Thinking happy thoughts

Thompson affected a scandalised look. "Not tell 'em if you'm any trouble, lad? I'd have to tell 'em if you was any trouble, you know that. Though... you ain't goin' to be any trouble, are you? Not after everythin' that's happened an' all." He raised an eyebrow. "Don't give me that look, lad, as though butter wouldn't melt in your mouth. We both know better'n that after all, don't we?"

Writing. de Guarde wanted to teach him to write as well? "Be nice to be able to write for meself, like, though I don't s'pose I'll be that good at it. Not like you. Well, I wouldn't, starting out at me age, would I? And it don't 'alf sound queer, you callin' me Corporal, thataway."

"Oh.. I don't think I want t' be in trouble...not if I can help it 'tleast. Trouble jus' brings me further from m' goals...n' I'm already continents appart!" He scoffed and tried his best to look ever more innocent and less full of mischief. "I'm a good lad, corporal! Well behaved n' proper, I am!" He exclaimed, as if terribly offended by such talk as Thompson's.

"I don't think it's impossible ter learn how t' write at your age. It's ..hm.. well your memory's good, 'cos you can't write, right? I mean by it... yer remember things better, couse you don't have them all written down?" He arched a brow. "So that might work in yer favour..anyway, it's never too late. Yer ain't a dog, an' only old dogs can't be taught new tricks. Well.. yer ain't a dog, or old." He grinned.

"You could try to be a bit more, y'know." He shrugged. "I can 'member most things what I'm told, like. But I ain't used to lookin' at shapes an' things an' thinkin' about 'em, that's all." He leaned on his musket. "I ain't old. I'm older'n you, though, an' don't you forget it. Feel old, sometimes - an' if I hadn't left home when I had, I'd probably be old by now, or gettin' to be that way, anyhow."

"A bit more? ..any more n' I'd be a saint." He stuck his tongue out, then realised that it was not a way to act towards a corporal, and quickly sucked it back in. "You remember drill pretty easy? An' t' steps?.. an' t' order o' how t' fire? and what ter put on, with all that uniform you've got, don't you? An' yer know how t' talk.. wait. I'll make cards fer you, which yer can look at later on even when we're not practicing. They'll have summat like a picture on 'em.. and t' letter which will be what t' word on t' picture starts with. Would that work fer you?"

"All that's diff'rent, though," Thompson pointed out, choosing to ignore de Guarde's childishness.

Cards or something with pictures on? That might work - although it was something he would never have thought of.

"A bit like... A bit like some of them chapbooks do?" he asked. "Pictures an' the words writ out, what them things are?" He shrugged. "I seen that sort of thing, once."

"Yes, something like that. It helps you connect a letter with t' first sound that it makes, or t' word that it begins. I'll say that it's a very useful sort o' thing." He leaned against the wall. He would still not sit, but he had reason enough not to.

"I'll start workin' on it t' next time i'm off watch so we should have atleast some letters when we meet for t' lesson." He smiled brightly. "George, I'm real proud of you, you know. You'm a corporal now! Jus' don't you forget us...lower deck'rs." He said in a bit of a tease.

"Hey - I'm still on the lower deck meself." Though, not quite before the mast now, not in the same way as he had been - and that was quite possibly the strangest thought he'd had since getting summoned to Lieutenant Cartwright's cabin.

"Don't go spendin' all your off-watch time doin' it, though - you'll need your sleep an' everythin'. And time to eat your dinner." It was a good idea and maybe it would help him learn - he was still surprised the lad thought he could learn, and was willing to teach him.

"T' sooner I finish drawin' them, t' sooner we'll be concentrating on practicin' rather n' waiting' fer t' cards t' be done." He shrugged. Of course he meant to sleep and eat in the meanwhile, only , he would also work on the cards and, and something else which he did not want to reveal to Thompson just yet.

"Why did you decide ter be on watch now that you don't need to be any more?" He asked, gazing about. He was aware of their surroundings and would have noticed if there was an unusual sound announcing an arrival of someone.

