(Author's Note: Koda here, back with the fourth chapter! Hurray! Again thanks for the reviews, I'm so glad you all like this story. I finally got the DVD version of this movie [yeah, I know, I'm still living in the dark ages or something and I watched --- ok, listened --- to the commentary and it totally changed my view on this story and its intended plot. Needless to say, the concept of this story has been revamped. I've decided to add some more to it subplot-wise and I've changed some character roles and then made the decision to include some characters I originally wasn't going to get involved… To put a long story short, my mind has been changed quite a bit. But don't let that discourage you! I'll still be writing and updating as usual. I just feel that now this story has some more substance to it with these changes. I hope, anyway.

This chapter is a little bit shorter, I think, but I hope you all like it. Enjoy!)

Chapter four:

"Wake up, boy. I'll have no slackers on my staff."

Jim groaned and buried his face further into the mattress, trying to go back to sleep. Fate, it seemed, deemed it otherwise.

"Get up, boy!"

Jim's mattress was suddenly upended, and Jim fell to the floor with a loud thud and a curse.

"Hey! What the f---?" He stopped when he saw the dark face staring down at him and stood. "Uh…"

"Jim Hawkins?" The man pursed his lips together and crossed his arms. "Did you enjoy a good night's sleep?"

Jim knew it was a rhetorical question, so he just fidgeted and crossed his arms over his bare chest. He wasn't particularly enjoying standing half-naked in front of some Corbae he didn't know.

The man --- who had oil-black skin and bright beady eyes and black hair that turned to feathers at the nape of his neck --- eyed Jim with a mixture of disdain and curiosity. He looked down his thin nose and said in a rasp of a voice, "My name is Mr. Smrott, I'm the head cook."

Jim met his eyes, a little unnerved by the bottomless pools of oil he was staring into, and nodded. The Corbae inclined his head and then looked down at the mattress on the floor.

"I apologize about that, but at the expense of reiterating myself, I do not tolerate slackers on my staff."

Jim bit back his comment.

"Now, Hawkins, you are to be up and in the kitchens by this time every morning. Seeing as this is your first day, I'll let it slide."

Jim gaped at the clock on the wall. "But it's four in the morning!"

"And we have many things to do before the students are up. Get dressed and come with me. You have a lot to learn, Hawkins."

He opened his mouth to say something about what he needed to learn, butJim sighed instead and started looking around for the clothes that he'd taken off sometime in the night. He pulled them on grudgingly, hating that he had to be up this early. The Legacy had been nothing like this. He couldn't wait to hear what Silver would say---

He stopped with his leg halfway through his pants. He wondered where the scalawag was now…

"Jim, if you'll move a bit faster we might get breakfast into you before you have to work."

Jim shook his head and pulled his pants on, tucking his shirt in hastily and then bending down to pull on his boots. There was no sense in doing anything to his hair --- it was a mess anyway and the only thing to do was run his hand back through it, making it messier. Mr. Smrott eyed this with a blank stare.

"Your hair will have to be cut," he said. Jim sputtered.

"What? No way!"

The Corbae shrugged. "If not now, then when you are a student. It's regulations." At the confused look on Jim's face, he added, "Lieutenant Andrews informed me of your situation. Now, if you please." He moved toward the door, and Jim followed slowly, running his hand over his face.

Smrott led him down the hall outside. The doors that had been closed the night before were now open and people were walking past them and going and leaving, chatting gaily. Jim could only give them all a half-hearted smile; he couldn't stand morning people, but he was too tired to care.

"This is the laundry." They stopped in front of the door the lieutenant had showed him last night. Steam poured out from the door and the figures of people could be seen within the billowing clouds. Smrott lead him in and smiled at a few of the ladies scrubbing linens in huge vats of hot soapy water, then stopped next to a large woman who was folding pillowcases. She was short and plump, with red cheeks and a bright smile.

"Mr. Smrott, pleasure seein' you this mornin'. What can I help you with?"

"Mrs. Langley, this is Jim Hawkins, the new boy. Jim, Mrs. Langley, our laundress."

Jim nodded at her and her round face burst into a smile.

"Pleasure, Jim." She turned around and grabbed some shirts and a few pairs of pants and turned back to them. She handed the pile to Jim. "You'll be needin' these. There's enough for a week. Wash is on Thursdays. Just put it all in a bag in here and they'll be cleaned."

