Ethereal

The Crow’s Nest

I woke to a sharp banging on my door. It was Grouch-o, telling me to get up as my night shift was about to begin. I didn’t have to open the door to know he was probably smiling from ear to ear.

With a groan I sat up, rubbing the knots out of my shoulders after laying in an awkward position on the haybale. I grabbed a thick sweater from the bed before trudging out the door, slipping it over my head as I gave my bed one last glance before leaving. This was probably the last time I’d probably have a real break for the next five days – I wanted to appreciate it until the very last moment.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I passed down the hallway, I was faintly aware of the murmuring voices of the crew from below deck. They had already settled in for the night, whereas mine was just about to begin.

Even Grouch-o had gone off to bed, abandoning his post at the kitchen counter. As I swept past the tables and towards the door that led to the top deck, a shadow moved from the corner of my eye.

I froze, one hand on the stairway’s railing as the muscles in my body tensed, ready to fight. The shadow moved under a hanging lamp, the blonde hair curling into view. I didn’t need to hear his voice to know who it was. He had been waiting here, for me. For what?

“Nor –“ he said, still inching towards me. Jax combed an agitated hand through his messy curls, making my head go fuzzy for a moment.

I blinked hard, pulling myself out of my dream-like haze as I turned and bolted up the stairs before Jax could get another word out. The door slammed shut behind me, making me jump at the loud noise. My knuckles pressed into the sore muscles in my lower back as I tried to calm myself back down.

I knew was being more dramatic than I cared for. He was only doing his job, after all. There was more at play than my fickle feelings. I knew that. I could understand it.

That doesn’t mean I had to like it.

Standing on deck, I suddenly felt incredibly alone. A chill sea breeze swept over me, making me cross my arms over my chest as a wave of goosebumps grazed down my arms. I half expected Jax to open the door behind me and chase me out onto the deck, but the door remained shut. I strained my ears to try and hear any possible footsteps working up the staircase, but the only answering sound was the wind rattling the sails.

Something akin to disappointment trickled across my tongue. I pushed the feeling away and looked upwards for the crow’s nest, spotting it high above the tallest sail. Climbing up there was going to be a task in itself. I suppose I was lucky that I wasn’t afraid of heights.

I tugged on the ladder that led up to the crow’s nest, testing to see if it was as sturdy as it looked. The rope held fast, swaying gently in the wind. Sighing, I knew I couldn’t stall my shift any longer and I began to climb.

The minutes trudged on as I pulled myself higher above the ship, my arms and legs burning from the exertion. No part of me was excited about having to do this, let alone in the dark.

I paused to catch my breath, my hands twitching as the rope bit into the soft patches of skin on the insides of my fingers. A gust of wind took me by surprise, swinging the rope from beneath me. I waited for the wind to subside, the aching in my arms and shoulders becoming almost unbearable as I climbed the rest of the way to the crow’s nest.

Practically throwing myself into the wooden structure, I leaned against the mast’s pole with the Minnow’s blue flag flapping a few feet above my head, letting out a deep breath as I waited for my breathing to slow. It was much colder up here; the wind was harsher and threw my hair around in a dizzying mess above my head. I could also better feel the sways of the ship as it crashed through the ocean. Its movements making the crow’s nest swing violently back and forth. My stomach churned as a fresh wave of seasickness overcame me.

The night wore on with my boredom and fatigue slowly consuming my every thought. It was miserable, being up here alone with nothing but the wind in my ears and the thoughts in my head to entertain me. I tried my best to focus on the horizon, but time and time again I slipped back to thinking about Jax.

He tried to talk to me earlier. In the moment I wanted nothing more than to get away from him, but now I only wanted to know what he was trying to tell me. Did he want to yell at me more? Or was he trying to apologize? The look he had given me before I ran topside looked almost desperate, his eyes gleaming with some unknown emotion.

Guilt wormed its way into my gut. Twisting my insides until even the seasickness began to ebb away. I had let my childish side go too far this time. While I was upset, and rightfully so, I still hadn’t been fair to him – as my captain and as a person.

I adjusted my head against the wooden board. Stew said that I couldn’t fall asleep while on duty, but no one ever said anything about lying down. Though the crow’s nest was barely wide enough for me to fully sit down, I managed to lie across the floor with my feet propped up into the air with my back curled against the wood behind me. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but it was far better than standing until sunrise.

I stared up into the stars, watching the clouds float by. From the pinkish tint that laced the clouds edges I knew that morning was fast approaching, and my shift would soon be over. Only it wouldn’t really be over – I still had to do my kitchen duties for Grouch-o, then after that it was back to the crow’s nest.

