“no one ranks for creative genius like a sailor shirking work.” for stephen from william

{ True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle Starters } 

“Is that what we’re calling this?” Stephen retorted, the amusement in his tone as undeniable as the laughter that had been startled out of him after finding the young lad ensconced away in the tremulous boughs of a young ficus citrifolia – no grown man would have been able to settle so easily upon those slender limbs and find security, let alone the

comfort presently exuded by the young lord. And how he had managed it with one arm! Stephen could not fathom, but creative genius certainly did seem to apply itself to the moment. 

Hardly one to care overly much for the strict runnings of a ship ( no doubt to Jack’s eternal exasperation and deep frustration ) Stephen stepped over and rather than scold the boy, simply set the journal he had wanted to bring him into his hat. It was not the most secure means of delivery, but it would assure the pages their safety should he miss his aim. 

Steadying himself, he leaned back and flung it up for William to catch. “That ought to give you something to do other than nap,” He offered, the smile in his voice undeniable as the crinkle at his eyes.