Jim nodded again. "Thanks," he said, staring down at the stack of freshly pressed shirts in his hands. That all-too-familiar feeling of guilt started to creep up the back of his neck, and he quickly stamped it down. There was no need for guilt anymore.

Mrs. Langley smiled and looked back at the Corbae. "Where's he goin'? Kitchen?"

Jim looked up at Mr. Smrott, anxious to know. But the Corbae just shook his head.

"Thank you, Mrs. Langley," he said, bowing slightly. "Come Jim, let's get some food into you." He turned to the door and Jim followed with a sigh.

The kitchen was buzzing with activity. At least half a dozen cooks were running around with pots and pans and silver platters full of food. The smells nearly knocked Jim over. Mr. Smrott walked over to a counter and easily tied on his apron, then messed around with a few pots before ladling out a bowl of porridge and handing it to Jim along with a spoon. Jim sat down and inhaled greedily before digging in. A glass of perp juice appeared as well, and he wiped his mouth across his sleeve and drank some down.

"You will be working with me down here," Smrott said while he ate. "As my personal assistant."

Jim wiped his mouth again, slowly this time, staring at the feathers on the back of the cook's neck. Smrott hadn't turned around when he spoke; he was making more porridge. Jim thought about it for a moment. Cabin boy again. Minus a ship, of course, but what was the difference?He mentally shrugged. The cook wasn't a bad guy. Jim liked him, even. At least if things got bad, there would be something bearable along side it.

"You were the cabin boy on the Legacy, were you not?"

Jim nodded absently, staring into his glass of perp juice. Now that he had food in his stomach he was starting to feel tired again, and he was having trouble comprehending what the head cook had said.

"Jim?"

He started and looked up. Mr. Smrott was staring down at him, a platter of food in his hands. He set the platter down on the table in front of Jim.

"I need you to take this up to the mess hall," he said. "Go change and then do this, will you?"

Jim nodded again, pulling a small smile out and giving it to the cook as he stood. Mr. Smrott pursed his thin lips and smiled slightly, then turned back to the stove. Jim chugged the rest of his juice and picked up his stack of clothes and headed back to his room. He wanted to be quick and efficient about it but unable to find the energy to do so. Shutting the door behind him, he moved to his dresser and put the clothes in a drawer. He refused to look at the bed --- if he did he'd probably fall into it and never get up again. To avoid the temptation he stripped down to his briefs and threw his clothes behind him and then pulled a pair of black pants from the drawer and slid into them. They weren't as baggy as he would have liked, and he felt like he wouldn't be able to move much, but they would do. With a sigh he pulled on a white shirt. It was looser, but the sleeves got in his way, so he rolled the cuffs up to his elbows. He glanced at himself in the mirror, wondering at who he saw there.

He didn't look much different; the clothes were a change, but all in all he was still his usual self: brown hair, blue eyes, scar under his right eye from a solar-surfer wreck… Nothing out of the ordinary.

But he felt different. He wasn't quite sure how or where, but he was.

Frowning at his reflection, he bent down and pulled his boots back on. Then he went back to the kitchen. Mr. Smrott was standing at the table, eyeing Jim appraisingly.

"Good," he said with a nod. "Now take this up." He handed the tray to Jim, who took it.

"Where do I ---?"

"Just follow the rest of them." He gestured towards a group of girls about his age, all of whom were holding pots and pans and trays of food. There were a few boys, too, with pitchers and bottles of wine. Smrott saw the look of worry pass over Jim's face, and he called out to one of the girls.

"Finn! Findabhair, come here!"

A girl with a riot of auburn curls turned and trotted over to the Corbae with a smile on her face. And then she saw Jim.

Blue eyes met violet ones.

Their jaws dropped.

(author's note: ...hehe. I did it again. Yup, it's the girl again! By the way, her name, Findabhair, is Irish, and it's pronounced "FIN-a-veer" for those of you who don't speak Gaelic. Honestly, I don't either, but I found the name and I totally loved it. I have this thing about names, and for the longest time she didn't have one and I was completely stressing about it... I knew she needed an Irish-sounding name, the reason's for which you'll find out later, hehe, and when I came across this one I was like "That's it!" Plus it can be shortened to "Finn", which is a lot easier to type...

Anyway, please review and tell me what you think! I'm desperate for comments...)