A Ship!

Another experimental paragraph, this time in first person.

     For the second time I knocked on the door to the captain’s cabin.

     “Captain Morris?”

     Silence.

     I grasped the door handle and, finding it unlocked, opened the door and scanned the room.

     No sign of him anywhere, then I spotted his officer’s coat hanging from the bedpost.  Strange, I thought.  He never leaves his cabin without his jacket.

     I walked over to the captain’s desk and admired his array of maps, charts, and various navigational instruments all organized and in their proper place.  Off to the side and seemingly out of place, like a flower amongst rocks, there was a little picture frame enclosing a portrait of his beloved wife Susan.  I picked up one of his many feather quill pens and stroked the soft barbs.

     Completely forgetting my purpose of being down in the captain’s cabin I put down the feather and strolled over to the mirror above his chest-o’-drawers.  I straightened my collar and donned his tricorn hat.  Looking in the mirror, I could imagine the days when I would eventually become a captain, with my own desk and room and . . . a whole ship with trusty sailors ready to do anything at my command.  I took a whiff of the fresh sea air coming in through the open window.  Oh yes, those would be the days.

     I walked back over to his desk, picked up his spyglass, and looked out the window.  Then I saw it: the ship of Bart Roberts.  I stared through the spyglass for a few moments before flinging the hat and spyglass on the desk then dashing through the doorway and up the stairs to the deck shouting “Pirates!  Man the guns!  Prepare for battle!”