The Middies' Berth

"He's never given an order that weren't for a good reason. So if he ever said to do summat that seemed mad, he'd have a reason for it."

He didn't understand what the lad was getting at. Was De Guarde trying to find something he could use against Thompson later? Or was he just asking for the sake of having something to talk about?

The thinking and second-guessing was making his head hurt. He wasn't educated, after all. He was a plain, simple man who liked things to be black and white and easily understood.

"So would yo follow it then? Knowing or not knowing what reason he may be havin' fer it?" He asked for he felt he hadn't gotten a straight answer on that question. He leaned a bit more heavily against the marine's bent leg, and adjusted himself into a more comfortable position where his leg was not threatening to fall asleep again. He had to turn his ankle a couple of times and rub his hand along the side of his leg, from ankle to knee and then against his thigh once too.

When his leg felt finally as fresh and alive as before he shifted again to rest against the not so red clad redcoat.

"Do ye men do favours fer each other?" He asked again as if making conversation.

"I would, sir." The middy leaned against him a bit more heavily, and Thompson nearly put his arm round the lad again, but wasn't sure he could risk that, and didn't.

"Do we do favours f'r each other?" he repeated, thinking. "Yes. Sometimes if there's an inspection or somethin' comin' up and someone needs help with his cross-belts or polishin' his shoes, things like that."

"D' ye do favours..so you can get summat else ye want?" A small part of him wanted that the private would place his hand against his shoulder in the similar manner when he did, consoling him, another part thought that it wouldn't be proper not to mention that the private could see him as weak, vulnerable. And he did not wish to be portrayed as anything of the sort. Thoughts returned to Yates, and how shocked the lad was, seeing them. Then something his him and near like an order he had taken hold of the closest arm and pulled it around him.

There were two benefits from this, and as nobody could see them, no downsides. He inwardly grinned, but looked just innocent and frustrated on the outside, as he looked up at Thompson.

"..t' cross belts. Why d' ye have em?"

"Why have crossbelts? Well, one's for the bayonet, and one's for the cartridge box for our musket ammunition. And the bayonet scabbard and cartridge box have to be polished to keep 'em black, and the belts have to be pipeclayed, to keep 'em white."

It felt awkward a little, with the middy snuggling up next to him and his hands around his bent knee. He shifted his arm, as though to slip it round the lad, and paused. Why did he think the young lad would allow him to do that?

"Can I... D'you mind if...?" he began, and trailed off. He couldn't go asking this midshipman something like that, could he?

"Why keep somethin' that ought ter be blackest black in summat that ought ter be whitest white?" He lifted an eyebrow and studied the hand and then jerkily he nodded. It was a reply to the unspoken question. Not an order, but a responce. To the question of permission, not the one of whether he minded.

"Don't it like wantin' ter keep a ..." He looked down at his white breeches and white stockings and then at his white shirt and vest and he looked flustered. "..Yer get them black often.. don't ye?" He motioned to the crossbelts.

Thompson nervously slipped his arm round the lad's shoulders, waiting to be pushed away.

"We can take them off the crossbelts, of course, sir," he said. "Makes it much easier to work with, without riskin' that. But the things still get polish where they shouldn't, which is harder to get off than gettin' pipeclay off polished leather."

He didn't move, indicating that he had agreed to it and the private could feel less tense about it. The arm added some support to his awkward position and enabled him to use less of his strength and effort to keep himself from falling over or straining his leg muscles. It did feel pleasant too and warmer. A bonus he'd been hoping for.

"N' your uniforms? With that 'mount of pipeclay n' polish. Don't they get t' worse of them both?" He pointed to the coat that was now hung neatly ahead of them, swinging soft with the ship's own odd movement. The white crossbelts looked much less prominent with the shirt against which they were now placed. He listened again to the sounds from outside. No, nobody was coming yet.

"Aye, but that can't be helped, though if it's an important parade or summat, we'll put the crossbelts on as late as possible, to try and stop it a bit. And we have to polish the crossbelt plate till it gleams. All means lots of work, y'see. And the sailors don't have all that."

