Happy Birthday, Sweet Fifteen (13 June)

"He ought to have a pair of shoes," Thompson remarked and leaned back. "What happened to yourn, then? I mean, you did get issued some when you got the rest of your kit, didn't you?"

".. He ought to, tole him that. Well when he needs 'em back, I'll give 'em over." He held the bit of cloth out for Thompson to hold while he comped the hair out with his fingers. "Mine got lost." He worked on a bit of a knot that happened to decide to appear on one side. "Well, atleast I got up one day an they wasn't where I left them. Didn' want ter go ahead so soon and ask for a new pair. Don't want to be considered irresponsible along everything else."

Thompson took the strip of cloth that de Guarde dangled over his shoulder. "I really ought to dig out me old queue-leather - long strip of leather that we used to wrap 'em with. Don't suppose you seen that in me chest at all? Don't matter either way." He grinned. "I s'pose Vinin's stuff was as messy as ever?"

"I've seen it. Didn't think you wanted it , since yer already had this'un' on you! You ought to have told me you wanted it. I'd have gotten it for you." He smiled making sure that Thompson's hair was well combed. There, much better. Nothing to make a knot again, all sorted to start making a proper queue.

"Vinin's stuff is alright now, I think. But you can see for yourself once I'm done." He grinned and glanced quickly at his cup. "See you protected it well!" He had pocketed hi own mini sewing kit, though he was yet to take it into his own chest. "There, I think I can start plaitin' it now. Jus' tell me if I do it too tight, alright? That's more tight than you daft marines have it." He said the latter teasingly.

"No, it's all right, Mathew, lad," Thompson said. "If I'd thought about it earlier, I'd've mentioned it." He chuckled. "If it stays neat an' tidy for more'n half a watch, I'll be lucky. I dunno how he's managed to live aboard ship for so long an' not learn t'be a bit tidier than he is."

"Well, that's couse nobody's telling him to do better. Well nobody o' some standin' an high rank." He smiled and began by pulling the hair taut then he began to pleat it, keeping a firm hold of each of the three tails. He checked once or twice to see that the front looked good and that the hair spread neatly over Thompson's head.

"I'm glad yer trustin' me with this, corp'ral." He said playfully. "Though... who would do your hair now, that you'd promoted? Other than me, of course."

"I bin tellin' him since he first come aboard, so he ought to've figured it out by now. An' you need to pull real tight - don't mind hurtin' me, I'm used to it. The tighter it's done, the neater it is an' the longer it'll stay." He grinned. "I'd prob'ly still get Mallory to do it - he's done it ever since I come aboard. Reckon I'll be told to cut it, one of these days though, like the Army. Won't be the same - I can't imagine havin' short hair."

"Short hair, you?" De Guarde looked appaled. "How will I ever yank your queue again, if you have short hair. That ain't right! It ain't!" He pulled tighter, as strongly as he could without pulling the hair right out.

"Not right. T' queue's you...short hair's all fine.. and probably easier but.. but it gets into your eyes, while this hair never does couse it's in a queue."

"You pull mine an' I'll pull yours an' then we'll call it even," Thompson replied jovially. "I never had short hair in me life, an' I ain't startin' now, not till I get a direct order from me officer. It's all very well for the young'uns like Oxley, but I've never had it that way. An' that's flat."

"You haven't pulled mine yet then." He could not reach for his own tail at the moment, but only because his hands were both occupied with Thompson's own. "Mebbe we can convince our officer that long hair's jus' the right way to go.. he was a pretty fine man you know. We managed ter secure a cannon together.. and.. I tended ter his injuries!"

He said that rather proudly. "You'd look weird without a queue." He said and made a face. He was nearly at the very end of it and ready to start wrapping the cloth round it to make it a firm stiff queue. "that strip now." He said holding one hand forward.

"Our officer?" Thompson enquired, quirking an eyebrow. "Your officer's Mister Leat, ain't he? An' too darn right I'd look strange without a queue. I'd feel pretty strange without it an' all."

"Your officer, not mine. Mine's Mister Leat, aye. But yours is t' other man. Wot's his name again.." He was half way up the queue when he paused to think. He shrugged a little and continued till he was all the way at the queue's base. He tucked the remaining bit of cloth under the rest, making sure that it could not come out.

"There. Now the candle, and we're done." He said with a smile. "And you look as good as if a marine did it for ya, I think. Speakin' of.... I haven't had a proper queue since that.... bath. Could you do me one again? Please. Corpral?"

