Re: Chapter 1 - The Captain
On her way, several of the men in the crew stopped their work to stare at her. Many looked younger than her, and none were older than at least forty. They all looked strong, and a few were moderatly handsome, same as a few were no pleasure to look at. Once she descended the steps into the galley/crew's quarters, they resumed work, giving each other pointed looks. What was the Captain thinking? Letting a woman on board. It was the most hair-brained thing he had done yet, in their opinions, which was truely saying something.
In the small, square kitchen, there was an older looking man standing over a small iron stove. He had long, black hair that was pulled back, and white wings at his temples. The wrinkles on his tanned face told of an even amount of worry, anger, and laughter. His blue eyes had a cold glint in them, as if he was deciding how best to kill you even as he gave you the time of day. Fragrant steam rose all around him, and the hissing of the food made such noise that Jane thought she was safe from detection. But she only watched him for a few moments before he said, "Are you going to come out and greet me, or are you going to goggle me all day?" He stabbed at something in a fry pan with his spatula, making it hiss and jump in the bubbling liquid it was being cooked in.
As for Mordecai, he couldn't tell which crew member was a bos'n and which was not. He would have to ask someone. There were several men sitting against the railing of the ship near him, rolling up long ropes with grappeling hooks on the ends. One was blonde and merry eyed, and looked not a day over fifteen. His cheeks still had the plump roundess of youth. He looked up at Mordecai and smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. The other two looked older, about twenty or so, although their appearences differed greatly. One was tall, with long, thin legs and dark skin. He worked quickly and with efficency, and his black eyes had a quiet intesity as he gazed down at the ropes which commanded his complete attention. The other had light brown hair and blue eyes, and didn't seem as intent on his work as his friend. Freckles sprinkled across his nose, as well as a bout of acne. But he had that look in his eyes, the michevious sparkle, that made others single him out as a trouble-maker. And they were right. He kept kicking the grappling hook that was attatched to the younger boys rope, jerking some of the rope out of his hands and setting him back a few loops. The boy would always kick back, but mostly he missed.