4 June; Boys at Work

"Hmm." Bush raised an eyebrow. He seriously doubted that Fingers had just happened to come by to help Button clean up, but as long as they took care of the spill, he was not going to rake them over the coals for it. It did not appear that there had been any serious harm done, after all.

"Get it cleaned up, then. And I would ask that you both try and exercise a little more caution next time." He glanced at Button. "If you are going to be working around the wardroom, there had better not be any foolishness going on."

De Guarde was torn between keeping beside Fingers, in a nice quiet inconspicious way or, to stand beside Button, in a similarly I'm not there, although I'm standing and knuckling my forehead to you.

He was surprised when, whatever he was doing appeared quite successful, for he did escape the glare of the first lieutenant. The latter reserved to Button and Fingers. Well, he was not about to end his luck by saying something. Kneeling - he wasn't crouching, not really - he only shifted a little forward taking the tub into his hand. It had been the cause of twice the boys tripping. It was better to keep it out of the way of the lieutenant. The two boys did not want to have an injured lieutenant on their list of things they have done.

Terry nodded - of course they were going to clear it up, just as soon as they could. And then Mister Bush said he hoped there wasn't any larking about going on and he shook his head. "N.. no, sir. I jus' tripped, sir, honest."

He didn't want to be working around the wardroom, where the potential for really screwing up was enormous, but he didn't have much choice... And Mister Leat had turned out to be much nicer than he'd seemed to be.

He glanced at Fingers, wondering how the other boy's hand was.

Bush saw the movement out of the corner of his eye as De Guarde grabbed the tub. Amazingly the boy had been inconspicuous for once. So much so that Bush had not even noticed him until now. But his presence was quite nearly a confirmation that there had been some sort of horseplay going on.

"De Guarde seems to have gotten a head start," he commented, looking expectantly at Button and Fingers, "Well, you're not going to let him clean up all by himself, are you?"

No. Nonono. Fingers paled but there was nothing else for it. He lifted his right hand to his brow in salute and shuffled forward, steeling himself to make a show of being unhurt. Why had the first luff chosen now to come out and discover them?

He reached out with both hands, forcing his left to open, with the goal of helping De Guarde lift the tub. It was a bad idea, for he found immediately that he couldn't bear to lift any weight with it.

Terry paused for a fraction of a second - may be too long - before grabbing at the now-empty basin and holding it out to Fingers. Hopefully he could take that, even if he had hurt himself, and it wouldn't be obvious that his wrist was injured?

He reached for the tub with his other hand - he could carry it, if Fingers couldn't.

He didn't dare to look at the fearsome First Luff in case he somehow gave the game away.

De Guarde shook his head looking at Fingers and hoped the boy would understand that he ought not to try carry that or even to attempt to. Not with that injury which the First lieutenant was better not to discover.

He was very gladly quiet too. He only gave a faint." I'll carry, Terry. s'ok." before the boy took on himself more than he could carry and had it all tumble to the ground yet again.

And there went the tub again, putting the boys back to where they started. Bush sighed exasperatedly and shook his head.

"De Guarde, if you're going to help, please try to actually make some progress instead of making things worse," he said.

It had been going all right before Fingers had come along with his news and started teasing him... and Terry's eyes widened. What if Fingers couldn't take part in the skylarking? That wouldn't be fair, at all.

If that happened, maybe they could do it another day, instead of later today?

He glanced nervously at the officer and bent for the tub, hoping Buckles would just let him do it - he was all right, mostly, if people didn't put him off. And it wasn't any heavier than one of the spittoons he had to clean regularly, either.

Somehow, Mister Bush seemed to think it was De Guard's fault for the basin falling again. That was both good and bad. Fingers set his jaw and moved to help Button with the dratted thing, steadfastly ignoring the sharp burning twinges of pain in his wrist.

If he didn't drop it again, it'd be a miracle.

"Here, um," Terry said, trying to think of something Fingers could do to look like he was helping but that wouldn't hurt his wrist any worse. He nearly gave up and then had a brainwave. "Couldja find some rags or summat to sop up the worst bit o' water?" he asked, and then faltered as he glanced at the dark blue of Mister Bush's coat and remembered there was an officer there. "Please?" he added in a voice that was suddenly very nearly a whisper.

