Planning for fun

"It's much better now. But I couldn't do me jobs right the next day, and I didn't half get leathered for it. That hurt like anythin'."

The other boys had relaxed and were smiling now that de Guarde had apologised, and nicely, too. Some of them lounged against the cannons, finding seats on the guns' carriages. One or two of them dropped easily to sit on the deck. Oxley tugged de Guarde down to sit as well.

De Guarde sat gratefully. He pulled his legs up infront of him and crossed them.

"'e is mad... with t'.." his voice trailed of, but he meant the starter alright. He had gotten it on his back once or twice too in the passing days. Didn't like it one bit.

The other boys looked less dark now, didn't mean he needed to run to be safe. Why he sat too. "Um...wot are we... suppose ter...ter do?" So he didn't know it and he was embarrassed by it, but no longer sleepy.That left him with the anticipation.

"He is that," Danny Milburn said, rubbing ruefully at his shoulder.

Oxley sat on the deck, leaning back against the gun carriage behind him. "Well, we ain't goin' to be able to do much till tomorrow, what with poor old Billy Barrow the way he is, not to mention the Doctor. And it's gettin' dark now - and we needs to be able to see prop'ly for it. And... hey, has anyone seen the Shepherd lads lately? They ought to be here, an' all. Well, one of 'em should be, at least."

"Somebody arsk fer us?" Andrew Shepherd asked, joining the group. "We's 'ere. Or one of us, anyways!"

He grinned and pushed Fingers aside to make room for himself. The dirty-faced boy stuck his tongue out at the drummer but made no protest.

"Tom's up topside, stuck as duty drummer, poor bugger," Andrew explained. It wasn't completely true; the twins had switched places so Andrew could be present for the planning.

De Guarde looked at the new arrival. Whatever his importance was, it seemed his presence was needed and though he was yet to learn why, he accepted it as a given. Not that he was trying to make too much reason. He smiled content, the drink making him , this time around, a rather calm young lad, perhaps infected by the general atmosphere that turned a lot less hostile.

He yawned and leaned back a little studying the Shepherd boy.

"There you are, Sticks! We're plannin' on a skylarkin' termorrer - tag and stuff - 'cause he-" Oxley pointed at de Guarde "-ain't never bin part of one afore. And I wondered if you might have some more ideas about stuff than jus' playin' tag."

De Guarde felt different and it wasn't because he apologised really, but because he was drunk. So he did smile more and he grinned and he had found something somewhat amusing, that he'd never even consider otherwise. He was also trying to keep himself under control, just aware enough of that to do so too. He peered at sticks and Oxley and decided that it should be interesting to hear what they had to suggest. He'd also decided that this wasn't the time to sleep even if his eyes were trying to tell him different. On a more positive note, he didn't feel as if he was in danger any longer and dropped his guard fairly obviously.

If Chase had returned or not, since he'd gone? That was something that came to mind, remained there a moment and strayed away again. "We'm goin' ter do lots like t' Tars generally do?" Not that he'd quite seen those, but he knew from one time that they drank. Or seemed to. Would the boys too?

"A bit. It's mostly playin' in the riggin's what we do, but sometimes we do other stuff too. Like, if we can get Greek Jimmy to show some of his stuff. Or, I dunno. Tag's good, or there's races, like I said." Oxley shrugged and looked round the circle of faces. "I ain't comin' up with all the ideas, lads. It's why I got us together, arter all - see if anyone else wanted to do summat."

De Guarde looked at Sticks, assumed the boy was contemplating it too, then turned to Oxley. He wouldn't have said it if he were sober, that was for sure. But he wasn't, so his mind didn't have the inhibitions that it should've had. "Wot 'bout drink?" He asked.

"Not if you're plannin' on goin' aloft, you don't," Oxley returned easily, leaning back against the gun. "Don't want you slippin' or anythin' like that a-cause you can't see straight, or can't hold on or anythin'."

"But later. After we've done t' running?" He pressed on. He really should've better been sober for at such a time he'd have kept his mouth shut and let Sticks , Oxley and the boys do the talking.

Hm. Andrew traced invisible patterns on the cannon barrel, thinking that it might be fun to have a couple of races. First up to the tops and retrieve something. Slop trousers, perhaps...

