The Day After

"I won't. May I have it back now, please? Bein' as you'm such a nice young lad an' all."

He shifted his hand away from the boy's side, in case De Guarde should think he meant to tickle him again regardless.

"..Oh, very well then. " He slowly lifted the plate up and held it to the marine's free hand. " But ye'um going to let me see it again, won't ye?" He inquired. His eyes were firm on Thompson's own.

He took it and let go of the lad's arm. "I will, lad, if you ask nicely an' I ain't busy. An' talkin' of busy, I need to shift along and get me things straightened out for next watch." He smiled at the lad's serious expression. "You.. you'm all right, lad."

De Guarde visibly relaxed. He nodded and even had a smile return to his face, when he saw Thompson would be accepting to share his kit again. He paused at the question, took a step forward and hugged the taller marine tight. Then he looked up:"..Thank you. Thompson." He smiled. "Now.. 'think ye best go. Mus' see meself if I am needed." Less happily.

The hug took Thompson by surprise, and he looked down at the lad's face. He brushed a stray strand of hair back, and hugged the boy back. "You'll be all right, lad. Just... talk to 'em. Like... pretend you'm talkin' to me, if you have to. Give 'em a bit of respec' an' you'll be fair 'mazed at what they'll do fer you."

"s' not the same." He shook his head and then seemed to wish to change the topic of their conversation. "Bes' hurry now. Ye ought ter get up there before 's time for drill. If we 'um not busy, I'll watch. " He hesitated then smiled. " Don't drop yer musket. 'tleast not on ye foot."

"I know it ain't the same. But try. For me." He smiled at the lad and sighed as he drew away. "You just... listen and learn. An', well, I can't answer questions 'bout sailorin' stuff, but if you've got any questions 'bout life belowdecks or anythin' like that, you ask me, or Cob. Nicely, mind." He really did have to go now, though, and turned to head back up to the messdeck.

He followed a part way and then turned for his own mess. It had been pleasant and what the marines were certainly good at was drill. And Thompson was drilling those thoughts into his mind so frequent that he wondered if he would be able to recite them at a later time. He hadn't noticed Billy Barrow on the way out, and as he parted ways he hadn't thought more but to curl up someplace , on some sailor's wooden chest. He was out in a snap, sleeping curled up as best he could be.

Grattan sent him a curious glance as he reappeared and sat down, pulling tin and cloth out to see what the boy had done, and to finish the polishing off.

Well. It seemed the lad could do something after all. There were a few places where the shine could be improved, of course, which was only to be expected when the job had been done in the dim light of a single pusser's dip. He got to work on it, finishing it off.

There was a polite cough and the other marines looked up with curiosity. Beech grinned when he saw who the visitor was looking at. "Popular you is today, Thompson," he said, pointing a thumb at Billy Barrow.

Now, what was Barrow doing aft by the Marines' messdeck?

"Hello, mate," he said. "What's up?"

Billy hadn't thought this far ahead, and he was too guileless to be a creative liar. "I... I need yer help, mate. On deck. Just for a minute."

Thompson frowned. A sailor, asking for a Marine's help on deck... a specific Marine, at that.

He got up and fumbled for his forage hat.

"All right, then, mate," he said, walking for'rard toward where the sailor was standing. "Topside, is it?"

"Aye," Billy answered, nervously scratching his head. "Fer a minute."

"All right, then." Thompson led the way topside. "Gundeck do, or weatherdeck?" he asked, wondering what it was that Barrow needed to say that couldn't be said in front of the others.

"Um..." Billy looked and there was no one nearby. "Right here, actually." He stopped, immediately dropping his voice to a whisper. "Now I was just in the hold just now - and I didn't see anything," he added hurriedly, raising a hand as if to fend off an explanation. "But listen. Young mister - I mean young De Guarde's been turned afore the mast by the captain, but he's still a young gentleman. Back home he's a gentleman, probably his father's a gentleman, and probably got friends what are gentlemen and officers and all. And if captain want to learn him a lesson, that's fine. But what he won't want is for the boy to get in any trouble, and if he does, who'll pay for it? Us, that's who! T'other seamen. Not the marines, not the captain, but us. Because why? Because that we're the ones supposed to be a-lookin' out for him. See?" He paused, slightly out of breath for having delivered his harangue with scarcely a pause in which Thompson might interrupt.

"Hold on a minute," Thompson said. "I dunno what you think was goin' on - an' nor I don't want to know, neither. But he come and find me, like you just done, to ax me summat, private-like, so I takes me crossbelt-plate that I'm just a-polishin' of, and goes to talk. An' he wants to try his hand at polishin' it fer hisself, an' then goes an' won't give it me back, for a bit of a tease, like. So I was just a-tryin' to get it back off'n him, without havin' to chase him all over the barky an mebbe have folks think he's turned thief. An' that's all that happened, mate."

He took a breath. "See, you seamen ain't the only ones as is watchin' out fer him. I am, too, an' I dunno quite why, but I am. An' seem to me, we all want the same fer him: to make him a Terpsy, come hell or high water. Though I dunno how we'll do it, but seems he likes a-talkin' ter me. I ain't one of you sailors, and nor I ain't an officer neither. But I'm a-tryin' to make him realise bein' a Terpsy ain't such a bad thing to be. Mebbe he'll listen to me, mebbe he won't, but I ain't a-goin' to tread on no toes, in doin' that. I hope, anyways."

Billy eyed the marine and judged him to be telling the truth. He was not suspicious by nature, and he grinned with relief to hear what he considered a reasonable explanation. "Oh, well that's all right then!" Then his look darkened. "But just you be careful, mate, and watch yerself. Midshipman or no, he can still cause trouble for the likes of us," this time including Thompson in the collective. He finished with a nod before moving to return below.

"I know that, mate. Don't think I ain't goin' to tread a bit careful, though we'll have to see how he shapes up." He smiled ruefully. Barrow was a good man, from what Thompson knew of him, and not one given to being suspicious.

Next time, he'd make sure he and the lad talked on deck, in view, if not earshot, of others, to try to lay some of that suspicion to rest. He sighed and headed for'rard, to the head.

De Guarde, the boy in question, remained oblivious of the conversation, curled up on one of the many sea chests that served as seats, as storage and for the young boy, as an uncomfortable flat surface to rest his head on. He'd taken his and Chase's shirt, to make himself more comfortable. Rolling them up into a small pile that looked a bit like a pillow and upon that he lay his head.

Hands were tucked against his chest, knees drawn , so that they kept his feet not to be hanging in mid air, but rather resting on the sea chest itself. He had had to adjust his slops a couple of times, so that they didn't pull, nor press, but once he was satisfied nothing but sleep remained to be had. And it was the work, and the little amount of sleep he had had, and even the fun and laughs he experienced earlier, that had the boy lie there near as if he were dead. But ofcourse for his breathing, which was even and relaxed.