Midshipman Bones, Lost in Thought

The steady back-and-forth of the hammock was enough to make him very, very drowsy. A battered copy of Hamlet held loosely in his hand, arm hanging over the edge of the canvas, his ears filled with the rocking, chirring of the timbers, Harrison was beginning to forget how fumingly, incredibly angry he'd been only a few minutes before.

He sighed, and tossed the book back down into his open chest. Finally, studies finished for the night. He hopped carefully out of his hammock, and looked hopelessly around for something to do. Something to keep himself busy, so he wouldn't keep thinking about...

Sometimes, he thought about talking to Captain Bolitho about it. It would be nice to have someone to confide in. But he could hardly bring something like that to someone like the Captain. And in any case, the rest of the navy considered his father a waste. Wasn't that enough, without convincing Bolitho the same of him? That was intolerable.

Help. Anybody.

It was nearly time for hammocks to be piped down. Terry tried to stifle a yawn, but couldn't quite, and hid it in the crook of his elbow instead. Bother it. He wasn't quite sure where he was going and by the time he was conscious of his whereabouts, he was also conscious of the presence of another boy there. "Jacky?" he said, wondering what his friend was doing there, and bit his lip, shrinking back a little as he realised it wasn't one of the ship's boy as he'd thought, but a midshipman. Oops.

Maybe the other lad hadn't heard him? Some hope...

Harry whirled around on the spot, eyebrows narrowed in surprise at the mostly unfamiliar voice. He had half a mind to ask what the same voice meant, by padding around so softly, sneaking up like that.

He raised his eyebrows, then, in surprise. He hadn't been expecting a ship's boy. He blinked once or twice. There was no harm in it. They were alone. "You're Terry," he said, simply.

Terry took a step backwards, startled at the speed the young gentleman had spun around. He knuckled his forehead, trying not to gape or stare as the other boy - midshipman, he reminded himself, said his name. He hadn't thought that any of the young gentlemen knew his name. Well, apart from Mister Fletcher, but that was only because of the other day.

"Yessir. An' you's Mister Bones," he said, privately thinking that sounded like a stupid sort of name.

Harry made a face. Yeah, right. Salute whistle bell and all that's proper. But I'm not proper, myself, so no point. Bones. What a terrible name.

If, and this was a strong if, considering the fact that he was still having trouble in some of his maths, not to mention his fath- ...if he ever managed to get a command of his own, how idiotic would it sound? Captain Bones? Lord, please.

"Harry," he said a little bitterly. "You can call me Harry, if you like. Just us, y'know."

Terry goggled at him. He hadn't just been mistaken for s midshipman himself, had he? Surely not! Yet there was no other reason Terry could see for the young gentleman's invitation. "I... I better not, sir," he said, wondering whether he'd actually heard right. "Might get in trouble, if anyone was to 'ear me." And out of the two of them, it would be Terry who would be in trouble, not the middy.

"You... You all right, sir?" he asked, trying a different tack, and hoping that this wasn't going to end up with him in trouble, the way his skylarking with Mister Fletcher and Fingers had.

Eh, all right. However you think, eh? That's true, enough, anyway, and I'd real bad, real awful bad if anything was to happen to you because of me. He nodded, hoping that the boy would stop staring at him like he was sprouting a third head. Or... no, he'd mixed the metaphor up.

Third eye.

The question surprised him, again, and he didn't much like being so surprised. He crossed his arms a bit indignantly. "Of course I'm all right. ...D-don't I look it?" he finished, lamely.

Terry dropped his gaze to the deck at his feet. Staring at a superior just wasn't a good idea.

He wasn't surprised when the midshipman snapped at him, but the uncertain question made him look up again. "You... you s... sound a bit out o' sorts, sir," he said, and hunched his shoulders a little, hoping his wasn't going to catch all hell for just answering a question. "Jus' wondered if there was anyfing I could do 'elp, sir. Sorry, sir."

And wasn't that exactly why he'd got in trouble before, for helping a midshipman and thus showing the young gentleman up? If Mister Leat ever heard of this...!

"I'm all right," Harry shrugged, not wanting to confide in anyone, generally, but particularly not to a ship's boy. Not even necessarily because he was a ship's boy, but because Harry had so far done a fair job of keeping his personal affairs out of the lower deck, even if he couldn't help how much the upper deck had already found out.

"W-were you looking for something?" Harry asked. Not that he wanted the boy to go, really. Although... he wished he could talk to somebody without having to worry about the sirs and salutes, and who was higher than who.

He knew that it was the way it had to be, and that otherwise there wouldn't be any discipline, but... well, sometimes, he felt like saying to hell with discipline, and who does that sound like to you, Harry?

"No, sir, I wasn't." There was something about the look on the midshipman's face -what Terry could see of it - that reminded him of Mister Fletcher, a bit. "'Ere, sir... D'you know Mister Fletcher at all, sir?"

And the words were out of his mouth before he'd really thought, and oh, what was going to happen now? He was going to be in trouble with both of them, but really, they both looked sort of lonely, and if they were in the same berth, Terry couldn't see any reason for that. Well. Apart from one. "'E's a bit younger'n you, though, sir," he added, a little more hesitantly. And maybe that was reason enough that they hadn't talked?

