Boys at Play, 2nd June

It wasn't skiving if nobody else was supposed to be working either, Terry reasoned, and slipped off somewhere quiet once he'd finished his food, pulling out a bit of spunyarn to fiddle with. By his reckoning, he had the best part of two bells before he ought to be back anywhere near the purser. The noontime meal gave everyone a whole hour to themselves, and he meant to make the most of it.

He managed to eat his share quickly and had then decided that he could spend some of his time, when in sick bay but not at work, in writing and the dealings of paper. Even if he just wanted it for the vague attempts to sketch, to draw perhaps a landmark that they knew well, or whichever the reason, he just wanted those papers closer at hand. He felt somewhat sore and tired, though satisfied with himself for the successful 'operation' that he had conducted only sometime earlier that day.

Mister Farley had been pleased with him, which only made the day so much lovelier, even with the aches and pains. Though the second treat of laudanum helped a million for that.

For a brief moment he thought he caught a glimpse of a boy hiding as if he had reason to. He had actually taken a step back, as if thinking the trap was to be sprung at any moment. Only then did he try to remind himself that his mind had just made very little sense with coming to such a conclusion! He hesitated thought. Stood in place and turned half way. "..'s there any'un'?" He braved himself to say.

The voice made him start violently. He'd nearly bolted to his feet and was in the act of shoving his piece of spunyarn back into his pocket when he came to his senses. The voice wasn't a man's and hadn't sounded angry; it had been pretty hesitant, in fact.

His heart was still pounding a bit as he moved to try to get a better look at the speaker. "'S only me," he said, wondering if he was going to get into trouble somehow. He nearly always seemed to be in trouble of one sort or another, and it wasn't fair.

"S'only me, who?" The lad asked, though he was starting to have an idea as to who he might be discovering. He took a step forward again. Another to the side and then another forward, careful not to have his trousers ride across his posteriors too much.

"...Button?"He asked. "'s that you there?"

"Ye-es," he replied hesitantly. Was de Guarde likely to get him in trouble - it sounded like de Guarde. No matter how he tried to hide it, he didn't sound like the other boys; his accent was too refined, no matter how he dropped letters.

"You ain't gonna tell, are you?"

"Tell wot'?" His shoulders slouched and relaxed some. It was only Button. Good to know. He approached him and then shifted closer so that he would not need to talk loudly for the boy to hear him. "..Ain' m' place to tell wot'ever you're up to." Though if Button had been planning mutiny De Guarde would have been obliged to tell someone superior!

"Wot' you doin' here?"

"Nuffin'," Terry said, conveniently forgetting that he was supposed be somewhere after the crew's dinner-hour was over, and sat down again. "Was doin' cat's cradle, a bit." He pulled the string out of his pocket. "Here - you ever done it?"

He looped the spunyarn round his hands, slipped his fingers through and pulled his hands apart, revealing a pattern of string.

"That don't look like no cat's cradle." He studied the pattern of string speculatively. It did not resemble anything much, and certainly not something a cat would be found in!

"What's.. it about?" He hesitantly leaned closer to see. He did not intend to sit himself down, not unless he forget that it was not his intention!

"It's called a cat's cradle. It's just makin' shapes - patterns - wiv the string, see?" He frowned. "Look if you take it - careful - you slip your 'ands in so's I can get mine out, an' I'll show you."

"Why's it called a cat's cradle? Not even Emily would've fit in there." He did as told, though he was still standing and so had to lean pretty low to get the string. It did not help that the angle was not best for seeing what he was doing.

He lowered himself a bit and tried again. "...So.. I took it like this.. 's a'right?"

Terry shrugged. "Dunno. Just is." He squinted at the string - doing it down here probably wasn't the best idea, but he wasn't sure he wanted to risk being seen topside, not after the other day. "Looks arright t'me. Here, I'll show you..." He put his finger and thumb through, pressing them together with a cross-over of string in the circle thus made, and brought his hands up, opening them out to take the string off de Guarde's hands and rearrange it into a different pattern.

"....um.. how d' ye know it ain't going to break in a spectacular way, ..with wot fingers yer can put in it?" He asked that and had rested himself on his knees. "Why d' ye do it anyway?...s' got no seemin' value of.. actually bein' o' use later in time." Which games were like. It was not necessary that they would enable the child tp grow.

"Don't marrer - it's on'y a bit o' spunyarn tied inta a loop, see," Terry said. "It's jus' a bit o' fun, see - won't 'urt anyone or anyfing like that." He shrugged. "Got in awful trouble the other day, me an' Fingers done. Wanna stay out o' that if I can 'elp, an' all."

"Wot sort o' trouble?" He tried to remember if he heard any rumours or if he was perhaps not thinking of something he should have. Finally he decided to get down to Button's level and did so by lying down. He winced and grunted once, looked quite annoyed at that, and then relaxed again once on the floor even if he was rather crammed there. "You have t' be doin' yer work o' punishment, but you ain't wanting to?" He asked.

