1 June; Stargazing

"So... Am I daft?" Terry asked, switching position. Deck planking wasn't exactly soft. He hugged his knees, looking around at the group of sailors, who were more family than he'd known before coming here.

"No more'n most the rest of us," Chase told him. "Not always a bad thing, bein' a little wild."

Dyer snorted. "Oh aye. Like when we was ashore in Oporto?"

"What happened?" Terry asked. "I mean, really - not what folks says happened." They'd all seen the soldiers who'd come aboard, and the sudden disappearance of the sentry from outside the Captain's cabin, and then been mustered only for those who hadn't gone on the ran-tan to get dismissed again, and those who had been in the liberty-boat had ended up in irons.

Chase and Dyer laughed.

"Started out fine enough," Chase said. "Enjoyin' ourselves in some tavern. 'Til some soldiers stirred up trouble. So we whipped 'em nice an' woulda sent 'em packin' if some of their provosts or whatever they is hadn't come hull up to stop it all."

"Aye. So we run, sure's anythin'. No sense stickin' 'round for trouble like that," Dyer added. "Split up once we was away, goin' in two groups, like. Taylor went off with Thompson an' one of them Shepherds - wily little beggar was done up like a sailor, he was!"

Chase chuckled. "Ain't even the best part."

How on earth had one of... Oh. Of course. The drummer had sneaked ashore, hadn't he - why else would he have been dressed as a sailor?

"So what 'appened then?" he wanted to know, half-jealous he hadn't been allowed ashore, though what with everything that had happened afterwards, he was half-grateful too.

"Me an' Dyer, an' Preddie with us, wandered a bit. Keepin' 'way from the taverns 'cause them provosts was searchin' each one. Taylor, Shepherd, an' that fella Thompson went straight into one, just down the way. An' 'course them provosts head for it 'ventually."

Dyer smirked. "So's we cooked up a plot an' kicked up a nice loud fuss in the street. This 'un here an' Preddie mighta been bo'suns for all they was bellowin' on for 'boarders away'."

"Drew them provosts out quick, an' all," Chase said. "Them an' a whole crowd of others besides. Me'n'Preddie scarpers off a short ways, 'fore we gives 'em a volley or two of harbour mud. Din't that stir the stupid buggers up!"

Terry laughed out loud at that - and clapped both hands over his mouth in case he should bring the officer of the watch over. "Bet there was a right hullabaloo over that!" he said, finally getting himself under control. No wonder the lobsters'd been fuming when they'd come aboard the day after!

The two seamen smirked. "Aye," Chase said. "We shouldn't've used our ship's name, maybe, but it was all worth it!"

He remembered that night. Oh, they should not have mentioned the Shepherd sneaking off the ship! Really shouldn't have. He tilted his head, closed his eyes and sighed contently.

Just as long as Chase wouldn't mention any other names present. Well, they did pay for their transgression. Sort of. Or atleast the provosts tried.

So that was how the lobsters had known where to come. "They looked awfu' cross when they comed aboard," he said. Which was understandable enough if they'd had street muck thrown at them. "Though... ain't Thompson a Marine?" He thought it was, vaguely, but wasn't really sure. And if he was, what on earth had he been doing to get mixed up in all that - Marines were the ones who made sure the sailors didn't do anything untoward, after all.

Boyles was shaking his head slowly, while Edwin simply spread his feet to keep his balance as the deck shifted.

"He is, that," Chase affirmed. "Was right in it with us, though!"

"Terrible influence, you lot are," Tide observed, his grip on the spokes tightening again. The wind was getting up for sure. "Tellin' stories like that!"

Terry shivered again, and debated whether scooting towards the bulwark was such a good idea, in the wake of learning about the monsters that lurked in the sea. "You think... you think we'll be in for a storm?" he asked.

If this wind got up much more, the officer of the watch was probably going to at least call for a reef or two to be taken in, and that would be the end of their companionable gathering, more than likely.

"Thompson's a marine a'right. Button. T' fines' o' them." He piped up then with an embarrassed clearing of his throat, lowered himself back onto the deck fully. "..He don't hold it 'gainst ya for being a Tar." He shrugged his shoulders ever so lightly.

"There won't be no storm. Don' worry." Though he had little to back him up when he said that. Certainly not his knowledge of the weather at it's finest.

Chase sniffed the air. "Could be, maybe," he said slowly. "There's a wisp of cloud comin' in. But it don't smell like a storm."

It was hard to judge. This part of the Atlantic could be frustratingly unpredictable.

"A squall?" Terry guessed, remembering the Captain's words earlier. He pulled his hat down a little tighter on his his head. He didn't want to lose it, either.

His queue ruffled up toward his shoulder and his shirt back rippled in the strengthening breeze. He glanced toward the officer of the watch. "Wind's backed a point, sir," Tide said quietly, glancing up at the sails. Only a point, though. Maybe it'd be two, the way it felt.

Ah. It was only that the wind was backing. Still, they'd be busy soon enough... he might even be able to help with bracing round one of the lighter yards, such as the fore royal yard. Maybe. Maybe the officer or the petty officer wouldn't want him in the way, though?

Mister Rutland was on deck. His heavy tread and gruff bark were stirring the duty watch up.

"Hands to braces, lively there!"

Chase heaved himself up. "That'll be it, for a minute," he muttered. It was best not to be caught literally lying down. "C'mon you lads. Make short work of this, eh?"

Terry scrambled to his feet, trying to stick with Chase. He didn't want to run the risk of a painful meeting with Mister Rutland's starter if he could help, but he was probably a bit small to actually be of any use. Still... if you looked willing, that was halfway to being useful. Wasn't it?

"Worked a watch on deck before, mate?" Dyer asked Button, hanging back a little as Thom Boyles headed off toward a couple maintopmen.

Chase grinned at a white-faced landsman who was groping half-blindly at the pinrail. "C'mon, 'fore these lubbers get us all on the wrong tack."

"No," Terry said, shaking his head for emphasis. "Least, not a full watch, at night." He'd been shown various tasks and things during the day when he'd got away from the purser, but he'd never been able to be around for a full watch. He grinned at the landsman. Even he knew the lubber was in the wrong place - that was a halyard, not a brace!

Hales stared at the sailors, his fingers loosely gripped around the rope. Wrong tack? What were they talking about?

He nudged the lubber. "'Ere, mate. You want this 'ere, not that'n. That's a halyard - does summat else." He indicated another piece of cordage. "You want this'n."

A halyard. That did something else. Well that made it so much clearer. Hales eyed the boy for a moment before glancing at the rope he'd pointed at. So what was that other one?

"You do it, then, you're so damned clever." Any excuse to bow out of this ridiculous chore. Hales stepped aside and shoved the lad toward the halyard, or whatever it was.