Rags? Right. He could do that. Fingers hesitated for just a second before nodding. "Arright." He touched a curled knuckle to his forehead in deference to Mister Bush - and promptly winced when he realised he had, inadvertently, brought his left hand up to render the salute. Which hurt.

Best to get out of there fast. Fingers scarpered.

De Guarde wanted to say something along the lines of a protest, but instead of that he said a very quiet and timid: "Aye sir." And looked at both Fingers and Button. He was trying to help, if either of them would actually let him. Fingers was clearly in pain and in dire, damn need to get to the surgeon no matter what.

He stood there bemused. He wanted to help somehow, because just standing there would not be to anyone's use or liking, but he really did not want the basin dropped again, or worse and Button did look determined to carry it. Fingers was better of fetching the rags and ...damn he wished he's just remained as someone observing and would have snuck off when things got bad. He looked inquiringly at the other boy.

Terry wasn't used to thinking for other people, but Buckles was standing there looking lost and unsure of himself. "Could go an' find a swab, mate," he said, giving the older boy a friendly elbow in the ribs. "Us needs t'be able to dry the deck, don't we?"

He sent a timid glance up at the First Luff, hoping that the officer wasn't going to be too angry with them.

Swab? Right. He thought he knew where he could one such a thing. He gave Button a nimble nod. "..Will." And with that, he turned to run and find it, only to stop mid step to look at the lieutenant. As if thinking an explanation was needed he said. "Goin'.. fetch t' swab." Just to make sure that Lieutenant Bush would not think he was running away.

He hadn't wanted to come back. Not with Mister Bush no doubt still lurking. But he had been sent to fetch rags and that was what he'd done. So back toward the wardroom it was.

"Gottem," Fingers reported, shuffling up with a double handful of rags. It almost didn't hurt if he didn't think about it. Almost.

Terry hadn't meant for his friend to get that many rags - and if he'd hurt his hand too, it didn't bear thinking about. He just hoped that they weren't going to get in trouble, because if they were in trouble with the First Lieutenant, life wouldn't be worth living.

With swabs and rags the boys would make the deck as good as before if not better. De Guarde appeared a short while later, glancing at Fingers and ten Button. Now, quick, quiet and with good quality of cleaning and they might just escape the wrat of te first lieutenant.

"Terry. " e whispered as if speaking loudly was forbidden. "les' better start now."

Terry nodded, reaching to take a rag - or two - from Fingers' stash. If only there was something he could think of that would mean Fingers didn't have to actually do anything that might hurt his hand worse.

There wasn't, though. Or if there was, he couldn't think of it. Blow it all - and why did Mister Bush have to be there like that anyway?

There wasn't much he could do but stand there with the remaining bundle of rags in his hands. If he tried to help swab up the spill, Mister Bush would know right off he was hurt. Of course, if he stood there and did nothing the first luff would pull him up for it.

It was a rare instance of indecision for Fingers and he didn't like it.

"Sorry, sir," he muttered and dropped his gaze to the deck.

De Guarde went to his knees to swap at the spilled water, holding a rag of his own. He kept his mind and his gaze on the task. Their work would be over rather quickly. The water spread enough and it was now trying to find a way through the planks, somehow.

"S' enough work fer less n' two." He murmured. It meant perhaps that Fingers could hold onto the rags and the pair, him and Button, could wipe away what was left on the ground. As soon as they would be done, it would be wisest for them to scram before Bush found reason to go at them.

Terry glanced at Fingers. There wasn't anything else he could think of that Fingers could do, not if he'd hurt his wrist. Why couldn't Mister Bush just go away and leave them to it? He frowned at de Guarde, trying to communicate that the other boy should be quiet, just for now.

De Guarde looked at Button, somewhat bemused. He was trying to help there. If Fingers did not need to do anything, his injury wouldn't be betrayed. Then again, he could be wrong.

He blinked and looked back down, keeping his mouth shut and being dutifully at work where he was needed.