Slacking off in the Sun

"..Oh. That's good then. ...wot' watch are ye on?" He paused, but made no move to walk towards the man. ".....I'm with Jacob Chase's watch." That might help more than if he said larboard or staboard one, he thought. "You'um an able?" He wished he could see the man's face. If he did, perhaps he would recognise him and stop playing this game of cat and mouse.

Watch? Able? Hales' fingers twisted themselves up in the folds of his shirt. These were things he probably should know, but there was so much to learn in this wretched place.

"I don't... know."

"Hm... ..oh...ok .. lets try this.. When did yer get on board?..d' ye know what... what a landsman is? Don't think you're rated able.. 'cos.. you don't know what that is." He was suspicious of this man, a bit frightened of him and wishing he had more backing him, if he chose to become violent. Now he did not even have his rank protecting him. Just his words. What if this was one of the ones that threw him over board.. no, no time for those thoughts now, all alone in a dark place where nobody but Button knew he was here. No time for that!

"London," Hales replied unhappily. "I... came from London to join. The ship."

"How long.. how long are ye on t' ship then? Why was you hidin' down 'ere like you was bein' hunted?..Didn' see nobody lookin' fer nobody up on deck... so, you sure couldn' be in trouble.. could ye?" Talking was good. He showed himself as unafraid when he talked, or atleast thought so.

How long... Hales had lost track of time. It was all a jumble of ringing bells, shouting, and blurry unhappiness.

"Since... the start of this voyage," he replied dully. "I like the quiet. And... it is less unsteady down here." If a ship at sea could ever be truly steady, anyway. He chose to ignore the questions about trouble. There was always trouble. How could there not be, in such a place?

"..a'right." Well he got something. He knew this man was not a seaman, so he was the much less capable landsman. He was from London and had been on the ship probably before he himself had gotten onto it. "...You're 'ere often?" He inquired, still distrustful, but trying to learn more before he would pass final judgement. He was trying to do as Thompson told him, even if his impulse was to distrust this man completely.

"D' ye.... d' ye know Cob Chase?" It was a silly question. If he had been on the ship for so long, of course he'd know him! "N'...mebbe, we should get on deck....sa.... more comfortable ter... figure things out, there." And he would feel safer and more in charge than here.

Was he here often? Another question not to answer. He didn't know this Buckles or where his loyalties lay.

"I have heard of him." Hales turned slowly away, tempted to effect his delayed escape. Before this interrogation became unpleasant. Back on deck. Where the plunging and rocking of the deck would make him sick. Again.

".. 'es.. m' sea daddy. " This worked two ways. One, if the man had bad intentions, he would know the boy's connections and realise it was better not to try harming him and two it might associate him with the man and then see - if he was a good man - that this lad did not pose a danger to him.

"Means.. he teaches me 'bout sea stuff. ..Wot' you need as well I reckon." He straightened a little. " I dun' care that yer here, you know. As long as yer intentions ain't bad and harmful ter ..me."

Sea daddy. That was a term Hales had heard, but never understood. Certainly no one had blessed him with a sea daddy.

"I am hardly dangerous," the former footman said shortly, insulted at the very thought.

" That's good t' know." He relaxed, only a little though. "...Why'd y' run?.. earlier. From me. Why'd ye run?" He was braving up now. He began to feel that he had the upper hand somehow, if with knowledge rather than anything else.

Mister Foxley's grip on his ear didn't let up, and Terry swallowed. This was going to be bad... very bad. They got to the storeroom at last, and the purser fumbled for the key, without letting go of Terry's ear.

"I've had enough of you skivin' off," the purser said, reaching for something hanging from a nail beside the door. Terry knew what was coming next, and gulped.

"Hand," Mister Foxley said shortly, bringing the tawse into view. It was a stiff leather strap about two inches wide, and a foot or so long, with the end split, forming two inch-wide tails.

"I'm sorry, Mister Foxley," Terry said, unable to tear his eyes away from the implement. "I... I won't do it again."

