Part Two:

The Sea

Cabin Boy

"Mister Lawrence!"

Flora didn't respond. She was too busy looking upon the Glory's vast white sails hanging above her like cumulus clouds. I'm finally here, she thought, fervently. I've finally made it!

She turned to speak to Stephen, only to find the crab had once again disappeared from her shoulder. She scowled. One day I will figure you out…

The girl patted the spot where the crab once stood, just as the call bellowed again.

"MISTER LAWRENCE!"

Flora jumped as the name she'd chosen for her disguise finally rang through her ears. Captain Thomas Wilbur, a stout, red-faced man of forty-three, narrowed his eyes as the teenager struggled to straighten out and position herself as though she were a soldier. Bloody dreamer, he thought irritably before grumbling, "Let's go over this again, lad. Your father was a sailor was he?"

"Oh! Uh, yes!" Flora answered a little too quickly. "I never got to sail wit' him, but I have read books on sailing, and I hope to follow in his footsteps."

"A literate, eh?" Wilbur folded his arms, "and your mother? What about her?"

She stiffened. "My mother…" Flora's mind reeled until she found the answer she had previously given the Captain back at the tavern. "She…sent me out here to serve. She thought it would do me good."

An uneasy wind drawled in from the port side, and suddenly Flora had a sinking feeling that her lie held more truth than she realized.

"I see…" Wilbur raised an unsatisfied brow, oblivious to the wind as he moved towards the Glory's helm. "Well boy, you'll find there's a wide gap between your books and reality." He grasped the wheel and suddenly gave Flora a dark look. "You're lucky we recruited you when we did. If you don't know what you're doing, you'll find yourself sinking into the abyss before you can scream: 'Pirate!' Understand?"

Flora flinched at the Captain's sudden about-face. It was a test, an attempt to intimidate her to see if she was truly up for this task. This life.

Trembling, she let Wilbur's loud command pass over her, and then hardened her gaze to the best of her ability. No, she had come too far and seen too much to run away now! She wasn't about to let the Captain scare her off at the last minute! "Understood Captain!" She replied in a rather shaky, but confident voice.

Wilbur examined her one last time, appearing satisfied. "Good lad." He reared his head toward the main deck and barked, "Master Milo!"

A tall, balding man with a trimmed gray beard, and wearing a faded bandana trotted up to the captain. "Sir?"

"Master Milo, meet our new cabin boy: Lawrence." Wilbur patted Flora on the shoulder, and the girl fought the urge to smack his hand away. "Lawrence, this is Milo Ambrose. I am placing you in his charge. You are to follow and obey his every command as well as mine. Listen well, learn the ropes, and you might make yourself into a fine sailor one day."

Milo snorted. "Might, indeed," He muttered as Captain Wilbur dismissed the duo with a wave of his hand.

Milo examined the new cabin boy as he followed him down to the main deck. He was a scrawny fellow, pale-faced, barely a teenager, and some clear feminine features that probably got him kicked around during his younger years.

Little to no muscle on him either. The older sailor thought a bit smugly, and likely no experience sailing.

Yet unlike their previous boot, there was darkness in the depths of this one's eyes. A darkness that told Milo this boy had seen some truly terrible things, and he was determined to prove himself here. That was surprising to see, and a little refreshing. Let's see how you'll do then, Milo thought before speaking up. "So Lawrence, eh?"

Flora peered up at him and nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Fine name," Milo complimented. "But no surname?"

Flora hesitated, and then shook her head. "No sir, I apologize. I've never been told." Her heart clenched with guilt. She couldn't risk using her grandfather's last name without arousing suspicion, so what choice did she have? I'm sorry, grandpa...

"You were never told…" Milo raised as suspicious brow, "Pity that."

He didn't believe her, of course he didn't the lie was pathetic! Rather than berate or push her on the matter, however, Milo sighed instead and moved on. "Have you been aboard a vessel before, Lawrence?"

The girl masked her relief, "Once, sir. I was only a passenger. I did read about them, though."

"A reader then?" Milo tilted his head, appearing pleased unlike the Captain. "Well, books won't do you much good out here, lad. You'll learn that soon enough." He straightened out. "Follow me then."

Flora's expression brightened tremendously once Milo's back was turned. Aside from a few slip-ups, no one suspected who she really was! They probably thought she was an anxious peasant boy who was lucky enough to have had a few privileges in his life. It was exactly what Flora was hoping for.

