“Drea… child what are you doing?” Her father’s voice was deep and gruff.
She looked up from her hands and knees and smiled through the curtain of her chestnut colored hair, “Really, father? How long have you been captain of this ship and you should question what I’m doing?” She laughed and dipped the scrub brush back into the warm soapy water, slinging it out and placing both hands on the brush to scrub the deck.
“Ahhh… your mother’s wit and beauty.” He chuckled and looked at the men around Andrea that had cease scrubbing to watch their interaction, most of their eyes focused on her. “Whadda you scallywags looking at? Get ‘r ass in gear and finish your duties.”
They muttered apologies and recognition of their grievances and began cleaning again. The captain sighed and reached down to pull on her hair, “Daughter, come. I want a word with you.”
Andrea huffed and got up, stopping only to drop her brush in the bucket, laughing when it spilled over and soaked Philips arm. He looked up and gave her a fake grimace.
She raised an eyebrow, “Please do say something… anything… I’d love the chance to toss you overboard.”
He shook his head, a smile playing on his mouth and went back to work, the smile remaining long after she left. Andrea walked along the edge of the ship, her hand dragging the railing as she breathed in deep and looked out at the endless possibilities before them.
I love it here… It feels like home, smells of freedom and taste of adventure.
She lifted her hands in the air and pressed against the railing, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply again. This was the life for her, she couldn’t imagine anything better, anything more thrilling and adventuresome. Her father’s voice pulled her from her reverie and she rolled her eyes, walking to the helm, her father looking out at the deep blue ocean, his greasy black and gray hair blowing around his hat in the wind.
He looked over at her and nodded down toward the wheel, “Come and guide the ship while we talk.”
She smiled and walked quickly to the wheel, allowing it to slide through her hands and she spread her legs to stabilize herself and look toward her captain, “Talk. I need to help finish swabbing the deck before the afternoon sun begins to race from the sky.”
He shook his head and leaned against a rather large pole, “Drea, why do you insist on cleaning with the deckhands. You are to be captain of this ship one day, these men need to respect you, not order you around as a woman normally would be. You need to be vile, angry and demanding. Scare them, daughter, not assist them in their menial tasks. Have your books that you pine over taught you nothing of leadership?”
He sighed as she remained rather calm, no emotion showing on her young face. He wished a different life for her. She had the mind of a scholar and the beauty of a queen, and yet through her mother’s death and his poor decisions in life… here she was – a pirate, a female pirate at that. He sighed from the weight that pressed upon his shoulders.
“Father, first of all, cleaning the ship is not a menial task. The salt and sea would eat the wood and varnish it in record time if we did not properly care for it and clean it. This is our home, but it is also our livelihood as well. Cleaning it is a necessary task, a hard task, an honorable task. I am proud to help the men swab the deck.” She ran her fingers through her hair, wishing she’d brought a bandana or cover of some sort, her hair dancing in the wind, tickling her face and neck.
Her father smiled and nodded, “brilliant as usual, child, go on… respond to the rest.” He crossed his arms over his rather large belly and cocked his head to the side, challenging her.
“No more interrupting old man, or I shall make you walk the plank, though if you continue to gain weight at the rate you are doing so now, you wouldn’t walk very far without very well breaking the damn thing.” She smiled as he chuckled, ignoring her plea for him to focus more on his health. He always used the “I’m a pirate and I’ll eat what the hell me wants’ta eat.
She continued, “The men do not need to be scared to create loyalty or desire to follow their leader, and my books have taught me a lot. Thank you for buying so many.” She blushed at the thought of anyone other than her father being aware that she was more than quite intelligent from her studies.
“Leadership is about respect, and respect comes from many places. Fear is a short lived view of respect. Once you turn your stick and angry glare from them, they will ponder stabbing you in the back because you are not focused on them, creating that sense of fear needed to conform their behavior to obey you. But – if they respect you because of who you are – of the leader that you portray, say… someone that is willing to swab the deck with them because you show pride in your ship and would work alongside them, then when you turn your back, they’re not plotting father, they are protecting. Leadership and respect techniques are learned, not born within us at birth.” She chuckled at his perplexed look. “Never mind. I clean because I need more muscles and I’ll kick anyone’s ass on here that has something to say to me, and they all know it.”
She growled as her father’s face smoothed and he chuckled. “That’s better,” he muttered and turned to walk away.
Andrea had so many forward thinking ideas for the next generation – a different future for herself and her crew. It all still held the beauty of the sea, the thrill of the steal and the danger of the fight, but it would be more congealed, better formed and made to stand the test of time. Today was her father’s crew – tomorrow would be hers.
