A Change of Duties

It wasn't fair. It wasn't as though he exactly liked working for the purser, but at least Mister Foxley didn't glare at you. The very few times he'd ever come to Mister Leat's attention, Terry had wanted to become invisible, or curl up and die. And now he'd been sent for, by name.

He was shaking a little as he pulled his clean shirt and trousers out of his sea-chest and scrambled into them. They were crumpled, of course; they always were, and they probably weren't all that clean, anyway, but they were the best Terry had. He hastily rolled his other clothes up and stowed them before tying his neck-cloth around his neck and splashing his face with water.

He was still trembling as he made his way aft to the wardroom. He wiped clammy palms on his trousers as he paused by the Marine sentry, who looked very smart and incredibly intimidating in his red coat.

"S... Sent for," he managed, his words little more than a whisper.

McEwen looked down at the boy. It was turning out to be quite a day for surprises, and he couldn't imagine anyone who looked less likely to have business with one of the officers than a ship's boy. Particularly one so nervous.

He did seem to have done his best to neaten himself up, though, despite his shirt and trousers looking rather creased.

"All right, then," he said, and opened the wardroom door for the boy, who swallowed and took a breath before going in. "Good luck," he added, closing the door behind the lad, though he didn't think that the boy had heard him.

Terry stopped dead once he'd gone through the door. He'd never been in here and felt as though he was trespassing. Which he was, in a way, only he had a reason to be here, so he wasn't really. Or something.

The third door on the starboard side was Mister Leat's, he'd been told, and he bit his lip, moving nervously through the wardroom until he was standing outside the door. He was petrified in case an officer - any officer - should come out of his cabin and see him. In fact, a door did open to allow the Marine officer out. Terry bit his lip, but Mister Cartwright seemed more concerned with the book tucked under his arm than with the fact a ship's boy was in the wardroom, and he left without saying anything.

Terry swallowed dryly and tapped nervously on the door that he'd been assured led into Mister Leat's cabin.

He didn't want to be here, and as sure as eggs were eggs Mister Leat wouldn't want him here, either. It could only end badly - and of course it would be Terry who'd come off the worst.

The door swung open to reveal Lieutenant Deverel, not Leat. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped and frowned. "Well what are you doing here?" he asked, sounding puzzled rather than angry.

Terry stepped back and blinked up at the officer. Well, it was a lieutenant, just not the one he was expecting. It took three attempts before he could say anything. "Oh. I... Please, sir, I'm sorry, sir. Was... was lookin' for M... Mister Leat, s... sir, please." He was twisting his hands together nervously and couldn't help bracing himself for a clip round the ear, or worse.

"Oh, it's that one," Deverel answered, stepping out of his cabin and pointing at the correct door. "But you're not supposed to be in the gunroom. Leat! There's a boy here for you." His neighborly duty discharged, he sat at the table and began writing.

Too right he wasn't supposed to be here, and if he had any say in the matter, he wouldn't be here, either. He'd rather be almost anywhere... even running errands for the purser was preferable to being in here.

He crossed to the right door and bit his lip as he glanced at the third lieutenant before tapping at the door, so gently as to be almost inaudible to anyone on the other side of it, no matter how small the cabin was.

Leat had heard Deverel's unceremonious hail and had paused to shrug on his coat before emerging into the wardroom. He knew that Deverel was a casual sort of fellow in private, but he did wonder whether he could refrain from being so in public... as much as being in the presence of one of the ship's boys could be termed as 'public'. Sighing Leat opened the door and took a step forward.

"Deverel, what are you -"

He stopped short as he had to grab onto the doorframe in alarm to stop himself from falling, having very nearly tripped over Button who was standing immediately in the doorway. He had not heard the boy's timid knock, and so had not been expecting anyone to be on the other side of the threshold when he stepped out.

Deverel looked up at the sound of his name, but he could see that the matter was self-explanatory and so resumed his writing.

Terry gulped audibly and took a step backwards, away from the Second Lieutenant, bumping into the table behind him.

And now he was going to have two officers angry with him... Why did it always have to be him?

"P... Please, I'm s... sorry, sir," he mumbled, flushing pink and hanging his head. "W... was telled to... to report to Mister Leat, s'please you, sir."

