Slacking off in the Sun

"Mebbe," Terry allowed ."Ain't like we got any good 'speriences of goin' to see 'im, neiver. Hey!" His hands flew to his head as he felt his hat get pulled off. He turned to thump de Guarde - not maliciously, but in protest at the other boy's making off with his headgear. "Gis that back, you! An' them Tars only go to see 'im when there's summat real wrong wiv 'em, like the toothache or... or the clap."

De Guarde turned half way around, so that his shoulder and back shielded him from the boy's assault and he was stifling giggles all the while he did that. He cradled the hat to his chest with his other hand, clutching onto it protectively.

"Finders, keepers." Though he was just playing. he did not really mean to run off with that hat. "You's ever had any o' them ailiments. I heard o' clap.. they say it's real nasty!"

Terry thumped him again, grinning. "You wan' a proper fight, I'll give you a proper fight over it!" he said. "An' no, never had the clap. 'Ad toothache though - 'ad to 'ave a tooth pulled. 'Urt like bloody billy-oh, that done. Rotten sod it was what pulled it."

De Guarde made a face and shuddered. Having a tooth pulled out like Button described it sounded much more awful than having clap! He laughed and stuffed the hat into his shirt then turned around holding both hands out. "Ain't got nothin' you's thumpin' me for!" He exclaimed and held his hands forward pressing them against Button's shoulders, once he actually located those. " See, empty 'ands! T' rat ran off with yer hat, she did! You're thumpin' the wrong man!"

"Go on an' pull the other leg - it's got bells on," Terry retorted. The other boy better not have put his hat down anywhere - he'd never find it again if he had - there was no way he'd ever be able to get hold of a lantern to have a proper look. He thumped de Guarde again, before giving him a playful shove. "Gi's it back or I'll make you wish you 'ad," he said, mock-fiercely.

"Tole you! T' rat got it!" He playfully reached for Button's leg, to pull it as if he thought Button serious about the belly." Ey, I don' hear anythin'. Yo doof!" He said and shoved against Button.

"You ought t' run after it. Might still be able ter get it before she runs into a hole an' makes lill' baby rats on it!" He stifled another laugh and thumped the lad in retaliation.

Terry grinned and shoved back. "Din't hear no rat, not 'nless it was a big'n wiv two arms an' two legs that sounds like a Tar," he said, and punched de Guarde back, still not with enough force to hurt him.

"Are ye callin' me a Rat?" The boy made himself sound hurt, which was only emphesized by the gasp when he was punched. He grinned - which Button could not see anyway - and fell back as if knocked out. He yelped because he did hit his head against something solid that he could not have seen earlier. But then, he stiffened and lay still wondering what Button would do.

There was a gasp when Terry's punch landed, then a bang and a yelp... then nothing.

"Sh*t!" What was he supposed to do now?

Had he knocked de Guarde out? He hadn't hit him that hard, he knew he hadn't. He felt for where the other boy was, and bit his lip as he found him lying down. His hands came into contact with something softer than it ought to be and he grinned momentarily, realising that de Guarde had stuffed his hat down his shirt. It took only a second to retrieve it - he'd always had quick hands - before pulling it back on and going back to checking how the other boy was.

"You alright, mate?"

De Guarde groaned pitifully then both his hands came to Button's sides. He was somewhat aware of where the boy was, by how he heard him move and where he felt the hands. "Fooled ye!" He grinned and then went on to tickle the lad, completely oblivious that the hat had already been retrieved. Though it was odd that he did not feel the itch of the fabric against his chest, no more.

And there was also the fact that the spot wasn't as warm as it had been earlier and when he bent over - which he was doing now, to go after Button - he did not feel the fabric drag across the soft part of the hat. "You should have... uh heard y'self all panicked!"

Terry sagged in relief as de Guarde's hands fumbled at his sides. "You...!" He batted the hands away. "That don't work f'r me - an' I'm gonna getcha for that, I will!" He reached for the other's boy's side to see if he could tickle him. "You 'ad me real worried, you bastard!"

Ack. It did not work! His scheme was only half realized. The moment hands came to his sides he began squirming. "Oy, don't you dare try it! I won fair and square! You wos' so..a haha.."He smacked the hand away, trying not to laugh. "You's t' one who thumped me near senseless! Should be apologisin', not callin' me names!"

"Did not thump you near senseless!" Terry retorted, even as his hand was smacked aside. "You's ticklish! Buckles! You's bloody ticklish!" He grinned and shifted his hand to carry on tickling the other boy. "'Ow is it winnin' fair'n'square if you 'as to pretend to be out cold, any'ow?"

