5 June; Settling Quarrels

He had been on his way to the Heads.. well actually he had cleaned up and was thinking to have some air before anyone decided to injure their toe, a leg, and arm, cut themselves a new one or be careless or sick in a different way. It would have all been good but for a loud thud that was followed by an exclamation of a familiar voice.

Curiosity killed cats, but not former midshipmen, so the lad cut his walk short to follow the seamen who'd come to see as well. There was Tide Evans, Mister. There was Seward sprawled on the floor and then.. there was Button, looking afraid. The damned cur! If he'd done something to his friend. He balled his hands into fists. He'd warned him!

"No, you ain't," Tide said, wishing he had thought to land a second blow before shoving Seward down.

Colburn was gesturing at a couple smirking sailors. "C'mon you two. Get this up off the deck. It might leave a stain. Down to the irons for it. Again!"

It would almost be better if Seward had hit him.

"He din't touch me, neiver," he muttered, staring at the deck. "On'y jus' grabbed me sleeve."

But who knew what would have happened if Mister Evans hadn't come up right at that moment? He gave a shiver.

Up in irons the second time? Way to go Button!..Well technically it was Mister Evans who gave the encouraging word, but Button might have been the cause of it. By the look on his face he looked as if he was anyway. He crossed the distance between themselves, placing a hand on the lad's shoulder. "'ey you' a'right now." And then he was quiet again looking at the fallen man. He smiled.

"What the bloody hell did you tell 'im?" Terry wanted to know, his fear and relief giving way to anger. "'E said... 'e wanted to know why-for you telled 'im to keep 'is 'ands off'n me - what's so important 'bout me any'ow?"

The quartermaster shook his head as Colburn and the two men he'd chosen carried Seward toward the aft ladder. "An' that's too much at that."

His gaze shifted to De Guarde, who had appeared behind Button. The smile on the boy's face as he watched Seward being taken below threatened to respark Tide's temper.

"Findin' this funny, are you?"

"Quartermaster!" Deverel bellowed, approaching in long strides. He remembered his name a moment later, though he still did not know the other men or the boy involved. "Mister Evans, what is this disruption? Those of you on duty, get back to your duties." Now that he was closer, he could see that the man being hauled to his feet was the same seaman who had been flogged earlier in the day.

And here, finally, was an officer. Tide and every man on deck froze in place, and only those specifically described moved again when bidden.

"Sir," Tide said. "Bit of a disagreement 'tween me an' Seward. It's sorted now."

Terry knuckled his forehead to the officer, but otherwise didn't move. He was neither a quartermaster nor on duty, and therefore hadn't been directly addressed.

De Guarde slunk back a little. He was saved by the appearance of the officer who caused an excellent distraction for Mister Evans. He averted his gaze from the men and the officer and blinked at Button who appeared rather upset. He quickly knuckled his brow as well before shifting close enough to be able to whisper without notice. Or as little as.

"Nothin'.. jus' ter stay off ya, n' not threaten you no more.. thought he did." He whispered quietly. "So I tole him ter' stop. ...You're a friend, that's importan' enough, daft thing!"

Deverel eyed the quartermaster as if sizing him up morally. He gave Seward only the barest of glances before nodding to the men holding him. He spoke moderately to Evans. "Very well. Back to your station, and let us have no more such scenes on deck."

Oh, what a bloody mess.

"He warn't freatenin' me afore you said anyfin' to 'im," he muttered, and fell silent. As soon as they could get away, he was going to tell de Guarde exactly what he'd meant earlier. And hope like hell that Seward wasn't going to do anything to him - though there was slim chance of that now.

"Aye aye, sir," Tide replied, knuckling his brow. There was nothing more to do here topside, but he was most certainly going to have words with young Mister De Guarde. Just as soon as they were back on the messdeck again.

When the other bystanders had returned to their respective duties, two boys remained close by. One was the lad that Deverel had noticed on several occasions already, the boy who was a disrated midshipman.

"You boys. Tell me your names."

No. No no no!

He knuckled his forehead again and twisted his fingers behind his back. "Button, Mister... S...sir."

"Button. And you?" He narrowed his eyes at the former midshipman.

"..Sir.. ..uh.....De Guarde , sir." He looked nervous now. Earlier he had hoped to escape notion. A bit of scolding from his friend would do him alright, hopefully none from Mister Evans, but a full lieutenant. He bit his lip. He only got here a moment ago!

"De Guarde. Button. Is this your watch on deck?"

Terry shook his head, unable to even speak now if a question had a 'yes' or 'no' answer.

"I'um assistin' t' surgeon sir... wos' let...." He turned quiet and gave the lieutenant a faint shrug. "Wosn't shirkin'." He said instead, quietly, timidly and lowered his gaze.

"That isn't what I asked, De Guarde." Strange, the boy sounded like he had come right off the streets, but surely not with a name like De Guarde. That sounded like an old family with money. The boy must have been picking up speech from his foremast companions. "And where are you both supposed to be right now?" he asked with the seeming appearance of boredom.

"Um... it's dinner-time, s... sir," Terry ventured, still twisting is fingers behind his back.

Deverel spoke pointedly. "Then get below, and eat it. Before it's all gone. Go."

"Aye, it is." De Guarde was very eager to follow Button to the mess, anything really, to avoid needing to stand under the scrunity of an officer after he'd done nothing. He could not help but feel like smiling. Seward had gotten himself in a pickle a second time, so soon! Whatever he would get, he deserved it.

Terry gaped at the officer, knuckled his forehead again, mumbled "Aye, aye, sir," and fled below, uncaring whether de Guarde was following him or not.