He relaxed a bit as De Guarde made no move to push him away. This was nice, friendly-like. It was a shame Mister Yates had interrupted them, earlier. He hoped Yates wouldn't tell anyone.

"They don't have that yes. hardly have a uniform to speak of,.. as ye see." He relaxed his neck, and let it lay against the foreign shoulder. It was better than to strain his muscles unneededly. He was the superior one here too, so he could 'demand' and not need to wait for the private to decide.

"Us middes. Need only ter have our finest coats on when's t' right time. Finest clothes n' clean white breeches n' stockings, n' shirts n' such. Sharpened dirks too, of course. But that'd be daft of a lad not to have it in prim condition. Not jus' because someone would look dark at it." He shrugged his shoulders lightly, feeling the weight of the other's on them, and not minding.

" Our shoe buckles need ter look neat too. N' our uniforms right flat n' without wrinkle. But nothin' like you." He felt the marine less tense, and though he did not wish to admit, he did enjoy that better.

"N' we have ter know t' sailors didn' sell their shirts or their belongin's fer drink. 's another thing they are keen ter do, but shouldn't." He murmured. "Yer like t' figurehead n' t' carvings on our ship. made ter look more pretty than ye need ter be ..as much in use." He grinned. "s' jus'.. t' ornaments on t' ship don't guard misbehavin' sailors. And.. unjustly also some middies."

"Figureheads don't fight so's they get black faces fr'm all the powder they've fired, neither, sir." Thompson was amused at being thought of as an 'ornament'.

"Wouldn't make much sense for the sailors to have all the work to do to look after a uniform like we've got. Though they look fancy enough in their shore rig, all ribbons in the seams and everythin' else."

The lad rested his head on Thompson's shoulder, and the Marine smiled at him. "You officers have nice uniforms as well, much nicer than ourn. Better cloth, see, don't fade so much. 'Specially if you've got more'n one jacket. That there's got to last as long as I can make it, afore I c'n get a new one. That's why we wear the drill jackets sometimes when we do sentry - though not when we'm standin' sentry on the Cabin without the Captain't say-so."

"No, they don't.. n' more often they've got men takin' care of them like ladies.. n' you have ter take care of yesselves." He looked at content as a kitten on a sunny day, and the fact that he wasn't as much in pain was surely adding to it.

"Thank you. Our uniforms are fine, though they fade too. Bu' .. that's why ye see t' officer wearin' sommat more faded durin' a proper voyage, but when in need ter be presentable or ter go ashore, they look as if their coat... our coat has never been a day in t' sun. N' them lieutenants n' captains. They've got differen' coats too." He nodded and feeling more at ease, he allowed more of his own muscles to relax as he leaned comfortably against the private. It wasn't half bad, that. And having nobody disturb, was making the wait again a bit more bearable.

If he had any other of them marines, he wondered how dull it could've been. Standing, lying down and having nothing to do but to listen and anticipate what would happen next up above. Have his guard stand stiff and silent and as emotionless as if he were indeed an added plank to the wall.

With a stroke of luck he had come across a peculiar marine, that had the courage which could've sent him in the wrong direction if not for the midshipman's fairly good will of the present. "Any of ye marines got caught sleepin' on sentry duty? Or had a sailor club yer over the head trying ter get to the spirit room, or t' like?"

"No. It's in the Articles, 'bout sleepin' on duty. You can get in awful trouble for it. And if any sailor was so stupid as to try to break into the spirit room, he'd be found when the sentry changed, and get flogged f'r it, and that ain't worth it. Though I heard of ships that were sinkin' were they broke in and got so drunk they drownded."

He wondered where Colonel Edrington was. He didn't suppose the Colonel was missing him, though. It was only because the Colonel had spoken to him that he'd got the courage up to try talking to the lad here, anyway. he wondered what Edrington would make of that, if he learned of it.

(OOC - I've got to go to uni this afternoon. See you later!)

(ooc - was just about to say, about having to go too XD so, see you later!!)

