AN: I own and make nothing. Nothing to report.

"Well, Livesey, if that isn't just rotten luck!"

The squire declared this loudly with some outrage for it was he who had engaged Mr Arrow and he who had face to lose to the captain - even if it was upon Mr Silver's recommendation. The captain had already expressed his opinion on Mr Trelawney's sense of judgement in that matter. That same man sat at the table studying a map. Captain Smollett had shown little surprise at the loss of Mr Arrow though he had said plenty of his incompetence and the nuisance of it all.

"The poor fellow must have fallen overboard. The barrel fever is a cruel affliction," said the doctor softly and shook his head. He too was not so surprised though he had not assumed the bottle would take Arrow in such a swift and sudden manner.

"That was Silver's take as well," replied the squire.

There sounded a 'hmm' from the captain though Mr Trelawney managed not to comment with more than an agitated look in his direction.

"I cannot fathom how the man got the cursed drink! The stores have been locked all this time!" said the doctor as he paced the length of the room. He was unnerved by this but the tension between his friend and the captain and the fact that he could not currently smoke made him unable to settle down.

What followed was a longer and increasingly winded speech of the squire's as he alternated between grumbling over the first mate's demise and the general state of England where sailors 'were not what they used to be'. The captain through all of this paid him no mind but sat, as he had throughout this, studying the charts. It was not simply the end of Mr Arrow that bothered the doctor - for as he saw it the man had no one but himself to blame even if Livesey did feel for him. No, it was the uncertainty of how this might affect the tempers of the two men in the room with him who so far had taken a distinct dislike of each other - even if the squire was rather more invested in it.

"My dear friend," said Livesey at last, when he could bear the squire's talk no longer. "We must not dwell too long on this. I, for one, intend to smoke. There is little help I can be to poor Arrow now." He was excused by the squire and took his leave retiring to his surgery.

All the while he was considering the state of affairs and what had caused them. They had had no easy start of it that was plain to anyone. There had been too much talk on the squire's part and not nearly enough consulting with Smollett. Had the captain had the pick of his crew Mr Arrow might have rested in an inn rather than the sea. But there was nothing to be done for it. The doctor stuffed his pipe pensively and sat there still, lighting the pipe, listening to the shouts and chatter from the deck and smelling the combination of salt, seaweed and Silver's cooking.

-O-O-O-

Some days had passed and the dip in morale among the men - if there had been much of one, had disappeared. Jim had been shocked but if he was forced to admit it he did not miss the first mate. Still, it had unnerved him greatly to have a man he had wished gone disappear and he had suffered for it each night with night terrors. At night the sound of the sea magnified and became towering waves in Jim's dreams. They threatened to swallow him if he got too close but on the deck where safety lay stood Mr Arrow growling, sneering and reaching for Jim. The fear shook him awake before the ghost could touch him and the boy lay shivering in the dark, listening to the sound of the older men snoring.

In the daytime he was tired and his eyes were aching from the lack of sleep. Therefore it was unfortunate that the captain's regime remained equally brutal - and Jim had it worse for he was not included in the frequent grog-rations going around and so had nothing to soften the situation.

"Jim! Ahoy there!"

The boy in question started. He looked up at Long John who was looking at him over his shoulder from his position by the stove.

"Give us a hand with that there jug, matey," the cook said with a crooked smile.

He quickly put away the small crate he had been in the process of bringing in before he had gotten lost in his own thoughts. He rubbed his eyes and looked around for the jug in question. It was a small brass jug filled with broth and Jim dutifully retrieved it for the cook.

"Where's yer tongue there, Jim?" Exclaimed Mr Silver as he accepted and poured in the broth.

Jim might have argued that he never did say much in Long John's company as he much preferred to listen to the ship's cook than speak - only resigning to ask questions, but he did not as he was indeed not paying attention and so had no such explanation to give.

"I just... Tired is all, Mr Silver," said he.

"Ah, we'll there ain't nothing like hard-earned slumber and knowing one's done one's duty, I say."

Jim managed a smile at the merry sailor beside him as he, just as he often did, looked to Jim for his approval of what was said.

"Come now, Jim! We're mates aren't we? Tell old Long John what's troubling ye - for troubled ye are, like uneasy sea."

Jim shrugged and wondered whether he should share with Silver. He was quite keen to appear as grown and capable as he could - to Silver and the other hands especially, and being upset by dreams was something small children did.

"Let me ye a tale," continued Long John. "I knew a lad when I sailed under the immortal Hawke... What was his name? Ah... Bill! Bill, it was to be sure! He was a stout young hemp, was Bill! Well, he was in the rigging and he was drawing straws... Fell asleep right there in the ropes."

