The morning had been rather eventful. Perhaps a little too eventful, in Seth's opinion- strange for him. He usually loved eventful days. They made things less boring and altogether more exciting. And just as there is an exception to every rule, today was the exception to that one. He was NOT liking today's excitement much at all.

Earlier that morning had been like any other day. Seth had been making his rounds, picking the occasional pocket, awaiting word from the Resistance- hoping he could do something useful for once- when all of a sudden, something shiny caught Rita's eye and in an instant she'd flown from her perch on Seth's shoulder. That was when the chase had begun, Seth stumbling through the crowd, calling for the tabby to come back. It had been strange that she did not listen. Under normal circumstances, she would have given up the chase and returned at Seth's call- especially at the promise of beer. But not today, no- she was intent on obtaining that piece of jewelry from it's owner. And Seth was intent on catching his beloved cat. So intent was he, that he hadn't even noticed the mistake he'd made until he had the struggling tabby in his grasp- the wooden slats beneath their feet were moving! They were rocking back and forth in a sickening rhythm that had Seth's stomach turning, and it was then that he'd noticed he was on a ship- and that ship had just left the harbor.

Oh, shi-- Seth had looked out into the churning water below, and immediately stepped back. Two things kept him from jumping into that water and swimming back to shore; the need to protect Rita, and the mere fact that he couldn't swim.

"Fine mess you've got me into." He mumbled to the panicking cat. Now, to find a place to hide until we reach our destination- wherever that may be...

Since then, Seth had been hiding amongst numerous crates, hoping noone would find him- fearing the worst if they did.

Punko Bill was doing his rounds on the ship-- with a mop and bucket, that is. The thirty-something cabin boy was swabbing the deck to a high-gloss shine that only he seemed to notice or appreciate. As he made a turn with his mop, the ship mad an unexpected tilt, causing him to knock into the sud-filled bucket and tip it over, "Ah, cadswallerp." He righted the bucket, and began cleaning up the spilled liquid. He was poking his mop between a stack of crates when the wet end met something soft, instead of the side of a box. That's unusual...

He bent over and looked between, hoping he hadn't stumbled upon a, "Ah, chrove crap. A stowaway."

He sighed, he didn't feel like making a report to the captain. He just wanted to clean the clocking deck... "What're you doing here, kid?"

"Err... well-" Seth shot a dirty look at Rita, placing a hand firmly over her head. "Shh, you!" He looked back up at the cabin boy, smiling nervously. "Pay her no mind, she meant that in the best way possible, eh... Anyway," he cleared his throat, "I assure you I'm no stowaway... at least, not on purpose. It was an accident, really..." He took a breath, trying to calm himself. "It was my cat, you see- shh... what do you mean it's not your fault, of course it is! ... My fault?! If you weren't so damned obsessed with the shiny-- ... Oh, come off it! Er... You'll have to excuse Rita, she's not in a great mood. See, she got away from me in a crowd, and when I tried to get her back, I ended up on board this ship, and before I knew it, we were leaving the shore..." He grinned sheepishly. At least this wasn't the captain, or some other crew member of high authority- he was just a cabin boy, from the looks of him. Maybe Seth could cut a deal with him. "You won't report me, will you?"

Oh, gods, he's insane...

Bill sighed and pressed his hand against his eyes. Why is it always me? He took a deep breath and looked at the boy. He seemed mostly harmless, if crazy. "Alright," he said, "I won't report you, but in return you're doing all my below deck's duties. Got it?"

Well, it's better than sitting in a pile of crates for gods-know how long, and certainly no worse than being exposed to ol' Captain, Seth pondered, And at least he's not making me pay a sum of money I don't have. "Alright, sure. So how do we go about making sure I'm not noticed by the rest of the crew?" Rita meweled from her place in Seth's hands- struggling slightly. Sighing, Seth released his hold on her and let her climb to his shoulder, where she began purring softly. "Cute, but I'm still mad at you." He grumbled, but gave her a quick scratch between her ears anyway.

"Alrighty, 'en. Here's what'll happen," Bill began, "You stay right here till dark. They're all used ta me moppin' up here, so I'll stick around an' deter anybodies thinkin' they'll catch ya. When it's dark, I'll get'cha down to me cabin. You'll stay there till voyage is done, an' do just as I say, got it?"