"I know you can. Midshipmen too as well as you." He answered and rubbed his temples again as he did a couple times earlier. "Yer know.. some sailors would break in, no matter how much they be flogged fer it. Get drunk.. though in way, i think t' break in ter steal other people's food n' rations.. that would be sommat for the gauntlet. Have the whole crew 'thank' the man for taking what was not his from them."

He nodded knowingly and shifted a bit:"..ye didn' get found asleep on' duty before, eh?"

He lifted his chin up slightly and listened. The thudding of feet was certainly closer to home now. There must've been some Frogs on their ship too. The only way to explain it.

"Reckon Tars get breakin' in n' drunk because.. s' two things they know will n' won't happen. Firs'.. they won't get punished fer it.. since nobody will live ter do it.. n' second... the might atleast die happy. Since most of them can't swim n' they're 'fraid of dying by drowning too. But if they're too drunk ter know.. they won't even notice themselves dying."

"I've never bin asleep on duty, no, sir. Came close a couple of times, but never done it. Like I said, it ain't worth it. And you might be right about the Tars breakin' in like that. Though I'd rather take me chances in the boat. If the boats are gone or can't be launched, summat like that, reckon I'd rather be drunk when I drownded. I can't swim, and it'd be better not knowin' it's happening than knowin' you can't do nothin' about it."

What was going on up there? He couldn't really tell which way the footsteps were going, and was rather glad for the simple deception the middy had thought of, even if it didn't seem like much. It was better than nothing, and even a couple of seconds could be valuable.

" Aye. You wouldn't wish ter feel that.. 's awful." He murmured, surprised that he was able and willing to speak about something that did feel more personal than all of the previously mentioned. Atleast it felt so now. He shifted closer and while listening carefully to the sounds - knowing he did not need to be quiet as , if people were in here, they'd talk even if being just coats - he spoke again:"..If we ever come ter it... i'll rather get drunk too. ..so drunk I might jus' die from that n' not from t' sea." He looked haunted a moment about the thought of the sea. He didn't remember all that happened that night, but enough that he'd have a good fine nightmare about it.

He tilted his head to the door. Closer or further? Running, walking, there were shouts, but they could've just been loud and not really meant they were coming. It was similiar to hunting for wild game, and waiting for the animal to come your way. Although in that case one actually knew they were coming.

"Wouldn't blame you, neither, sir. Some folks learn to swim, like. I couldn't; it'd just take longer to drown if'n anythin' happened." He felt the middy shift closer to him and tightened his hug.

The timbers creaked a little as the two frigates ground together. There were running feet overhead and hoarse yells, bu nothing that told the Marine what was happening.

"Here, sir. I told you a bit about my first ship, and what I've done. Would you... tell me a bit about yourn, please, sir?"

"Me ship?" He blinked. It was odd to be glad to be talking to another non swimmer, when there were so many on board, and think this to be special. He didn't dwell on it for long though, and thought rather on the shy and timid request that Thompson gave.

"T' Confidence?.. ye want ter know about that ship?" He asked and then in a softer whisper he added:".. What d' ye want ter know about her?"

"What she was like, sir. Was she a nice ship, or not? Did you like her?" He had his suspicions about her, but wanted to hear more, have those suspicions confirmed, or disproved. And he wanted De Guarde to talk to him like he'd talked to the middy.

He wasn't used to asking things like that, and certainly wasn't used to asking them of folk like Mister Midshipman De Guarde. He was slightly surprised that De Guarde hadn't berated him for his cheek, but seemed to be taking the question seriously.

(OOC - dinnertime!)

If the situation had been any different Thompson would be hearing the words of :" Mind your own business." Or Something along those lines of reprimind. But then, if the situation had been different he would not be leaning against the private, nor allowing an arm against his shoulders. So perhaps, Thompson was just striking a lucky moment in the boy's usual harsh disposition.