"You keep doin' it, though, and I've had enough," Mister Foxley said, and reached for the boy's wrist. He landed three heavy strikes across Terry's open palm, making him gasp and sob. The third stroke made him howl, and the purser dropped his wrist in disgust, allowing him to bend over, holding his hand to his chest.

"You'll learn one day, boy."

"You are a sailor," was Hales' clipped reply. To him, it was all he needed to say.

"So?... most people here...." He began, and was about to say more but two things stopped him. One, he thought just like Hales. He distrusted sailors and was learning not to feel that way. Or trying to. It was a bit like listening to himself. Why he ran? Because he did not trust sailors, was afraid of them, ran from them.

The second reason why he stopped in mid sentence was of a different cause. He heard a howl of poor Button and looked up sharply. It looked like someone was hurting the poor boy! did he get cought or was it another seaman, evil like.... like he thought all were before? Like Hales thought it.

"...I ain't that sort o' sailor. Wasn't a sailor till i was ....disrated." With that the boy got up to his feet starting towards Hales and what he thought would be the exit of the hold. If somebody was hurting Button,.. if somebody was..!

There was a sharp cry from somewhere... ahead of him? Hales shivered. Another poor soul suffering in this miserable place.

"What is... was... that?"

"I dunno.. But I know who it wos'!" The boy looked much more in a hurry to get up the companionway. "You comin'?" He asked pushing past the man and hitting his toe on something he had missed, but was indeed there on the floor. " e's t' lad ...e's a ships boy. A good sort." He said and sounded worried, already advancing ahead of Hales, and trying not to hurt himself, while he did so.

It could be that Button was caught by the man whom he had been avoiding when he should have been doing his bidding. He could be hurt by someone else too!

A ship's boy... a good sort... Hales found himself drawn along in the other man's wake, despite his thought that he was better off remaining here.

"Can... may I have my cravat?" He realised belatedly that he was underdressed without it.

"What?" He had forgotten he was still holding it. "Sorry." He held it out, turning and stopping while he did that. No use in waving it blindly behind himself, and hoping that Hales would catch hold of it.

"Here." He glanced nervously over his shoulder. He had not heard any more from Button, but that howl had still been rather painful and chilling!

Good. Hales snatched the long cloth back and started winding it back around his neck. It wasn't how he was supposed to wear it, but he preferred it this way.

"Thank you."

"...thank you for not bein' t' bad, killin' sort." Though he was still not fully sure Hales was not such a sort. He just gave him the benefit of doubt... a great benefit too. "I need t' see if Button's a'right." He started walking again, trying to scramble quick enough towards his way up.

That hurt, that really hurt! There wouldn't be any bruising or any other sign of it, not like there would with a cane, but it hurt enough even without that. It wasn't like there was anybody Terry could go to, to complain, either, not when he'd been slacking off. It was worse when Mister Foxley did it for no real reason, though, apart from being in a temper.

The purser hung the tawse on its nail again, and Terry eyed it hatefully.

"Get on with your work, or you'll get more," the purser said, threateningly and Terry bit his lip, turning to find a broom to sweep the store-room out with - and that was going to hurt like hell now.

Go on, then, Hales thought as he knotted his cravat. He was reluctantly bound to follow, it seemed.

De Guarde hurried along, nearly forgetting that he had Hales on his tail. He called Button's name out and regretted not having a sort of knife with him, anything that he might use on the possible attacker. He did have Hales, but he was a rather loose gun. He did not know if Hales would help him or take the other side.

"Butt....."He began a third time calling, when he happened to take a peek in the right place. The purser's room may not have been high on his list of places to look, but it was closest. "Button..." He said with great relief, seeing him all well, alive and not visibly hurt. "Wot on... did you yell fer?" He had not yet noticed the boy not exactly being alone in there.

Terry turned and saw Buckles. The other boy looked concerned for some reason, and he couldn't think why. Oh. He must've heard Terry yell earlier.

He shook his head, glancing towards the purser, and mouthed, "Go 'way, do," hoping that the other boy would have the sense to clear off out of it.

What was going on? Hales hung back out of sight, wishing now he'd stayed in the hold. It was undoubtedly safer there!