A Change of Duties

Leat raised his eyes and looked directly at Button, who had flushed a delicate shade of pink and was sitting awkwardly to attention. Poor lad, he thought grimly. He probably had no idea what he was on about.

"And you need not be afraid of me," he said firmly. "Not me, nor Mr. Bush, nor Mister Deverel, nor the captain."

"But you -" he muttered, then jerked his eyes up to meet the officer's, gulped and dropped his eyes to stare at his bare feet, flushing scarlet to the roots of his hair.

Oh, why couldn't they have left him with Mister Foxley and got someone else up here?

He was glued to the spot. If he hadn't been, he had no doubt that he would have overturned the mug in his haste to escape down to the hold, where nobody would bother him.

"I do not mean that you should be disrespectful," Leat pushed on, despite Button turned bright scarlet and looking for all the world as if he wished to vanish on the spot. "But respect is different to fear - though I know some would have it otherwise. The duty of an officer is not the frighten his men into such as state as it affects their ability to perform their duties..."

And that was not the best thing to say. He'd just implied that Button lacked courage and ability; exactly the opposite of what he'd intended to do! He cast around for something else to say, and lighted on the floor.

"You have given the deck a decent scrubbing," he said. "Even though I did not ask you to; and you turned yourself out neatly to report to me, though not a word was mentioned on your presentation. That is very much in favour of your character, Button. It is not every person that can think of things that others would not."

He nodded miserably at the officer's words. He was frightened, anyone could see that, and of course he was stupid and clumsy, why else would the purser keep saying he was?

Only Mister Leat hadn't stopped talking. And for some reason Terry's eyes were prickling suspiciously, and there was a lump in his throat. He swallowed to try to get rid of it, then swallowed again and managed to look back up.

He tightened his grip on the mug he was holding. "C... can..." he whispered, and licked dry lips before trying again. "P... please, sir, c... can I ask a q... question, sir?"

Leat was surprised to hear the timid whisper of Button's voice, but he nodded.

"Of course," he said. Oh Lord, the poor boy looked close to tears again!

He blinked furiously against the prickling behind his eyes. Nobody had ever really said something nice to him. Well, the captain had, but that was different - it wasn't about him.

Blinking didn't help and he rubbed his eyes with the back of his wrist before carefully putting the mug down. He didn't want to spill it, if his question made the officer so angry he was going to get hit. He found his hands were shaking a little and he clasped them together in his lap to try to hide it.

"W... why you b... bein' so nice? Y... you's allus angry wiv... wiv me. S... sir."

The question did take Leat aback somewhat, but he looked more startled than angry, and then somewhat worried.

"I... was not aware that you thought that," he said. "I am sorry; I do not intend to give that impression." Strict, maybe, but not angry...

And as to why he was taking time over Button? He sighed. Would he risk the truth? It would not hurt, he supposed. It was not exactly a secret.

"And, well, I suppose it is because my own introduction to the Service was so like yours. I was pressed as a boy, though I was not quite so young as yourself."

"But y... you's allus s... scowlin' at me, sir," he managed, and then his mouth fell open in shock. "Pressed? You was pressed, sir?"

And hadn't Mister Bush been a lower-deck sailor as well, once? There had been rumours, about both officers, but the talk never really lingered on speculation about the officers.

And now he had put the mug down, he didn't quite dare to pick it up again, not with the officer watching him. He would probably spill it all over himself, and prove that he was just as stupid and clumsy as Mister Foxley always said he was.

Button gaped at him in astonishment, and Leat supposed it was a better option than the boy bursting into tears again. He nodded.

"Aye. I was an undertaker's apprentice in Portsmouth; my father's firm. I had to take a different route home one night and fell foul of a press gang from the sloop Peregrine. I didn't stand a chance, and was bundled aboard with my feet and hands tied, lest I tried anything; roughly handled up the side with no ceremony whatsoever." The lieutenant gave Button a wry smile. "At least you had the advantage of being able to walk aboard."

His eyes were round. He had never heard of an officer being pressed... or a pressed man becoming an officer.

The cat looked very happy in Mister Leat's lap, being fussed, and the officer didn't seem as though he was going to put her down and bundle Terry out. He finally dared to pick the mug up again and take another sip.

"'S'nicer 'ere than the 'ome, s... sir," he managed, still not able to speak in much more than a whisper while faced with the dark blue of an officer's coat, although he managed not to stammer over his words more than once.

Mister Leat didn't seem quite as frightening as he had the other day... although maybe it was the fact that he was stroking the cat that helped?

