30th May, Afternoon Watch: In the Cable Tier

Fletcher still felt wretched, as if he'd been too harsh.

"I... I know you didn't mean it," he said, relenting completely. O Lord, why was it so hard to be an officer?

He couldn't help looking up properly at the slight catch in Mister Fletcher's words. And blinked at the wretched look on the midshipman's face.

What did he have to feel so bad about? And... had he been crying? That wasn't possible, it couldn't be. Although, Mister Leat had been really furious with them, so maybe he had been crying?

"I am awfu' sorry, sir, really," he said, the awful scared feeling leaving him, though his heart was still racing. He gave a half-shrug, looking down again. "I jus'... After Mister Leat an' the pusser... You scared me 'alf t'death, sir, bein' there and all."

And why would the young gentleman want to hear any sort of explanation from him? That sort of thing would earn him a clip around the ear from almost anyone else, and he bit his lip, giving Chase a sidelong glance in case the topman thought he'd said too much and ought to shut up.

Again Fletcher found it hard to believe that he was frightening to anybody, but something told him that in this case he'd better not say anything to dissuade that impression.

"Well, I do have to be somewhere," he said, making a feeble attempt at a joke. "Though I understand what you say about Mr. Leat."

Despite himself, Chase grinned. A quick little bit of humour from the middie who had so recently been feeling quite miserable. It was a good sign.

Fletcher caught Chase's grin and his spirits were raised a little. He had done something right! There was a danger of pushing it though, he knew that well enough, so he decided to take the safest option.

"But no harm done. Carry on then, Button."

The sense of relief when he heard the dismissal was enormous. He managed a smile, shot a slightly nervous look towards the quarterdeck, hoping that his collision with the young gentleman had gone unnoticed by the officer of the watch, and knuckled his forehead to Mister Fletcher.

"Aye, aye, sir. An'... fanks very much, sir."

He turned to head for the fore shrouds, wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and any and all officers, for as long as possible.

Button was gone, and Fletcher let out a small sigh of relief. Automatically he looked up at Chase, a questioning look on his face; seeking approval from the sailor without realising that he was.

"Some day," Chase remarked laconically, with a slight nod, "Button'll learn not to be half so 'feared of officers. Too flighty by half, he is. Poor beggar."

It didn't help that the boy hadn't been watching where he was going, either. But it was perfectly obvious to Chase that Button was close to deathly afraid of officers in general. Not a very great quality in a lad who'd be part of the working crew some day.

"Interestin' how he ain't far off'n your own age, really, sir," the topman added thoughtfully.

"Really?" Fletcher was a little surprised at this intelligence. "I thought he was older."

Was he? Chase thought a moment, then shook his head. "Nope. Least not by much, if he is. Dunno why he's always so scared though. Poor lad."

Fletcher thought for a moment about this, knowing from his own personal experience of how frightening a ship could be for one so small... even if Button was a little taller than himself.

"Because it's easy to be scared if you don't have any reason to be brave," he offered. As a Midshipman, Fletcher knew that he must show courage because it was his duty to do so. An officer, the Admiral had told him many times, must be brave for his men. Button, on the other hand, did not have such a duty, as was at the bottom of the pile as far as the hands were concerned - there would be much more to frighten Button in that situation than there would be for Fletcher to be frightened in his own.

"True enough, sir," Chase said with a nod. He'd never really thought that much about it, himself. It was something to set right. He ought to have a word or two with the older boys about it. "Might help if he knew officers wasn't always bad, maybe."

"Probably," Fletcher agreed. "Although they're not bad they're always..." He was about to say to say 'frightening', but stopped himself just in time. "...intimidating." he finished.

That was true as well. Chase himself could be quite easily cowed by an officer, especially one like Mister Bush.

"Aye, that's so, sir. I'd reckon he don't know the difference, though."

Simon wasn't exactly sure he knew either.

"It's hard to know when they're being serious because that's how they talk to you, or because they're angry. And as for Mr. Deverel..." Simon's brow wrinkled in puzzlement. "...I really don't know what to make of Mr. Deverel."

"Well," Chase mused. "Part of officers bein' effective is just that. But it's 'portant for lads to know they ain't always angry or anythin'."

As for Mister Deverel... Chase could only shake his head.

In Fletcher's opinion Bush and Leat were going about it the wrong way, then, but it might be different from Chase's perspective.

"Then maybe I should tell Button that I was not angry with him," he thought aloud. "He did seem frightened, strangely enough. Maybe that might help."

That was a prime idea, Chase thought. "Might help, sure, sir." He had considered asking the other boys to have a word with Button, or, failing that, undertaking the task himself. But it could do the most good for that word to come from Mister Fletcher.

Fletcher nodded again. He did not know exactly when or how he was going to do it, but it did seem a good idea.

"Very well."

He shuffled his feet indecisively, then noticed he was doing so and stopped. Officers didn't shuffle their feet - at least not that he'd noticed. He gave a sudden smile up at Chase.

"And then together we shan't be half so scared of Mr. Bush anymore."

At that, Chase smiled. "We won't indeed, sir."

It was good to have been able to have this sort of talk with Mister Fletcher. The boy had benefited from it, at least. That was good enough for Chase.

Fletcher's smile broadened into a grin in return.

"Aye. Thank you, Chase."

And with that the midshipman turned, heading aft towards the quarterdeck with slightly more haste than was perhaps deemed officerly; but his shoulders were held a little straighter, and it was no longer the half-run of a nervous little boy.