(no subject)
Jim spent most of the morning working on his chores, rushing through them so fast that Silver occasionally had to knock him on the head and make him do a particular task again. It seemed to Jim that every time he finished anything, the old cyborg had something new for him to clean, wash, mop, dust, polish, or scrape.
By noon, however, the boy had managed to do everything Silver assigned him and the cook had actually run out of tasks. Laughing, he shooed Jim off to "do some explorin' and all that other tings a young man should d'." Jim nearly points out that there's not a lot to explore, given that they're on a boat, but he shuts up when he realizes that it's very likely Silver will find more chores if he doesn't leave.
That's how he finds himself in the bowls of the ship, where all the pipes are leaking steam and rust. He pushes his hair out of his eyes and catches a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye; must be that little useless blob.
"Morph!" he calls, taking a few uncertain steps in that direction. He doesn't see the little blob-creature anywhere, though. "Morph?"
Something rustles and Jim feels uneasy. He slowly rounds a corner, and up ahead he sees a door swing shut. "Who's there?"
No one answers. Jim looks from side to side, and behind him, before he rushes forward and flings open the door. It looks like just another part of the rusty old trap of a ship until he puts one boot over the threshold, and everything changes.
By noon, however, the boy had managed to do everything Silver assigned him and the cook had actually run out of tasks. Laughing, he shooed Jim off to "do some explorin' and all that other tings a young man should d'." Jim nearly points out that there's not a lot to explore, given that they're on a boat, but he shuts up when he realizes that it's very likely Silver will find more chores if he doesn't leave.
That's how he finds himself in the bowls of the ship, where all the pipes are leaking steam and rust. He pushes his hair out of his eyes and catches a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye; must be that little useless blob.
"Morph!" he calls, taking a few uncertain steps in that direction. He doesn't see the little blob-creature anywhere, though. "Morph?"
Something rustles and Jim feels uneasy. He slowly rounds a corner, and up ahead he sees a door swing shut. "Who's there?"
No one answers. Jim looks from side to side, and behind him, before he rushes forward and flings open the door. It looks like just another part of the rusty old trap of a ship until he puts one boot over the threshold, and everything changes.