"I wanted to think, get used to the idea of it all - as much as a man can, when he'm just got given the stripes, out o' the blue as you could say," Thompson replied. "I don't mind standin' sentry, neither - though I prefer bein' outside the Cabin, or by the glass to bein' down here on the magazine." He took a breath, and released it, in a not-quite sigh. "Still, beggars can't be choosers - I know that, well enough. It's kind of like a farewell, sort of, an' all." And that sounded daft, didn't it?

"Ah. Right. N' i'm disturbin' yer here when you ought t' be with your thoughts. Why didn' you tell me that sooner! Corporal! You ought' t' have had more sense n' tole me that yer needed yer time alone!" He stomped his foot. "..don't sound daft you're sayin'g farewell. Leas' you can, in your own time, which is nice!" He took a step away from the wooden wall gazing at Thompson. He would certainly go, if Thompson wanted it so! How inconsiderate really, not to have thought the marine wanted some peace!

"Don't go frettin' now, ain't worth it," Thompson said. And he'd thought his thoughts, mostly - besides, he'd have other times to think, too. "An' don't go stampin' your foot like a child - or a hoss. It ain't... it don't look quite the thing, not in a lad your age. I got plenty o' time to think - unless you'm goin' to spend the whole watch down here, an' hide when the Sergeant comes round."

He wouldn't put it past the lad to do that, either.

"A hoss?" He arched a brow, then crossed his hands over his chest, and tilted his head a bit to the side. "I am good at hidin' if I wanted to." He answered, not suggesting that he would do it, nor denying that he might not. He would certainly hide however if at any moment in time, while they were involved in a conversation, the sergeant decided to come and check up on Thompson.

It would not do to be found chatting on duty, even if it was not exactly a duty he was supposed to do. "How'd you find out you was being promoted? Did Mister Cartwright call you directly ter tell ye t' news? Wot' was his mood like?"

"Aye, a hoss - big animal what pulls carts or carriages. I understand some gennelmen ride 'em, too." He was grinning. "Ain't fair, makin' fun o' the way I talk, Mathew me lad. Ain't had the learnin' you 'ave, not bein' a bastard born an' spendin' me young days on the streets." He adjusted his position a little. "Get called inta his cabin, don't I, and there he is, grinnin' fit to bust an' asks me how long I've bin a M'rine. Well, I ain't sure ezackly how long it it, but I know I 'listed in the year o' the mutiny at the Nore - big old mess, that was, an' all, an' there was men sent down from our barracks to go an' sort it out - well, afterwards, when they took the leaders, delegates, they called theirselves, into custody, like."

He nodded. "I wasn't no more'n your age then, neither. Anyway, he seemed he was goin' to start grinnin' at me an' all for no reason I could see, then up an' says had I ever considered advancement. That means only one thing, don't it - promotion. An' I hadn't done, neither - I'd've stayed a Private Marine all me time in uniform, for all I minded about it. And he pulls over the muster book he's got an' says as it's steady, sober service from all what he could see, an' did I want to be a corporal."

He chuckled. "You could've knocked me down with a feather, I was that stunned by it."

"Oh!" The boy appeared very flustered. "I though you mean't t'...t'..well uh'... t'... whore's." He lowered his gaze and was glad that Thompson continued with his explanation. "So, he's been sober n' grinnin' like it's he's jus' been told he'd become king?" The boy looked thoughtful. What would make a man grin like an idiot, when there was no prize money anywhere on the horizon, and they did not have lots of drink in their blood?

"..Hm..." He murmured and smiled. "I think.. corporal, that there's summat he must've been happy about as well." He nodded seriously. "Not jus' about making your day, either. Couse, officers ain't that kind!" He walked back and forth, then stopped and looked up. "..I'd have loved to see you that stunned! That would have been a mighty sight, it would!"

"Eh? No, if I'd meant them, I'd've said whores, wouldn't I? Silly boy." He spoke fondly, smiling at the boy. "I dunno, an' he's an officer so I ain't going to ask, neither. Prob'ly just got a letter from home or summat. Ain't none o' my business - nor yourn, neither."

He grinned at the lad. "An' you can stop bein' cheeky any time, Mathew, lad."

"Ter stop being cheeky? .. But where's t' fun in doin' that, eh?" He scoffed and shook his head. "Silly man!" He folded his hands and leaned against the wall beside Thompson, only very superficially mimicking his stance.

