Summary:

Caleb had been on the Leopard for almost a year. Born a sailor, Caleb could have loved every minute of his enlistment, except for the harsh discipline. He was a fast learner, and soon realized that if you did everything you Captain told you quickly and silently, you would be alright. He had already witnessed a few other men who had dared to show their displeasure at the hardly-edible rations and back-breaking work. All of these men were either whipped or given smaller food rations. If it hadn’t been for this strict and hard leadership, Caleb could have enjoyed his time. After all, he was on the sea. But the voices of the men around his constantly reminded his that he was sailing under a British flag.

“Hey, Will!” he called, “Lend me a hand over here for a second.”
“Yes, sir!” William sang out, standing straight at attention and snapping his hand quickly to his forehead in an exaggerate salute, “Right away, sir!” Caleb laughed and rolled his eyes.
“What is it, Commander Morrings? How can a simple sailor like me-self aid such a man as you?”
“First of all, you can start by holding this rope taunt while I tie. Then you may shine my boots and press my uniform.” Caleb said haughtily, struggling to keep a straight face. William looked at him steadily.
“Oh no, sir,” he shook his head slowly, “I couldn't do that. Why, I'd make such a mess with your pretty boots and all. And I know how much you love to play with the boot-shine. Painting pictures in it and such!”
“Fine then. Just the rope. But hurry up with it! Captain should be coming around for inspection anytime now.”

Just then, heavy boot-steps echoed on the deck behind Caleb. He spun around and came face to face with the Captain. The tall, heavy-set man frowned beneath his thick brown beard, his heavy eyebrows coming together and merging to make one long, bushy line. Even after a year, the Captain still managed to strike fear into Caleb's heart.