"I am glad," Leat said sincerely, also glad to see Button calm down enough to start sipping at his cocoa again. "I hope it will continue to get better for you as well. It is not the easiest of lives, but on the whole it is a rewarding one."

That was possible stretching the truth a bit; but in a general sense Button was guaranteed three meals a day, a bed for the night, clothes and shoes, and a wage when it eventually came to him. For most it was an improvement, even if it did not seem so at first.

All he coudl wish for was that Button would not find it so miserable, and would learn that he did not have to be afraid; that every movement of a hand was not a potential blow - though he would be having words with Foxley. He would not mention Button, of course, nor make reference to a ship's boy, but specify that there had been complaints "from the hands". That way there would be no direct revenge on the purser's part.

He shrugged a thin shoulder. It couldn't very well be worse than the Foundling Home, not really. He had proper clothes, and three hot meals a day, and a comfortable bed.

Did he dare to ask another question? He wasn't sure, but with the officer in a nice mood like this, it would be worth a try.

"Why... why did you want me f'r your servant, sir?" he said carefully, and wondered if he could stroke Miss Emily again... Her fur had been so soft under his hand.

Leat hesitated a moment before answering. He knew he had to put this carefully if he did not want to end up hurting the boy's feelings again.

Funny. Yesterday he could not have cared less for what Button felt.

"I did not specifically want you, Button," he said simply, putting Emily back down on the deck again. "In truth I did not want anyone for a servant; I have always been happy to serve myself and rely on the wardroom steward for any other needs. The captain, however, informed me that Markham was complaining of over work, and so as I would not voluntarily have a servant the captain selected one for me. It is not I, Button, but the captain that is responsible for your change of duties."

Terry tentatively reached a hand towards Miss Emily. He looked up as the officer spoke.

Of course the officer didn't want him - but who would, really? Somehow the news was easier to take than the compliment of a few moments ago had been. He was far more used to bad news than to compliments, after all.

He gave a quiet sigh and braced himself, regretfully putting the mug down again. "I... I can go, if... if you don't want me, s... sir," he said. "'M sorry, sir. Don't... don't want t'be a... a nuisance, sir." His voice wobbled a bit and he hoped that the Lieutenant hadn't noticed, though there was no chance of that, of course.

Leat watched the boy as Emily sauntered over and wantonly rubbed up against the outstrected skinny hand. Poor Button was quick to assume offence was meant - even if it was not. Probably because he was used to offence that he must assume that would be all he ever received.

"Had I made the choice myself I probably would have chosen you anyway, Button," he said, deciding it was probably best to ignore Button's very generous, though impossible, offer to clear out. Neither he nor Button could go against the captain's will. "If you want a reason... Well, you seem honest, and attentive to your duties when you are not off skylarking; which is a lot more than can be said for some of the boys aboard."

He paused, and smiled as he glanced at the cat again.

"Plus my good lady seems to approve of you, so now you will have to stay."

Miss Emily was bunting her head against his hand and he couldn't help scratching her behind the ears.

And the officer was giving him yet another compliment, which renewed the prickling behind his eyes. He couldn't blink the tears away this time and cuffed at them, though he couldn't help giving a small shy smile, despite the tears. Why was he being so stupidly soppy just because someone was being nice to him? It didn't make any sense.

He didn't know quite how to accept the compliment, and decided maybe it was better not to say anything about it, rather than say the wrong thing.

"She's awful nice, sir," he managed to say, wondering a little at his own daring in offering an opinion like that without being asked.

"She can be," Leat said with a mock grudging tone. Then, thinking that the cat was a good subject on which to engage Button, he continued. "It is not only me that needs looking after, you know, but her as well. I keep a box of sand over there for her convenience, but I for my duties I cannot always keep it as fresh as it should be; nor am I able to see that she is fed regularly at times. She also occassionally needs playing with to keep her out of mischief - and believe me, she can be very mischievous when she wants to be."

He looked up at the officer, still blinking against the dampness in his eyes, and chewed his lip as he took in what the officer was saying. It seemed some of his new duties would include looking after the cat, too.

He'd never done that before.

There was an impatient "Mew!" and he looked down, startled, as the cat jumped into his lap.

"I'll do me best, sir, honest I will," he managed, in little more than a whisper, though he did manage not to stumble over his words this time, for possibly the first time ever when talking to an officer.

"I cannot expect any more of you," Leat said, and furnished the boy with another smile as Emily leapt up into Button's lap. "See? She is much more demanding than I am."