I rubbed my eyes and groaned. Would anybody really know if I dozed off? They’d have to climb the rope to get to me first, and I’d probably hear them before they got to me. If Jax found out that I was sleeping during my shift he’d probably be furious with me, but my fatigue had wormed its way into my muscles and buried itself deep into my bones. Sleep persuaded my eyes closed, whispering forgotten tales of Old World sailors traveling across the seas looking for treasure. Everything else around me drifted into black as the muscles in my neck and back relaxed.

A shout from below deck made me sit back up, the blood rushing into my ears. I squinted at the sun that had already risen above the horizon, steadily climbing upwards. Had the time passed so quickly? It felt like I had just closed my eyes and now I was late to my next shift in the kitchen. And while I had been hoping that my short nap would help wake me up, I ended up feeling more tired than I did before I had fallen asleep.

Using the top of the mast to help pull myself up I began the decent back to the deck. Going down wasn’t as bad as going up, but my shoulders still hadn’t recovered from my climbing adventure yesterday. Each movement made me grind my teeth as I forced myself to keep going, my joints popping uncomfortably.

My feet hit the ground and I paused a moment to arch my back and pop my joints, feeling slightly more awake now that my blood was flowing. I felt a pair of eyes on the back of my head. Their gaze sweeping over my form and causing goosebumps to form over my skin. Not wanting to be too obvious, I turned and headed back towards the kitchen. Subtly raising my eyes to the faces of passing crewmates to see if I could spot my watcher.

They finally rested on a pair of dark brown eyes that gleamed like log embers in the sunlight. He stared at me as I crossed the deck, never taking his eyes off me, and I returned the challenge in kind. He stood at the helm with one hand on the wooden stake, his lips pressed into a thin line. We stared at each other for the longest time, neither of us turning away. Whatever his reasons were for watching me so intensely, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his lest he think I’m as weak and frightened as I actually am.

Jax was wearing his typical ensemble of a white tunic with the sleeves rolled up above his elbow and a pair of form fitting black pants. This morning he seemed different – his shoulders were slumped over a tad too far, the skin under his eyes a shade too dark, his hair curled up at odd ends. It looked as though he had barely slept. I tried not to think of why that might be.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in the back of my throat I went below deck and casted away any more thoughts about the sun-kissed boy that was just a floor above me.

Grouch-o greeted me below deck with a bundle of onions that needed peeling and to be diced for the soup tonight. He seemed to have a bounce to his step when he took in my disgruntled appearance, going as far to comment at how lovely I looked this morning. I told him how surprised I was that his vocabulary extended beyond the classification of vegetables, and it succeeded in shutting him up. There was no point in being nice to the man after he publicly ousted me yesterday.

The day passed in a blur, the hours blending together until before I knew it, I was carrying a bowl of onion soup above deck to watch the sunset before my shift began. I took a seat on the staircase leading up to the helm, my bones cracking as I sat down. The rest of the crew was already below deck with their own food portions, slurping on their spoons far too loudly for my liking.

“It’s gonna storm somethin’ awful tomorrow night.”

I looked over my shoulder to see Carlo standing by the helm, a cigarette between his teeth as he pulled a long drag. I watched as the smoke curled around his silver beard.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without Stew.” I said, the surprise in my voice evident. Carlo shrugged.

“He quit smoking years ago. Says hanging around it only tempts him now,” he said, blowing out another cloud of smoke. I could easily picture a much younger Stew and Carlo. Still joined at the hip, both blowing rings of smoke as they sailed the seas looking for whatever trouble they could dip their fingers into.

I glanced up at the sky and saw clouds forming in the distance. They were far off, though, and seemed to be heading in the opposite direction of the Minnow.

“You said a storm was coming in?” I said, sounding skeptical.

Carlo grumbled a rolling chuckle and moved to the railing where he flicked his cigarette into the water below. With his hands buried deep into his pockets, he moved down the staircase and opened the door to venture to the kitchens below deck, then stopped.

He glanced up at the sky, and then back at me, something unspoken tucked beneath his gray slate eyes.

“Don’t let the sky fool you, lass. Any good sailor knows how to spot a storm just by the smell of the air.” He said and disappeared down the staircase. The corners of my lips turned down as I mulled over what Carlo said. It didn’t make that much sense – smelling the air for an approaching storm.

I took a long inhale of ocean air, the salt and smell of fish forming a thick coat at the back of my throat. It nearly made me gag. I didn’t smell anything that smelled like an approaching storm would, but then again, I don’t think I know what a storm smelt like. Rainwater? Ominous clouds? Apparently, I hadn’t been at sea long enough to know. There was only the hope that if it did storm tomorrow night, then Jax might have enough pity on me to let me skip out on my crow’s nest duties.

Or, I thought, he’ll make you stay out in the rain all night to make sure you learn your lesson.

I prayed he wouldn’t be so cruel.