On Sentry Duty

(Well, if you lot won't, I will! )

It was a nice Spring day at sea in the Bay of Biscay. Terpsichore (better known as Terpsykor, or even just Terpsy) was a week out of England, bound for Lisbon with a passenger, an Army Colonel who was also a Lord, or an Earl, or some such, aboard.

She was hove-to, dead in the water, ready to receive a new midshipman aboard. Private Thompson, Royal Marines, was on sentry by the entry port, as the boat pushed off from the other ship. He could see the blue-coated figure sitting next to the cox'n in the stern-sheets, his sea-chest by his feet.

When the boat was in hailing range, he yelled across, "THE BOAT AHOY!"

The answering shout, "Aye, aye!" told him there was an officer aboard. Not that he couldn't see that for himself, of course. He grabbed the nearest sailor and dispatched him to take the news to the officer of the watch.

OOC - Chase is almost tempted to bring his frilly pink hat with him on this adventure.

IC -

Like many other seamen, Cob Chase was watching the other ship with unconcealed curiosity. The news that they were receiving a new midshipman from the smaller vessel had already spread all over the frigate. Chase himself was working on splicing some rope near the entry port - a spot he'd chosen deliberately, chiefly because it enabled him to see and hear everything that was about to transpire.

Or it would have, had not the Marine standing next to the entry port grabbed him by the shoulder and sent him aft, to pass the word of the new middie's arrival to the officer of the watch. Of course it would have to be him to get chosen for that, when he would miss most of the spectacle. At least the officer of the watch was on the poop. That was better than being sent to the captain's cabin.

The topman knuckled his brow as he got close to the smartly-dressed officer. "New midshipman's comin' 'board, sar!" He announced.

(don't play with sharp pointy thingies though! You might loose an eye with that ! ;D oh and should I do something wrong, Please do correct me! )

The boat glided across the waves with a confidence of one borne at sea, the sullen waves bringing it but to a timid light sway. To the side a single fish was seen flickering it's lovely silver side to the sun. Like a mirror reflecting the light. With the approach of the boat it flicked it's tail sending a sprinkle of water about and then all sight was lost from it.

A sullen expression was on the faintly freckled face of the source of the attention. He peered from under his hat at the lovely view that the fair Terpsichore offered. With little emotion spared at the sight he averted his gaze again to the chest that awaited at his feet. It held all that he carried with him out to sea, still in a considerably good shape and quite possibly weighing a pleasant deal.

The sea seemed kind for the waves were tame and caused no distress during the tedious process of climbing the side of the ship. He blinked as the glare of the sun forced a hand to his eyes, the palest blue squinting in discomfort at the unforgiving rays. Stiffly he stood for a few moments, his hand finally dropping to his side.

Thompson had come to rigid attention, as soon as the middy arrived on deck. The lad didn't seem too bothered about him, and he hoped that one of the Terpsy's other mids would hurry up and show him where he could stow his things, thereby taking him below and allowing Thompson to relax. As much as he could, while on duty, of course.

Peter was eager to see the new midshipman. No one knew anything about him, except that they had rendezvoused with another ship for him to be transferred. Which everyone seemed to think unusual for a mere midshipman. But Peter, as the junior mid, had been told off to get him down to the midshipmen's berth. The others were busy.

The midshipman was standing by the entry port, his chest at his feet, and a unreadable look on his face - still squinting in the sunlight. Peter went up to him. "Hello, I'm Yates. I'm to take you down to the berth - get you settled in."

He spared a glance at the young midshipman that approached him studying his face for a moment. In silence he considered the words of the eager boy, sharing less enthusiasm than a dead fish might have. His lip slowly curved upward, but the smile never reached his eyes which seemed to judge and evaluate Peter in the most meticulous of manners.

Another moment passed, and finally the new arrival had answered with a simple:"..De Guarde..."And without further ado he had followed the youth, a glimpse here and there at the men that gathered to feed their curiosity.

Chase, having returned from his errand in time to witness the two midshipmen's meeting, felt a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. This new middie was a spiritless one, if his blank expression and dead-pan reply to Mister Yates' introduction were any sign. He'd have to be watched carefully lest he take it into his head to act a tyrant.

