At the Muster Books

Standland throws his sea chest over his shoulder and heads for the companionway to stake out some territory below before all the good empty spots are taken by the other transfers. Jack thought to himself that he'd have to figure out what watch and division he was assigned to just as soon as he could.

There he went. Right. No time like the present. Tide stepped away from the boat tier, figuring he could intercept the new man before he reached the ladder.

"Twenty years as a foremast lad, eh?"

Terry slipped down the fore companionway and then moved aft, trying to get a better look at the newcomer. He didn't look scary, which was good; he'd had far too much of bad-tempered sailors cuffing him or glaring at him. If this one was like Cob Chase or Mister Evans, it could only be a good thing.

And thinking about Mister Evans, the quartermaster was already there. Bother.

Jack swung his sea chest easily to the deck and offered his hand to the seaman who had just approached him. He still hoped to grab a choice spot, but he was too friendly to slight any welcoming crewmate. "They calls me Jack Standland."

"Aye, twenty years, but not continuous like. And 'ow 'about you, mate? Been at sea long yerself?"

Then noticing the lad trying to look inconspicuous he gave him a nod and a wink before turning back to his most recent interlocutor.

With a grin, Tide returned the offered handshake firmly. "Tide Evans," he replied. " 'Bout eighteen years, m'self. Started out as a cap'n's servant in a merchantman an' went up from there."

He glanced behind him and chuckled. "And that scamp's Button. Still wet behind his ears."

"Thought I could see the layers of salt on you, Tide. It's a right pleasure, and I am willing to wager that your name fits to a tee, mate."

Then Jack turned back towards the lad and beckoned him over.

""ullo, Button! I don't bite, lad."

"It does, sure." Tide shook his head. "He's a bit of a flighty one, Button is. Takes a fright easy. Dunno why."

"More's the pity."

Standland turned back toward Button and in a reassuring tone said, "Rest easy, boyo, you have nothing to fear from Jack Standland."

Then he turned, picked up his dunnage, and turned to walk on sayin' "How many watches do they run on this ship, Tide?"

News always traveled fast. And when there was a whole long procession of men and boys - well not so long but who was counting - going about deck to sign themselves in, news hardly needed to go anywhere. The first of the signed had already descended in search of a spot. He had thought to follow him and see what there could be done. But then Tide Evans had gone after him and so, not unlike Button, he lingered on the side.

He was torn between going up to see who else would come. With the first step made in the direction though, he changed his mind. Taking one back he listened with some mild curiosity. It looked like a rather friendly one. Reassuring to Button, like he meant to establish that there was no reason to fear him at all. He arched his brow. True or false on that? An old hand though, by the looks of it. Not a landlubber by the sound of it.

Whether or not Button would dare come near was hard to tell. Tide wasn't going to force him.

"Two watches 'board of here," he replied, falling into step with Standland. "It's the starbowlins on deck now, by the look of it."

"Good. I like what I'm used to. But Defiance had a three watch system so there's sure to be some whinging from those in the crew who've grown accustomed to it."

Then Standland having dealt with stowing his dunnage and staking out his claim for hammock space for the night, turned to his new friend and asked which officer he should talk to about his watch and division assignment.

"It's always good to 'ave all that straight in yer head as soon as can be. But I don't want to start by approaching the wrong man and gettin' in a bad way."

"C'mon, Button," Tide said over his shoulder as he started down the ladder. Down to the gundeck, then lower. The messdeck was a bustle of chatter and movement as the new men fumbled their way toward getting settled in. Their progress was hardly helped by the grinning lads of the off-watch.

On the matter of a watch and division sorting, Tide could only shrug. "Couldn't rightly say," he answered. "But don't ask the bos'un."

"'Ello," Terry said, coming forward a little reluctantly. He seemed nice enough, but you could never tell. Though nobody was likely to do anything with a petty officer there - and Mister Evans was nice enough anyway, so there was nothing to worry about from him.

"Bosun's a bastard," he confided, looking up at the new arrival, once he was sure Mister Evans had stopped speaking. "So's pusser." At least, the purser was a bastard to Terry and more than likely to the other boys, who couldn't do anything about it. "Ain't it Mister Bush who sorts watches and alla that sort o' stuff?" he asked blankly. He had a vague idea that it was the sort of thing the First Luff would do, and would pass it on via the man's divisional officer or something.

"You'll be tole soon." De Guarde murmured coming up behind Button. He nudged the boy lightly in the side. Shouldn't have gone on talking bad about people infront of Tide Evans, or anyone!

