Jimmy's hands slipped and strained on the wet ropes as he struggled against the wind to pull in the rigging. Rain streamed into his eyes as he worked, blurring his vision and forcing him to blink, and he hastily swept the back of his wrist over his forehead to push his sopping hair out of the way. Giving the rope one last tug, he smiled into the storm as the ropes finally began to gather in, quickly lashing the fly down and pulling the last of the rigging down with it.
The storm had come upon them suddenly, not quiet two days offshore of New York. Jimmy had been eavesdropping again, not his intention of course, and over the last few weeks at sea, had overheard the plans to pull back into the New York harbour. He couldn't be sure why, he hadn't caught enough of the plans to be able to tell any reasoning behind the act, but he had been startled to learn of the Captain's change of heart. He had thought that for sure, like himself, Captain Englehorn would want to distance himself from the wracking experience on Skull Island, and the memories of the good men they'd lost. Thinking back on it still hurt, like a dull ache in the chest, and Jimmy wrapped his arms around himself as a sudden shiver wracked his body, sending a tremor up his spine and gooseflesh down his arms to the tips of his fingers.
Slipping below deck and slamming the door against the wail of the wind and the pounding of the storm's slowly abating rain, Jimmy pulled his hat off his head, marvelling for a moment at how it had managed to stay on throughout the entire day, atrocious weather in account. Shaking himself of the excess water and pulling his sopping, dirty shirt over his head, Jimmy laid it out as carefully as possible over top of an old trunk, hoping, as he crossed the small belly of the ship to his cot, that it would dry by morning.
Sighing as he unconsciously reached for the book laying on the small table pushed up against a wall, Jimmy changed his mind, deciding mid-reach that he was too tired, and opting instead for flinging himself down onto his cot, an unnerving creak sounding the bed's apparent disapproval of the action. Stretching out like a cat and pulling an old, threadbare, slightly itchy wool blanket over his chest and waist, Jimmy rolled first onto his left side, then his right, finally flopping back down again onto his back.
It had been months, probably almost a year since Jimmy had been able to get a proper night's sleep. Working aboard the S.S. Venture demanded it; the days were taxing and difficult, though Jimmy didn't mind the hard work; it took his mind off other things. Other things like how lonely the belly of the ship had become, without the constant comfort he had grown so used to. Things like how cold the nights were becoming, though he knew the climate had not changed, and how the days seemed to lack the same luster they had held for him a year before. Things like the way it had felt when Jack had held him as he cried, and how embarrassed he had been at his tears.
Jimmy rolled once more onto his right side, feeling sleep beginning to edge in around the corners of his mind, carrying him thankfully off into the bliss of sleep, where only his dreams could be found at fault.