On the Gundeck

(Oxley and de Guarde come from here. Open to anyone on the gundeck to join in.)

De Guarde waited a moment to give Oxley a head start, and then followed after the elder lad, considering the drummer boy's words. That would be alright. He'd learn it and have someone to lead him through if he did something stupid.

"N' not trip is it?" He called behind him in an amused tone.

"No. You don't want to go doin' that at all - might get kicked or summat, an' that'd hurt," Oxley said in an amused voice. He reached the deck and stepped hurriedly out of the way in case de Guarde should take it into his head to land on him. "Quick now, we're needed on the gun-deck," he said and led the way down, running for'rard to find that he was going to be carrying powder for Number Five gun of which battery, larboard or starboard, would be firing.

"You got Number Six, looks like," he said, turning to see where the other lad had got to.

He had to quicken his pace if he meant to keep up with the taller boy, and so did his best not to loose him. Ducking past a sailor coming up the companionway, then ducked low under another just as he'd seen the lad disappear. For a moment, no more, though.

With a bit of breath, he'd stopped by, and grinned with a nod. "Number six!" He exclaimed, then more quietly: " Ain't wantin' t' get kicked."

"Come fer a bit of fun, didyer?" Thomas Shepherd asked, setting his powder bucket down near the Number Four gun. He grinned excitedly at the other two boys, feeling pleased that he'd won the coin-toss with his brother. "Spare a grin fer poor ol' Andrew, lads! Got no luck, that 'un."

On the weather deck, Corporal Johnson was bawling irritably at the remaining Marines, detailing them off to their various stations. His was just one more voice shouting amongst several others.

"Mebbe one day he'll figger you've got a two-headed coin. That, or he'll stop callin' tails," Oxley returned. He indicated de Guarde with a thumb. "This's de Guarde, who's figured it's more fun with us lads and decided to learn how the other half lives, rather'n runnin' messages for the Captain and l'tenants. Just you watch he don't end up sneakin' off with your jacket an' tellin' everyone he's a Marine really." He grinned. "Dunno quite what he wants us to call him, though." He turned to the boy in question. "You never said, an' I ain't asked you, mate," he said, with a slight frown.

De Guarde blinked surprised wondering if Oxley was only joking or if the other lad was nought but cheating successfully. He'd be sure not to call tails ever, if he'd go to a betting with him, he made a note of that and smiled.

He felt his cheeks burning embarrassed at his introduction and the way it was explained. It sounded a lot more uplifting than if Oxley would have called him disrated. It made a grin appear on his face and then he nodded in greeting. He giggled at how Oxley warned the boy and made it seem as if he was considering that, and eyed the uniform quite as if taking the measurements. See if it was the proper size, rather than have something that would have him swim in it, with how big it would be.

"Uh call. Well, Chase calls me Buckles." He looked embarrassed. That's Cob', he does. "n' same , how may I call either of yer?.. I doubt ." and to that he added tease to his voice, and a chuckle, a look of merryment in his eyes." that a drummin' lobster one and two would do the trick." There wasn't any malice in his voice, for he meant none of that with his words.

Oxley grinned. "That ain't so far from the truth, neither. He's Tom Shepherd, an' I'm Tom Oxley. They lads call me Ol' Tom, 'case of I'm older'n him. And his brother Andrew's called Sticks. Or Andrew, o' course. He's the one up topside to do the drummin' at the moment."

He looked along the gundeck at the other powder monkeys, ships' boys all of them, several of whom were looking wide-eyed at him and de Guarde. "Have to interduce you to the others, after all this is over and done with," he said, wondering how Johnny Stenhouse would react to being in close proximity to the boy who had given him a bruised shoulder just for doing what the doctor wanted him to do.

The last bits and pieces of bulkhead and furniture had vanished below and Oxley stared aft, seeing the wide sweep of windows at the stern, that were usually hidden behind bulkheads and guarded by a Marine. "Captain's lucky, havin' them windows to hisself," he said quietly, as the appearance of the second and third lieutenants cast a damper on things.

He motioned to de Guarde. "If you've got summat to say, just keep it a bit quiet," he mouthed, once he had the younger lad's attention.

Tom, ol' Tom, Sticks or Andrew. Well, atleast they were not too many different names to remember. And he could easily get away with just saying Tom and get one of them or both to answer.