"Could be you're in ours or t' other'un. M' in larboard watch,.."And then he shut up gazing curiously at the new man and somewhat apprehensively at Tide. The glance that Button received was pretty neutral, though the lad was nudged forward almost like a living shield - only he wanted it to appear much more innocent.

Terry gave Buckles a quick scowl as he was nudged forwards. He didn't really want to get any closer to the men if he didn't have to, despite the friendly looks of the new arrival. "Me and all," he said and glanced anxiously up at Mister Evans. It wasn't Terry's fault if the bosun was a bastard, but maybe he shouldn't have said so? And it wasn't as though Mister Evans knew about the tawse, or used it, even if he was a petty officer and had a rope's end. He hardly ever used that, even.

Jack simply chuckled at the exchange and looking at the newcomer said, "Don't worry the lad none. He's the right to an opinion same as you and me." Then after a pause, Standland turned to look at Button and continued, "Though, between you and me, Master Button, it often serves to keep that opinion close by. There are some tale-bearers and worse on every King's Ship I've served on. I can tell you have a sound head piece and I expect you'll take what wisdom you can from an ancient like myself and do with it as you will."

For his part, Tide grinned and shook his head. "He's a point, too. The deck beams got ears, see."

He reached out and poked playfully at De Guarde, wondering if the boy was at all receptive to passive teasing. "That's why you're hangin' about below now, ain't it? Bein' with the larbowlin lads. Does Chase know you're runnin' about loose? I'd've reckoned he'd want you on a tether."

De Guarde looked alarmed at first and quite bemused when Evans first poked him. He blinked, expected a blow, but that never came. Bemusement and a certain amount of distrust and even fear changed when he heard the light hearted tone which he thought he heard in Tide's voice. "Oh no. M' not ears! Jus' happened t' come down' 'ere!" He swore his innocence there.

He flushed red in embarrassment. "No, uh..ah..Chase.." He began. "M' sure he don't mind wot' he don't know." He grinned sheepishly. Was Tide being friendly? He was!

Terry looked down but shrugged anyway. "I ain't heared anyone ever had anyfin' nice to say 'bout the pusser. I mean, not wiv the pusser's pound at fourteen ounces an' 'im takin' 'is cut an' alla that sorta thing."

Standland shrugged with humorous resignation and replied to the lad, "Button, me bucko, the day I finds an honest pusser in the King's navy is the day I'll know the world has turned upside down."

Jack noticed the smell of dinner in the galley and knew that the watches would both be called to dinner soon.

"I expect the bells to ring for dinner soon and I expect I'll see if our dear pusser has left any pease. I'll have to see if what mess I can squeeze into."

Terry grinned up at the man. He hadn't meant that, not originally, but after his and Mister Evans' warnings, he could hardly say so. And there was something else that the newly-joined man had said only a moment before that had caught his attention. "I ain't never bin called Master Button afore," he confided, a little shyly. "'M only a boy, third class, me."

And it would be forever, nearly, before he'd even get to be a second-class boy. Well, three years, but that was an awfully long time, very nearly forever, wasn't it?

That was an important thing to sort out and quickly, Tide thought. The matter of watches and divisions wasn't anything near as pressing as getting a man into a mess.

"Could ask Chase," he suggested. He would have offered his own mess, but doubted the others would thank him for inviting a topman to join them. More's the pity.

"Could ask 'im. Don't think 'ed mind much." He studied the newcomer. He was of a bright disposition, friendly and appeared not to be the sort looking for trouble. Of course, first impressions could be deceiving but he thought, not.

"It'll be a wee bit crowded at it then but um.. " He was small, less crowded than with all men being the size of bullocks, wasn't it. "Should 'e come with us then? See where Chase is, ter 'ave t' say?.. Could'a jus' wait with 'im at our mess." Though standing, maybe. he could not decide instead of that man, or the rest of the mess, being as he was the youngest and possibly newest in that mess, himself.

Speaking of Chase, there he was now. "Cob!" Tide lifted a hand to beckon the topman over. "Got a new lad for your mess, mebbe."

"Aye?" Chase gave the newly-joined seaman a quick study, then grinned and stuck out his hand. "There oughta be room for him. Might have to turn Chicken out though. Won't be food enough, else!"

Jack beamed back kindly. "I'd be honoured to mess with you fine gents!" he said, "But don't turn anyone out on their ear on my account. If he's fine with it then I'll join yer mess."

Standland then went to help grab the mess' grub from the galley.