4 June; A casual chat

When he'd heard about it, Leaford could scarcely believe it. It was almost too perfect. Even he could not have imagined himself to be this sort of lucky, yet the news was plain. A ship's boy had broken his wrist tripping over an overturned washing basin. This sort of good fortune did not fall into one's lap every day, did it?

He was obliged to wait until the watches changed before he could go about his business, but the interlude gave him time to form his plan of attack. It wouldn't do to overplay his hand. Finding the boy would be easy enough, however. Not that he would run such an errand himself. A landsman, one of those sent over from the flagship before they'd sailed, would do.

Once his messenger was sent away, Leaford settled himself at his usual place at the larboard foc's'le rail and waited.

Not again. Terry couldn't believe it when a landsman popped up with a message saying that he was wanted topside by someone. He looked a little panicked, a look that was replaced by relief as he found the boy.

The relief on the messenger's face was met by consternation on Terry's part. What on earth was he wanted for now... and by Mister Leaford?

He couldn't hang around, not when summoned by a master's mate, and reluctantly headed topside.

"S... sent for, s... sir?" he said, knuckling his forehead as he approached the older boy.

Here he was, and not a moment before time. Leaford had started to wonder if his messenger had gone amiss.

"You and misadventure seem to be regular companions of late," the master's mate observed, choosing to dispense with pleasantries. "From what I have been hearing, you've had a busy morning of it."

He'd tripped. Anyone could trip, couldn't they?

"I... I never meant to... to cause no bother," he said, reluctantly. The petty officer was making him feel awfully uncomfortable, and yet it wasn't as though he could just not answer a summons, or just walk away, was it?

"Oh," Leaford said placatingly. "Of course not. But accidents will happen, won't they?"

He shrugged, affecting nonchalance, and added, "What concerns me, my lad, is the frequency of accidents which seem to occur around you."

Terry poked at a deck seam with a bare toe and shrugged. "Ain't my fault. Sir."

It wasn't as though he'd set out to drop it deliberately, was it, after all. And whatever the master's mate was getting at, Terry wished he'd just say it.

No, of course it wasn't. Neither was the incident the other day. Leaford fixed an expression of understanding onto his face.

"No indeed," he told the boy. "I shouldn't say it is. Or was. But it's unfortunate that another boy has come out of it hurt. I daresay it's telling, sadly, that it's the second time you've been involved in something unpleasant. In such a short time at that."

He made a show of shaking his head, slowly. "People might begin to wonder."

"I..." he began and stopped, with a sinking feeling. "T'ain't like that. I tripped, sir!" It could have happened to anyone - and Fingers was his friend.

"Yes. But how did there get to be anything to trip over in the first place?"

"I... I dunno. Sir." He wasn't going to drop Fingers in it, he wasn't. "Fink someone must've left summat out, sir."

It didn't sound convincing, even to him, but really, what did Mister Leaford think? That he'd hurt his friend on purpose?

And there it was. Whatever happened, it was somebody else's fault. Leaford could have smiled.

"I shouldn't wonder," he said instead, managing to sound just the right side of unsure. "Of course... you'll understand, my lad, if I might find it difficult putting stock in the word of a boy who's had two rather serious accidents take place in his immediate vicinity lately."

Don't lay it on too thick, though, he admonished himself. "I have little doubt you were not to blame in either case, but others aboard might not be so quick to dismiss the coincidence."

"D... din't do it a-purpose, sir," he said in a near-whisper. After all, it wasn't his fault Fingers had slipped and done his wrist - and if Fingers hadn't come running up the way he had done, he, Terry, wouldn't have put the basin down in the first place to get kicked over.

He didn't like the master's mate, and he certainly didn't like what the petty officer seemed to think.

It almost seemed that the boy was beginning to understand Leaford's meaning. Well, good. It was about time!

"No," the master's mate told him soothingly. "It's harsh of me to suggest you might have done. It is simply a shame that anything of this sort has happened. Bad luck, you might say."

Bad luck... that things had happened around him. He really didn't like the idea of that, at all. Not when things had started going well, and Mister Leat had turned out to be nice - he'd even let Terry have a mug of cocoa, and hadn't minded too much when he'd gone and cried all over him.

But what did Mister Leaford mean - and what did he want from Terry, that he couldn't get from anyone else? He looked up at the man, feeling miserable.

Understanding was there in the lad's face. It was precisely what Leaford had hoped to see. The seed was now planted, he thought, and was pleased with his few minutes' work.

"You mustn't let it drag you down, mind," he said, for he was bound to at least pretend as though it was not truly so bad as he'd just made the lad think. "I rather think one's luck is seldom for ever bad. It can hardly be, can it?"

Or maybe he should just keep out of the way, and then stupid things wouldn't happen and people wouldn't get hurt.

"M... maybe, s... sir," he said tonelessly. It had probably just been as as much good luck as he'd ever had to have been sent here. Things hadn't been so bad here as they had back at the Foundling Home - even Mister Foxley hadn't been quite so bad as the overseers there, despite the tawse.

And would Mister Leat still want him as a servant if stupid accidents were happening around him? Probably not, so he'd end up with Mister Foxley again.

It was too soon to tell what sort of broader effect his encouragement would have on the boy, but it was enough for the moment to have gotten him to this point. Leaford could not push him too much.

"Bad luck or not," he told the lad bracingly, "I'm sure you'll not the let the ship down, nor the captain."

"N... no, sir," he managed, his thoughts in a whirl. He wouldn't dream of letting his mates down - or the Captain, of course. He didn't want to be bad luck to anyone, though. Maybe he should just keep away from people?

But that would mean missing out on the skylarking later - and all the other fun things the boys did. Even the thought made him feel miserable; he'd never had fun before coming aboard Terpsy, after all, not really - the Foundling Home wasn't exactly a fun place to be, after all.

He nodded, slowly. "Good lad. I'm relieved we came to an understanding. Cut along now. I daresay there might be a little in the way of an extra helping in your mess kid if you like, later. You lads could certainly use it, by the look of you."

It was, perhaps, a bit much but Leaford was feeling indulgent.

An understanding? What exactly did Mister Leaford mean by that? It wasn't as though he'd asked Terry to do anything for him, after all.

He knuckled his forehead again. "Aye, aye, sir."

Extra food? Why on earth would they be getting extra food - he hadn't done anything, had he? None of it made sense, apart from the awful suggestion that he, Terry, was somehow bad luck to people.

"Good lad," he said again, permitting a smile to show on his face. "A little goodwill, you see, in the hope your own luck may change for the better. Run along now, my lad, and let's not have a need for another meeting."

Terry nodded. "Thank you, sir," he managed, before knuckling his forehead again and darting off.

He needed to think. Both times Mister Leaford had spoken with him, the master's mate had left him with a distinctly uncomfortable feeling. He didn't want to meet him again, either.

He wasn't sure if it was any better, really, than a physical beating. He felt just as miserable now as if it had been... and it wasn't as though he could really talk to anyone about it, either.

And just how was he going to explain extra rations to the others without bringing this whole conversation up and making them think what he did now, thanks to Mister Leaford's 'meetings'?