Wobbling Steps Across a Deck

The ship rolls slightly, and I vomit into the bucket Charlotte holds in front of me while somehow managing to hold my sweat-dampened hair out of my face. We have been at sea for a week, and the worst of the seasickness has set in. Father and Charlotte seem to be immune to the crashing of the waves against the ship and the rocking those waves set about. I shudder and with a groan of despair fall backward onto the rumpled bed.

My stomach feels as though it is being wrung out with each gag. Papa said it would stop within a few days, and it has been a few days. Actually, they have been some of the longest of my life. I have confined myself to the small space Charlotte and I have been provided, although I am told it is the best that this ship can offer, I find it hard to believe. More than once we have had to contend with rats in the dark.

The ship pitches again, and I sit up quickly, my stomach heaving. I give a dry sob and lay back down again readying myself for another assault. Suddenly there is a knock on the door. Charlotte glances at me, perhaps wondering whether I am presentable enough to see visitors but proceeds to open the door a crack anyway.

James Norrington stands outside, wringing his hat in his hands, and shifting his weight from foot to foot. He smiles at the sight of Charlotte, and she blushes. I close my eyes and pull the covers up to my chin before they can notice I’ve been watching.

“I came to inquire about the invalid,” I hear him say, “I hear she’s taking things rather rough.”

“Aye, well I think if she had a spot of tea she’d be considerably better,” comes Charlotte’s quiet voice.

I crack open one eye to see the young lieutenant watching me from between Charlotte’s head and the doorframe. He winks once, and my eyes pop open. No gentleman has ever winked at me before! I continue to stare as James finishes his conversation with Charlotte before the door is shut once again.

The young woman sits down next to me and puts a hand to my forehead.

“I’ve asked Lieutenant Norrington to bring some tea for you since he seems so eager to help. Do you think that would ease your sickness a bit?”

I nod, studying Charlotte’s features, and the way her eyes brighten as she speaks about Lieutenant James Norrington. My sickness nearly forgotten, I become bold and ask, “Do you like him?”

Charlotte’s cheeks turn every shade of crimson as she searches about her for the stitching she had been completing. Taking it into her lap again she sets me with a stern gaze.

“Whatever would make you say such a thing, Miss Elizabeth?” she asks, and tries to laugh, though it sounds dry and hollow, “Lieutenant Norrington and I. Now that’s a thought. You should keep such things to yourself, Miss. It isn’t proper to speak of matters like that aloud.”

I open my mouth to retort, and several things happen at once. The ship rolls, causing my stomach to flip flop and me to gag. Charlotte reaches for the bucket and makes it just in time as James Norrington opens the door. He waits patiently, completely unfazed, as I vomit once again, which is surely my comeuppance for thinking of talking back to Charlotte only moments earlier.

When my gagging has died down, and I am finally able to gulp down a few breathes of much needed air James offers forth the cup of tea to soothe my burning throat. Charlotte takes it and attempts to hold it to my lips to help me drink. Seeing that the lieutenant is still in the room, I snatch the cup from her grasp and sip at it as best I can. I will not be seen as being babied in front of such a man no matter how little we know of him.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” James asks, watching me with furrowed brows.

Charlotte stands up, brushing her hands down the front of her skirt. “No, thank you. You’ve done so much already.” She smiles at him, and I roll my eyes at her from behind the lieutenant’s back.

James turns to me, and smiles. “All right then. If you need anything at all please don’t hesitate to ask. I hope you’ll be able to join us upon the deck soon enough, Miss Elizabeth. The fresh sea air would do you some good as well as bring back the colour in your cheeks.”

I nod and continue to stare as Charlotte ushers him to the open door before shutting it behind him. As she steps back inside a blush still remains on her cheeks and a small smile upon her lips.

“You do like him!” I cry triumphantly as I wriggle out of her reach.

---

Life on the deck is more exciting than I could have dreamed. Everything about it, the sailors clambering up the rigging, the shouts of orders, and the smell of the sea, is a mess, and I love it. The day has been eerily quiet however, and I am beginning to wonder why. After hearing Lieutenant Norrington speak to one of his fellow shipmates I begin to understand that perhaps it is the weather. Fog has crept in from all sides, and I can hardly see as far out over the water as I usually can.

Suddenly, something catches my attention. It rises and falls upon the waves still perfectly upright. I squint at it and cock my head to the side, scrutinizing its daintiness and perfection. There is no logical way such a thing could survive on the water for so long. I follow the parasol with my eyes for a few minutes before something else entirely comes into my line of vision.

“Look! Look! There’s a boy on the water!” I cry, pointing to the piece of wood on which a young boy is slumped facedown. I watch in anxious despair as his thin body is hauled aboard and laid out for all to see. He is eerily still, and I step back into the protective stance of Lieutenant Norrington standing behind me. Suddenly the boy coughs, and seawater splutters down his front.

Curiously, I step toward his body, which is still again, though I can now see his chest rise and fall reassuringly with each breath. His brown eyes meet mine as I come into his range of vision, and he stares up at me with wide eyes.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, “My name’s Elizabeth Swann.”

The young boy opens his mouth and takes in a shuddering breath before replying in a trembling voice, “W-Will Turner.” His head falls back then in a faint, and suddenly a shadow falls over me. I turn to look at James Norrington whose brows are drawn together in an almost comical way.

“Has he said anything?” he asks.

I nod my head, “His name is William Turner. That’s all I found out.”

The lieutenant nods, and then turns to a pair of sailors standing nearby, “Take him below.”

I stare as the young boy with the brown hair and the frightened eyes is hauled away, and think that perhaps I have found someone to rival Lieutenant James Norrington in the way of handsomeness.