5 June; Cat-scratch Fever

" 'Bout eighteen years," he answered. Then he smirked. "It's possible, y'know, to tell how long a lad's been at sea by his hair."

Eighteen years? That was... that was an awfully long time. His eyes widened as Mister Evans continued. "It is? How?"

His smirk became a grin. "Aye. A lad's been sailin' fer years'll have a proper long queue, he will. Sorta like what Old Oates got. Or Mister Hennock."

"You got'n?" he asked. He'd seen the older sailors' queues, of course, but hadn't realised that they showed how long someone had been at sea. He didn't think he'd ever have a proper queue himself, though - he'd be really old if he did.

The quartermaster leaned forward so the black-ribboned length of hair trailing partway down his back could be seen. "It ain't so long's it used to be, though," he admitted.

Terry grinned at the sight of it. "How come?" he asked curiously. It looked quite long enough to him.

"You showin' away again, Tide?" Billy asked as he ambled over to the pair. "Don't 'ee listen to him, Button boy, if he be talkin' 'bout his pigtail again. I reckon he's got tow and other lads' hair spliced in. Don't 'ee believe a word he says." Billy himself had lost his pigtail in a gale. He had mourned its loss as if losing a limb.

"Lost some of it 'cause of the sawbones once," he explained. "He took 'gainst me havin' a laugh with a mate 'cause of him bein' close-shorn. Poor beggar'd got his own 'tail a-tangled in a block somehows - " he cut himself off and smirked at Barrow, who drifted over to join them. "Just a'cause you gotta have a false 'tail don't mean we all gotta do, mate!"

Terry's eyes had grown rounder and rounder during the men's exchange.

"Tain't true," he managed eventually, looking between the two of them, and pulled his hat a little lower down on his head.

"I ain't never wore a false tail in my life!" Billy protested. Then he gave the boy a mischievous grin. "But you know who does, so they say, is Bristol Joe. I heard a lad grabbed onto the end o' Joe's pigtail to give it a tug, all a teasin' like, and it came off, clean in his hand!" Billy gave Evans a wink.

"That ain't true!" Terry said in disbelief, his eyes as round as saucers. "It never did!"

"Aye," Tide seconded with a nod. "I heared that too. Bad luck, that is!"

"For Joe and the lad what pulled it!" Billy chuckled.

"What'd Joe do?" Terry asked, leaning forward a little, his troubles forgotten in the strangeness of the yarn.

Tide smirked. "What d'you think he done, with somebody pullin' his queue clean off?"

"You never heard the story? Well, ain't no wonder, since you never got a chance to meet the boy." Billy shook his head soberly.

Terry got comfortable and looked up at the man expectantly. "Tell me then... please?"

Billy grinned. "I reckon better'n tellin' you would be if you was to find out fer yerself. Next time you see Bristol Joe passin' by, you reach out and give his pigtail a tug, quick sharp like."

Terry scooted back a bit, shaking his head vehemently. "You fink I'm goin' to do that and get meself in all sorts o' trouble? Not likely!"