"Um. Seward. An' if you got it tight enough, there shouldn't be too many stray ends. Just run the candle over 'em to stick 'em down if there are." He put a hand up to feel it. "Seems good enough for a p'rade, thanks. An' of course I can do you one - though I still don't know why you want to have a M'rine's queue."

"No not Sew... it's Sewell! Lieutenant Sebastian Sewell. That's the man I meant!" He exclaimed, finally catching the name that he wanted to mention. "Him was wot' got a bit of a bump on his head." He ran the candle as told, though there was near no stray ends of hair, but the very few who had been too short for the queue to hold them down.

"I like that sort o' queue. And I don't mind you doing it. Well.. I like that you do. So 'um.. can it be my turn now?" He asked hopefully."

"That's what I said, ain't it? Knew it was summat like that." Thompson grinned to himself. "Beats me why you like it, it really does. All right, you sit down here an' let me up an' I'll do what I can."

Sewell - of course it was. Seward was one of the tars, and a right grumpy cove he was, too. How could he have mixed the two of them up like that?

He had to use the gun carriage to help himself up. "Long old ways up from down there, lad, an' I ain't so young as I used to be, that's for sure," he said, perching himself on the truck.

"Seward's all 'nother person! You should be 'shamed that I know better who your officer is n' you." Of course De Guarde was only teasing. His smile broadened and he quickly shuffeled into the position that the marine requested. He held his hand to the side, so that his own strip of fabric could be placed in hand, when Thompson would need him to hold it.

"You'um not that old. Not really. It's jus' t' weight of your new rank wot's making it so hard to get up." He spoke, with a tone of conviction.

"You're bein' daft. The stripes don't weigh anythin', not really," the Marine said and untied the strip of ribbon to begin unwinding it before giving it to the lad to hold. "I'm twenty-five, twenty-six, summat like that. How d'you know it ain't that old? You'm only fifteen," he pointed out, teasing out the plait before beginning to plait it again, tightly, making sure there were no knots or snarls in the lad's hair.

"I'm a proper adult, I am." He protested. "An'... 25 ain't really old. I don't think. You look young and yer mind ain't ancient neither...why haven't you married yet though?" He asked gazing up at Thompson curiously then embarrassed he turned back. He did not meant to tug on his hair but he had actually quite forgotten that that needed him to be as still as possible.

"Not bin in one place on land long enough, not since I 'listed," he replied with a shrug. "'Listed when I was younger'n you are now, an' I reckon I 've only bin on land for a year, if that, since - an' that weren't all at once, neither." He had finished the plait now and took the ribbon back to begin wrapping the queue.

"Oh. But do yer want to marry, 'ventually? Or 'um...have ye seen any girl that you'd really have liked more n' ju' fer a tumble?" He felt his cheeks colour a little at that, but hoped that the marine could not notice anyway, since he was still behind him.

"Do you..." There was something else he had wanted to ask, but this had only gotten his cheeks a warmer hue and so, instead he cleared his throat and shut his mouth. It was terribly impolite to ask what he had wanted to ask. Not the sort of thing one would ever have the right to inquire about.

"Dunno. Be nice to marry, but I dunno as any girl'd have me, not bein' away at sea all the time." He thought the lad had coloured a little. "You never had a tumble with a girl yet, did you?" he added, curious. "An' do I... what?"

"With a ...I mean, no. You didn' let me las' time we had a chance! Made me wait outide like a pup." He couldn't help but feel like he wanted to turn into dust or sink into the floorboards just then, when Thompson wanted to know what he had asked earlier, but felt embarrassed and impolite to really ask.

"Well.. it's nothing. I shouldn't really ask." He spoke quickly and apologetically. "It isn't polite. I'm sorry. Nevermind."

"Well, next time..." Thompson said, and let his words trail off. "Anyway, Your queue's finished." Now, why did the lad look so embarrassed?

"Promise?" De Guarde looked seriously at Thompson, though it meant that his cheeks were turned towards him as well and he covered them with a cough and a scoff.

"Promise that I may go in and whatnot, and you'll say nothin' about it or let nobody else stop me." He held his hand up as if to make Thompson swear to it. Of course, he only wanted it, because it was forbidden, but how far he would have gotten once there, he did not even think on that.

Thompson sighed, and grinned. "I'll let you... if you want to, when you get there," he said. "Not everyone finds he can get it up when it comes to it, though - 'specially the very first time."