Slacking off in the Sun

He observed the damned former midshipman, and the equally damned landsman come from below. He recognised Hales easily and smirked. He knew that he had again disappeared off to somewhere, instead of 'facing the music' and just now he was back up, like a rat lured out of its hiding place. He was a rat and that little one was another stinking rat.

The news that Hales had come to fraternize with De Guarde came as no surprise. The like hung together.

"Outta the way." He really hadn't had the need to go exactly along that side. But he did like to make his presence shown. So a hand shoving De guarde out of the way first, he made sure that the lad collided with Hales. He rested his arm briefly on the railing. "T' useless should keep where they can't hinder anyone." His words just as well for Hales if not more. The man was not a learned Tar.

The intrusion was not honestly unexpected. Hales kept his gaze directed seaward and didn't trouble himself to look toward the newcomer, or the young sailor who was pushed roughly into him. It wasn't worth it.

De Guarde glared at Cattling but noticed how much more submissive Hales had become. Perhaps he was mistaken, but he would have expected any man to retaliate to such an insult. All Hales did was look seaward intently and hope it would all go away.

"Then keep ye'self outta the way." He snapped at the man. "Heed your advice n'all that." Cattling smirked and looked down at the boy, then placed his hand on Hales's shoulder, instead. "Atleast this one is quiet, knowing his place proper."

The touch of a hand on his shoulder made him seethe inwardly, but to his credit, he didn't flinch. It was best to show no reaction at all. A good footman wouldn't.

Hales was nothing if not a good footman.

Cattling smirked at Hales, gave him a slight shove, and walked past him. He looked back at the pair. "It'll be best for both of you to stay out of my way." He pointed his finger at Hales. "You owe me your tot. I'll collect it when it's due." And with that he left the two. He had already gotten bored of them. Atleast for the time being. What he held against Hales was not really evident. Had the man done something or was he just an easy target to pick and relieve frustrations on?

His tot. Right. That was something Hales cared little about. If the man wanted it so badly, he could have it, and welcome. He leaned listlessly on the hammock nettings and wondered how he might escape from this miserable place the next time the ship was in port.

"Hales..." De Guarde began and then turned quiet. The man looked so subdued, so submissive that he thought he needed someone to stand up for him or else he would be used as a mop to clean up the floors with or worse.

"..Knock it off, Cattling. You want t' be tough.. but.. ye ain't really succeedin'. You're jus' a poor daft sod." He felt himself hauled abruptly of his feet. Still he glared at the man. He would not cry for help, though involuntarily he had still gripped a hold at the railing as if afraid the man might toss him over. "Watch it." The man said harshly. De Guarde pursed his lips. "You stop pickin' on him there. And I might.."

What this boy thinking? Hales stiffened instinctively, hearing the harsh rasp of angry voices so close by. The boy had to be out of his mind, openly challenging that pug-faced sailor.

"Leave off," Hales said sharply, not understanding why he too was getting involved.

"Lissen to your buddy. He's wise beyond expectations." Cattling tightened his hold on the boy, his shirt obstructing some of his breathing. Still, lacking the smarts, the boy answered just as sharply as before. "He's much smarter n' you will ever be." A childish retort, but he was indeed young. "Chase'll 'ear of this.. Watch it." He added, and that brought a smile to Hales's face, though more for show than feeling.

"Will he. now." He said in scorn. "Come over 'ere ..Hales, is it." His voice did not allow any questioning, buts or maybes.

Hales didn't move. He knew better. Instead, he stood fast and met the other sailor's glare evenly. He'd not move, either forward or away.

"Leave off," he repeated woodenly.

"It will be very healthy for your well being on this ship, if you will NOT make me repeat myself, lubby." Cattling's eyes narrowed on Hales. "Get over here, now!" He kept his voice low, low enough that only the pair could hear. He was not stupid as to shout. He did not need an officer hearing him. He did not need that sort of trouble.

No. Something in him told, plainly, not to submit. Whatever happened, he knew somehow he shouldn't give in. There wasn't much at all left to be done that might worsen his existence on board, either.

So Hales didn't budge.