"I'll git yer dunnage, sar," Chase said, glancing over at a sailor called Taylor as he stepped forward. "Me'n'Taylor'll see it goes below right 'way."

And of course they'd see if this new middie's demeanour changed once he got down onto the orlop.

[OOC - manning levels still undecided. Number of midshipmen therefore left vague. In fact, due to ignorance and lack of research, a lot will be left vague.]

Peter felt slightly crushed. He had yet to find a friend on this ship, his first posting, and at least this new man was not much older than him. But his welcome had been rejected, or so it felt. The coldness might simply have been shyness though, so Peter persevered. "It's not too bad here," he said, showing the way into the dark, rather cramped space that housed the midshipmen. "I mean, it's small, and we're crowded in, but we aren't usually all here at the same time." His voice died away.

Thompson watched the two sailors take the middy's dunnage below, and he wondered how much longer he'd have to stand up here, now that that was over with and the boat was on its way back to the other ship.

The mid looked as though he might be one of those bullying, hard-horse types, but he'd have to collar one of the sailors to ask what he thought. He sighed and adjusted his stock, wishing someone would come and relieve him soon. He really could do with a drink.

"I'll hope to see you refrain from the clumsyness which, a frequent desease among men, is not a thing I should be entertained to experience.."His voice carried an air of .. superiority, as if the youth had thought that this man, whomever he may be, and his companion had better remain aware of their station and proper place. And so they needed to be reminded by actions as much as with words.

"Do not drop it.. mind you."He added in a clearer tone, as if they needed to be told in a manner so simple even a deaf cat would understand. His mood had seemed sour, but was that a state that the youth found himself in, or was it perhaps just a passing matter, that happened to come to notice just that day?

His attention remained undivided till the young midshipman addressed him again, an act that looked to invoke an annoyance at first with the boy. It took a moment for the boy to straighten up a little and clear that expression of his youngish features."..For you perhaps.."

He cleared his throat and then leaned down to peek further into the depths of the hold."... What do you know of this ship?"He asked simply and gazed about."..How many souls, pray tell or have ye not counted?"His eyes narrowed on the boy's a moment before he added:"..How old are you?"A forward question that he had spoken in a fairly more bearable manner as those before.

Peter swallowed nervously. He hated being asked questions he did not know the answer to, and that happened all the time since he had joined the Terpsichore. The only thing he could say for certain was that she was a frigate, 32 guns, bound for Lisbon under Captain Bolitho. And presumably Mr de Guarde knew that already. But he said it, just in case, and added: "I'm 13." He grinned. "I know that's quite old to be at sea for the first time, but it was my choice." And then, responding to the slight thawing in the other's attitude, he asked: "And you? How old are you?" It was childish - older men would have enquired, perhaps more guardedly, about seniority and service.

He knew, naturally, of the proceedings taking place on the weather deck. There wasn't a man on the ship who didn't. Yet he was tramping topside anyway, in part to see for himself what sort of figure this new midshipman cut. He was to change the sentries posted around the ship as well, which accounted for the file of Marines trailing silently after him. Johnson adjusted his hat as he came into the sunlight and looked toward the entry port, Aye, there the lad stood and with another of the frigate's midshipmen already there to boot. Two Tars were trundling toward the companion ladder with the new middie's sea-chest and Johnson heard the boy's remarks toward the pair as he drew closer. It was enough to sour his already unhappy mood. This one was sure to be snotty, he knew it.

The Marine corporal ignored the two blue-coated lads and fixed the entry port sentry with a baleful glower. "Straighten up there, Thompson. You're relieved. Branning, that's you for his place. Come on now, step smartly."

He waited impatiently for Branning to march the few steps toward the proper spot. It was too hot for men to drag their feet about such simple rituals. Really! He didn't trouble himself to acknowledge the two midshipmen once the big Marine private had stamped his heels together - an indication that he was properly positioned.

"If it pleases you, sirs, entry port sentry's posted," Johnson said, offering a salute to Midshipman Yates by default - he had no clue as to this new middie's seniority and he didn't much care either. Neither did he care if either lad was pleased or not by his stiffly-delivered report. Just as long as Yates returned his salute and bade the Marines to carry on.