Leat frowned, annoyed at Button's timidness and simultaneously recalling that, yes, the lad had indeed been appointed as his servant - much against Leat's own wishes. Bolitho had probably thought he'd been doing his second lieutenant a favour by foisting the boy on him - probably thought Leat's protests had been false modesty or a showing a willingness not to be of trouble - but whatever the reason Leat was not happy about it, and it showed in his expression.

"You had better come in then, Button," he said brusquely, and stood to one side, holding the door open so that Button could get past him into the cabin.

Terry glanced up long enough to register the fact that Mister Leat was scowling at him, and he shrank a little further. Why did Mister Leat always scowl at him? He couldn't think what he might have done wrong now, but it was bound to be something terribly important that he'd done, or not done, or something.

And then the Lieutenant stepped aside, holding the door open so Terry could come in. He held his breath as he slipped past the officer, trying to take up as little room as possible, and put his hands behind his back so that the officer wouldn't think he was going to touch anything he shouldn't, or break something or...

He studied his bare feet, barely breathing, as he waited for the officer to say whatever he was going to say.

With Button inside Leat shut the door and scrutinised the boy. Button was still trying to hide inside his shirt, and Leat could not help but let out a frustrated sigh.

"I am not going to eat you, Button," he said tersely. "You need not worry about that."

Though doubtless the boy would find plenty else to worry about. Why was he always so awkward, so afraid? What was the matter with the lad?

Terry glanced furtively around the small cabin. He couldn't see a birch or cane or anything... though of course, the Lieutenant would hardly choose to whip him himself, would he? He'd be more likely to get the bosun or one of his mates to do it. He twisted his fingers nervously behind his back, dropping his gaze as the officer sighed.

No, he wasn't afraid that the officer would eat him - there was probably more meat on a ship's rat, anyway.

Why was Mister Leat always so short with him? What had he done to make the officer always be so angry with him?

No reply, save the swiftest of furtive glances around the cabin. Leat resisted the urge to sigh again.

"You are free to start your duties with me immediately?" he asked.

He nodded, and then bit his lip as he realised the officer probably expected a verbal response.

"Y... yes, sir. If M... Mister Foxley's bin t... telled, sir."

"He has. In that case, Button, I will be taking a turn up on deck. I want to see this cabin tidied when I get back."

Not that there was much to tidy, it being so small a cabin that it could not be permitted to get untidy, but it was the only order he could think to give at the moment. Having done so he reached across to the cot where he'd placed his hat next to Emily.

"Y...Y... Aye, aye, sir." Though what there could possibly be to tidy, Terry didn't know - it looked just fine to him. He shrank back a little, trying to take up as little space as possible so that he wouldn't be in Mister Leat's way.

Repressing yet another sigh, Leat merely left the cabin and went up on deck to walk off his frustration.
...
When he returned later, having calmed down, he heard Button talking softly to himself through the thin canvas door. Curiosity replacing any irritation, the lieutenant gently pushed open the door which was slightly ajar.

Terry let out a silent sigh of relief as the door clicked shut behind Mister Leat, and then looked around the cabin properly. It wasn't very big, but it was private, something the young boy had never experienced for himself.

Instead of the wooden bunk the purser had, with the cupboards and other storage space under it, the Lieutenant had a hanging cot. The blankets were rumpled, probably by Miss Emily, who was curled up, though she raised her head to look at Terry as he hesitantly reached out a hand to scratch behind her ears.

He finally, reluctantly, had to pick her up so that he could straighten the blankets, doing his best to make the bed as neatly as he could, before turning to see what else he could do. There didn't seem to be anything, at first, but then he had an idea and slipped out of the cabin, returning a few minutes later struggling with a heavy pail half-full of water, and a scrubbing brush.

Miss Emily jumped up onto the desk, looking at him as he put the bucket down before bending to roll his trousers up - no sense in getting his clean trousers wet, after all.

Terry dipped the brush into the bucket before getting to his knees and beginning to scrub the floor. "I dunno what I'm doin' 'ere, even," he muttered to the brush in his hand. "S'pose it ain't so bad as the work'ouse, an' the work's diff'rent alla time, but I dunno why I'm 'ere, even."

