1 June; Stargazing

"Hey!" Terry stumbled at the shove in his back, catching his arm on a belaying pin. "Was on'y tryin' to help," he muttered sulkily, eyeing the man.

With a frown, Tobias stepped in. "'Ere naow," he said sternly, "ye're reight lucky th' lad's tryin' t' 'elp ye. Eev'ry one's new a' some point." He nodded to Button with a small smile.

"And," he said mildly, "lad's reight. Tha'll wan' t' 'eave on th' line reight ther. We'll le' them oot oan one side, an' tha'll 'aul 'em in oan t'other."

He gestured for the other man to start hauling on the ropes to match the pace needed. "Reight simple, aye?"

What in the hell...? Hales stared at the man, uncomprehending. What had he just said?

Another seaman grabbed his hands. "Here. Clap on there. Nice'n tight. Haul away!"

He didn't understand any of it and resented the whole circumstance, but there was obviously nothing else for it but to 'haul away'. Hales scowled and applied his weight to the rope. It was not the best effort ever.

Terry had managed to get on the brace of the fore-royal yard, and grinned. He wasn't perfect with it, but he knew enough to use the roll of the ship to help with the hauling, which made the most of his meagre weight.

"Aye - good ther, lad," Tobias said to Button with a wink. Certainly seemed bright enough not to let an irritable lubber get him down.

He sent another frown at Hale. "'Aul awa' bit 'arder there, lad."

Harder? What did this brute think he was? Hales' face was a picture of strain. He didn't have the strength most sailors had for this sort of work!

"That's the ticket, mate," Chase said to Button, grinning broadly. He stood closer to the uppity landsman, half-expecting to be required to do the man's work for him.

"Tha'll be fein," Danver added. "Jist falleh Chase's lead ther."

His hands were busy with his own work, even as he talked. Years of experience did that to a man. "Find th' rhythm t' eht. Tha atta learn fast enough."

It wasn't easy, but it was possible, if you stood like this and used the roll of the ship to help. Terry glanced skywards now and again to try to see how fast the tip of the royal yard was moving, and had to slow down.

At this rate, Mister Foxley would end up belting him on the arse instead of across his hands... Working with cordage every day would end up making his hands as tough as Cob Chase's by the time Terry was Oxley's age. He grinned, and winced as he realised he'd scraped his arm on that belaying pin, and might even be bleeding a bit.

With the blond sailor adding his more considerable strength to the task, Hales found it easier to 'haul away', as the men had said.

"Hell's teeth," he muttered, realising his palms were burning with pain.

The bracing 'round of the yards to compensate for the wind was carried out mostly without difficulty. Tide studied the sails with a critical eye before checking the compass bearing. If the wind held steady now - didn't back any more or freshen, even - they would be all right.

"Steady's she goes, sir," he said to the officer of the watch, after easing the great double-wheel over slightly. Back on course and sailing well.

Terry knew enough about things to give the brace two figure-of-eight turns around the belaying pin to secure it, and coiled the rest of the rope neatly, before pulling a bight through and hanging the whole hank from the pin. He looked at it critically. The loops were rather shorter than those of the t'gallant yard, but his arms were shorter than a man's, so it was understandable.

His hands weren't hard like an adult tar's but were still work-roughened - had been from a pretty young age, after all. He looked up at Chase, hoping he'd done it right. He preferred working up here in the open air, with the free and easy sailors, to being stuck below in the dark airlessness of the orlop, being bossed around by the purser.

This lubber was all but useless. Chase could see that plain enough. He needed teaching and badly. "Give over," the topman said, elbowing the man aside. For him it was easy to finish hauling the brace down and get it tied neatly down.

"Like that," he added once he was done. "Boy's got it right, even. He hauled off better'n you, an' he's half your size."

Terry didn't hear Chase's compliment; he was looking at his arm as best he could in the dim silvery light. It felt as though at least the top layer of skin had been scraped off - it was rather tender to the touch. He wasn't sure whether the graze was bleeding or not; it was hard to tell in this light, which threw all sorts of weird shadows, even when the moon could be seen in gaps between the drawing sails and the scudding clouds.

"Give 'im some......."De Guarde began, and then took a step back, reminding himself to keep his mouth shut. Protest, not a thing desired. The Tars knew better, more, Chase did. Keep quiet and agree. Instead he looked at Button and his arm."...a'right?" He murmured indicating his arm.

"Think so. Jus' scraped me arm, is all," Terry said, looking over at de Guarde. "'Ad worse... 'Ere, you didn't mind me tellin' you to scram, t'other day, did you?"

If it was worse than he'd thought, he could always get someone to wrap it up for him. That just meant he'd have to wear his shirtsleeves down, but that wasn't a problem.

"...I did." He frowned. "But, it ain't fer me t' be prissy 'bout it. Ain't got no right fer that." He shrugged and studied Button's arm. "looks a'right fer now but..." And here he shut up. Button knew what he had to do, if anything got worse on it.

This, being tame and behaved and not smart mouthing and not throwing a... anything, it was hard. Much harder than what he imagined it being.

"Sorry." Terry shrugged. "Couldn't talk, though - Mister Foxley was in there. He'd just given me a beltin' too, the..." He swallowed what he was about to say, though the seamen around may well have agreed with him.

Chase nudged Dyer. The pair shared a moment's hushed conference, then Chase grinned.

"Reckon you're needin' better employment," he told Button cheerfully.

Terry looked up at the topman. "An 'ow'd you plan to make Mister Foxley agree to that?" he asked, though he wouldn't mind getting away from the purser, who was entirely too free with his tawse for Terry's liking at times.

"Who says he's gotta agree to it?" Chase's grin broadened. "You ducks outta workin' for him often 'nuff, don't you?"

"Not alla time," Terry pointed out. He wouldn't dare skive off all the time, whatever it looked like to anyone else.

"Course not. But how many times you hang 'bout on deck?" Chase glanced around at the small group around him. "Sure this lot here can get you proper work, like."

Terry grinned. If someone would square it with the purser, he wouldn't mind that at all. "What 'bout the officers, though?" he asked. when he skived off, he generally kept out of their sight as much as he could, in case they realised he wasn't where he was supposed to be. "Though, I wouldn't mind doin' summat proper up on deck. Beats bein' down on the bloody orlop alla time, for sure."

The officers. Right. Chase thought for a moment, then his gaze alighted on the wan-faced lubber who still stood uselessly by the pinrail. "Give him to the purser. Call it square."