Going Dutch, Afternoon, 26th June

It was the first dog-watch and Oxley was on the foc'sle, sitting on the slide of one of the carronades, doing his best to mend a tear in the shirt he'd been wearing the previous day. He was humming under his breath - he'd whistle, if he could, but the last time he'd tried that, he'd nearly had his ears boxed by a sailor who'd told him they only whistled for a wind at sea, and as they had a perfectly good wind, what the hell was he doing?!

A shadow fell over him, and he glanced up. He grinned when he saw it was the boy who'd been the powder monkey to the gun next to his, yesterday. "Come to say hullo, then?" he said, shifting up to make room for the newcomer.