Pieces of Eight Part UnA Chapter by K. GraySort of chapter one for Pieces of Eight.
Jezebel's ears barely heard the metal clanks and whirring noises emanating from the old airship. They only just registered the sounds of the crew shouting to one another "move that!" or "we need to repair the tear in the hull!" Her eyes struggled to notice the panic and determination in the men's faces. Her feet narrowly avoided the shards of copper and glass strewn about the grated walkways, and her hands fumbled to turn the knob, to shut the door. What Jezebel did register was the ultimate softness of the down comforter, and the relative quietude of her cabin.
There was still so much more to be done, ordered, checked and rechecked, but the woman could handle no more. Her golden eyes fluttered closed over dark circles the instant her brunette curls made contact with the goose feather pillow below her. Exhaustion overtook her. All the stress and energy of the past hours melted into the stillness of the cabin. Sleep was seconds away. Jezebel's limbs tingled with the promise of rest. "Captain!" The door slammed the wooden wall behind it, jolting Jezebel awake and into a sitting position. She blinked and stared at the boy in rags. He immediately snapped to attention. "Yes, Dunham?" "Captain, the first mate says he needs you on the bridge. It's an emergency!" The woman looked a long minute at the boy in front of her. That's all he was, really. Just a boy looking for adventure who wound up getting more than his little Scottish head bargained for. She sighed, and hauled herself off the bed. The tingling was replaced with a feverish longing. "Tell him I'll be there shortly." The boy turned to go. "Oh, and Dunham, you're relieved. Take a nap." The boy gave her a grinning salute and fled. With another sigh accompanied by a yawn, the Captain was back out amongst her crew. She made her way to the bridge, noting the damage all around her. They were lucky to still be in the air. There were tears in the fabric, glass missing from nearly every window, catwalks were hanging by a screw... The Jewel was a mess. The crew was a mess, too, but their spirits were high. Jezebel was thankful to whomever watched over her ship that she had the best crew flying. Within minutes she reached the crumbling bridge, where her first officer stood staring out the cracked windshield. "What's the emergency, Bennett?" The first mate turned to face the woman. "Captain. Permission to speak-" "Yes, always... what's going on?" "Jez, we're in trouble. I can't get the engines going, and we're nearly out of water. We're dead in the sky." He ran a gloved hand through his dirty blond hair. Flecks of dust drifted to the scratched wood they stood on. "Find a port, then. We need to land and repair this boat properly." The Captain stepped up and stood beside her second-in-command. "You look exhausted, Miles. Have someone else take the helm. Get some rest." "Not yet. Once we make it to safe port, I'll hit my bunk faster than a doxy with a gold bar." He glanced at Jezebel and smirked. She laughed. "Oh, I needed that. So where's the next port?" The woman took a look at the world map nailed to the wall of the bridge. "I didn't say NEXT port, I said SAFE port," Bennett retorted. "We can't afford to waste time finding a safe port. We have fake papers. We'll lie, get the Jewel fixed and be outta there before they can run a background check." Jezebel ran her finger over the map and stopped at one of the red dots just over London. "There. We can probably make it to London by dusk, if we get a good tailwind." Bennett stepped up behind her and peered at the map. "We can, IF we get a tailwind at all." "Have some faith, will you?" The Captain reached for the brass intercom and flipped open the hatch. "Attention crew of The Jewel of the Skies!" She echoed over the ship. "We will be making port in London before dusk. Anything you don't want authorities to find, I suggest you hide. We will be making repairs and taking off immediately. Prepare for docking. That is all." Jezebel let the flap fall back against the funnel. "There it is, then," the first mate said. "next stop, London." © 2011 K. Gray |
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Added on February 17, 2011 Last Updated on February 17, 2011 AuthorK. GrayDuarte, CAAboutI'm 23, been in college six years and am moving 2000 miles away to finish up and get started with the rest of my life. more..Writing
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