Jim gasped. He knew how high up the men went. He, himself, had not gone all the way up yet but then he had no job there and it was an awfully long way down.

"Bless my soul! Was he much hurt?!" Cried the boy.

For Jim could not imagine anyone living to tell the tale had they fallen from such heights.

"Ah, not by that, lad, no. He was lucky, was Bill, for Long John here was right behind him and shook him 'fore he could tumble. But the officers was not best pleased with him, ye may lay to that." And Silver roared with laughter. Jim did not understand what was so amusing. To have been so close to death! But he trusted that Long John knew better for he had been there. And so Jim could not help but smile and feel a little better in his turn.

"Alright but... Promise you won't tell anyone? Promise?" Asked Jim and simultaneously took a whiff of the soup being prepared.

"Cross me heart!" Declared the cook with passion.

"It's that I can't sleep, Mr Silver. I have these awful terrors and I... I think it's because of Mr Arrow," explained Jim with his head bowed and his cheeks blushing.

There was a short moment's silence and that was enough time to make Jim really nervous but Long John soon alleviated his concerns.

"Jim! I am sorry to hear that for certain! 'Tis a dreadful business. Were you much fond of Mr Arrow, lad?"

At that Jim shook his head. "Oh, no! Not at all! That is to say..."

But he did not need to explain himself further for Long John patted him roughly on the shoulder and grinned widely, his serious tone from just before gone.

"I understand, matey! To be sure I do!"

"But I dream about it. What happened I mean... The day before."

Silver wobbled slightly and withdrew his hand to support himself as he gave a loud 'hmm'. And then, just as an idea appeared to strike him, he smacked the palm of his hand on the table by the stove and exclaimed:

"By Drake himself, Jim! I've got it!" And then, much to Jim's confusion the old man before the mast made his way to the shelves and began searching among them for something. From behind a jar of currants he withdrew a small sack-cloth bag that really was not so much larger than a pouch.

"Here! Here, Jim! Ye'll see!" Continued the man and made his way back over to the table. As he did so, Jim was alerted by a hissing sound and quickly turned and almost upon reflex stirred the violently bubbling soup. Silver left the bag on the table and moved over to take the pot of the stove which he managed easily due to his rather impressive strength for a man who had not long ago kept a tavern.

"Ah, Jim, quick on the spot there. Smart as paint as I've always said. Now look here!"

The two of them turned to the bag and Long John began rummaging through it. To Jim it sounded as though several metal objects were in there and he suspected Long John might be keeping some money close by him for any eventuality. Then a look of excitement upon the man's face told the boy that he had found what he was searching for. A small knife was drawn from the bag and lain upon the table. It had a white handle which looked to be some manner of bone and the blade was covered by a leather sheath. Jim stared at it with wonder and astonishment.

"This here was given to me off of Lisbon," said Silver in lowered yet excited voice as if sharing as secret with Jim and the cabin boy leaned closer in response.

"Pretty little thing to be sure. Of course I kept it with me out of emotion - having no use for it."

And Long John took off the leather sheath to reveal a short but strong looking blade. It was double edged and looking nothing like the knifes generally carried by the sailors for cutting robes. The cook handed the knife to Jim, handle first.

"Now, ye'll be careful with this here little thing," cautioned he in a playful manner. "And I reckon it'll keep away even the spirits. There ye go!"

"Oh my!" Said Jim and looked at the knife in his hand. It looked awfully sharp indeed and he certainly felt safer with it though granted, he did not think through how it would help against ghosts and night terrors. "Thank you, Mr Silver!"

"Long John, matey! Now ye keep that close by but don't go showing that off to the gentlemen anytime soon. That's not regulation or whatever it's called but I had not the heart to leave it behind. Ye see, it belonged to an old mate of mine and..."

"I promise I will take ever so good care of it, Mr... Long John," piped Jim, interrupting Silver's tale.

"To be sure ye will," grinned Long John and he handed over the sheath in the same breath. "There ye go, yers to keep, matey!"

"To keep?!" Exclaimed the boy. He had never been given such a thing before and his heart swelled with pride that Silver would trust such a treasure to him.

"Sure, matey!" Long John smiled warmly. "And that'll be our secret, won't it?"

"Certain it will, Long John!" Promised Jim enthusiastically. In response the cook rather playfully nudged him and then lifted the pot back on the stove. Jim looked at the treasure in his hand and felt so much braver with it. Then his sense returned to him and he quickly stuffed the knife inside his shirt.

"And I won't ever say a word to the captain - even if he makes me walk the plank!"