Harry nodded tersely, " 'Course. I know him," he replied, looking a bit oddly at Terry. The two being mids, they shared the same birth. Why Terry wanted to know, he wasn't sure. Fletcher's grandfather was Admiral Rothschild.

He realized that he probably looked like a proper, pompous idiot, standing there with his arms crossed like that, so he uncrossed them, and shrugged a bit. "Why?"

Why. You could always tell an officer because they were the ones asking 'why'.

He found himself standing on one leg, running his other foot up and down his bare calf. It was a nervous habit that seemed to show up most when being asked questions by an officer.

"'Cause... 'cause you both seem like... like you need someone to talk to," he said, and wished he hadn't opened his mouth because that answer was sure to get him in trouble.

He blinked again. Look like I need some help, eh? Someone to talk to? He felt tempted to ask what exactly it was that Terry was getting at.

Fletcher? Nah. They weren't close. And, well... besides... "Mr. Fletcher's a good one. But... not for this. He wouldn't be able to understand."

"I dunno 'bout that, sir," Terry replied, though maybe the older boy was right and he wouldn't. Still, they both seemed to have some sort of problem and if neither of them was prepared to talk to Terry about it - and why would they, being midshipmen? - why shouldn't they talk to each other?

Though maybe Mister Bones' problem was just that he needed to stretch his legs, or get some air or something. It wouldn't be the first time Terry had misread someone else's actions, after all.

A short way further back in the midshipmen's berth little Fletcher yawned, stretched slightly in his sleep, making the hammock swing momentarily out of time with the ship's roll, and the settled back down under his blankets.

He frowned a bit, in thought, and froze suddenly, as a yawn and a slight shuffling came from the back of the berth. He watched, wide-eyed for a moment, worried that Fletcher- and it was Fletcher's hammock, too- might have been awake and listening the whole time. He blinked into the half-light, and then turned his gaze back towards the boy Terry.

"I didn't even know that he was here," Harrison whispered, suddenly afraid to wake him.

"Me either," Terry said, peering round the young gentleman into the mysteries of the midshipmen's berth.

There was no way he was going to be able to make two midshipmen talk to each other, but he'd certainly seen the way Mister Fletcher had watched him and the other boys, and he thought he'd seen the same sort of look on Mister Bones' face too, when he'd been topside with Fingers and some of the others, skylarking.

It didn't make sense to him that they hadn't talked to each other, sharing the same berth and being the same rank and all.

"You bin aloft, sir?" he tried, wondering why he was trying so hard to get two young gentlemen to do something they ought to have done already.

He nodded. He'd spent a good part of the morning topside, before lessons. He'd wanted to be alone, then. Now he wanted very badly to have someone to talk to.

"I saw you and your mates skylarking," he grinned a bit. "You're fast."

He grinned, and glanced aft again. He wasn't really sure this was the best place to talk, especially when the conversation was going to be about one of the midshipmen who might or might not be asleep in his hammock within earshot.

"'Ere, can us go somwheres a bit... a bit more private-like, sir, please?" he asked, and bit his lip at the temerity of the request. Mister Bones would be quite within his rights to cuff Terry round the ear and tell him to mind his own damn business, after all.

Harry nodded, and sniffed, "Good thinking." Maybe one of the holds.

"C'mon," he motioned, giving a final look back at Fletcher, still in his hammock. "Let's go."

Two compliments in two minutes? That was unheard of for Terry and he grinned shyly at the midshipman, scuffing at the planking of the deck with a bare toe. "Arright, then," he said, belatedly remembering to add 'sir!' to the end of the sentence.

There were plenty of out-of-the way spots below, in the hold, without him having to give away any of his secret hiding-places, and he turned to lead the way down, pattering down the ladder on bare feet, pausing to wait for the midshipman, who could only be a year or so older than him.

He slid easily down the ladder, jumping off a rung or so early, making a soft thud as he hit the deck. He stood and stared into the dark for a moment, to allow his eyes to adjust. He blinked at Terry and nodded.

This was stupid of him, considering the questions if he was found, but it was fun too, a bit of adventure in the dull, and it kept him from thinking about his family.

"Here, sir, this away," Terry said, and reached for the other lad's sleeve, to guide him. He paused. "You... don't min' me takin' your sleeve, sir, do you?" he asked, suddenly aware that if the other boy objected, he could get Terry into a lot of trouble. "'T ain't so far, though, but it does get awful dark down 'ere, sir."

He hesitated for a moment, frowning just slightly. Did the boy think he couldn't walk through a hold on his own? He pulled his arm back, more than just a bit annoyed at that. "I'm fine," he explained.

"Just lead."

Terry shrugged. If the midshipman wanted to go walking into things in the dark, let him! "Jus down 'ere," he said, feeling his way along. It was only a moment later when he stopped. "We's outta the way 'nough 'ere, sir." He thought.

He couldn't see the young gentleman's face in the darkness, but decided it didn't really matter. If anything he said annoyed the other boy, he'd hear it in the words and tone of voice, wouldn't he?

"Dunno 'ow to say this, really, sir," he said, wondering why he was talking to a middy about another middy like this. "Only, you seen us - me an' the other boys - skylarkin', an' so's Mister Fletcher. An' 'e, well... 'e went up the mizzen t'other day, but e's only bin up the mast once afore that, an' 'e ain't so good wiv it, an' me an' Fingers got in trouble for... for tryin' to 'elp 'im, 'cause of 'e's a officer..."