Slacking off in the Sun

"Go 'way," Terry said again, and flexed his painful hand. Why couldn't Buckles take a hint and go?

De Guarde was startled. Friendly this boy was before, but now he only wanted him away. "...ah.." He couldn't say he was not feeling hurt. With a small nod, without asking whether the boy was alright again he turned and left out the same door that he came in through. He missed the flexing of that hand, else he might have known that the boy had been smacked there.

Now he could see Hales's face better, and was somewhat relieved to know he was not wrong in thinking this a different man to the ones he knew. "...he's a'right." He mumbled. He was a bit surprised to find Hales there though. He thought the man might have decided to use the opportunity to scram. He did not. "He's jus'... workin'." He added gazing at the entrance of hte purser's room.

"Who was that?" the purser asked, and Terry shrugged, not saying anything.

"I said, who was that?"

"N... nobody, Mister Foxley."

"If you've bin skivin' off to go skylarkin', when you oughta be workin'..." The purser indicated that hateful tawse meaningfully.

"No, Mister Foxley, I swear I ain't!"

"Good!"

The only good thing about the exchange, as far as Terry was concerned, was the fact that Buckles had probably heard that he, Terry, wasn't alone, and therefore had only meant to keep Buckles from getting in trouble. If he hadn't gone off somewhere, hurt and in a sulk.

He thought he recognised the voice. It made his innitial reaction somewhat better. He frowned still. He was tempted to retort to this man that he should lay off the boy because Button was not to blame for anything and he - although he knew that was not true - was a hard working, well behaved chap who meant to work his bum off for the sake of the service.

He had decided against it. It wasn't the common sense of reasoning that made him do so. It was just better he stayed out of the way of a very upset sounding man. Mister Foxley might decide to lay it all on the first boy or man coming along. Already must have done it on the boy, Button.

"It's t'.. groanin' grumpy Mister Foxley, that's being a pain." He explained somewhat guardedly to his 'new find'. "Let's leave 'em at that."

Well, it had been fun, while it lasted. He'd have to collar Buckles later and explain that he hadn't meant to be rude but that Mister Foxley in one of his worse moods and was likely to take it out on the nearest person - and Terry knew he could deal with that, but didn't think Buckles would want to have that to cope with on top of everything else.

Maybe he could sneak a bit of baccy or something out of the stores as a peace offering later, too.

He flexed his hand again, gave the tawse another glare and went back to sweeping up before Mister Foxley decided to give him another half-dozen or so with it.

The purser. Right. Hales had little idea what caused this boy Button to fear the man so, but it was no business of his. Without a word, he stepped back to let his guide pass.

It would be time to go back above the decks soon. Of that, he was reasonably sure. Or else those horrid bastards would come looking for him.

"So.." He studied Hales. "You still wantin' to come?" He indicated the deck above them. It was strange to be the one more confident about things, and have someone actually follow him. He wondered about Hales. Of what he reasonably gathered, this lad was not able with any sea things."You was press't t' this ship?" He asked conversationally. Answering something like that truthfully would cause no harm.

Why did he feel like Hales was distrustful and so much like... himself in that aspect? He was not imagining things, was he?

Above the decks. Of course. Hales shrugged slightly, paused, then nodded. Might as well. He would have to go up there anyway.

"I was," he replied, a little stiffly. Damned brutish thing to do to a man. The press was a foul thing.

" Who's yer sea daddy.. uh someone who teaches you 'bout t' ways of t' ship..t' ropes so t' say.." He looked at the man, smiled feeling that he could show him his own back, and not fear a sudden arm around the neck or a foot in the rump. He continued towards the companionway, ascending it towards the deck. He did not condemn the press gangs completely, so he could not say much on that topic even if it might have been a friendlier thing for the other man.

Asking questions also meant that he was not asked any in turn. While sometimes that was not planned, nor the intention, at the moment he felt quite more at ease with it being so. Asking so many questions however may have pointed to an underlying problem which he would be unwilling to admit to.

"Haven't got one." Hales minded his footing as he went up the steep ladder after the boy. He was still uncertain in his balance. The increase in light as he got closer to the top deck made him blink. After the comfortable dark of the hold, he felt nearly blind.

"You were not pressed." This was a statement of fact, rather than a question. It was plain to him this boy was not quite a common sailor. He did not have the same rough voice and language, for one.

"No. Bu' I was told I had t' go ter sea." He said glancing over his shoulder at Hales. "..I'm noble born." He hesitated, not certain that was the sort of thing Hales wanted to know or cared to know. He probably would feel apprehensive when he recognised him as once a midshipman. "Not m' choice I'm 'ere but... it's.. take wot' you get.. not so bad as a press'. Not really. Though's I ended down 'ere all t' same."