The boy's defiance, this man's sudden found confidence and stubborness annoyed Cattling. He dropped the boy, shoved him off, so that De Guarde landed on his rump and would have toppled over on his back if not for the quick movement of his arms. He advanced on Hales. He gave a quick glance around himself, just to be sure that no eyes were there to testify. Once certain, he rammed his fist right at the man's gut.

Or maybe there was. Hales folded up with a whuff and sagged back against the hammock netting. Maybe there was a lot further to go down the scale of misery.

Good lad indeed. No cries, or shouts. Just sagging nice and submissive back onto the floor. Like a proper land lubber, spineless as much as he was useless. Cattling smirked and followed Hales's movement, bringing his foot up towards his head to kick him while he was still down.

The boy to his left was already getting to his feet. But what could the brat do? Puny little thing.

"You there!" The bellow cut the air sharply. "Belay that!"

Henry Leaford strode angrily forrard, leaving his post in favour of stopping the fight before it could get out of hand. He had seen the little gathering but at first had thought nothing of it. Clearly it had been more sinister than it had initially looked.

"Master-at-Arms!"

Someone was calling for the Master-at-Arms. Thompson looked around. He couldn't see the petty officer and crossed the deck, stuffing his pipe away as he did so.

"Is there anythin' I can help with, sir?" he asked, giving the master's mate a respectful salute.

Shit. He thought he had been careful enough. But no. Somebody HAD been watching. He straightened up taking a step back. He noticed that the boy had gone to kneel beside the landlubber, and seemed intent on blocking the way to him. The lad hadn't even realised that there was a fourth party involved, till he opened his mouth to give something in retaliation. He'd gone pale afterward.

Now the boy looked quite nervous as well. Cattling held his hands up in a manner one would try to signal the things to calm down, because they were getting ahead of each other. He was showing no signs of fear. The bastards interrupted him.

"Not doin' anythin'." He said, as if that was true.

+

"You a'right.." De Guarde whispered to Hales. Neither of them did anything wrong, but he doubted they were to be believed!

A Marine was the first to arrive in response to Leaford's call. Not quite who he had wanted but it would do.

"Two men fighting," he said curtly, noting the arrival of the burly Master-at-Arms a moment later. "One of whom, naturally, was 'not doin' anythin'.' "

The Master-at-Arms was looking at him with a questioning frown. "Fightin'?"

"Aye. In full view of the quarterdeck, no less."

"Fightin'? Weren't fightin', sir. Right lads?" His eyes narrowed on De Guarde and Hales, daring them both to say different.

"All we did is practice. I was show them, teach them really, what they should be careful about, when an enemy'd strike." He smiled calmly.

"..might be why it appeared to look so bad, sir."

There was a lot of attention on them now, it seemed. The sort of attention that made Hales feel even more uncomfortable. All he wanted was to slip away and remain unnoticed.

"Is that so?" The haughty-voiced sailor, who was obviously important, was glaring at the man who'd struck Hales. "An enemy would stand and chat, before striking in such a cowardly manner?"

Hales wanted nothing better than to shrivel up and disappear. The words he was hearing seemed only to make the whole predicament worse. Why hadn't he just stayed in the hold?

"There's theory ..n' then there's practice." Cattling answered. That man could read into it just the way he wanted. Good scardeycat Hales. He did not need to worry about him.

The little brat was more prone to opening his mouth and, he was a blackguard, the former midshipman and a bastard. But he was a Tar now, so he was in greater danger. He better know that!

"Fightin's fightin'," the Master-at-Arms grunted.

Leaford narrowed his eyes. "Theory has a way of directly affecting practise, I find," he said coldly. "If a man would teach such poor methods, he shall certainly employ them himself. A highly undesirable thing about a man-o'-war!"

"Anythin' ter' protect n' defend our ship. Ain't that what matters?" He answered simply.The little brat had remained wisely quiet, though he now stood in the way almost as if he thought he, the little worm that he was, could protect the landlubber from harm.

"Oh of course," Leaford replied silkily. "While you, of course, leave the burden of honour to others. Yes?"