3 June; Concerned Shipmates

"Wasn' anyone else there, sir," he said, shuffling his feet. "Don' s'pose 'e wanted anyone to know, 'specially if 'e fought 'e was goin' to get scared, like."

Was he imagining it, or was there really a dangerous note in Mister Leaford's voice? It was probably only his imagination.

Good lad! "Just so. I'm sure there was no reason beyond that for his venturing up alone. Good job you were there, eh?"

He nodded, biting his lip. "Yes, sir."

That would do. Any further and he'd risk overplaying his hand. For now, anyway.

"Good lad. Cut along now and mind you be a bit more careful in your skylarking in future, eh?"

"Y... Yes, sir." He needed no further bidding, but knuckled his forehead again, and turned away, still wondering why Mister Leaford had chosen to ask him, rather than the midshipman himself.

"Oh. And Button?" Despite himself, Leaford couldn't resist one last quick jab. "Be mindful who you offer assistance to. Not every boy aboard is what he seems."

There now. If the lad couldn't work out what he meant by that, it was perhaps for the best he ended up in trouble.

He turned back as Mister Leaford called his name. Whatever the older man meant by that, he wasn't sure, but he nodded anyway. "Aye, aye, sir."

He hadn't done anything wrong in offering to help Mister Fletcher, he was still fairly sure of that... He'd have to think things over in private. If he could find somewhere private without scrambling down to the hold again, that was. He didn't want to go down there too often, in case other people found out about it.

No sooner was Button thinking this than along came little Fletcher. Seeing Button he was reminded that he meant to reassure the lad that he did not hold their collision the other day or the incident up the mast against him.

"Button," he said, approaching the other boy. "Do you think I can have a word with you?"

Now what? Couldn't the officers just leave him alone for a bit, please? Unless there was something really bad that he'd done or something.

He knuckled his forehead to the young midshipman, feeling uncertain. "Y... yes, sir."

Really, though, it wasn't up to Terry himself, was it? If the other boy - midshipman - wanted to speak to him, then he would, wouldn't he. And he couldn't think what why Mister Fletcher wanted to talk to him, and what on earth he might have done to the midshipman.

Well, that was a good start. Fletcher looked around the deck, thinking that it was best not to say the following it the open.

"I... think we'll go somewhere more private," he said.

Terry swallowed. That could be... That could be very bad news indeed, though he couldn't say anything.

"Aye, aye, sir," he said, wondering where the midshipman was planning on taking him.

"The cable tiers, perhaps?" Fletcher suggested. "I... I know it's not the most pleasant of places, but we'd get some peace."

The cable tiers were all right, Terry thought. It wasn't as though he hadn't spent time down there himself after all. His opinion of the other boy changed a little. He'd always thought that midshipmen had it easy, though if Mister Fletcher knew to suggest the cable tiers as a private space, maybe he didn't have it that good?

"All right, sir," he said, shrugging. "There's places in the hold too, if you'd prefer." Though, maybe it wasn't a good idea to suggest that?

Fletcher immediately shook his head.

"Too far down," he said. "Come on, I'll lead the way."

He had come to the conclusion since his talk with Chase that officers did always go first; he had watched the lieutenants and the captain closely and found that this was indeed the case. Therefore, and since he'd suggested the location anyway, he would lead the way to the cable tier.

"Aye, aye, sir," Terry replied, wondering what on earth Mister Fletcher could possibly want with him, and hoping that it wasn't anything bad.

He followed the midshipman, his own bare feet nearly silent when compared to the sound of the other boy's shoes on the wooden planking of the deck.

Fletcher led the way confidently, and when they had descended into the gloom of the cable tier he sat cross-legged in the lane between the coils of cables, then indicated politely to the patch of planking opposite him.

"Sit you down, please." It was a phrase he had heard his grandfather use when entertaining friends - though the suffix of 'please' was Simon's own addtion. "I am afraid it is rather dark down here, but your eyes do get used to it."

Please? Terry honestly couldn't remember anyone saying 'please' to him before, and meaning it, and gaped briefly at the midshipman before dropping to the deck himself, pulling his own bare legs in so that he, too, was seated cross-legged.

It was even darker down in the hold, of course, but he could hardly say that to a midshipman.

What on earth could Mister Fletcher possibly want with him?

Fletcher looked at Button for a few moments, gauging the other boy's feelings against his own nerves that had suddenly returned. He would not let them take control of him now, he told himself firmly. He had got so far; now he must continue, or else look more of a fool than he was now.

"I wanted to say thank you, Button," he said, his voice soft in the gloom. "For helping me on the mast the other day. I was too scared to say so at the time, but... thank you."

"I..." he began, when the meaning of what the midshipman had said penetrated his brain. "Couldn't... couldn't not 'elp. Not up there. Sir."

It was a horribly scary place to be, after all, if you'd never done it before. Terry had been lucky that he'd been able to go up with a grown sailor, the first time.

"Y... you was awful brave... doin' it on your own, l... like that, sir," he got out, offering the compliment shyly.

Fortunately, from Fletcher's point of view, it was too dark for Button to see him go bright crimson. His cheeks and ears felt so hot that they must be burning up.

"I-I had to do it," he said, fighting down the stutterthat threatened to return. "Else what sort of officer would I be? You mustn't be scared aboard ship; not of anything or anyone, else you're not a good officer."

He looked back up at Button again, his eyes wide in the dark.

"You were kind to come and help me, so I did not suffer disgrace. And I wanted to say also that I don't mind about you bumping into me the other day. You looked as scared as I felt up the mast and... I know how horrible it is to feel that scared. You needn't be; not of me." he finished lamely.

Terry went scarlet to the roots of his hair at the compliment. He just hoped that the midshipman couldn't see it.

"I... I s'pose b... bein' brave's jus'... jus' doin' it anyway," he offered hesitantly. Though nobody could call him brave, of course. He was always scared, especially of the officers - though some of the petty officers were nice, like Mister Evans.

He took a breath, trying to find the best way to say what he wanted. "Fink I jus'... jus' saw the coat, s... sir." Mister Fletcher's coat was the dark blue of an officer's uniform, whereas Terry's own jacket was a paler blue like those of the seamen.

That made more sense to Fletcher; Button had been scared of the coat, not of who was wearing it.

"I did wonder," he said. "I thought it odd that anyone would be scared of me. I've neverly really found myself to be the frightening sort."

Terry's face was still warm. He bit his lip, looking shyly at the midshipman - not that he could see much of him in the darkness. A thought occurred to him and he frowned at the strangeness of it, before offering hesitantly, "You... you ain't so diff'rent from me, sir, n... not reelly."

The thought that Mister Fletcher was really only a boy like him was almost alien to him, but sitting here in the dark talking with him wasn't so different to talking with one of the other ship's boys. How strange.

"No, don't think so," Fletcher replied simply. he did not really think of differences in terms of class or background. "Do you have any parents?"

"N... no, sir," he said, a little bemused at the turn the conversation had taken, though he was now almost as relaxed as he would be if it was another of the ship's boys. "'M from a Foundlin' 'Ome, sir," he offered shyly, and dared to ask a question of his own in turn. "'Ow about you, sir?"