#doctordaddy

It was no abnormality that a still calm washed over the decks of Moby Dick so early in the morning. When the seas so gently rocked the ship to and fro, it lulled those who dwell within it's frame into a deep slumber. Even the young man who assumed a watchful eye of the sea from the crow's nest had drifted into sleep just as the sun broke the horizon. Like any good father, Whitebeard had fetched him and slipped the youth into his proper cot, then retreated back to the surface where he assumed vigil. "Brats, the lot of em'," his breath vented a chuckle while such broad shoulders sagged upon him exhaling, "Can't keep their eyes open if their lives depended on it!" Of course such a statement was bitterly false, but in moments like this there was little else to think.

Rather than letting his body rest in his usual seat, the captain found himself atop the whale figurehead that adorned this mighty vessel. A wind too gentle to advance his ship caressed his cheeks, it's near stillness hadn't the power to so much as ruffle his captain's coat. If they were only to rely on sail that day, this ship would hardly budge. There was little intent in mind to head anywhere. There'd been no word of scuffles in his territory, no whisper of ill intent from an intruding crew; things were silent this morning. It meant his sons would get the chance to sleep in, something the father was certain they enjoyed. He too didn't mind the silent grace of the morning. It was why he awoke so early in comparison to the rest of the youthful souls occupying the ship.