27th May; Setting sail

"Move smartly there!" Mister Colburn snapped, brandishing his starter.

Fingers stifled a giggle, barely, and flicked his foot out again, kicking the boy in front of him before stepping quickly backward to his proper place. Weighing anchor was dreary work, especially for a small boy like Fingers. The only solution was to find new ways to liven it up.

Being up on deck in the fresh air beat the stuffy enclosed world of below-decks. Especially when you kept getting stupid, boring errands to run all the time.

Terry was enjoying his time up here, following the heavy wet anchor cable as it slithered along the deck, lashed tight to the messenger. Right up until a foot caught his bare ankle, tripping him.

And right in front of Mister Colburn too.

It was all Fingers could do not to burst out laughing when Button stumbled forward. Success!

"Walk straight, boy!" The boatswain's mate barked. "You ain't a lubber!"

"I'll get you for that, I will, Fingers," Terry muttered, regaining his balance, thankful not to have felt Mister Colburn's starter this time. He was a deal too fond of using it, in Terry's opinion.

Fingers' grin stretched from ear to ear. "Luck widdit!" He lifted a hand to scratch at his head, careful to keep moving along with the anchor cable lest Mister Colburn take notice of him next.

"Luck. Hmph." He'd reached the point where the anchor cable led down to the smelly darkness of the cable tier to be stowed, and hastily unfastened his nipper to run for'rard with it to repeat the trip. Mister Colburn was still watching them, bother it.

Mathew observed the women then the port itself more distractedly. The sea itself was fairly tame at the moment, though there was a wind enough. He brought his hand up to his forehead and forced a few loose strands back. They stayed behind his ears for a few moments and then were pulled free by another breath of wind. He scowled and forced them back in place. At the third try he gave up on the battle he had evidently lost and looked to the horizon, unmarred by land. He smiled. Out there there might be adventure yet waiting for them.

He did not see the little boys' mischief, and cared not for it.

Almost to sea again. At last. The time in harbour had been good for their stores but in Tide Evans' opinion, it was past time to head back for open sea. He glanced sidelong at the officers standing close by and tried not to smile. The crew weren't the only ones eager to put land behind them.

A leather-lunged bellow came from up forrard. "Up-and-down!" Well. That hadn't taken long. Comparatively. Tide ran his fingers casually over the helm spokes, easing the great wheel over just slightly. He could feel the tug of current, even through the rudder cables. Not long now. His gaze lifted up to the yards, filled with seamen ready to cast off the harbour gaskets. Not long at all.

"Anchor's hove short!"

Terry spared a glance at the men around the capstan and nearly ran into someone as he headed for'rard again, the nipper wet in his hands from where it had tied the waterlogged anchor cable to the now-wet messenger.

"Watch where you're goin', boy!" The directive was accompanied by a blow of Mister Colburn's starter, which landed squarely across his shoulders and made him catch his breath. That hurt - it always did, and you almost never got any warning it was coming, either.

Fingers couldn't help it. He really couldn't. Trust Button to blunder into somebody like that! It was funny. So Fingers did what he always did when he heard or saw something funny.

He laughed.

"Silence there!" Mister Colburn's start found him next, neatly cutting him off in mid-giggle.

Terry poked his tongue out at Fingers. That'd serve him right, giggling like that right where Mister Colburn could catch him at it!

His back throbbed where the knotted rope's end had struck him, but yet still he grinned. It was too funny not to.

Smirking, Fingers stuck his tongue out back. It was Button's fault he'd laughed!

Terry rolled his eyes at Fingers. "I'm gonna get you later!" he promised, rubbing at his shoulder as he stooped to lash the thick, dripping anchor cable to the messenger again.

Oxley couldn't believe the two younger boys. At least it was nearly over now; the foc'slemen were waiting to cat and fish the anchor so that the thick wet anchor-cable could be unbent and the last few yards could be stowed below and the deck could be flogged dry.

Maybe they could have a skylarking later. That'd be fun.

"Anchor's hove short!"

An eager grin came onto Chase's face. "Not long t'all, now," he said cheerfully.

The mast captain leaned out a little to look toward the quarterdeck. "Stand by the yards," he called out hoarsely.

Almost done. Almost time to part with land and hope they should enter open see very soon. The furthest they were from the coast, the better. He had his reasons to think so, and it had nothing to do with his delight of sailing.

Perry brought himself back to the task at hand on hearing the mast captain's call. Now that he was busy, he had to admit it felt good to be going to sea and working aloft. The prospect of an eventful voyage was enticing, particularly the chance for a fight with the French. Sailing merchant vessels was all very well, but there was nothing quite like a battle at sea. He wondered if he might get to work the guns. He gave his wife one final wave before the next order came.

Later. It was always later. Fingers grinned at the other boy. "Sure you will!"

Terry stuck his tongue out at him. "'Course I will, mate. You oughta b'lieve me by now!"

He giggled. "All talk!"

There were places in the ship that even Button didn't likely know of, but Fingers did. It would be only too easy to hide from him. That was half the fun!

His attention was on the sailhandlers aloft and therefore he missed the glance that passed between the sea officers. But he heard the subsequent bellow for t'g'llants to be loosed. Tide smiled broadly. They were not far from being underway.

Bare feet thundered over the deck as men hurried to their stations at the braces. Tide tightened his grip on the helm just slightly, anticipating the surge of motion when the anchor finally left the seabed.

"Anchor's aweigh!" That was Watts himself bellowing the news and Tide heard a distinct note of eagerness in the boatswain's voice. He too was keen to get to sea again.

"Cast off gaskets," the mast captain barked. The order was not necessary; the men spread out along the yard had begun working the knots loose the instant they'd heard the bellowed order from the quarterdeck. Within seconds, the fore t'g'llant was loosed. The ship seemed to take joyously to the sudden ability to move forward.

Chase laughed aloud. "We're off an' livin' again!"

De Guarde hurried to free the knot and did it in good time, casting the sail off with the rest. He smiled in relief, letting out the breath he was not aware of holding. Glancing at Chase he grinned. "No errs." He felt his heart beat fast and strong in his chest. The thrill, the success all that had him grin like an idiot. It wasn't a task too hard, but even so he had done it as well as the rest.

"No indeed!" Chase grinned. No errors, no slips at all. Nothing now but the open sea ahead of them.

At last!

"We're gettin' off now, ain't we?" The boy had no problem with the heights, so that wasn't really the reason he was asking. But if they were no longer needed up in the tops and they needed to drop to the deck to do something else entirely, he did not want the officers to be angered by them hanging abouts where they oughtn't be. He still had a feeling that there was nothing more needed, much, but thought to have Chase pass that judgement. "Who's turn is it ter be mess cook, 'Cob?" Or he could think briefly about food. Not the common topic.