He blinked to have his eyes adapt to the bright light of the open skies. When the stinging sensation stopped he continued across the deck to the larboard side, stopping once he had reached the railing. There he turned around and faced Hales again.

" Would yer want t' learn, if yer had one?" He asked conversationally. Why had he told the man all that earlier. he had not even asked. He ought to have been more careful, and only asked in turn!

Ah. He might have guessed. One of the Quality. But as a sailor? Hales couldn't quite credit it. It wasn't proper.

"I don't want to be here at all," Hales replied flatly.

"..Aye..." He looked at the man thoughtfully. "Wot' I feel too. I'd rather be a middie if I have ter be on t' ship.. or a marine. Jus' not a Tar..." He placed his hands on the railing leaning against it to peer at the sea. He quickly checked himself for that action, feeling he was stupid and rash at doing it. What if Hales thought if fun to shove him over. He'd fall and nobody would be the wiser!

"But... you have t' do with what you have.. no? We both have." He was saying it to make himself feel better and perhaps to do so with Hales. It was not working. "Wot' were you as.. 'fore you were pressed? I thought they preferred ter take seamen over landsmen. Usually."

A middie. Shorthand for midshipman. Perfect. Hales made turned his gaze outward, looking over the glittering sea without really seeing it.

"I am a footman." Not was, or had been, but am.

"..to whom?" He did not call him out on the fact he did not mention his former occupation in past tense. It was a bit like he himself - being a midshipman. He had to stop trying to draw lines to connect between himself and this man. They were nothing alike!

"How'd ye get snatch't?"

Hales set his jaw. "I should ask about you, in the same way."

"Ask... ask me wot'?" He looked uncertainly at the man, searching his earlier questions for a clue as to what the man was hinting at. He tapped his fingers against the wood, feeling his scar on the palm and back of his hand, with the other.

"How come you to the Navy?" He glanced sidelong at the boy. "Or why, as a midshipman, you are seemingly no better off from the rest of this lot."

"I ...came cous' my folk decided it was t' bes' choice of a career for me. I'm no' t' firs' born male... so's.." He shrugged letting Hales come to a conclusion on his own. He rested his chin in the palm of his hand at the second question. It was the less comfortable topic, for to give reason was to admit having done wrong or to admit a failure at the very least.

"...I was....righ' unlucky." He said instead biting his lip. "..You didn'.. 'ear any of it? b'low decks?"

Well. Informative and evasive at the same time. Hales simply shrugged. He did his best to ignore the idle chatter of the messdeck.

"...D' ye... know many o' t' men ?" Hales seemed like the sort, now that he thought of it, that would hang back. Not one eager to please, but one who was eager to be left alone even if he hardly benefited from it.

He shook his head. It was difficult to manage in the close confines of the ship, but he had succeeded in avoiding prolonged conversation with most others.

".. Oh." That was surprising. Even he, with his limited want of meeting Tars, had come to talk with several. Of course he felt rather oblieged, when needing to work with them, as an able seaman he did.

"..Didn' go skylarkin' neither?" He asked, oddly feeling even more relaxed. He shold not be really, but this man had no big angry, mean men backing him up. He was simply a lost soul aboard this ship. A lone man, with no or not many friends.

"No."

What did this boy take him for?

".. Well...uh.." He was silent then and was so for a little while, gazing at the sea. When he turned, still quiet, he studied Hales for a few long moments before he spoke. "..I know you'll not trus' me when I saw it..couse I wouldn' trust sum'one else I dun know.." He shrugged. What did he want to tell him. That he could trust Jacob Chase? That he could talk with Chicken Dyer. That the ships boys were harmless. He had been first to accuse and have Chase flogged and was now very grateful for the fact that this man did not know of it. Or remember it at least.

"..If..." And then silence again, he shrugged faintly. He thought he understood and he could not offer a word of comfort because he knew he would not have trusted it himself. "If yer want a good, influental ally on this ship...that's Chase. Other flock ter 'im n' wot' he says. He spins yarns a lot..Don't believe in gettin' you in trouble...he'll smack yer if he thinks y' deserve it...but he won't always smack yer when you deserve it." Which was true. He had expected his ears to be boxed a couple of times and yet the skilled Tar let it pass.

"... But even if yer not carin' ter make an acquaintance with im. Jus' bein close by's enough. Bein in earshot..'s'all. Is where I'll be mos' times. Couse it's couse o' him i'm bein' let off n' left 'lone. An' i'm there too couse I'm in his watch an' his mess." What made him say that? Hales would not listen. He'd dismiss his jabber and hell, he'd had done it himself in his place...though perhaps he'd test the theory just to be sure it was daft.

"Who d' ye eat with?" A simple enough question. He probably hung around with other landsmen but surely he was forced to eat with some Tars as well?