The girl exhaled excitedly and marched after Milo as he led her below decks, confident that she was about to begin her life anew as a sailor.

The new cabin boy's hopes were quickly dashed away the moment Milo showed her a used bucket and mop down by the Glory's hold. "What is this?"

"The upper decks have already been swabbed off," Milo informed. "Your job for now is to swab underneath the deck. From here to the bow."

The task seemed simple enough, the Glory was a smaller merchant vessel after all, but Flora was still aghast. "What-what about the masts?" She stammered before she could stop herself. "The riggin', the crow's nest, or-or the helm?"

Milo narrowed his eyes. "That will depend on what the Captain wants, but personally-" He looked over her from head to toe, "-I don't think you're ready."

Not ready?! Stark fury boiled from within, but Flora quickly doused it before she started complaining. What did she expect? She was only the cabin boy; it made sense to start low, much as she despised the thought. "Yes sir..."

Milo smiled, and then held the bucket and mop out. "Step to it, sailor."

Flora grumbled, but took the utilities none-the-less and got straight to work.

It was strange feeling. The truth was she had never done any cleaning like this before. It was the servants who did the swabbing and dusting back home at Grandfather Albert's mansion, always while she was away either at school, with the nobles, or by the tide pools….

Home…Flora tightened her grip on the mop and scrubbed harder.

"Easy, lad!" Milo gaped at the sudden ferocity in Flora's posture. "You don't want to break through the floorboards now!"

The girl paused. "Ah..." She panted a little," my apologizes, sir."

Milo sighed with relief and watched as the cabin boy went back to scrubbing normally, making sure she did the task well until he was satisfied. "Not bad." The sailor bent over to scrutinize the deck. "You could do much better, but for now, not bad." He straightened back out. "I'll leave you to it until you've finished then."

Flora blinked at him in surprise, but nodded. Milo nodded in turn, and made his way back up to the main deck. "Ah-before I forget!" The sailor pointed down at her, then in the direction of the cargo hold. "Don't even think about raiding the goods from the cargo hold. That'd be bound to the East India Company outpost in Africa. If you so much as touch it, you get a taste of the cat, ya hear?"

The cat…A bead of sweat escaped from her bandana. He must mean the cat-o-nine tails the boatswains-or bo'suns-used to punish unruly sailors! She remembered now. It was either a taste of the cat, or worse…keelhauling.

Flora swallowed, "I-I understand s-sir."

"Good." Milo tipped his own bandana as though it were a hat, and left the now fearful cabin boy to her work.

Flora shuddered, and continued to swab the deck for fifteen minutes before peering toward the cargo hold. Precious cargo on its way to Africa, to the East India Trading Company…

Her eyes glowered. Although she was curious, she loathed the mere thought of the Company. It reminded her too much of the past...of her grandfather and what he had to put up with for years...

Flora's knuckles cracked, and she continued to work with flashing eyes. Unless this 'precious cargo' was slaves, she wanted nothing to do with anything tied to the Company!

Then what are ye doing here? Her inner self asked.

Because it was the only choice I had.

Swish, swab, swish, swab.

As Flora mopped through the decks, she found there was a rhythm to her swabbing.

Swish, swab, swab, swish.

The girl paused, and then grinned. She could almost make a tune from this rhythm, ridiculous and childish as it was. If only she had the means and the patience.

Swab, swab, swish.

Flora mopped on, losing herself within the rhythm when she suddenly paused. What was that...?

She swiveled onto the hull and her heart lurched. There was an open hole on the port side of the hull.

Her skin turned white and she approached the hole to inspect it, only to breathe a massive sigh of relief. It was a good few feet from the sea level. There was no need to worry about a leak.

Unless there is a storm, the girl suddenly realized, and quickly shook the notion off. It wasn't something to worry about right now; it can be dealt with later.

She examined the hole, and then glanced up at the ceiling. The shadows and footsteps of her fellow crew mates hustled back and forth from above, creating their own steady rhythm of workmanship.

I should be up there with them, Flora thought stubbornly before grumbling. She should be getting back to work, but it may be best to take a short break first. It wouldn't hurt as long as it was short, would it?

Keeping a firm hold on the mop, Flora brought her attention back to the hole and looked through it. There it was, the wide-open blue, so close and yet so far.

She fingered at her locket hidden beneath her shirt, and closed her eyes as she let her inner feelings and instincts go. The waves outside battered against the Glory's hull as though trying to break in. It was another rhythm, in a sense, one that had been going on since before the very first ship set its sail.