He glared down at the nutty boy and his cat, making sure he understood. The boy didn't know what he was getting himself into-- there was a lot of work to be done below deck.

"Right." Seth nodded sharply. "One more question- make that two-where's our destination, and how long until we get there?" He hoped it wouldn't be too long. Being trapped in a potentially dangerous place surrounded by water- a definite death sentence should he fall or be thrown in- was not his idea of a good time.

"Two nights to Old Rose," He responded. He jerked his head up, looking around for his shipmates, "Now keep quiet... an' the name's Bill."

He darted a few yards to the edge of the ship, lowering his bucket into the river to refill it. Dipping the mop, he began scrubbing the deck again, just as a group of swarthy sailors clambered out from below and headed for their respective stations, tying off sails, coiling rope, adjusting their heading...

When evening came, the only people on deck were the Captain at the wheel, one man in the crow's nest, Bill and Seth.

"You about ready then?" asked Bill, as he leaned nonchalantly against the crates under which Seth was hiding.

"Two nights to Old Rose," He responded. He jerked his head up, looking around for his shipmates, "Now keep quiet."

He darted a few yards to the edge of the ship, lowering his bucket into the river to refill it. Dipping the mop, he began scrubbing the deck again, just as a group of swarthy sailors clambered out from below and headed for their respective stations, tying off sails, coiling rope, adjusting their heading...

When evening came, the only people on deck were the Captain at the wheel, one man in the crow's nest, Bill and Seth.

"You about ready then?" asked Bill, as he leaned nonchalantly against the crates under which Seth was hiding.

"Definitely. Been sitting here all day, need to get moving and losen some of these muscles." Seth got to his feet and stretched, popping his back in several places.

Bill tossed a very large sack over Seth's head and jerked his feet out from under him. He somehow managed to do this without knocking Seth's head in, or causing the cat much harm other than surprise-- which Seth felt as her surprised little claws caught him in his surprised little fingers. Seth could feel himself being dragged across the deck and (unfortunately) down some stairs, then dragged through the belly of the boat.

Finally, the motion stopped and Bill pulled at the bag to get him out.

"You ok? Sorry 'bout that, the Cap'n don't stand for stowaways, unfortunately for you. Had to get you out of there without him seeing."

When the sack was removed, Seth could see that he was in a small, porthole-less cabin lit by a single oil lamp. The small space was further cramped by the yards of sail, piles of net, and coils of rope. The cabin-man had made the space his own with pictures (most of them quite old) of fancy ladies from dance halls in Old Rose. One showed a fine young woman with her hair in a pompadour and legs that went all the way up, the caption reading "Madame Mulm, Old Rose's Gold in the Tarnished Spoon."

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Seth shouted as soon as he was out, Rita's ears flicking back at the sudden assault of noise.



Seth fumed, but said nothing more as he took in his suroundings.




He raised a brow. "Interesting taste in... 'art' you have..." Interesting taste in women, too. This guy must not have much of a love life... Then again, Seth ventured, he WAS a man of the sea, and for a man of the sea, the deep blue WAS his love life, anything physical was devoted to disease-infested whores, or so he'd been told.

"Yes, well," Bil blushed, "gets kinda lonely out here as a sailor. Gotta find somethin' nice ta look at."

He cleared his throat gruffly, "Now, enough pleasantries. Get to work. See them sails? They got holes. Mend 'em. And those nets need fixing. It should keep you busy for the time bein', so hop-to."

He went over to the tiny berth and laid down, pulling a curtain halfway across the opening to shield him from the light while still leaving Seth light by which to work.

Seth stared blankly at the sails and nets for about five seconds before sighing heaviy. What have I gotten myself into? Rita had situated herself on top of the sails, and was giving Seth a look that seemed almost to be a smirk. "What?" He shook his head, "May as well get to work." He looked around til he saw a needle and spools of thread. Taking these in his hand, he looked back, trying to recall exactly how his mother had sewn things. Let's see.. He looked over the sails until he found one of the smaller holes- may as well start small until he got the hang of it.