There were tears there in Button's eyes again, but he no longer seemed so hangdog. It seemed the more he could engage Button in conversation, the more the lieutenant felt he might bring the boy out of himself.

"Your duties as far as I am concerned will not be many," he said. "Mainly you will be responsible for the washing of my clothes, though any mending I do myself. In the mornings you shall fetch hot water for washing, you shall serve me at dinner and see that this cabin is kept clean and in order."

Leat glanced around the few square feet that respresented his only privacy aboard ship. His brow wrinkled slightly.

"Not that I think you'd find that difficult," he said thoughtfully. "Overall I think Mr. Foxley has more space than this..."

Terry wondered stupidly what sort of magic it was that the cat had, that had changed things so completely. He stroked her gently, half-expecting the soft fur under his hand to vanish away like a dream, and to find himself back in the purser's charge.

He nodded again as the officer expanded on the duties he would be expected to do. He could manage that. Mostly. The thought of serving at the officers' dinner made his heart pound all over again, though. He would have to try to find out what to do from one of the other servants, and if not, he'd just have to watch them and hope he wouldn't screw up too badly.

He glanced around the cabin again. It was very small, but the only space that he himself had was his hammock and the sea-chest that he shared with Jacky Fisher.

He shook his head. "Wasn't allowed inta the store-room, sir, an' Mister Foxley's cabin's smaller'n yours." As one of the standing officers, the purser had a cabin-bed, not a hammock, which meant he didn't need a sea-chest, so that almost halved the room that he needed.

"Well, that is something, I suppose," Leat murmured, more to himself than the boy. Space was a jealously-guarded privilege amongst the officers, and it did Leat's sense of pride a world of good to hear that the purser wasn't getting away with encroaching on his storerooms for extra living space. "You need not stay in the wardroom all the time either if you do not have duties to perform; just so long as you will be able to be found when you're needed."

He glanced sideways at Button.

"I have no objection to a skylark - so long as it is in it's proper time and place."

The Lieutenant's last words made Terry swallow nervously. He hadn't sneaked away all that often from doing his chores before. Well, not really. It was mainly the purser's temper and his tawse that Terry had kept away from. And that brought something else to mind.

He looked down, focussing on the cat curled up contentedly in his lap, and gathered his courage.

"P... please, sir, w...what..." he took a breath, steeling himself to ask the question without stuttering over it - if he could. "W... what 'appens when I screw up, s... sir?" He flexed his hand again, unconsciously, thinking of Mister Foxley's tawse. "I... I mean, 'ow you goin' to p.... punish me, sir?"

There was no doubt at all in his mind that he would screw up, though; it was just a matter of when, and how the officer would deal with it. He wanted to know the bad news now, before it all got too good to be true. And he hadn't stammered his words that badly this time. It was almost something to be proud of, that.

"I sincerely hope you do not intend to "screw up" as you put it on a regular basis," Leat commented blithely. He had not really thought he needed to go over methods of punishment. "I had not thought I would need to give you details, Button. All you should know, and probably need to know, is that I will endeavour to be fair."

The boy did not seem particularly happy about this, and once again the lieutenant felt as if he were talking to a puppy that had been kicked so many times it ran away even from a friendly gesture. Button would require patience, and he feared that he himself may not possess it in ample quantities. He must give it a try, though; for both their sakes.

"If you are still worried about my shouting at you and Smith over Mr. Fletcher's debacle up the mast, don't be. That incident was Mr. Fletcher's fault, and I do not hold anything against you or Smith regarding that. If that eases your mind at all."

It did not ease the lieutenant's. He did not believe he could bend to an outright apology; not yet, anyway.

Terry looked up in surprise at Mister Leat's last words. He hadn't meant that at all. "Wasn't that at all, sir," he said, startled. "I mean... I said I'll do me best, sir, and I will, only..." He looked down again, shrugging. "Mister Foxley's allus mad at me 'cause I mess up, even when... even when I don't mean to, an'... an' I don't w... want to let you down. On'y I will, a-cause I... I allus do."

He twisted his fingers together nervously, though the cat in his lap looked up at him and he went back to stroking her, the regular rhythm helping to steady him a bit.

He bit his lip and looked up. "An' p... please don't be angry wiv Mister Fletcher, s... sir. Wasn't his fault he s... slipped, please, sir."

"What opinion I hold of Mr. Fletcher's antics is none of your business, Button," Leat said simply. Had he been speaking to any other seaman the lieutenant would have been damning his impertinance. "Is that clear?"