not good manners to play with your food. A lady never plays with her food."
"You also said that a lady never eats much," Serenity said softly, "so what else is she to do with it?"
"Serenity," said Mother in a warning tone. "A lady takes small bites and chews daintily, but everyone must eat." She gestured towards the chicken on the plate. "Now, eat."
"Yes, Mother," Serenity said, delicately cutting a tiny piece of the chicken off and placing it into her mouth. She would have sighed, had her mouth not been full. She didn't understand why she had to memorize all these etiquette lessons if the only place to put them to use was when eating in front of the guests. Maybe they would be able to be put to use in the home of the Lady Chastity, however, as she supposed that they were rich and all that they would be looking for manners in their governess.
A knock sounded from the front door, and Mother stood up and smoothed her skirts as to greet the newcomer. Mildly curious, Serenity craned her neck around so that she might catch a glimpse of the person that had come to stay. The sounds of the growing storm roared into the kitchen as the door opened, and Serenity was inclined to believe that Will had been wrong in saying that this was not the actual hurricane.
"Welcome to the Four Posts Inn," she heard her mother say as the door closed, shutting out the sounds of the rain and thunder. The Inn had been named so because there were four hitching posts located outside of the door, but mostly the building was just plainly referred too as The Inn. "How long would you like to be staying?"
"I'm not sure," came the voice of the stranger. It was a male voice, and it wasn't old sounding, but it was a tired voice.
"Would you like to be having dinner now?"
"Please," came the voice again. Serenity could hear her mother leading the man into the adjoining dining room, where his voice was lost in the chorus of the different conversations that were stopped for a moment to look upon the newcomer, and then began again where they had left off. A moment later Mother materialized inside the door of the kitchen and shut it behind her, leaving the kitchen silent save the sounds of knives and forks scraping plates.
"We have a new guest," she said, stating the obvious.
"What's his name?" asked Serenity.
"He didn't say, and you will not be nosy and go asking him questions," she reprimanded. Serenity glanced once more at the door of the kitchen.
"How old was he?" Serenity continued.
"Just a bit older than you, I think," she said, the hope that this was the extent of Serenity's curiosity showing on her face.
"Oh."
"Will we be paid with coins instead of fish this time?" her father inquired.
"He didn't say. He doesn't look like a fisherman. Maybe a sailor, though, he didn't say. I do hope he has some coins in his pocket, though," Mother continued. "It would be nice to barter with coins instead of trout or tuna or bass at market." The servants agreed quietly as they continued eating their dinner.
Serenity finished eating and took her plate over to the washbasin, where she scrubbed it and then left it on the rack to dry. She then walked purposely past the dining room so that she might catch a glimpse of this new face. However, he wasn't facing her, so she only glimpsed the back of his head as she continued up the stairs. She could tell that he had a tan complexion, from spending long hours in the sun, and he had dirty blonde hair that was sun streaked with red highlights. He had strong shoulders and arms- a sailor, no doubt. A single earring glinted in the candlelight as she reached the door to her room. Finally, something that separated this young man from the other sailors staying with them- they didn't see many earrings at the Inn.
~*~
Barnaby basically fell into the door of the blacksmith's workshop, awaking Will with a start from where he was crammed into a seat in the corner of the room, sleeping. The blacksmith's short, round frame could be seen quite visibly in the light from the candles which Will had placed around the office.
"It's about time you got home, Barnaby," said Will, shaking the sleep from his eyes. "I was beginning to worry." An edge of sarcasm crept into his voice, but the old man was too drunk to notice it.
"Th' p'lice," he slurred, "Th'y want mo' h'ndcffs."
Will, who had spent most of his life deciphering Barnaby's drunken slang, clearly understood what the man had said. "I'll make the handcuffs tomorrow," he said, helping his master into a seated position in his favorite chair. He fell asleep immediately and Will decided to transfer his own tired bones into his bed. He bunked in a small room that he had built next to the workshop, since he had nowhere else to go, and he slept in a hammock that he had strung from one end of the room to the other. He curled up in the hammock and was rocked to sleep by the breaths of wind coming through the crack in the single window that his hole boasted. A flash of lightning illuminated his dreams as he fell into the abyss that was the sleep of an orphan.