"Aye, I know." He answered more quietly. Though usually he'd have been the one shouting, his coat wasn't on his shoulders and he wasn't one to relay the message for the firing.

"We'll be deaf soon , if there's firin' ter be done." He added, just as quietly remembering what of the happenings above. "..er'..ought I be goin' up firs'.. fr' t' sails?" Well splendid, he hadn't been thinking all that much, just what he had to do here, below.

"You got a necker, ain't you?" Oxley said. "Tie that round your ears an' it'll help, a bit. Like the other lads've done." He shrugged. "If the quarter-bill says you've to go up and help trim sails when we're at quarters, that's what you're supposed to do. Otherwise, sit tight. I shouldn't think you'd be a sail-trimmer in battle anyway, though. But you'd know better'n me what you're supposed to be doing when."

The day had surprised him; he'd never expected such a result when he'd offered that first, hesitant apology earlier. He had a lot to tell Foley, and knew that without the steward's encouragement, he wouldn't have tried to make it up with de Guarde. He'd been shocked to realised the other boy had never had a friend his own age before, and wondered how long it would be before the other boys accepted him as one of them, though it would take longer for some than for others. Johnny kept shooting him wry looks, seemingly glad Seamus Finnegan was between him and de Guarde.

Ah, then he'd understood right. He thought there was a bit of a.. well, misunderstanding on when he were to be where. Now he was glad that he hadn't been on the list, and enough hands were there even with the few chosen ones missing for the boat.

"Do have it..bu' best wait fer now. Won't 'ear a thing yer sayin' if I be puttin' it on." Not when they weren't talking too loud. Either of the two. He caught Johnny's look, and averted his gaze quickly enough. He felt the eyes on him, of few choice boys who were already waiting till their services were to be needed.

"N' now we wait n' wait.. n' hope the winds will favour us." He murmured. The worst part of preparing for battle was having to actually wait for it. And now they didn't even know if there was one! With the other ship in more favourable weather...

"If we'm chasin' a Frenchy.. wot' ye think our own would be feelin'? Hope he don't interfere or summat!"

"I dunno. I think the other ship seemed a lot further out, and mebbe we'll have to beat to wind'ard to catch him." Which might mean there wasn't a fight after all, but there was no way Oxley was going to say that. This could just be a long old chase... but how long would it be, and would the Captain decide eventually that picking up his men from the beach was the better option? And if he did, would they see the other ship ever again?

He hadn't even seen a flag or anything on the other ship - they just seemed to be taking it for granted that she was French, he thought, and didn't say that, either.

"You ever bin in action afore?" he asked instead.

"Aye. Well not as ..er a Tar, n' more than t' las' time Terpsy fought." Since last time he was seated in the middie's berth and could only listen and wonder what happened above. But in an actual battle, where people were to be injured and killed, well there he was.

" Takes a good lon' time ter be in range ter give a proper trashin'." He glanced at the cannon and thought of the sail. Who of his mess had been left on land. Barrow, Chase, .. and.. well he hadn't looked too attentive when they were leaving and might just have regretted that now.

"..we left some fine hands on land.." He murmured then added quickly: " well, not all."

That was true enough. He'd probably have been one of the middies running messages or something on his other ship.

"It allus takes ages to get in range. Longer, if there's a chase," Oxley said, drumming his fingers on his cartridge-case. He shrugged. "There's some decent Marines gone ashore and all, and some not so decent ones." He'd seen Shriver climbing into the boat, and Branning.

"Who'd you get on with best, in your mess?" he asked curiously, wondering who de Guarde messed with.

"Not so decent ones?" Having the fortune of meeting at most, the better marines, he hadn't yet the experience of Shriver and so was surprised to learn that there were some, that would be called so. Even more, as it was Terpsy and most did speak well of her. Thompson in high regards too.

"There's those kin' of marines, really?" He asked half in jest and half serious.

Thinking of the next question he shrugged: "..Well.. there's one who's not likin' me much at all n' such.. though, I'um.. Hmm. Well Cob's a nice. N'.. t' cloth on me eye .. that's wot' Westdale 'elped me with so .. is uh, dunno if i'um getting on with anyone to the poin' of callin' it best, but Is starting ter feel safe 'bout them. That's fer sure."