Only this rhythm was different from the swabbing mop and the men upstairs. It wasn't so much a cadence in fact, but rather a call. As Flora tuned the world out so she could listen more clearly, she could almost hear a voice calling from the waves. A voice both changing and harsh like the sea itself. So enticing it was, it grappled all who truly loved the sea like a siren's song.

"Welcome home."

The sun was beginning to down to the west by the time Flora returned from below decks. "I've-I've finished, sir!" Her legs wobbled and her arms felt like concrete weights. Whatever was in store for her, she dearly hoped it would not involve cleaning or being stuck below decks.

"Good, good, well done." Milo applauded with a sly grin. "Now you're going to learn how to swab the cannons!"

Oh bollocks! Flora wailed.

Thankfully, cleaning out the cannons was nowhere near as tedious or lonely as mopping the lower decks. There were very few guns on the Glory, as too many would take up too much cargo room and weigh the ship down, and so washing them out did not take as much time. Further more, Milo decided to stay with Flora as she worked, and explained the cannons' firing process.

"The barrel is cleaned out first," The sailor stated as Flora scrubbed the exterior of one of the guns. "Then you stuff the gunpowder in with the ram rod, and cram the shot in." Milo paused so the cabin boy could take the information in and memorize it. "Merchant vessels don't use cannons often, lad, some of them don't even have any. But I'm tellin' you this for the future. We're short a powder boy, so we'll need you should the time ever come."

Flora peered into the empty barrel, and then at the currently closed gun port in front of her. "Yes sir." Her mind began to wander; imagining the cannons blasting into the Harkaway's hull the same way it blasted the Barton settlement apart.

The Harkaway and Jack Sparrow's boat, the girl thought with a small, sinister grin. She paused, the grin vanishing. Maybe…

Flora shook her head before any more grim thoughts could invade her mind, and went back to work.

"You've done alright, boy." Evening arrived by the time Flora finished the cannons. "Not great, but it was to be expected."

The girl sighed. She was too tired to figure out if that was a compliment or not.

"Now there's one more job for you tonight." Milo watched the cabin boy slump and smirked. "Now now, it's nothing to fret about lad! You're going to help the Cook deliver meals to the men!"

Flora perked her head up. Cook? Meals? How long had it been since she last ate? The answer came when her stomach suddenly rumbled like distant thunder.

"Aha!" Milo laughed while Flora flushed red and hunched her shoulders in embarrassment. "Better get to it then, boy." The older sailor patted the girl on the back. "The sooner you finish, the sooner you'll get to eat yourself!"

The night's meal consisted of salted pork, peas, and biscuits. It wasn't much, but it was enough for a sailor to get by with a good taste in his mouth.

"For a time anyway." One of the crew mates stated as Flora handed him his plate. "Don't take long for the rats to get to 'em."

"Or for the food to start rottin'," said the crew member next to him. "Better enjoy it while ya can, lad."

Flora gaped at the men, and gulped in a feeble attempt not to lose her appetite. "Yes, sirs."

"You can fraternize with the crew ya know, boy." One crew mate, who was trying to carve a figure out of wood with his knife, stated after Flora delivered his meal.

The cabin boy furrowed her brows. "I beg your pardon?"

"Talk boy," the woodcarver looked at her. "No need for nothin' but 'yes sir, no sir!' and walkin' away all the time!"

"Oh…" It was a comforting gesture, but Flora felt that it would be a while yet before she could hold any light conversations with the crew. "Perhaps, sir, but not yet."

The woodcarver shrugged before taking his plate. "Give it time, lad."

Finally, Flora reached the Captain's cabin. The doors to the cabin were plain and not much to look at, unlike the more regal and sublime doors to Captain Smith's quarters aboard the HMS Greyhound. What was the inside of this cabin like then? Is Captain Wilbur even inside? What would he do if he wasn't, and he caught her snooping abroad?

Flora perished the paranoid thought, and knocked on the door. There was a shuffling of papers before Wilbur replied with a loud: "Enter!"

The girl carefully opened the door. "It's me, sir. I…I have yer' meal for tonight."

"Ah Mister Lawrence, thank you." Wilbur gestured her to come in without looking up from his notes. "Set it on the desk."

