3 June; Concerned Shipmates

It had taken a day or two for him to strike upon the idea, but when he had, he decided it was a sound one. Delightful in its simplicity and with luck generous in reward, in fact. Leaford considered ways to go about putting it into action before, again, choosing the simplest method. He lounged as much as he dared against the larboard rail, up near the foc's'le, and sent a landsman dashing fearfully below to fetch the boy.

They'd soon see how quickly his plot could be enacted.

Terry couldn't think why he was wanted up on deck, but didn't dare hang around before heading topside.

He approached the master's mate and nervously knuckled his forehead. Whatever this was about, he didn't think it boded well.

"S... Sent for, sir...?"

That was fast. So much the better.

"Aye." Leaford sized the lad up with a glance. He'd do, all right. "It's my understand you've been having some adventures lately. Up in the yards, to be precise."

They all went skylarking, so why on earth did he want Terry in particular?

He frowned a little, confused. "Yes, sir." Nobody had ever said they couldn't go aloft - it was pretty much expected that they would go up sometimes, after all.

Pity. The lad hadn't denied it or even made an attempt to protest. Ah well.

"Rather fond of the mizzentop, I daresay. You and that lad Smith. And your mate too. I'm not clear on his name?"

The mizzen? He preferred the foretop - you had to cross the quarterdeck to get to the mizzen shrouds, after all.

And then he mentioned Fingers, although it took Terry a second to place it, because he never called Fingers 'Smith'. He shook his head. "W... wasn't a mate, s... sir. Was one of the y... young gentlemen, sir."

They might be similar ages but the gulf between himself and the young gentleman was as vast as the ocean itself. How anyone could think they might be 'mates' was beyond Terry.

Step one complete. "Oh?" Leaford lifted an eyebrow, indicating curious disbelief.

"'E ain't bin aloft so many times as all that, sir," Terry said, though he wasn't quite sure that he ought to be saying that, to anyone. "Jus' needed someone to... to how 'im the ropes, sir."

"Is that so?" He knew, or at least had guessed, that young Mister Fletcher was hopeless with regard to going aloft. But it was still interesting to hear the same thing expressed by a ship's boy.

Leaford cast a glance aft, reassuring himself that his casual lounging attitude hadn't been noticed. "Make a habit of helpin' young gentlemen, then?"

And whatever he said in answer to that was going to be a wrong answer, wasn't it?

"I... They don't 'ave anyfin' much t'do wiv the likes of me," he said.

And just what did the officer want with him, anyway? To make him squeal on Mister Fletcher? They'd barely spoken to each other - not above a couple of times, anyway. Terry wouldn't be surprised if the midshipman didn't even know his name.

He was almost tempted to smile. "It hardly seemed that way to me," Leaford remarked placidly. "But that is hardly the point, is it? No. It rather seems to me that you, my lad, are in a tricky spot. Certainly someone will question why you were the first to go and help the unfortunate young gentleman. What did you say his name was?"

What in the world did Mister Leaford mean? The only reason Terry had offered to help Mister Fletcher in the first place was because he was there, and nobody else was - with the exception of Fingers, that was.

And he hadn't mentioned the midshipman's name anyway, he was sure he hadn't. Should he? Well, even if he shouldn't, he couldn't refuse to answer a direct question posed by a superior, could he?

"Mister Fletcher, sir," he said, a little unwillingly. If this somehow got Mister Fletcher in trouble, he'd be for it - but Mister Leat had seen them, and hadn't said anything about it afterwards.

"Ah, right. Mister Fletcher." Leaford nodded slowly. "Not a bad sort. A little new to the life, but... we're all new to it at some point, aren't we?"

"Y... yes, sir...?" Terry agreed, feeling uncertain. The master's mate couldn't have called him up on deck just to talk about Mister Fletcher, could he? It just didn't make sense.

"Equally," Leaford went on. "We all benefit from others showing us the ropes. Of course, that can be a difficult thing when one is a young gentleman. Or a ship's boy. It's fortunate there are helpful lads like yourself aboard. I have to wonder, however. Perhaps you might have been too helpful?"

Terry wouldn't have gone up aloft the first time without someone else there, that was for sure. But what on earth did Mister Leaford mean about being too helpful? He looked up at the petty officer, confused.

He'd lost the boy. Not that this was a surprise. It was a bit much to expect the lad to understand.

"Don't you suppose Mister Flethcer might have been all right on his own, before you joined him?"

"'E... 'e was frozen stiff afore I even got there, sir," Terry said. Why on earth wasn't Mister Leaford talking to the midshipman himself about it, rather than Terry, if he was wondering about that? All Terry knew was what he'd seen, and Mister Fletcher had been about as white as... as anything, and shaking like a leaf. He'd certainly seemed grateful enough for his and Fingers' help at the time.

"I see." And Leaford did. In a way. He nodded again. "He seemed to be doing well enough before then, though, I must say. Still. A good thing you took an interest, eh? You could hardly have known he would slip so badly on his way down, of course."

"'E wanted to go up, on'y 'e couldn't move once 'e'd got to the mizzentop, sir. Was on'y 'is second time aloft, ever." And of course Terry hadn't know he was going to slip - how could he have known that? Seeing it happen had scared Terry almost as much as he thought it had scared the young midshipman.

What was Mister Leaford trying to get at, anyway? Terry suddenly felt uncomfortable with the way the whole conversation was going.

"Was it? How horrible." Leaford now shook his head in apparent disbelief. "To think, he's the grandson of an admiral. I never would have thought it possible."

He was... what?! Anybody could be scared going aloft, 'specially if they had only ever done it once before.

He looked up at Mister Leaford. He wasn't supposed to talk about officers like this, not really, and it wasn't like it was anything to do with him, and why wasn't the petty officer talking to Mister Fletcher, if he really was worried about him?

He shrugged. "On'y know what I seen, sir."

It was an opening if ever Leaford had seen one.

"Of course. But that is the thing, isn't it? Don't you consider it odd, my lad, to have seen such an occurrence, so high above the deck? Especially from a lad who had never been so high before? And for you to be the only one to help."

Leaford shook his head again. "Ah, but you are right, of course. It was only his second time aloft. It could hardly be expected to go any differently."

He'd only helped because nobody else was there, because Mister Fletcher probably hadn't wanted to ask anyone. And it might have been a lot worse if Terry hadn't been there.

"I don't... I dunno what you mean, sir," he said, feeling troubled

"Why, I don't know I believe that," Leaford said. "You're a clever lad, I'd have thought... well. Ponder it a moment, my lad. A young midshipman, making his way up the mizzen by himself, runs, apparently, into trouble. Who should come to his aid first but a ship's boy? Not the most able of topmen, really, which is no slight to you..."