"I ain't! I ain't!" He did not want to laugh, but he could not help it. He was squirming and pressing his hands as tight against his sides as he could trying to protect himself and his sides. "Oi, off with ya--aa!" He did not sound very dignified under the onslaught of Button's tickling.

He pushed against the boy then turned trying to scamper, crawl even, away from the lad. By then he realised he no longer had the had. He felt for his shirt, saw it was still tucked in and decided that if it was lost he could always try to get a new one. But Button did not deserve one at the moment, oh no!

"Ain't ticklish, n' i'll thump you if yer tell anyo-oo-one!"

"You are, you are, you are!" Terry crowed and sat back, laughing himself. "Shouldn't've tried it on me an' I'd've never done it back! An' you can thump me all you like - you couldn't hurt a fly, the way you hit!" The other lad couldn't hurt like Mister Foxley or the bosun's mates, anyway, no matter how much he tried.

"Don' ye dare a lad ter do somethin'.. 'specially not t' prove how strong 'e is! " But he did not strike Button because the other boy stopped tickling him. He was about to say something when he thought he heard a sound. He pressed his hand to where he thought Button's face could be. Finding it somewhat more to the left he adjusted his aim and covered the lad's mouth whispering a: "Hush."

Terry opened his mouth to say something in reply, only to be forestalled as de Guarde's hand brushed his cheek, then shifted to cover his mouth. He tensed, his eyes widening as de Guarde hissed, "Hush"" in his ear. He turned his head a little, listening, and then breathed "F*ck!" into the hand over his mouth. Someone else was down here; he could hear footsteps.

De Guarde relaxed his hand , but did not move it away altogether. He did not dare speak even if the steps were still fairly far and its owner might not have heard them in the first place. He held his breath and waited.

The steps became louder and light could be seen cast away by a lantern carried by its owner. A family of rats was disturbed by the arrivals and scattered away, squealing and protesting at the intrusion.

Damn, damn, damn. Who the hell could that be? Whoever it was, was on official business down here, what with that lantern and all. And that meant that if he were to find the two boys, there would be all sorts of trouble for Terry, who was supposed to be working. Though, admittedly, the purser was used to him skiving off, so maybe it wouldn't be so bad? Or maybe it would be worse?

"You shove off further back." De Guarde whispered so quietly that he wondered if Button had even heard it. He gave a light tug on Button's shirt in the direction he meant him to go. He did not want to rush him, as to do so, would make it possible to make a mistake and a sound that might alert the arrival or arrivals. He was still not certain whether there was only one or a pair of them coming down below.

They were relatively hidden so their best bet was to stay quiet and wait it out.

What? Oh. Terry scooted further in, sitting up and pulling his legs to his chest, clasping his arms around his knees. Who was that out there... and how long was he going to be down here? And was it one man, or more than one?

About the only thing they could do was stay quiet and hope that whoever-it-was didn't come over this way. How hidden they were, with a lantern casting all sorts of weird shadows, Terry didn't want to know.

Williams was whistling cheerfully to himself. It was good to be back at sea. Even though it meant returning to his duties as a waister whenever All Hands might be called. Being at sea was being at sea. There wasn't much better.

He pattered down the last steps, lantern swinging from his hand. Sounding the well, routine and boring as it was, fell solidly into the category of good things.

De Guarde followed Button back, and sat between him and the entrance. They were still safe but he could hear the arrival more clearly now. He was even whistling, which wasn't the usual way men did things! He could not ask Button if he recognised him so far. The whistle was not enough to give him away.

He nodded slowly, blinking his eyes. With some of the light from the nearing lantern he could make out some shapes. Still they were too far away and too concealed to count on the warm light as their guide.

Who was that? It wasn't Mister Foxley, that was for sure. He was too lazy to whistle if he had to make the effort to get anywhere - and Terry had never known him to be in a good enough mood to whistle anyway.

He would never admit it, but he was rather glad de Guarde was between him and the entrance to their small den. If they were going to be discovered, the other boy was on his watch below and if he was found, Terry might be able to escape attention, being further back.

"Fire in the galley, fire in the house,
Fire in the beef kid, scorchin' the scouse.
Fire, fire, fire down below,
Fetch a bucket o' water,
Fire down below."

His whistling evolved into low voiced song. Williams headed toward the middle of the hold, winding his way easily around casks and bundles. He had no eyes for anything else but the path before him.