The interior of the cabin definitely did not live up to the standards Smith's had set. It was much smaller, cluttered, and more cramped with papers scattered all over the place. Yet in-spite of this, there was something cozy about the cabin. It wasn't overly extravagant, and it didn't need to be. Organize the scattered notes, and maybe refurnish some of the appliances, and it could be more desirable.

Flora thought this through as she set the Captain's evening meal next to him. As she did, she sneaked a peek at his notes, curious as to what they held. She frowned. They were only taxes and fees, both paid and unpaid. Nothing on the war Smith mentioned back in Port Royal.

Hiding her disappointment, Flora nodded to Wilbur respectively, and turned to leave when the Captain finally looked up from his papers. "Master Milo tells me you've done good today, lad."

The girl did a double take and looked at him. "'e did?" She froze when she forgot her manners and corrected herself. "I mean-he did, sir?"

"That he did," Wilbur nodded, oblivious to her correction. "But you'll need to do better, and brace yourself for the days ahead. Things will get tougher from here on out."

That's comforting, Flora thought both sarcastically and grievously. But this is what I wanted, I will have it no other way. "I will, sir." She stated, firmly.

"Good, good." Wilbur gestured to the door. "You're done for the night. Eat and get some rest while you can."

As the sky shifted from dark violet to blue and black outside, Flora lay sore and mystified on her hammock inside. Some crew mates were fast asleep in their hammocks alongside her, while others were still outside hard at work. Or some of them were working; she could hear someone playing an accordion while others sang sea shanties along with the tune. Flora enjoyed sea shanties and songs as much as the next sea dweller, but not when she was about to go to bed! How anyone could sleep with that racket going on she didn't know. I will get used it, I'm sure, she thought, slowly. And hopefully one day, I will be there singin' along with them!

Flora glanced up at the ceiling and reviewed the events of her first day at sea. It had been interesting, all things considered. She did not get the chance to tackle the masts and rigging, but the time will come eventually, and it wasn't as though today's duties were bad either. She got to navigate the interior of the Glory by swabbing below decks, take care of the guns while learning how they worked, and got a glimpse of what the rest of the crew were like courtesy of the Cook's delicious cooking.

"But personally-I don't think you're ready," Milo had said. The phrase still boiled her blood, but there was truth behind it. She was inexperienced, and life at sea was a difficult one. That must've been the reason for today's duties then, Flora suddenly realized. To prepare me.

Her eyes fluttered, and a massive yawn escaped from her maw. She should get some sleep now, but before she did, there was something she wanted to take care of first...

Flora took a gander around her. The crew members were fast asleep, with some of them snoring over the tides thrashing outside. This may be her only chance.

Slowly, and very quietly, Flora removed her overcoat and shuddered as she rolled up the sleeve of her shirt. The mysterious, faded belt sash was still there, wrapped around her arm like a bandage as its been since the Barton settlement was destroyed...

She took another look around her, and then removed the sash. The wound on her arm had healed, just as the naval surgeon said it would, leaving a dark, ugly scar in its place. A constant reminder of what Flora had gone through that night, of what she had lost…

The girl exhaled a ragged breath and put her coat back on. The events of Jolly Roger's massacre still haunted her whenever she let her guard down, but if there was one tiny good thing that it offered, it was the dream that came afterward…

Flora examined the sash, thinking of the figure who had given it to her in her dream. The one who comforted her when she didn't want it, who healed her wound with sea water..."If…if you will allow me." She whispered before carefully attaching the sash to her own belt. If he wanted it back, then she will return it to him in due time, whenever (or however) that will be. For now she will keep it as a memoir of sorts, so she will not forget him.

With the matter taken care of, the girl curled up in a more comfortable position on her hammock, clutched her locket, and closed her eyes. Her muscles throbbed and ached from the day's events, and if Captain Wilbur's words were to be trusted, she will need as much rest as she can if she wanted to survive the days ahead...

I'm back! After all this time I finally uploaded another chapter! I'm so sorry for taking so long. Motivation and interest needs to hit hard in order for me to continue. I apologize if my writing comes off as sloppy and rushed here. I haven't written in a while, and I'm not very good at writing sailing scenarios.

Anyway, Flora officially begins her new life at sea. It's not what she expected, as her duties thus far have been rather mundane, but she'll get there. She has a lot to learn and overcome before she can become a great sailor like her father. Also, if Flora really were a boy, I imagine her name would be Lawrence, hence the name for her disguise. Lawrence Jones has a nice ring to it, what can I say?