2 June; Sick-berth

Visit sooner? "Aye," Branning said, grinning. "Hopef'lly not to be wrapped all up again."

He knuckled his brow to the sawbones, remembering this time to use his off-hand, and headed aft to find Mister Cartwright.

"Better ye don' come for that!" The boy smiled and watched Branning leave. The day had been a success. He touched his forehead, rubbed his temple and decided he had fretted too much for a moment back there.

"Sir." He turned to the surgeon trying to get his grin in check. "Is there anything else, you need me t' do?"

"Hm? Oh. Just tidy up what needs tidying, if you please." Farley nodded at the few things that had been taken out to set Branning's hand to rights. "After you're finished, we shall continue with your education."

"Yes, sir!" His reply was spirited, his smile broad. He quickly gathered up the remaining bits of cloth, the wooden bits that had not been used and what little else - tool wise - he had earlier brought and was not used.

He held them close to his chest and scurried back to the counter and shelves. He placed them in tiny little piles. Folded the fabric neatly, placed it in with the rest. He pulled a drawer open, slipped the scissors in. Had another filled with the wooden bits. He returned wiped the table with another bit of fabric and then placing it over his arm he looked up. "Done!.. all clean'd n' taken away with!"

Farley had to smile. The boy was certainly willing, if well-treated.

"Good lad. Now. I presume from your previous standing as a midshipman that you come from a respectable family. This is so?"

"Yes sir." What was it to Farley whether his family was a well to do, or one that was poor. Well, if he only waited for a little while, he could be sure that Mister Farley would tell him. "My family is very respactable n'.. all that. Good standin' any'ow."

Which really was not obvious from the way he spoke and tortured the language. " Why sir?"

Farley nodded. He had guessed as much. "Certainly a fellow of good birth does not belong on the lower deck, wouldn't you say? Or perhaps should not stay there long, certainly."

"That's not m' place to decide. ..it's t' officers' , sir." He answered frowning. He did want to rise from the lower deck to serve according to his station, but it wasn't his to decide. Not really. And the officers did hate him and had a terrible opinion of him so his future was sealed. And.. there was a small part of him, which still wished to be a marine or if not, who worried that he could no longer be a friend with one, if he was raised higher.

"Lieutenant Cartwright said that I would be a marine, sir. But.. I don't think i can hope for that neither. T'.. things that happened. He'd not want one such as me in his lines. I know as much."

Something like a twinkle came into Farley's eye. "Yes, that's so. But do you not think you may have the power to convince them that you are worthy of such a rank?"

"..They would not listen, sir. As I said. But.." He shrugged. "..if I was able to convince them, yes.. I would like to show them wot' skills I have n' that I'm worthy. Jus'.. you see. I've done that 'fore. We brought t' officers ter safety when they was drunk.. n' things like that. I did to things right but... but they didn't see it. They didn't see I did anythin' at all. They jus' see wot' I do wrong. An' then they make big of it." He frowned and lowered his gaze. "So...wot' use.. is tryin'?"

"Ah, but that may very well be what they are looking for," Farley replied. "Perhaps they make big of your mistakes, as a means to teach you to do better, in their own way?"

"...They don't teach me nothin' though. If ..if 'sir I am only noticed when I do wrong, but never when I do summat right, don't I..not know if I'm doin' something right at all?" He looked seriously at Farley. "..I like you, couse.... well 'couse you tell me if I'm doin' it right and it's real nice, thank you." He added the last shyly and looked at the ground again. Only then did he realize that he was openly speaking against the judgment of his superiors and he looked more uneasy as before, more worried that he had just burried himself deep.

"You're welcome, my boy." Farley smiled slightly. He had never been one to ignore honest effort from anyone. "I find that to be a common thing with sea-going officers," he told the lad. "It is easier, perhaps, to find fault than it is to praise. You should not let their seeming indifference deter you. What do your fellows on the lower deck think of your efforts?"

" I do not know sir. They are easily swayed by things that I may not do right. Just like now, sir. They think me as having misbehaved terribly. There was not one of them that came to see me. Was it?..Not like when Chase was flogged and he got his tot, several of them here." He bit his lip. "I don't think they really accept me, though they sometimes act as if they do. An' ...I think they're jus' glad that I am wot' I am. Though.. Thompson, the marine. He does tells me if I do something right and he teaches me of things. We talk. We talk a lot sir." He hesitated unsure whether it was a good thing that he was telling this to Farley. ".. I think Chase accepted it.. when I came t' join in t' tops t' learn the ropes. But...It could as well be, he just beared with me."

"Let me ask you," Farley said. "Why was it that you resisted so, when all the boys were on deck to be washed?"

"..I... I can't tell you." He dropped his head, his cheeks colouring in shame and he shifted back, as if thinking that the distance might hide this. He looked uncomfortable just then, and averted his gaze then turned even, so that only half of his face was seen, and even that with a few strands hanging low over the cheek. "But...but I had a good reason.." His voice quiet and faint.

No doubt it was a good reason, but one that could not be understood if it wasn't shared. "I am sure you did," Farley said slowly. "But certainly without that reason being known, your resistance will only be considered as childish foolery."

"I can't tell them, sir." He looked positively appalled about the idea. "...Can't it jus' be known.. I didn' want t'... that.. that maybe I was a middie, and it was not right or.. maybe...a reason could be.." Which it was perhaps only in part. "..could be... that I didn' want them t' see m' scars. Is that not enough, sir?" He looked at Farley, his hand already tugging at the sleeve of the other. Sharp, quick pulls of a nervous boy.

"That is, naturally, your own decision, my boy," the surgeon told him. "But I believe you'll find that being brave enough to share such a secret may help immeasurably toward settling bad feeling."

"It's.. easy ter say.. when yer don't know it. Sir." He bit his lip. "..but if you did. You'd understand. And then you would not urge me t' speak or tell." He shuffled his feet and frowned. "They....they will forget in time." He was doubtful of that. "But things won't get better. "He was on the other hand, certain of that.

Farley shook his head. "With an outlook like that, my lad, I should think that it will not ever get better."

"But, sir." He hesitated and gave in a little. "..I am grateful to you, sir.. an t' way you taught me t' mend a man's hand. It was interesting and...and your kind words did make it better even." But men could not pat another on the back for everything. It was not convenient, not what happened and he was... he was not a child no more.

" I do try sir. Please do not think that.. t' way I think, affects my not trying. But t' las' time I was thinking wishfully of what was and could be, I got ...tripped and spent t' rest of the next day mucking shit.. um.. muckin' wot' comes from t' behind."

He shook his head again. "Thinking wishfully is not the point. Thinking positively, however, is. You are, at present, rated as a seaman. So perhaps it may help to find a way to make the best of that, and work toward regaining your previous rank. Even if it might mean making unpleasant things known."

"... Sir. Do you have any idea then, what ..the thing might be? You speak easily of it, but I would ask you.. whether it is something that you believe must be... it? And that this makes it easier for you to speak so?" He was surprised at how his own way of speech had become much less like that of one of the Hands, but almost of the polite society.

"I do not know even.. whether I would like to become a midshipman or whether to pursue on becoming a marine. For .. at this moment the latter seems more possible and equally... uh.. equally desired."

"I do not, but difficult things do, sometimes, become easier to bear once shared. But that can only be something you decide. Likewise for your future, be it as a midshipman or Marine." Farley shrugged fractionally. "Perhaps you should look upon it as a matter of how best you might move ahead with life, toward either goal."