"I think... there's a secret he's havin' that made him that happy. But wot' it is, I dun' yet know. I do think that t' chance, t' opportunity is indeed most excellent, what with him being in a good mood." He went on thoughtfully. "Ah.. but I should not think aloud, eh?"

Thompson couldn't help quirking an eyebrow at that. "Silly man? An' jus' when you've bin sayin' all them nice things to me, an' all. An' it ain't a good idea to... to think why an officer's feelin' the way he is. Jus' accept he's feelin' good - or bad, if it's someone in a bad temper - an' let him be. If he's feelin' good about summat, well, I'm glad he'm havin' a nice day."

Though there probably was more to it than that, and Thompson thought there was something out of the ordinary that had happened, but thinking and wondering wasn't going to answer the question of what it might be.

"I jus' wonder if I ought t' dare see him or no..though maybe if I do, his mood'll go from t' blessful great that you describe into a stormy terrible..an' I'll be swept by a wave of his rage." He shook his head deciding to abandon the idea for now though it was still tempting. What if he went ahead and did it?

"When will you celebrate, George? Couse you really ought ta.. jus' not with drink, couse we should not have yer gettin' out o' those new duties afore you had a taste of them! And I'll watch you like a hawk if I need ter!"

"See him? What d'you want to see Mister Cartwright about?" Thompson couldn't think what business de Guarde could have with the Marine Lieutenant, though it probably had something to do with the offer that he'd made the boy.

He shrugged. "Dunno. THings like that usually mean drinkin', though I don't want to get drunk over it, not really, if I can help." The idea of de Guarde watching him like a hawk, especially if the boy was going to stop him drinking, made him laugh, though he kept his laughter quiet.

"..Well.. ter talk t' him of course. T' see to it that...you know I'd like to know if that offer 'e gave me still stands..fer one." He chewed on his lip. "I know that I real disappointed him, so I guess, apologisin' when he's in a good mood, will work better n' when he'd like ter slice m' throat. Right?"

He adjusted the fabric of his trousers a little. "..You can't be drinkin' or gettin' drunk... well drinkin' a wee bit is a'right, George, but I don't want yer to endanger yer position only couse of a few drops o' that. Ain't worth it. I know."

"Maybe," Thompson replied. "Things happen, of course. I'd say that it's usu'lly best to 'pologise when folks are in a good mood, but even then, don't go makin' any excuses - an' don't blame other things or people. It's gen'rally best to take the blame yourself, even if... even if it ain't your fault. Makes you look the better person, see?"

He grinned and shook a finger at de Guarde. "Are you sayin' you think I'm a drunkard? Ought to turn you over me knee for that, I ought, you young feller-me-lad!"

"..So...I'd have t' say it was my fault, even if I had.. a reason ter do it. Just ignore t' fact n' say.. aye, m' fault it is?" He frowned, mulling over the suggestion. It had a point. People never liked hearing excuses, he had learned that much. No matter how good an excuse or a reason, they usually thought it pointless or worthless. Well, he'll see about what and how he would go about the thing. Maybe even heed yet another of Thompson's good advices.

"Yer shouldn't threaten me so, when you're a corporal!" He shook his head and stepped back as if afraid.!" N' please.. spare me t' knee fer atleast a little while. Even a gentle pat'd send me writhin' in agony, yer know!"

"Aye, summat like that. The only time you tell anyone why you did summat is if they ask you, see?" He grinned. "An' will you stop with that? I ain't got used to the idea an' you'm makin' me feel really strange an' all, Mathew."

He glanced at the lanthorn. "Reckon you'd prob'ly be best thinkin' of goin', so's nobody who didn't ought to catches you down here."

"s' that an order corporal?" The boy piped back, a grin plastered all across his face, his eyes bright with mischief and amusement. He would remember the good advice, but he would use this final moment of freedom with the marine whom he was making feel rather strange, to tease him some more.

"Couse if it's an order you oughta say it better." He smiled and tried to mimic one of those private marines, being all stiff backed.

"Do I need to make it an order?" Thompson asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Mebbe you ought to take it as an order whether I say it is or not. An' you don't look so much like a M'rine as all that, y'know, Mathew."