Grinning, he said, "Races'd be fun. For prizes an' all. Have a lad put somethin' way up the tops an' then the others go scamperin' up after it."

That was something Oxley hadn't thought of. Putting something in the top - or higher, even, possibly, would certainly show who'd won, rather than having everyone claiming the victory. Prizes would be interesting, but could be difficult, unless everyone contributed a bit of rum to give the winner another tot. But that would end up getting someone drunk, which could be fun in its way, but would be frowned on by the officers.

And the 'something' would either have to be heavy enough not to blow away, or have to be tied down. And that made him think of the practical joke they'd played on de Guarde a couple of days ago.

"Bit 'o cloth, mebbe," he said. "I ain't riskin' having a shirt or anythin' torn in bits, but an old necker or summat like that could work."

De Guarde scowled a little, but listened on. Something to climb for to earn the price wasn't a bad idea. Actually, it added something more to the competition. It wasn't just about beating the others but rather about earning something along side.

Having none of his own ideas he leaned back, listening to Oxley and one of the Shepherd boys talk, seeing that soon some of the other boys would add their bits to that.

"Aye." Andrew nodded. Trust Oxley to catch on quick. "The lad what goes up to the tops with it's gotta stay there, though. Make sure it's fair."

Oxley nodded. "Aye. Fair's fair, arter all."

The other boys nodded. "The one who gets it hasta come down with it, an' no scrappin' over it neither," Jacky Fisher said, which made the others nod.

"Dunno about no prize, though," Oxley said, leaning back against the cannon and running a hand through his hair.

"..Could...could it be summat that can be of interest ter anyone 'round 'ere?.. Like not a prize that jus' a drummer would want, or a Ship's boy? " Or an Ex middie, for that matter.

"Kind of, .." But he would not have suggested one thing. Those were his and he did not want to share them with them. Not even as a prize and anyway, if it were a prize and he won, he'd have been winning something that was already his.

"...what if everybody contributed..?" Agh, he was thinking about it, and he'd said it instead of keeping it there. Would mean him too... Splendid.

"If everyone put into it, it'd be fine, but the only thing I can think of sharin' like that is grog - an' that'd likely mean the winner'd end up kissin' the gunner's daughter for it. And I ain't havin' that. Wouldn't be right, that." Oxley leaned his head back, thinking.

"'m sure they wouldn't. None here's.. dumb enough.." He hesitated looking at the boys. ".. meanin'.. everybody 'ere who'd've won would know not ter... yer know. Not ter do it when'ce not right. ..Dun think a pair of slops could be as a prize... next is money.. prize money, but doubt that'd be right. N' a drum's not summat to haggle with.. or t' sticks.. or so. Food neither." Couldn't right store it for later anyhow, not that it was worth the effort.

Andrew poked Fingers in the back of the head when the ship's boy tried sneaking one of the drumsticks off Andrew's crossbelt.

"Mebbe the prize oughta be a free watch's leisure," the drummer said.

"That'd be a good 'un," Oxley said, grinning at Fingers' expression of assumed innocence.

De Guarde looked at what Fingers had done and seemed more distracted by that than the direction their conversation was heading. With a thoughtful expression and lack of any better judgement, he'd gone and attempted to do similar.

With more care - or so he thought - than Fingers too. In the meanwhile he wondered if the boy's name came from just the reason of 'grabby little hands, snatching for other people's property'. Didn't change much with what he was trying to do anyway.

"Get out of it!" Oxley said, noticing one of his drumsticks being tugged downwards from his own crossbelt. That sort of thing might be expected from Fingers, but it was strange to see de Guarde trying it. "Oughta make you take the rag up there, we should, then you'd stay out o' trouble," he said, though it wasn't meant nastily.

De Guarde hmphed and looked up at Oxley, as if making sure it was even spoken to him. When his supicions were somewhat confirmed he shrugged then shook his head and at last scowled. " I want ter compete too." Neither of which though had made him yet release the stick he was trying to tug free. He did act though , or it looked as if he did, that that hand was certainly not his own.

"You can let go me stick, then. Else I might be tempted t'find out if your head sounds as good as me drum." He was grinning, though. "An' if you behave yoursel', you can join in proper." He shrugged. "Ain't fair for one of use lads to put it up there. Mebbe we can ask one of the sailors. Or Jimmy the Greek might."