Leaning against the wall, Seth tied a small knot in the end of the thread as he recalled his mother doing so long ago, then gingerly pushed the needle through the canvas, pulled 'til the thread was taut, then reapeated the motion, weaving the thread through and through in a tight knit. The whole while Rita watched, ever-more interested, her legs bunching up beneath her, tail twitching back and forth in a rhythmic motion- until she pounced- catching the thread with one of her claws and biting down. "Gack! Rita!" Seth glared at the cat, who looked playfully back at him, eyes seeming to gleam mischevously. "No, I won't play with you. Kindly give the thread back, if you please." But the cat simply wouldn't let up, clutching the thread tight as she could, pulling until she ripped it from Seth's hand. "Ritaaaa!" Seth grabbed at the cat who merrily danced away from his outstretched hands, and onto Bill's lap.

"Gah, sorry about her. She gets jealous of anything that holds more of my attention than she does." Seth eyed the smug-looking feline with mild irritation- which only barely masked his humor at the cat's playful show.

Bill was about to tell Seth to close his head and let him sleep when that cat of his leaped into his lap, he responded with a surprised "Oof!"

He picked Rita up by the scruff of her neck and held her towards Seth, "You'd best pray I don't toss this thing overboard, son. Or report you. The whole point o' you doing this is so I can get some well deserved rest, so how can I do that if you don't close your yap?!" He gave the cat a shake, to which she responded surprisingly well-- she didn't eat off his hand, at any rate. But she made some displeased sounds.

"You do that quietly or I will, you hear?"

He dropped the cat in a chest near his berth and shut the top, "She'll stay there till you're done. Now get to work."

Seth was about to protest at the harsh treatment of his furry companion, but took quick note of the man's adamantly foul mood, and knew he would be just as adamant in his threat- promise, rather- that if he didn't get his peace and quiet he would toss Rita to the river, and that would be far worse a fate than the dark confines of the chest. "Er... sorry." Seth mumbled before settling back to tend to the sails.


It took him a while, mostly due to the fact that he'd had to redo about 90% of the rather sloppy stitches, but by the time he was done with the sails, they were ship-shape, so to speak, and he ws quite pleased with them. The nets were another matter entirely. He was unsure of how to go about repairng those, and he was rather tired and sore by this point, but he knew- for his sake and the sake of his cat- he'd best find out how, and do so quickly.

Somewhere in the middle of the pile of netting, there was a box, labeled "Easy Peasy Net Knots." Inside this box were coils of line. Printed inside the lid of this same box were line-drawing instructions on a variety of knots, each shown in three infuriatingly complicated steps.

Seth could hear the confused Rita mewing softly from inside the box, as if to say, "Hello? Anyone out there?" There was a light scratching, but Bill didn't stir.

What the...? Seth noticed the box, Well, then, that's convenient. He opened the box and shushed the mewing Rita, then looked over the convoluted knot diagrams. Well damn... maybe not so convenient as I had hoped. He scratched Rita between the ears until she fell asleep on his shoulder, then got busy with the netting, tying loose ends and hoping he was getting them right. To think he'd gone so long thinking a knot was a knot and that was that- he had been wrong. When he found that he was getting the hang of it, he smiled to himself, comparing each knot to the ones on the diagram, going back to re-tie the imperfect ones. After a number of complex knot-tying, Seth drifted off, staring into the blackness that was the back of his eyelids, the net covering his lap like a makeshift blanket.

He was rudely awakened the next (he could only assume) morning when Bill shook him violently, "Up an' at 'em!"

He shoved a small portion of some sort of porridge... or maybe it was gruel... surely it wasn't oatmeal.... He opened up the chest and dropped in a sliver of fish before clamming it up again. He proceeded to inspect Seth's work from the night before, "Stitches are too far apart here... redo this seam... these knots aren't right. Do 'em over..."

He looked to where Seth sat, "Well, get started. I'll be back in an hour. If I find you've gone, I'll sound the alarm on ya. And your little cat, too."

He marched out, mop and bucket in hand, ready for a new day of polishing the poop deck.