"Captain Smollett is an honorable man. He won't do such things," promised the cook. "But as it were... Still best not to tell him, eh?"

Jim nodded knowingly. He didn't like the captain and he knew how every little mistake seemed to displease the man beyond reason.

-O-O-O-

Indeed that night, for the first time since the disappearance of Mr Arrow, Jim slept soundly. And it was a good thing too for the next day the sun shone brightly from early morning and work upon the deck was excessively hot - so hot in fact, that even a few of the rugged hands complained of it amongst themselves. Whenever Jim saw Long John and could catch his eye the two of them shared a knowing look.

At lunch time Mr Silver jumped around cheerfully and his high spirits greatly uplifted the crew - or rather that and the food. And during lunch the crew broke out in song lead by Andersson and Silver. Even the squire attempted to join in despite knowing none of the words before he retreated to his own meal with the captain and the doctor with a wide smile to show for it.

But the meal would come to an end and sure enough the captain was there on time to command everyone back to their post. Jim was about to make his way to the surgery to assist the doctor as he had done for up to an hour a day for a little while now.

"Hawkins! On deck!" Commanded the captain and stopped Jim in his tracks. "There! Help O'Brien and Johnson with the rigging!"

"But, sir!" Jim protested. It was tedious work the doctor put him to but it was a welcomed break from the hard work on deck and the watchful eye of the captain.

"I've told the doctor you're remaining today. Now get to to it!" Replied the captain as his brow furrowed in annoyance. "To work, boy!" He commanded firmly.

It seemed there was nothing for it and it was not in the best of moods that Jim dragged his feet over to Dick Johnson. O'Brien he did not know and besides the man had long since taken off into the rigging. Johnson had his foot in it already.

"Ay, Hawkins! Here!" Called Dick and tossed Jim a roll of rope while he held on to the end and started climbing.

Jim gasped as the heavy pile of rope landed in his arms but watched dutifully as Johnson ascended with the other end. It was so awfully high up they all went and they crawled like spiders heading for a fly and not at all as if they might any moment fall to their deaths. Johnson did not fall but still things did not go as planned when a gust of wind caused him to let go of the rope just as he reached the top and the rope end fell down and landed on the deck with a loud twack.

"Hawkins! Oy, boy!" Said Dick who himself was one of the younger men in the crew. "Get that up here will you?"

It was not really a request but even so Jim gulped and debated arguing against it but captain Smollett was standing nearby and he did not want to attract his attention. He took a deep breath and took the end of the rope, leaving the rest behind on the deck as he tryingly grabbed the rigging. It took him another few seconds and another call from Dick to get him into the rigging. It was hard to keep one's balance and even harder when one was not moving speedily. It was rather difficult to hold onto the rope end but Jim was slowly making his way up, careful not to look down.

He had only made it up about the height of a full grown man when he accidentally glanced down and as a result wobbled dangerously. He cried out and Johnson, who's attention he already had, called his name loudly. Jim had no opportunity to reply. In a sudden sway he was turned around, hanging from the rigging and desperately clinging to it. He let out a shrill scream he would have been mortified over any other day and this masked the fact that not only the rope fell to the deck.

Jim held on to the ropes and hyperventilated. They shook violently as Dick made his way down to him in a hurry and grabbed him to pull him up and the right way around. He clung onto the young man as they both descended. It was only when Dick sat him down on the deck that it struck Jim that everyone on deck were completely silent. Some were looking to the captain, some to Jim and some to something Jim had yet to notice but notice he would.

"Hawkins!" Roared the captain suddenly when it was clear that Jim was safely down again. The boy jumped, still in shock from his near-fall but clearly that was not enough of a reaction because captain Smollett marched towards him with a stern and icy expression. The captain stopped not far from Jim and Dick. The crew was still quiet and followed his every one as the captain bent down and grabbed a knife which had wedged itself between the boards. The leather sheath lay not far from it and as Smollett straightened, Jim recognized the white bone handle. The captain said nothing as he placed the leather back on the blade but then he took the last few steps towards Jim.

"Hawkins," he said once again though in a much lower and much more ominous voice. He came to a halt and made a stiff gesture with the knife which looked rather worn in the man's hand.

"A concealed weapon," he continued in a strained voice as if making a point of not raising his voice. But when Jim, who by this time might as well have been mute and carved from stone, said nothing, he spoke again: "I take it this belongs to you, boy?"

At that Jim finally managed to break the uncomfortable eye contact for he nodded and in doing so found an interesting study in his own shoes. That was a mistake for in the next moment Captain Smollett had him by the ear and dragged him towards the opening leading below, all the while shouting at the hands to get back to work and ignoring the struggling boy.

TBC