"Y'know Brannin', I 'spect," Oxley said, checking to make sure the lieutenants weren't going to stop all conversation. "Well, there's one almost his size, but who ain't so easy-goin'. Shriver, his name is. He's a bit of a bully like - he's the one the Frenchy passenger hit, with an apple. If all what I heard was right. You stick with folks like Thompson and Cob Chase an' you'll be all right."

"Brannin'..." He began thinking that Oxley would name the man as one of the troublemakers, but came to silence very quickly when he learnt his error. "Uh'm... but this Shriver.. doesn't fully sound like a bad kin' of man.. well wot' t' rumours are t' be at." He nodded thoughtfully.

"He's got a temper on him. I mean, well, Corp'ral Jonhson's just grumpy, like, but Shriver's got a temper. He don't like nothin' or nobody and he don't care who knows it. He's allus grumblin' abut summat or other. And he's got a punch worse'n a horse's kick if you get in his way." He rubbed his shoulder, scowling as he did so.

"He hurt yer already?" He asked surprised that there would be such a man, amongst the marines no less! But then he reminded himself that he had argued and fought with Oxley too, so marines were not to be without fault and he nodded slowly.

" He's not pickin' fights tho, is he? N'... he'd not do with one less than half 'is size, surely." He asked, curiously.

"He... Well, I reckon he'd try to pick a fight, if folks would let him and wasn't wise to his tricks." He glanced along the deck. Good; none of the Lieutenants were looking their way.

"I think he'd bin drinking or summat like that, and I come runnin' along for some reason. Didn't stop in time and bumped right into him. He damn knocked me flying. Had a bruise for a week after that and could hardly raise me arm right. Hurt like blazes to have me drum crossbelt on by itself, never mind with me drum clipped to it."

"Aye. That's good t' know. I mean.. wot''s he like." Yet he still thought that Johnson was worse, he'd laid some rather nastily painful blows, if he could remember well.

He glanced over his shoulder and was glad also that the lieutenant's had their attention still elsewhere. To stand and be silent for such a long time till engagement wasn't something of an ideal.

"... but 's he like it when sober or when drunk only? Ye said he'd been drinkin' when yer bumped inter him, right?"

"I wouldn't cross him when he's sober, neither. The other Marines're all right, but you want to keep away from Shriver if you can. Trust me, all right?"

"I'll try ter. Though I can't go shoutin' Shriver, get ou' of t' marine's berth, when I go visit me ..." He paused a moment." Friends." He finished with a grin. "Well I could, but if he were in it'.. then I'd possibly be needin' ter run t' other way, eh?" He caught himself right before he'd have laughed out loud. What a close one it was too! He covered his mouth with a hand instead quickly and stiffled any of the sort that threatened to come.

Oxley chuckled at that thought. "If you come a-visitin', I ain't anywheres near him, nor's Thompson. Nor's Tom Shepherd here or Sticks. We ain't daft. And Shriver keeps to himself, mostly, 'cept when he's grumblin' about summat, and then we all know he's in a sulk."

And maybe if de Guarde could come visiting the Marines' berthdeck, he could go visiting the sailors'. Not that he didn't anyway, just, well, he was usually after one of the boys for something. They were good kids, Terpsy's boys. Most of them were orphans or something like that, so Terpsy was the only home they had. At least Oxley had a family if anything happened and he had to leave the Corps.

"Um' .." Perhaps the reason why De Guarde was having doubts in the vileness of the man was for it had reminded him of something. And being told the man was keeping to himself..

"Wot' he grumblin' about? doesn' he like ter be 'ere, on Terpsy as a marine? I know yer lovin' t' uniform, and Thompson likes ter be wot' he is too n'.."He looked over at the other drummer boy." I reckon most of ye do so. "

Something as forbidden as a Tar and Marine as friends, and he'd have been protesting if someone had just told him that it were not allowed here. When put in a different perspective, it certainly felt a good deal less convincing as usual.

"Everythin'," Oxley replied shortly. "The weather, the food, the people, Corp'ral Johnson, Sar'nt Quinn, the Frenchy... I dunno for why he bothered to join up. Wasn't like he had to - Marines don't press like the Navy does. We recruit like the Army." He shrugged. "He was on punishment drill yesterday - you might've seen him. Had to march round the weather-deck for... well, till the Corp'ral got tired of him. Jimmy the Greek said he tripped over and dropped his musket - right at the Corp'ral's feet. Stupid thing to do, that."