Hooked

2. A Pirate's Life

The Isle must have been facing one of the hottest days of Autumn ever recorded so far. It was only the morning and Harry already found himself wiping streaks of sweat off of his face every other minute as he worked. This boat- his boat- was supposed to be a place of luxury and comfort, where you could reside all day working in the sun, doing whatever the hell you want and not be fatigued in the slightest, but this one Fall day decided to be a scorching summer day and everything was miserable.

To start this poor day, Uma had ordered him to dock the ship on the port closest to the restaurant. This was so that they could transport the piles of loot they had collected from the past week of sailing into the back of Uma's restaurant. Unenthusiastically, Harry obeyed. Uma didn't often command him to do the type of work that could be completed by the common crew member. If it dealt with driving the ship, Harry was on top of it. Harry had no problem docking the boat; he would actually be furious to find anyone else at the wheel of the one thing he cherished in this world. Ship-sailing duty was fine. It was the other work which seemed too far below him that made him displeased to be asked to do.

With the brutal sun beating down from above, the restaurant was full of Islanders desperate to escape to a cooler setting with a ceiling and refreshing drinks. More customers meant more crew members needed to cover restaurant duty. This meant less crew to move the loot. And so, Harry was left alone to the exhausting, dull task.

"Ya can't ask me to go steal from the homeless instead, can't ya?" Harry had asked. It was as much of a plea against his orders as Uma would ever receive. He didn't think he could get out of doing the chore, but he could sure as hell make sure Uma knew just how much he didn't want to do it.

"Harry," Uma's face had been far from humored, "Just get it done like I asked. And mop the deck while you're at it. Make it look pretty."

The last order wouldn't have been given if he kept his mouth shut in the first place. That was definitely a chore for a crew member below him. He hadn't mopped the deck in such a long time he worried he'd forgotten how. Cruel, cruel Uma. She truly was evil for assigning him such a humiliating task.

With one last hard tug, Harry tightened the last knot of the dock lines onto the pilings. The ship swayed parallel the pier in front of him. It was perfectly docked and Harry marveled at how beautiful she looked under the sun with the calm glistening waves around her. She truly was a beauty... and she would look even prettier once that deck was polished to perfection.

Why did Harry have to be the one to do it?

He stared at the mop and the bucket of water beside him with dread in his eyes. Another bead of sweat came from his forehead and instinctively his hand came toward his chest to pull out his black and red patterned handkerchief from his linen shirt pocket. He brought the handkerchief to his head to wipe away the line of sweat. Uma just had to pick the hottest day to make him mop the deck, didn't she?

Harry swiped out to grab the stick of the mop and his other hand swung down to pick up the bucket. He climbed onto the deck of the ship where he dropped the bucket, water splaying out at the impact of hitting the floor.

"Mop the damn deck she says," Harry hissed, angrily forcing the head of the mop into the water, then onto the wooden floor. He began a forceful rhythm of mopping, frustration guiding his labor rather than an effort for efficiency. "Eight damn legs and can't even bother to hold her own mop with one of them."

"You probably shouldn't talk about your own boss like that."

The voice behind Harry startled him, but he made no motion to indicate it. The recognition of the voice hit him immediately and a small grin came to his face. He remained still for a few firm moments before he twisted around on his heels.