"What sort of question is that? Whether she was nice.. She was a professional's ship! She ticked as fine as a clock." And when she didn't there was hell to pay. But it was normal that people would be flogged , and the punishments themselves were a frequent occurance. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

" She was.. and is a navy's ship. A soldier's ship." He paused a moment listening. No, there was no sound of sneaking feet, so he could continue.

"She was a lot stricter than Terpsy. Discipline. ..that's what makes a ship go places and presents the captain's vessel before others in the finest light." He hesitated, he felt he'd sounded learnt, like reciting someone else's preaching.

" Training, serious mind when doing yer job, 's what we were like." He knew that there, a marine would never have spoken when on duty. And scolded himself for thinking this better. Here, a midshipman didn't have the right amount of authority, Terpsy was worse.

"I don't like Terpsy.." He murmured and shrugged. "Confidence wasn't made to be liked." He used no endearing name for his former ship."It was made ter kill t' enemies, secure prize ships n' serve the King n' country!"

"You don't like Terpsy, but Confidence was stricter? Were you proud of her at all, sir?"

He was starting to understand a little, he thought. His first ship had taught the lad that discipline, backed by the cat, was the way to run things, and what he'd said of the Marines had only served to back that up. They were there to keep sailors and officers separate and reinforce the strict discipline imposed... probably by the captain.

As for not liking Terpsy... He'd had a very bad experience - Thompson had seen the splash when he went into the water. Nobody on any ship should have suffered that, and if whoever did it was ever found, he knew Captain Bolitho would tear strips off them over it. They'd be lucky to come away rated 'landsman'.

"Do you... do you think you might ever learn to like Terpsy, the way the rest of us do?"

".. You're meant ter be proud of your ship. No?" He shrugged his shoulders lightly. He couldn't say it, but he hated his previous ship as much as he disliked the present. "..She was stricter yes. But there, we as midshipmen weren't questioned. If we gave an order, it was ter be followed. If we had said this sailor did this wrong.. he was punished. There wasn't.. no.. you're wrong... rethink it. You might be thinkin' it different if you spare a moment.. No. Our authority stood firm."

He nodded sharply :" It was harsh, but 'twas fair." Not quite. " Middies were respected n' feared. N' we in turn respected n' feared our lieutenants n' our capn'. N' lieutenants respected .. n' I think in a way feared too.. t' capn'. N' he was t' lord on t' ship." He considered the next question and, his shoulders raised in a shrug.

"..Will I live long enough for that?" He spoke soberly, his eyes intense on the marine.

"Will I live long enough for that?" the middy asked, eyes fixed on Thompson's face, looking much older than the lad's fourteen summers.

"Yes. Even if... if you should get turned afore the mast, the Captain'll make sure you ain't anywhere they can do that to you again. Even if it means..." He shrugged. "I dunno. Puttin' you to berth with the Marines or summat. You shouldn't have to be afeared like that. It ain't right."

Though it sounded as though fear had ruled the Confidence with an iron fist.

"D'you... d'you think we'm afeared of Captain Bolitho, the way you was afeared of your captain on Confidence?" He paused, to let the lad think it over and find an answer for the question he'd been asked - or even to find question to put to the Marine in turn.

"I WON'T be turned before the mast!" He looked upset even if it were just a suggestion of something that he'd heard the lieutenant say. " I won't be.." He spoke a bit more softly, subtly. " .. n' I'm not afraid of that but.. they've tried.." His voice trailed of and he shrugged. "..You know what they did. "

He shook his head. These men weren't afraid of Bolitho as the men on Confidence were of their own captain. It was plain as day and easy to say: "No. I know you are not as afraid, private. Not as we were on Confidence. ..Neither has summat like what happened to me happened to any midshipman on my former ship." Thompson could think what he will of that.

" Do you think fear isn't important in keeping men with a violent disposition at bay?"

"I think... I think some men can't be held in check even by threat of the cat, and i think that some folks freeze if they'm too scared. And mebbe whoever did it don't think they'll get found out. But I know the lieutenants won't let 'em rest easy."

He shrugged a little. "Don't you think that having a bit of pride in yourself and your ship makes you do a better job than bein' so scared you can't think straight?"