Hold Hideaway

His tankard was hardly better than a battered tin lump, but it was his. Fingers clutched to his chest and hurried after Button and Stenhouse. After everything that had happened today, the rum issue would be a great relief.

He spotted Corporal Johnson standing by the big tub and grinned. Maybe the grumpy old Marine wasn't quite so bad. Fingers' grin became a giggle. There was a smear of dirt on Johnson's jacket-tail!

"Silence in the rank, there," Johnson snapped. It would be that scamp Fingers. He sighed. As far as ship's boys went, Fingers wasn't so bad. Better than some, anyway!

"Draw your tots an' move along."

Silence? They weren't Marines, were they? Still... Terry poked Fingers. "'Urry up, do," he whispered, wanting to get his own tot.

He needed no real urging, despite Johnson's obvious state of temper. "Movin'," he said cheerfully, shuffling forward with his tin mug held out.

The master's mate carefully poured the ration into the waiting mug, mindful not to spill a drop, then waved Fingers away.

Terry followed him, still a little cautious of the Corporal, though he'd been nice earlier - and surprised Terry and probably all the other boys too. He still wasn't going to risk having the Corporal blow up at him. Nice or not, he had a short temper.

"C'mon," Fingers urged, grinning. He had his tot now. It was only a matter of waiting for Button. Slow!

Button help his own battered tankard out for the master's mate to fill and dodged nimbly aside once it was returned to him, though he was careful not to spill any of it. "Comin', ain't I!"

With a broad grin, Fingers scurried back to his chosen bench and wasted no time settling in. Jimmy Young had fetched their mess kid, being the first to claim his own tot, and was doling out portions of brown something-or-other onto each plate.

"Wha's this?" Fingers asked, eying a tankard that sat, unclaimed, on the table.

Wha's what?" Terry wanted to know, settling down. He spied the unclaimed tankard. "Oh. Dunno. Never seed that afore."

"Sommody lef' it," Jimmy said. "Din't say why or who fer."

Fingers leaned forward to peer into the tankard. "Think it's rum," he said after dipping a finger into the tankard's contents and giving it a taste.

"So's mine. Well, grog," Terry said. and frowned. "Rum, not grog? You sure?" Who on earth would leave a can of neat rum on their mess-table? And why? It simply didn't make sense!

Fingers' head bobbed. "Rum, arrigh'. Taste it!"

The other boys had returned by now and were gazing in varying degrees of interest at the tankard.

"Shame to waste it," Stenhouse said.

"Well, it it ain't ourn," Terry said doubtfully, though he agreed with Johnny Stenhouse. It would be a shame to waste it. "What if whoever it belong to comes back an' it's all gone?"

"S'they own lookout," Fingers offered, before jamming a gravy-soaked bit of biscuit into his mouth. " 'Ey def at."

That was true enough. "Share it out 'tween all'f us?" Terry suggested, and tapped a biscuit on the table before breaking it against his elbow.

There were nods around the table. That was only fair. Stenhouse took charge of the tankard and started it around the table, after helping himself to a good swallow.

Fingers poked Button in the shoulder. "Gonna eat tha'?"

"Yeah, You want some, the bread-barge is there, mate," Terry said stoutly, dunking the resulting bits into the gravy on his plate, and then cramming a piece into his mouth.

That wasn't what he'd meant. Smirking, Fingers swiped a bit of biscuit off Button's plate.

"Hoi! Eat y'r own an' let mine alone!" Terry said, grabbing at a bit from Fingers' plate in retaliation.

It was to be like that, eh? Fingers snatched a small chunk of meat - it was probably meat, anyway - away from Button's plate.

"You gots more'n me!"

"I ain't!" And even if he had, he was bigger than Fingers. "Don't go wastin' it!" Throwing food around could probably be fun... but they wouldn't be able to eat it, and that meant going hungry till suppertime.

"Ain't!" Fingers declared, stuffing the meat into his mouth. "Fee?"

Stenhouse shook his head. "Belay that, or neither of you'll get your shares of rum!"

Terry sighed. "Anyone else want dinner off'f me plate?" he asked, rolling his eyes at Fingers, before cramming a bit of meat into his own mouth and licking his fingers. He had a spoon somewhere, but it was too much bother to find it.

Jimmy Young grinned. "If you's offerin'..."

The strange tankard came 'round to Fingers' place. He lifted it and snuck two swallows before passing it to Button. It was rum all right. Neat rum and all. He coughed as it ran down his throat, then grinned. "Good!"

"Gerroff out of it!" Terry said, pulling his plate towards him and shovelling food into his mouth. Give them an inch and they'd take a mile! Honestly...!

He took the tankard from Fingers and had a mouthful. That was proper rum, that was. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before passing the tankard on to Jacky Fisher.