"...thirteen..."He mused, oddly entertained by the inexperience of young Peter. Did he know any more about the ship that they were sailing on? Perhaps a word about the men? How prone they may be to mutiny and how eager to steal drink from where it was hidden from sight till the rations were shared. His mind wandered a moment to the latter, and subconsciously he wet his lips. A thought to consider asking. Had he arrived too late for it? He allowed the thought to remain right at the surface, removing his hat with a swift motion.

"I'm Fourteen."He answered."..I do find you ought to know the ship you sail on better...it would not do for a young gentleman to scurry about with as little knowledge about it as the pressed men who had nought before seen a ship. Certainly your captain could not be pleased if he knew his youngest...of officers.. surely you are.."Not waiting for an answer to that:"knows but that a ship bears sail and a hull, the later, to keep it afloat ofcourse."

Finally he had stopped and smiled in such a kind manner one would think he was a true friend:"..But we shall certainly remedy this. .. shan't we?"

(are the mid's not below already o.o if not, imagine that Mathew is expecting Yates to respond first )

Bother. Corporal Johnson was in a bad mood as usual. Thompson already was standing to attention, and he didn't think he could stand any straighter if he tried, unless he wanted to end up bending over backwards. He shot a wry look at Branning before doing a precision right turn and falling out to join the group of Marines trailing behind the Corporal.

His watch below... if he didn't find himself something to do pretty soon after getting back to his berth, he reckoned he'd find himself back on deck doing extra drill or something. The Corporal seemed to be in that sort of mood. Well, he had another shirt to finish making, if nothing else.

Peter smiled grateully. His head had been full of new information. Some of it was even beginning to make sense. He could name masts, and yards and sails. He could calculate the noon longitude, although since he was still rather inept at using the sextant, he was frequently half an ocean out: but he had been told that his calculations were impeccable. He was not stupid, merely totally inexperienced. You didn't see many frigates on the Yorkshire moors, just sheep and rocks and bogs. If it wasn't too misty to see anything.

And de Guarde seemed to be offering to teach him, rather than just fling facts at him, which was the technique favoured by the other midshipmen and the Master's Mate, a big, loutish youth who ruled the roost, when the other Mids let him. So Peter smiled ans said: "Will you help me? People just tell me random things, but no one tells me how they fit together." He chuckled. "Though I have worked out how the masts fit into the hull."

[Working without checking anything. Please let me know if it doesn't make sense]

Billy sidled up to Chase when he had returned from carrying the new young gentleman's things to the midshipmen's berth.

"Hsst, Cob," Billy whispered. "What did he say his name was? Sounded French!"

From the partial, constant gloom that hung over the lower decks, Billy Barrow appeared, meeting Chase and Taylor as they emerged from the midshipmen's berth. Taylor grinned at Barrow's whispered declaration and Chase said "Prolly is, Gawd rot him. A sour one, he is. Worse'n ol' Corp'ral Johnson!"

Taylor gave Chase's shoulder a light whack. "Sure'n ain't truth. C'mon then, lads, what's fer a bitta 'larkin' on deck? Them middies'll go topside agin 'fore long, or I'm a landsman!"

Damn them both, Johnson cursed silently. He dropped his salute when the two lads began to turn away and set his jaw to keep from speaking. Better not to risk his stripes over a pair of boys. The corporal executed a rigid about-turn and tramped off forrard, certain now that he'd never met a midshipman that he liked.


OOC - I think I probably goofed by having Johnson address the two middies, but for whatever reason I thought they were still topside. Bleh! *shrug* Ah well, it's recovered from now, if a bit awkwardly. On with replacing the sentries!

The fact that neither of the mids acknowledged Johnson in any way was likely to make the Corporal even more sour than usual. Thompson made up his mind that he would stay well clear of him if possible. Though that might not be easy; the rest of the Marines would probably end up doing exactly the same, and Thompson had already come to his attention once.

Billy watched the boat with a critical eye as it returned to its ship.

"Look at them ribbons. And all that paintwork! If that's the jollyboat, I reckon the captain's barge must look like a fancy ball in a garden with a maypole stuck in the middle!" He grinned at Chase and Taylor. "Wonder if the young gentleman's gonna be a maypole hisself."

Mathew studied the hem of his hat aware that the other boy was still present. He dusted the top and placed it atop his chest. He slid a hand along its sides. Satisfied he nudged it with his foot, though the chest did not move an inch further.

