Slacking off in the Sun

All manner of terrible, fearful thoughts crowded instantly into his head. Who had he kicked? Was it one of those foul tempered sailors? How had they found him?

Hales shrank back into his little nook, hoping wildly that he might be able to elude discovery somehow if he stayed quiet and still.

Unlikely, really, but it was a hope.

"..W..who are you?!" He did not mean to stammer, but he was frightened too! "...Answer ! Or.. or I'll... Speak!" He would have run if he knew which the exact right, obtrusion free direction was. He did not want to break his leg just yet.

"...I'm.. I'm armed, so you better tell me who you is!" He tried to sound older than he was, bigger than he was and certainly bolder. Because the last he was lacking near the most of the three.

Hales said nothing. Whoever that was, their declaration of being armed only gave him more reason not to show himself.

"Answer me! I know you're there!" Did whoever he thought he felt against his side leave? Scamper off into a different direction? But he had not heard him crawl.

"..If you give yeself willingly.. I... I won't harm you! But.. if you make me wait then..." Then what? He would try to crawl his way to safety, that's what!

There was the threat. Then... It was implied, heavily, but it was there. How many times had he heard that very thing bandied about on deck?

Hales scarcely dared to breathe. He didn't want to think what would happen if he moved and gave himself away.

He didn't just imagine it. But the silence, it made him feel so alone in the hold, so very alone that he began to dread what else could have come up and touched him. No rat was that big, it wasn't the cat. was it?

Perhaps Miss Emily had come up and was now hiding, afraid because he was making such a ruckus.

"Please, please, please... let it be you." He whispered, his voice shaking.

"Emily... kitty.. was it you?... Miss, come here, meow,... anythin'.. jus' say it was you!" And if it would not be the cat... he already began to inch backwards.

The cat. Whoever it was over there, they thought Hales was a cat. If he wasn't so stoutly interested in staying hidden, Hales might've grinned. Please just let whoever that was leave now. And without discovering him!

His leg was cramping. Oh damn. Oh damn.

No. Not Emily. If anything, the creature would have meowed or moved by the time. So, it was someone else. He did not want to show his back, else he might rick being struck senseless.

With a determined nod he chose not to move and sit just as quietly as whoever was waiting for him. He pressed his back against one of the barrels keeping himself thus safe from an attack from behind.

Damnation. The other person had stilled his own movements and was now silent. He hadn't left, that Hales could hear, which meant whoever it was had settled down to wait for him to move.

He bit down on his lip. His leg was cramping badly. Very much longer and he'd have to move.

If this was a waiting game, De Guarde really did not need to be anywhere till the next watch. He folded his hands over his chest. He benefited in waiting in several ways. One, the culprit would have to go - if it was not a stowaway - back to duty and thus be first to leave. Two, if he waited, he could not expose his back in heading of to get out. Three, .. four? Well, there were those, he just could not point them out yet.

If he was mistaken and there was noone there, then sitting in the same place could be... excused as a good long alone time. He slowed his breathing trying to make it quieter, while pulling his bottle out of his shirt. A good think to smack someone over the head with if worst came to be.

Erk. Bad. Hales flexed his foot in an attempt to ease the painful constriction of muscle in his leg. It helped but only a little. He'd have to stretch the whole leg out. Doing that, though, would give him away.

This was a truly miserable ship.

Waiting was boring. Not being scared any longer had its drawbacks. He felt along the bottle's neck. Tapping his finger against the very end of it, he readjusted the grip on the thing. With a sigh he looked up. Repositioning his hand again he began to crawl towards where he thought the apparition disappeared to.

If he was wrong, the place would be empty. His fears finally comforted. If he was right he could smack the bottle on its head, if it posed to be a dangerous thing.

Bad? No. Worse. There was the barest scrape of noise somewhere in front of him. Somebody was coming toward his hiding place.

Nononono. Hales bit down on his tongue and stirred at last. To hell with trying to avoid discovery. He was better served trying to flee. Assuming, naturally, his cramped leg would support his weight.

Which it didn't. He had gone a stumbling two steps before tripping practically headlong.

And down they went in a tumble. De Guarde yelled out in surprise, thinking that the stranger finally thought to attack him. He oomphed as air got knocked out of his lungs and reached up to strike the 'attacker'. There was not enough room to swing a cat, let alone a bottle.

He grabbed for Hales' neck. If he wanted to have a fighting chance he had to grab and cling on and try choking the man into submission!

Get up, get up. Run. Hales flailed blindly at whoever was trying to claw at him and struggled to regain his footing. He had to get out of here!

His assailant had grabbed hold of his cravat, which caused Hales to reach immediately for the knot in the fabric. When it loosened, he pulled at the linen, trying to unwind it from his neck.

"Hold, wait!" The person was trying to escape. Not attack.

Escape!

"Stop it'.. if you're a stow'way you'll get in real pickle if yer ...stop it! " The cravat came loose in his hand and he reached for Hales's shirt." Ugh. I won't hurt you if you dun' hurt me!" Well that was a promise, and hopefully it would stop the man from jabbing his elbows all around where they just did NOT go.

The cravat came away from his neck, at last, and Hales scuttled awkwardly over the unfamiliar deck. He heard the words but didn't believe them. Why should he? He'd scarcely heard anything honest since being consigned to this horrid ship.

"Get off!" This was the first time he'd spoken almost all day.

De Guarde tried to follow at Hales's pace, clinging onto his shirt only barely. "...Slow down, bloody damn." He breathed in sharply. "You're goin' ter bang us both 'gainst a barrel n' then we'll be in real.." The voice was not exactly familiar, but he thought he might have heard it once or twice before. He could not be sure but it was not Seward's or any of the meaner men. That was a good thing!

"Did ye go stealin' somethin??"

Him, steal? Not if he could bloody help it! Hales lashed out toward the voice, wanting nothing more than to be able to run from here unhindered. "Let go, damn your eyes!"

The boy yelped. Hales' hand struck him square on the mouth and had him see stars. He released his grip and remained, half seated and dazed in the spot. "Ow!. damn yours..."

He was loose! Hales scuttled away a few steps before pausing. That voice didn't sound much like any of those belonging to the common sailors. It sounded almost refined. He'd spent enough time around gentry to recognise how they spoke and that voice was definitely not that of a sailor's.

"Who's that?" Against his better judgment, perhaps, Hales remained where he was, delaying his flight for a moment.

This man was not one that could get him in trouble exactly, for being below here. He still hesitated before answering. When he did he said simply:" ...m' Buckles.." He rubbed the bump forming on the back of his head. "...Who's you?"

Buckles. Strange sort of name, wasn't it? Hales fingered the collar of his shirt for a moment. Perhaps he had been wrong?

"I am... Barney," he said at last, giving in to propriety. Sort of.

"A'right. ..." He tugged at the sleeve of his shirt till it rode low on his wrist. He nudged the bottle, which was now out of the way, no longer in his hold. It was still , surprisingly, whole. "You ain'.. a sto'away are ya?" He tried to make the question sound as nonchalant as he could. Not implying it was a bad or a good thing to be something of the sort.

"No." This answer was firmly given. Hales was no stowaway. He was merely... had been merely attempting to avoid notice.