Icy gails almost crooned a hymn while the winds pushed through the stricken metal haul of the once proud vessel. The Navy Ship known as Nautilus, is now nothing more than a flute being played by the frozen elements.
The Nautilus had promised her passengers a safe journey through the Northern Sea. Her captain chartered a course to safely avoid the ever concerning ice fields. However Fate had other plans in stored. Now her broken twisted frame rested uneasy atop an ever shifting mountain of ice, rising and falling to the waves of the sea. Inside a crew frantically worked to mend the fractured haul. The men panicked as they ran around grabbing anything that could potentially be used to patch the holes. At any agonizing moment, a simple wave could instantly pull the Nautilus from her resting point down to the bottom of the ocean.
Among the sounds of chaos from the clanking, hammering, even the moans of the broken ship laid, an undertone of echoed wailing from a stay cabin. The screams of the starving infant only served as a reminder of the consequences of losing the current battle for life.
In the cabin a woman tried to soothe the hungry baby. The infant's mother was bed stricken. She was too weak to wake let alone have the strength to provide the much needed nourishment for her little one. An old man gently dabbed the critically ill woman's forehead with a wet towel, using water he retrieved from melting snow. Not a word was spoken as the two looked at a young boy across the room. The lad stood on a pipe that lined the wall while struggling to gaze out of the port hole.
From his vantage the boy could see miles of ice as well as the black and white flightless birds near the bow of ship. The water fowl was known to jump up through cracks in the ice to rest on the surface. The boy welcomed the site of the birds and with a sense of urgency hopped down with excitement rushing to the bedside of the stricken woman.
"Mother-The Sea Chickens!! They're back!! Hold on Mother I will bring you some food-" smiled the child as he grabbed her limped hand. His blue eyes fought back tears and despair.
"DON'T BE DAFT BOY-" the old man snapped back, never taking eyes off the sick woman. "Davey Jones would gladly take you. Besides, killing the birds isn't the problem. The complication lies in bringing them back to the ship from across the ice. We have already lost men trying to retrieve those blasted chickens. What makes you think you stand a chance?" The old man interrogated with a strun gruffy voice.
The boy paused as he looked down to his mother, hair bangs covered his eyes briefly as the child listened to his baby sister cry. In almost a whispered stutter the young lad slowly lifted his head
"Because I'm small..t-the ice won't sink under my feet like it did the grown-ups-"
Before the child could finish his sentence the old man shifted in his seat. A knocking sound of wood on wood was heard even above the high pitched infant's screams. The lad came found himself staring at a peg leg where the old man's right foot should have been.
"Boy this is what happens to limbs that enter the North Sea-" The elder's voice seemed more fatherly than stern as he tried to get the child to understand.
"You said my mother will die if we don't get her something to eat soon..if she dies then what about my sister? " The child's voice cracked as he let go of his mother's hand and clenched his fist . "Please I must try…I know, if you kill the water chickens I will be able to go out on the ice and bring them back!"
The Elder huffed as he glanced at the tiring infant then back towards the boy. The sailor sat in silence for a brief moment than let out a soft sigh with a nod.
"Young Man run down to storage and grab a rope-" the boy interrupted the old man while turning his head sideways"A rope?"
"YES A Rope!! I may be old and crippled but I can at least pull your arse on deck if you fall in the water." The sailor snaped back. With that the child ran out of the room and down the hall with a burst of speed towards the storage area. The lady tending to the infant looked on in horror. With a soft look in his eyes, the elderly man placed the cloth on the forehead of his patient, he had been attending as he slowly stood up. He looked at the woman and then to the infant one last time as he slipped out the door. In a soft almost loving voice she heard him say
"Take me for an old fool! But who am I to try and stop a man trying to save his family? No matter how young they are!"
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