Hold Hideaway

It felt better too. Almost like normal. Fingers wrestled his way into the corporal's jacket and wished for a moment that he had a Marine's round hat.

"Almost like a lobster!" He said, some of his usual cheer returning. "Better 'haved'n 'em two, even!"

Terry chuckled at him. "You could always borrow one'f theirs, though." He looked a bit odd in Terry's hat and without the mass of hair he usually had, though Terry didn't think the surgeon had cut off as much as they'd thought. Though... it was still pretty dark down here, even with a lantern, and he couldn't be quite sure.

"A'ri'!" Andrew gasped, his voice sounding strangled. His brother had him solidly in a headlock. "Gi' o'!"

With a laugh, Thomas released his hold on Andrew's neck and rolled to the side, his own chest heaving. "Sorry 'bout that," he wheezed. "Summody needed sortin'."

"You two allus do," Terry said, grinning. "Think Fingers oughta have a proper hat. And he already out-ranks you!" He pointed to the white chevrons on the sleeve, laughing.

So he did. Fingers puffed up as much as he could and tried to mimic Corporal Johnson's gruff voice. "Get up, you slackers! No loungin' or nothin'."

Terry laughed. He couldn't help it. It was good to see Fingers practically back to his old self, though.

Both Shepherds scrambled to their feet and stood stiff at attention, struggling to keep straight faces.

"Aye, Corporal," they chorused.

"You's all crazy," Terry said, holding his side. He was starting to get a stitch from laughing too hard.

The sleeves hung several inches past his hands, making it difficult to wrap his arms around his aching sides, but he managed. At length, as he regained his breath, Fingers looked more steadily at the twins.

"Cheers, you twos. S'there... s'there anythin' left'a me hammock?"

He remembered the surgeon saying that he would have to get new bedding from the purser. That would set him back even more in the accounting books.

Terry bit his lip as well. New slops and new bedding and hammocks... Was there really any way of getting out of having to go to Mister Foxley for new stuff? He hoped so; Fingers didn't deserve to have to pay, whatever anyone else thought.

"Oh, that." Thomas glanced quickly at his brother and grinned. "C'mon, fella, that's sommmat you oughta see your own self."

See... What was there to see? Terry didn't get it and frowned at the two older boys before turning to Fingers. "C'mon, bet it's summat real good!"

What were those two about?

"Show us!" Fingers burst out, grabbing up the trailing ends of the jacket. Had the surgeon been put off stealing Fingers' hammock and bedding? The twins smirked and one of them grabbed the lantern, leading the way back toward the ladder.

They emerged onto the orlop, and Terry half-expected them to make their way towards the purser's store-room, but they didn't. He shrugged, and hid a grin at the sight of Fingers in a coat that was far too big for him.

"Hey, I gots an idea," Andrew said as they came onto the orlop. "C'mere..."

He bent swiftly and hefted the small boy up, holding him so he could mutter quickly in his ear. Thomas, now holding the lantern, chuckled. His brother was no better than a boy himself.

A moment later there was a giggle and Fingers crawled nimbly over Andrew's shoulder to cling to his back, the jacket hanging loosely around both of them. To a casual glance, it looks as though Andrew was wearing a corporal's jacket like a cape.

The odd little group headed up again, to the messdeck.

Terry blinked, and then giggled as Fingers scrambled up onto the back of one of the twins. With the corporal's jacket on, Fingers was practically hidden from sight, and it looked as though the drummer had a cape or something on.

"Don't you go fallin' off the ladder, you two," Terry muttered as they reached the companionway up to the messdeck.

Fingers wrapped his legs around the drummer's middle and let his arms dangle on either side of the older boy's neck. He was small enough to make no outline at all under the jacket.

"Ain't gonna fall off nothin', the drummer said airily, heading up the ladder without obvious difficulty.

Tucked under the jacket, Fingers was hard-pressed not to giggle. This was prime!

"That's all right then," Terry said, darting up the steep steps in front of the pair of them. Whatever had the twins got in store for Fingers?

The lantern was extinguished now, no longer being necessary, and Thomas handed it off to a grateful-looking Dickin - who came over directly upon spotting them. He must've been the one Andrew had gotten it from. Now suitably unencumbered, Thomas headed forrard, moving ahead of the other three.

"Chicken!" He called in a moderated shout, wanting this to be as much a surprise as possible. "Got it all?"

Chicken Dyer grinned broadly at him, dusting off his hands theatrically. "Ready!"

"What? What've you got?" Terry was as eager to see what Fingers was getting as if he was getting it himself. For boys who had no home, the ship's crew was as close as they'd ever come to having a family, and surprises came more usually in the form of a strike from a starter than something nice.

Something was going on. He couldn't see, having his face pressed close against the Marine drummer's back, but it sounded good!

"Well now, you lads," the Shepherd said, sounding surprised. "What's alla this?"

A sailor - it was Dyer, by his voice - laughed and replied, "Ain't for you, Shepherd! Where's that scamp Fingers got to? 'F he's misisn' out on his - "

Fingers didn't wait to hear the rest. He released his hold on the drummer and dropped gracelessly to the deck. Somebody chuckled when he righted himself, half-tangled up in Corporal Johnson's jacket. What he saw made him gape.

His old hammock was gone, but there was another hanging in its place. A much better kept one, at that. Chicken Dyer stood near it, grinning fit to burst.

"But..." Where had that come from? Mister Foxley wouldn't just issue a new hammock and bedding just like that, and not without someone signing for it. "Where...?"

"Never you mind," the Shepherds chorused.

Chicken stepped forward and hefted the slack-jawed Fingers off the deck, swinging him up into the hammock, jacket and all. "C'mon then! Tell us how it fits!"

The boy offered a delighted laugh by way of reply.

It was... It was something, to see them do something like this for Fingers, the smallest (and, until two bells ago, the dirtiest) member of Terpsy's crew. Terry felt a bit jealous that it was all happening to Fingers, but Fingers was his friend, and he wanted to be pleased for him, and he was, more pleased than jealous, he thought...

He stepped forward and stroked the new hammock, with a finger as though it would vanish under his lightest touch. "'S'real nice, this," he said. "You's...." He was going to say 'lucky', but that wasn't the right word. "'S nice," he said again, and wished someone would be this nice to him one day.

The canvas felt strange. Fingers rubbed his feet thoughtfully along the edge of the hammock, thinking it would feel just like his old one before long.

"Pusser ain't gonna come nickin' it back, izzhe?" Maybe if he did, Fingers would get his old hammock back... he wriggled out of the oversized jacket and left it hanging from the back edge of the hammock.

Dyer shook his head. "Nope. We seen to that. He don't know a thing."

Good then. Maybe. Fingers lifted a hand to scratch at his hair. His hand touched wool and he remembered most of it was gone. His smile faded a little with this realisation. This was Terry Button's hat he was wearing. his shirt and trousers had come from the Shepherds. The hammock... he had no idea. It seemed that most of what he owned now wasn't truly his. That wasn't really fair.

"Button," he said, tugging the hat off. "Gotchyer hat." When he had a chance, he'd give the shirt and trousers back too. It wasn't like he didn't have his own clothes, after all.