She looked up from her hands and knees and smiled through the curtain of her chestnut colored hair, “Really, father? How long have you been captain of this ship and you should question what I’m doing?” She laughed and dipped the scrub brush back into the warm soapy water, slinging it out and placing both hands on the brush to scrub the deck.
“Ahhh… your mother’s wit and beauty.” He chuckled and looked at the men around Andrea that had cease scrubbing to watch their interaction, most of their eyes focused on her. “Whadda you scallywags looking at? Get ‘r ass in gear and finish your duties.”
They muttered apologies and recognition of their grievances and began cleaning again. The captain sighed and reached down to pull on her hair, “Daughter, come. I want a word with you.”
Andrea huffed and got up, stopping only to drop her brush in the bucket, laughing when it spilled over and soaked Philips arm. He looked up and gave her a fake grimace.
She raised an eyebrow, “Please do say something… anything… I’d love the chance to toss you overboard.”
He shook his head, a smile playing on his mouth and went back to work, the smile remaining long after she left. Andrea walked along the edge of the ship, her hand dragging the railing as she breathed in deep and looked out at the endless possibilities before them.
I love it here… It feels like home, smells of freedom and taste of adventure.
She lifted her hands in the air and pressed against the railing, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply again. This was the life for her, she couldn’t imagine anything better, anything more thrilling and adventuresome. Her father’s voice pulled her from her reverie and she rolled her eyes, walking to the helm, her father looking out at the deep blue ocean, his greasy black and gray hair blowing around his hat in the wind.
He looked over at her and nodded down toward the wheel, “Come and guide the ship while we talk.”
She smiled and walked quickly to the wheel, allowing it to slide through her hands and she spread her legs to stabilize herself and look toward her captain, “Talk. I need to help finish swabbing the deck before the afternoon sun begins to race from the sky.”
He shook his head and leaned against a rather large pole, “Drea, why do you insist on cleaning with the deckhands. You are to be captain of this ship one day, these men need to respect you, not order you around as a woman normally would be. You need to be vile, angry and demanding. Scare them, daughter, not assist them in their menial tasks. Have your books that you pine over taught you nothing of leadership?”
He sighed as she remained rather calm, no emotion showing on her young face. He wished a different life for her. She had the mind of a scholar and the beauty of a queen, and yet through her mother’s death and his poor decisions in life… here she was – a pirate, a female pirate at that. He sighed from the weight that pressed upon his shoulders.
“Father, first of all, cleaning the ship is not a menial task. The salt and sea would eat the wood and varnish it in record time if we did not properly care for it and clean it. This is our home, but it is also our livelihood as well. Cleaning it is a necessary task, a hard task, an honorable task. I am proud to help the men swab the deck.” She ran her fingers through her hair, wishing she’d brought a bandana or cover of some sort, her hair dancing in the wind, tickling her face and neck.
Her father smiled and nodded, “brilliant as usual, child, go on… respond to the rest.” He crossed his arms over his rather large belly and cocked his head to the side, challenging her.
“No more interrupting old man, or I shall make you walk the plank, though if you continue to gain weight at the rate you are doing so now, you wouldn’t walk very far without very well breaking the damn thing.” She smiled as he chuckled, ignoring her plea for him to focus more on his health. He always used the “I’m a pirate and I’ll eat what the hell me wants’ta eat.
She continued, “The men do not need to be scared to create loyalty or desire to follow their leader, and my books have taught me a lot. Thank you for buying so many.” She blushed at the thought of anyone other than her father being aware that she was more than quite intelligent from her studies.
“Leadership is about respect, and respect comes from many places. Fear is a short lived view of respect. Once you turn your stick and angry glare from them, they will ponder stabbing you in the back because you are not focused on them, creating that sense of fear needed to conform their behavior to obey you. But – if they respect you because of who you are – of the leader that you portray, say… someone that is willing to swab the deck with them because you show pride in your ship and would work alongside them, then when you turn your back, they’re not plotting father, they are protecting. Leadership and respect techniques are learned, not born within us at birth.” She chuckled at his perplexed look. “Never mind. I clean because I need more muscles and I’ll kick anyone’s ass on here that has something to say to me, and they all know it.”
She growled as her father’s face smoothed and he chuckled. “That’s better,” he muttered and turned to walk away.
Andrea had so many forward thinking ideas for the next generation – a different future for herself and her crew. It all still held the beauty of the sea, the thrill of the steal and the danger of the fight, but it would be more congealed, better formed and made to stand the test of time. Today was her father’s crew – tomorrow would be hers.