Seth blnked groggily, rubbing sleep from his eyes, only vaguely catching Bill's complaints about his handywork as he stretched his sore, stiff muscles. When Bill left, Seth noticed that it was still dark outside- the deep blue haze of the predawn sky meeting his gaze. Perfect... He thought sarcastically, That's just wonderful. He glanced at the chunky, yet somehow watery substance before him and his stomach knotted painfully. If it weren't for the fierce growling of it he would have sooner thrown the bowl against the wall for it to smash into pieces, but, holding back the urge to vomit, shovelled down the miniscule, bitter stuff, his nose wrinkling.

That done, he set to work on correcting his errors with the sail, hoping that this time he got them right, then moved on to the net. He'd forgotten entirely where he'd left off before he'd drifted off, so he had to start over entirely, scrutinizing each knot to make sure it looked as close to the diagram as possible.

((The cabin is windowless, just so's you know.))

Bill returned, as promised, exactly an hour later. "Almost done, there?"

He went over Seth's work with a quick yet calculating eye. "Decent work. Now here," he shoved a small chest into Seth's arms, "Polish these up, nice and pretty."

He picked up a scrub-brush and left Seth alone.

Inside the chest were dozens upon dozens of pieces of well-tarnished silver, along with a rag and a tin of silver polish. It would take hours to complete... perhaps until nightfall, even. With no promise of return, it was uncertain whether either Seth or Rita would get lunch, dinner, or even a little water. And unfortunately, there was not a chamber pot in the cabin, and they had been stuffed away for a day and a night already.

((He wasn't looking out the window, just so youknow. Sorry it wasn't clear enough, but he saw out the door as Bill left. And no chamber pot? How cruel you are. ))

Seth set to work immediately, dipping the rag into the polish, taking one of the silver pieces, then quickly spread the polish over it, gently rubing at badly tatnished areas until the silver shone brightly, then set that piece aside and worked on another. He got through about fifty pieces before getting to his feet and stretching- and in that movement realizing he needed to relieve himself. Of course, this was when he realized, looking around, there was no chamber pot to be found. Well that's perfect. But where did cabin boy go? It didn't smell like piss in the room, however musty it was. The idea of the alarm sounding, simply for an unavoidable accident didn't much appeal to him.

Rita looked up from her nest and meowed plaintively. "I know, Rita." He bit his lip, eyes locking on the door. "Can you manage not to be seen for a bit?" Not that it would matter much if she did- it was likely a common thing for cats, among many other small animals, to find their way onto a ship. "Can I?" He mused to himself- being a thief, he'd been in tight situations before, having to hide in dark corners of houses when their owners would return earlier than expected, or seemingly disappearing entirely into alleyways when guards were on his tail. Perhaps if he used those same tactics he could get on deck and make himself invisible just long enough to urinate overboard and get back- that would require a good few heads turned away for a good few seconds of exposure...

Making a decision, he cracked the door open just enough to get a good view of the deck, and made a quick count of how many eyes he would have to avoid catching.


((Hoo-ra. Maybe I should rename this thread Operation: Bladder Relief))

As far as he could see, there were several sailors-- the Captain at the wheel, again, almost as if he had never left; the Boatswain, various men in the rigging, and a withered fellow lying on a coil of rope with his feet inexplicably in a bucket of water, and who happened to catch Seth's eye momentarily before laying his head back for a swig of rum and doing nothing about the stowaway.

There were crates and barrels scattered about hither-and-yon, as well as the longboat. They might offer him some cover if he used it wisely.

Seth tensed as the man caught his eye, but relaxed a little when the man said nothing of it. Taking a deep breath, Seth crouched low to the ground, and stepped softly into the sunlight, made his way swiftly and siltently to the nearest stack of crates. Heart hammering, he stopped to listen, hoping none had seen him- knowing that if any sober man had, he'd be hearing about it right now.

((Just how many piles of crates does he have to make it through before he reaches his destination?))

((Not far.))

A flutter of motion caught a seaman's eye. His head swiveled around. Did they have rats? He rose from where he was cleaning all manner of sword, taking one with him as he went. He circled quietly around (quite the feat for someone with a peg leg) and peered over the side of the crate, only to see a slightly disheveled and distressed boy behind them.

"Ahoy! Who you be then, matey?" he asked gruffly, and none too quietly, as he garnered the attention of several shipmates.