~*~
The next morning dawned clear, sunny, and apologetic, which Will decided to take advantage of. Barnaby was knocked out cold, having fallen off his chair in the night in his drunken slumber. Having checked to make sure that Barnaby would be asleep for at least another two hours, Will swung up on the only horse that the blacksmith owned and rode down to the beach to check out the debris left by the storm's appetizer. A million beautiful shells sparkled in the sunlight, and Will led the horse down the surf, sliding the especially lovely ones into the saddlebags. One shell, however, took his breath away- it was a conch shell, pale of color, with white and pinkish streaks running over the smooth rounded surface and into the jagged claw-like opening on the bottom. He ran his finger over the underside, which bended in on itself into a rounded out version of pointed teeth. The kaleidoscope of pale colors- oranges and pinks and opalescent whites, they dazzled him as he held it up to the sun. He slipped it in a separate saddlebag, reminding himself to remove the shells to his room after he returned to the shop. His teacher already thought him a pansy as it was.
As Will sat back in the saddle, an idea occurred to him to set some of the shells into the hilt of the new sword that he was making, improving on the wave design that was featured in the sword that he had shown Serenity. As he was turning his steed around to return, he faced away from the dock, which was swarming with British soldiers, and instead the wide beach stretched out in front of him. A long empty beach like that was not to be left un-ridden. Will grinned and spurred his horse in the direction of the empty sand, urging it to go faster. The wind tore through his hair as he flew down the beach until they were past the limits of their town of Port Royale and the horse was tired.
The road was dusty and vacant as the horse traveled quietly back towards home. Will was still smiling from the sprint down the sand, his spirit still flying on the energy of being nothing, being carried along above the waves like some kind of bird on hurricane winds. He was still smiling when they reentered the town, looking like some grinning fool on horseback to the frazzled townspeople below, which he was, in principle. Unfamiliar faces swarmed in front of the Four Posts Inn, Serenity waved to him from behind an angry cow, and a few more friends greeted him as he rode down the side of the busy street.
Soon, however, he came upon the governor's sprawling homestead located just on the edge of the heart of the town. It was white and surrounded by a picket fence. A single British officer kept guard outside the gates, his rifle glinting in the sun as the beautiful conch shell had. Will's good mood was diminished as he passed the house and finally entered the dark workshop once more. Barnaby was sleeping as he picked out some of the shells to put into the hilt, and then he placed the rest of them in a leather pouch that he hung on a metal peg that was sticking out of the wall in his room.
He began making the requested handcuffs, working with the scrap metal that he found lying around the shop. He heated them in the oven and then began over, finishing three pairs before Barnaby stirred.
"Good work, boy," he grunted, slapping Will on the back as he passed by on his way to the keg outside.
As he waited for the metal to harden, Will began planning the hilt of his newest project. He drew a stencil on the table and laid out the shells on it, not needing a candle to work because the sun was ironically shining steadily through the window.
It was this sun that lit Serenity's way up to the young man's room to bring him his lunch.
"Sir?" she said through the door, knocking on it with her fist. "Sir, your lunch…"
The door swung open, revealing to her a face half covered with shaving cream and eyes that were covered by shaggy hair.
"What's your name?" he asked directly, taking the tray from her and propping the door open with his right foot.
"Serenity," she answered, taken aback slightly by his directness.
"I'm Daniel," he said.
"Nice to meet you, Daniel," she said politely. He squinted at her, as if to see her more clearly. She narrowed her eyes back at him. Should I protest and tell him that ladies are not to be looked at like that? No, don't be a pansy. Serenity full out glared at him, trying not to let a smile cross her face.
Daniel suddenly smiled widely, his grin revealing white teeth that were surprisingly straight, unlike the rest of the sailors that they got around the Inn. Serenity smirked at him. "Enjoy your lunch, sir," she said, returning down the hallway, already thinking over everything that he had done. He was downright peculiar, a strange man who was not much older than herself, as her mother had told her.
"Daniel," she said to herself, wrinkling her nose as she dwelled on the encounter. Either too many hours in the sun had done him wrong, or he just was not your average sailor.