He worked in the sickbay not so much as a punishment but as a way to be of use during his light duties, and oddly enjoyed it. But then, Mister Farley was a really good and kind man and he had nice words for him too!

Terry shook the string off his hands, letting the loop dangle from one thin wrist as he held his other hand out, palm up. "Ever... ever heared of a tawse?" he asked, not expecting the answer to be affirmative.

He glanced at the palm, though he was not sure whether he was meant to look at that, or the lad. He decided to lift his gaze up to his face and found himself smiling. If it was the sort of tawse he knew, then yes. For once he did not appear ignorant of it. "..I did, seen it too." He said then shrugged. That was enough to tell Button that this lad just knew!

"Wot' of it? You snatched it up and hid it somewhere, where nobody could ever find it again?"

Now, how did he know that? Terry narrowed his eyes at the other boy a little, but said nothing about it.

"Might've," the boy answered, responding to the other lad's question. "Pusser uses it a damn sight too much, an' I don't want to be anywheres near 'im if I can 'elp it, see. Uses it when 'e've got no cause to. 'Urts like bloody 'ell, it does, an' all."

"It does." He paused and added simply. "It must do.. So what did you do? You mentionin' it couse you hid it? Or couse you're 'fraid that you have t' go t' d' pusser who's thinking of using it on you for slackin'?" He shifted a bit. Ow. Ok, better. "If yer didn' steal it, what did you get up to with Fingers ter account fer... well. This?"

He did not forget, and was somewhat sulky still that Button did not come to the sickbay at all after the flogging. Of course he could not have expected it from that boy. But Oxley? Not even he came. Nor Chase. If he had not found a forage hat, a marine forage hat that is, he might not have remembered a different man coming to see him. This article of 'clothing' was now safely tucked under his shirt and when not there, it was just safely hid away so nobody could find and steal it.

"Was on'y sayin' 'bout it 'cause I'm keepin' away from the pusser a bit so's 'e don't go usin' it on me." That was false logic, of course, but Terry didn't care about that. "Uses it alla time, 'e does, for no reason if 'e feels like it. An' if I ain't there, 'e can't 'it me wiv it, can 'e?"

"Well. No. He can't hit you with it when you ain't there. But you will eventually have t' stop shirkin' from duty. An' then.. when you comes to him then.. he'll give ye twice t' beatin'. One, fer shirkin'.. an' one couse he'd like it anyhow." He reasoned resting that way, propped on one elbow.

"If you did all 'e told ye to and did it well , even he wouldn't know wot' t' use that on ye for... 'least not on this ship. Couse.. it's different, see. It's don't got such real bad characters." Except some. Like, for example that Shriver, that Cattling, that other guy, then both Mister Bush and Mister Leat,... ok, maybe he was mistaken. But it was still somewhat better!

Buckles was probably right, but there was no way Terry was going anywhere near Mister Foxley unless he absolutely had to - even with the tawse safely hidden. There was always the possibility he'd find something else to use instead, but there was no sense risking it, was there?

"'E's jus' a mean sod, the pusser is. Picks on folks like me 'cause we's there, ain't we?" He dropped his hand and fiddled with the string. "Even in a good ship, lads like me gotta watch out 'cause there's folks as like makin' things all bad fer us."

"Aye. But if yer shirkin' from duty all going a' hiding. Wot else would these folk want t' do but punish ye for it?... I got a whole bloody spectacle done, couse I didn'.....well you know wot' 'appened. " He scowled as he really did not know how to explain it better on the grounds of that example so he changed tact.

"..Why don' ye see if you can be workin' fer summon' else if you don't like it there. Sure you ain't condemned ter work jus' fer t' pusser.. are ye?"

"Ain't anythin' to be done, though - I lef' it all neat an' tidy earlier," Terry said, shifting a little, uncomfortable. "Ain't got no choice, bein' a boy - like I can't change me mess like the men can." He poked with a bare toe at the deck planking. "T'ain't fair, that, jus' 'cause I ain't all growed up yet."

"Well yer can come o'er can't ye?....N' don' say yer friends in ye mess ain't good.. couse I knows you like stickin around them." He studied Button. He thought the lad's life was pretty nice. Here at least. He had food, he had a ship full of friends and only needed to worry about the bossun.

"Ifn' you lie low n' do 'zactly wot' t' bossun says.. .well, if he ain't got no reason to smack ye.. I'm sure he'll let ye be, like you is." Button told him to get lost last time, but he could not bring himself to bring that up. It was, as it was.

"They is, but if they wasn't, I couldn't shift messes." He shrugged. "It's the pusser, any'ow, not the bosun." He looked at de Guarde, feeling a little awkward, and looked away, winding the string around his hands again to start another cat's cradle. "On'y telled you to go 'way that time 'cause... 'cause I din't want you gettin' in no trouble neither, see."