There was a soft mew from the cat and he glanced at her. "See, there's such a lot of folks here. Which there was there, too, I s'pose. You was never on your own, not even though you wasn't allowed to talk, not really. Usedta birch you if you did, see. The master an' the overseer used to carry birches wiv 'em an' you'd get a proper beatin' if you broke the rules."

Button had not noticed the door opening, and Leat watched the small boy methodically scrubbing the floor. The boy was not talking to himself, as the lieutenant had first supposed, but to his cat, and as he listened Leat could not help but feel sympathy for Button. He had come in his best clothes, he suddenly realised, and had attempted to wash by all appearances. Why had he not noticed that?

He sighed, and paused to dip the brush in the bucket again. It would have been better if he'd brought a full bucket, rather than half a bucket, but it had been enough of a struggle to carry it as it was.

"Was allus cold, there, though, an' there warn't never enough to eat." He shrugged; not having enough food was something he'd been used to. "Not like 'ere - three meals a day, an' them 'ot, too, if you wants 'em. I don't 'ave the burgoo, though - too much like gruel. 'Orrible thin watery stuff, that was. You'd get a bowl of that for dinner, an' you'd be lucky if there was anythin' in it, like even a lump of meat. An' if they thought you'd bin bad, you wouldn't get that even. Usedta watch us alla time, an' they'd glare if you so much as stopped to scratch your nose. We was... we was all scared of 'em, see."

He paused again to glance at the cat, who looked back with unblinking green eyes and cocked her head to one side, curiously. "Mister Foxley... 'e's jus' like the Master, see. Only 'e don't use a birch like 'e did. E's got a leather strap what 'e uses, on your hand." He couldn't help but flex his hand at the memory of that tawse. "'E says... 'e says I'm clumsy an'... an' stoopit." His eyes were beginning to prickle with tears now for some reason and he had to blink fiercely against them, though he couldn't hold back a sniff. "Well, o' course I am... 'e makes me, see, bein' that scared of 'im that I jump ev'ry time 'e comes up be'ind me. 'E don't... 'e don't glare like Mister Leat does, though."

Leat had not expected to hear his own name come up in this monologue, despite it being his cabin and his cat that Button was talking to. However, he was not angry, and found himself to be more curious, that furious. This poor boy was pouring his heart out to a cat... because he did not have anyone else. Not a soul.

"'E's allus angry wiv me, an' I dunno why," Terry continued, the scrubbing forgotten, although he was still holding the brush. "I on'y ever tried to 'elp, see. Like... like the time Mister Fletcher was up the mizzen. 'E'd only ever done that once afore, I fink, an' 'e was scairt stiff, couldn't go up or down. So me an' Fingers helped 'im down - wasn't no-one else bothered."

The cat leapt lightly down from her perch and nuzzled against Terry's unoccupied hand. He let go of the scrubbing brush and sat back, picking her up and holding her close, stroking her soft fur, heedless of the fact that he was going to be covered in cat-fur when Mister Leat got back.

"An' then 'e slipped, and Mister Leat saw it. I never bin so scairt in me life - thought 'e was goin' to 'ave us caned, or worser." He smothered the sob that rose in his throat then. "An' when they.... said I was to... to be 'is servant... 'E scares me, see... I'm 'fraid I'll... I'll drop somefin'... b... break somefin'... or... or w... worse..."

He couldn't stop the tears now, and they dropped hot and wet onto the soft grey fur of the cat in his arms. It wasn't fair. All he'd ever wanted was to do his best - he'd always tried to, ever since coming aboard - and it always seemed as though he'd done exactly the wrong thing.

Emily had jumped down from her perch and was being hugged by Button, the small boy curling up around her and shaking with silent tears. You learnt to cry quietly on lower deck, Leat remembered grimly, and he assumed it had been the same at Button's former home.

What he had not stopped to consider either was how much his anger the other day with Fletcher, Button and Smith must have hurt. He'd known it was an accident - of course he had - but he had taken out his shock on the boys, persuading himself it was the only way to stop them being so foolish again. He had not even realised he was doing it at the time, and as a result he had made one innocent soul more miserable than it had ever deserved to be.

Not quite knowing why Leat stepped into the cabin, shutting the door gently behind him and sat down next to Button, bundling both cat and boy into his arms. He was not sure how appropriate an action it was, but it seemed the right thing to do at this moment.