"I'll help you."He tapped his knuckles against the wood, listening for the sound it made."...Could teach you ..."His voice contemplative as he turned on his heel facing the boy fully.

"..But.."He smiled pleasantly."...You are aware that such commodity may take both more of me time as it shall much greater effort than your fair standard of teaching." An introduction was good, a fair one at the very least. "I hope you would agree a small token of gratitude would serve in both our interests."His eyes did not leave Yates. He ran a finger across the scar on the back of his hand absentmindedly.

"I would not ask for something that I was sure you could not afford."Still he kept the near pleasant aura around him. He did not wish the boy to believe this was but a common practice among men of service:"It would surprise me should it be different.. but how are your rations of grog aboard this ship? Mind.. I'd expect that you are as eager to show yourself as more knowing before your peers as you are to learn and understand what others struggle to do on their own. I've served aboard a different ship than this, as you have possibly figured on ye own, and ..I certainly know how it is."

(OOC: Not a problem! We ought to have been more clear about it, no?)

Peter was more than a little concerned as de Guarde started setting out the terms on which he would 'teach' Peter. For one thing he had not been thinking of formal lessons - the sort for which payment could be made. From wondering about the sort of lessons the other boy proposed to his suggesting a token of gratitude was all very disturbing, but it became clearer when de Guarde referred to grog. He had been used to letting the others drink much of his grog, since the taste did not yet appeal, and strong drink was a mocker, and Peter had no intention of having it sting him like an adder - well, not just yet. So letting de Guarde have some would be no hardship.

So he nodded and said: "I want to impress the Lieutenants, and the Captain of course. I think I ought to have prepared better, but the chance of this place came up, and... " He sat down on the bench, and looked up at the older boy. "How did you get your first posting?"

"Very well.. we have come to an agreement then."He answered pleased with the terms that he so easily achieved. If he needed to compare his previous assignment to the present, already he could see benefits in the latter. A midshipman who's knowledge needed to be furthered, perhaps in some ways naive still to the nature of officers and men, was a pleasant beginning which had visibly brightened the sour mood which brought him on board. An even smile managed to reach his eyes finally, and the shadow of ill feeling passed for the present. He hadn't yet seen the captain, nor had h met with the lieutenants or other men of importance, but expected such luxury to be short lived. Certainly the captain could be of little difference to his previous and in thus manner ought to deserve loyalty no further than the duty so demanded.

"My family was convinced a service would do me good to further my prospects and serve in an honourable profession."Or so they were led to believe with their newfound company and so he had called it, though as nonchalantly as if it were a common thing to say. "And yourself? You've said you have so chosen. Is this true?" He joined the lad at the bench, listening to the familiar sounds from above. "How long since you have left your home for the life at sea?"

Some of Peter's reservations slid away, and he became more hopeful. "Three weeks - since I left home, that is. Papa came with me from Yorkshire - he has a parish there. I did not think I wanted to be in the Church or - or any of the things people ought to want to do, and ... "

Money was not exactly tight, but with six sons and three daughters, the future had to be planned carefully. Peter was aware that of course there would have been enough money to pay for him to go to school, and then to University if that was what he wanted to do, just as there had been for his three older brothers and the younger two. There would be money for the girls' dowries too, although only Theodora was anywhere near old enough to be thinking of marriage.

"My uncle was a Midshipman," he explained. "He died... But Mama had kept the letters he wrote, and it sounded so interesting that I said it was what I wanted to do. And Papa persuaded Mama that I knew what I wanted. We had to go to London to arrange it, though, and I was told to report to the Terpsichore"

He settled back, his own story sketched in, and said: "How long ago was it that you joined? What ships have you been in?"

It had been a good day. Emily trotted up the ladder from the hold and up onto the orlop deck, a large brown rat held in her jaws and dinner for the next two nights secured. She had found a nest of the things, and was on her way to taking this one (one of the parents) back to show her lieutenant. She would leave it on his bed for him, and he would be ever so pleased...

In order to get to the lower gun deck she had to go through the midshipmen's berth, and she saw that there were two boys in there. She hesitated on thr threshold. One was the boy called Yates - he was a kind lad - but the other was unfamiliar. She watched him waring, the rat still firmly clamped in her jaws.