On Sentry Duty

Thompson returned to the Marines' area of the messdeck still thinking about the encounter with the Army colonel. He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid to walk into him - and after spending his entire adult life at sea, and all. He counted himself lucky the offier hadn't demanded Captain Bolitho clap him irons to be flogged next defaulters' parade.

And Corporal Johnson was probably going to be in even more of a temper than usual. He didn't take kindly to be ignored in front of his men. Well, who would? Johnson's temper was notorious throughout the ship, though, and Thompson would steer well clear of him. If he could, down here, that was.

And as for the new middy. He looked and sounded like he was going to be a bit of a bully. The Marine hoped he wouldn't upset Mister Midshipman Yates too much, though. It was his first voyage, after all.

He dug his mug out and went to get some water from the scuttlebutt.

"Do you want to go for'rard" Peter asked as they emerged from the companionway. It's usually quieter up there, and much further from the Captain."

"Certainly."He had not considered a path that he wished to take, nor had wishes that would have him walk elsewhere, so a suggestion of Mr. Yates was as good as one could get. Neither had known that there was a party wishing to locate the whereabouts of the two upstarts, nor that a fellow middie had been sent already to urge them to appear before the captain.

What was worse. Mr. Fletcher must not have decided to look at the most obvious of places. For their paths did not cross. The reason could have lied elsewhere too.
A stroke of bad luck, an unintentional event had the two young gentleman continue their exploration in complete ignorance.


".. How good are you at climbing?"Mr. De Guarde asked, sparked by the thought of ever childish competition that rose among boys and grew only more intense as they turned into men. He gazed about himself with a certain amount of curiosity, forgetting, as young ones do too, that there had been another task they should have committed to. One as the lead and the other as reason. This ship was in ways different from his previous and yet held not many things that would seem foreign to the boy, if any. Still it was as any new home, still a great stranger with paths he had not yet crossed and places he hadn't yet been. Even the people, the heart of this giant were as foreign to him as the many sea creatures living in the deepest depths of the sea.

Peter looked up. That was one thing he had - he wouldn't say mastered as tempting fate - but found relatively easy. He had been taken up to the foretop on his second day on the Terpsichore, and had been exhilerated by the sense of achievement, of danger overcome. He hadn't even felt a qualm about the space below him, and had followed Chandos as quickly and easily as if he had been following brother Charles up one of the trees in Parson's Wood. On the other hand, de Guarde would almost certainly turn it into another trial of strength, and Peter decided not to encourage such games.

"Mr Chandos climbed with me to the foretop," he said, with what he hoped was a look of proud achievement. "And I did quite well, I think." Let de Guarde think (for the moment) that that was all he had done.

"I've been shown

George accepted the basin gratefully and curled up over the bowl as another, stronger wave of nausea punched him in the gut. Fortunately, he had already lost whatever food he had managed to consume onboard and was now reduced only to dry heaves as the Terpsichore continued her merryily distressing movements.

Setting the bowl aside, he groaned and sank back into his cot, opening his eyes a moment later to offer Edrington a weak smile that twisted into a wan grimace as his stomach gave another lurch.

"Thank you, my lord. I joined the army for a reason - of course, I stupidly forgot that I lived on an island," George joked, reaching for a cup of water on the chest beside him. "Should've bloody joined the militia instead."

"Wretched, itn't it? Perhaps we should have considered Bonaparte's suggestion that there should be a tunnel under the Straits of Dover - do you remember it, during the Peace. Then you could have trotted your horses all the way to France." It was a thought that had struck Edrington in the past, not because he suffered from seasickness, but because it made the Army dependent on the Navy, not just for transport out, but also for rescue when they had to retreat.

He looked down at the younger man. "You wouldn't have liked the militia anyway - all drill, parades and balls."

" Well then, fancy a race up to the foretop? Last up be giving t' other something of his liking from his chest."His eyes flashed with challenge, expecting the boy to be as inexperienced in climbing as he was in the ship's own aspects. He hoped that the youth would accept the challenge, though a bold bet if he had truly only once climbed this high. Still if he backed from the challenge he could always call on his courage and lack there off, for backing out of such a game.

It may seem, that the middie had been taking part in such games often and freely, but it could have been furthest from truth. It was quite odd a suggestion coming from Mr. De Guarde, spurred on only by Yates, who's age was less than his own.

"So? What d' ye say?"He gazed upwards, shielding his eyes from the sun. He was a fair climber, but confidant that he had this cat in the bag, if his mess mate would choose to accept.

"Oh, I'll climb up to the foretop with you," said Peter. "But not for a wager. You'll win for sure." Not perhaps for sure, but until he'd seen de Guarde climb, he was not going to give him his choice of Peter's few possessions. De Guarde, after all, had been at sea for more than two years, on his own admission. Peter's seven days were unlikely to have equipped him to win such a race, unless de Guarde was absolutely incapable, suffered from vertigo or something. And Peter knew with total conviction, that de Guarde would not have suggested the wager unless he stood an almost certain chance of winning.

"Terrible," George agreed, and set the cup aside. He gestured at the chest with a casual wave of his hand. "May I offer you a seat?" Forcing himself into a sitting position, he shifted the pillow behind him and gave the other man a sardonic smile. "To be perfectly honest, the cavalry could use a bit more drill. Balls, however...what do they think? We're going to dance at the French?"

Dabbing at his face with a damp cloth, he pressed the rag beneath the loosened collar of his shirt and shook his head. "I suppose a tunnel beneath the straits would be too much of a defense risk - we wouldn't be the only ones who could use it, after all."

" Aww, but there be no fun if we have no stakes to race for, what else ought to pose as a fair challenge? "He asked visibly disappointed that the boy had wit about him enough not to compete when he was not able to win. Might become a fine trait for an officer, should they know when the stakes are pilled up against them in too great a size.

Still the opportunity was far too tempting to press on with the bet. He could let it slide this time. With the time spent on the ship there should be other times ready for them to compete in. Even if doing their duty as they so do. "Well.."He clasped his hand upon the youth's shoulder, a light shrug raising his own.".. I'll grant you a wager free race then... but only as you have been good at wording your reason."A little flattery or positive truth was something any man would not mind to hear, let alone a boy. "So shall we?" He waited. Would Mr. Yates agree, the game would begin.

Peter grinned. Sometimes de Guarde behaved like someone he could be friends with, but he was still going to reserve judgement. "We'll do it for the pleasure of it," he said. "Give me a few more weeks to practise and we'll see about a wager." He moved over to stand by the rail. "On the count of three?"

[OOC: And I have to go and get dinner and entertain my husband]

(OOC: Now you've made me hungry ;.;! Have fun!)

"I'll hold your word on that, Mr. Yates." He tipped his hat in playful manner. "ON the count of three!"He confirmed turning to face the challenge ahead.

"One... two.. Three!"And off they went, a pair of young gentlemen with the spirit free of the worries that had old men careful in the shrouds. The rigging has always been a dangerous place to be. The height itself would have most an unfortunate soul that lost his footing never live to regret being clumsy or careless.

Mr. De Guarde hoisted himself onto and over the railing, hands firm on the ropes. He began to climb, his gaze intent and concentrated on the task ahead. Higher he climbed, near careless in his ascent to make for the speed. He spared a glance towards mr. Yates to see how the young lad faired at his own. Curious perhaps, though certain that the younger middie was no competition. He grinned broadly, and looked upwards again not to miss a hold or slip, in which case his victory would not have been as certain.

Peter climbed steadily, his eyes on the other boy as much as on the shrouds and ratlines. His confidence was growing, although he had never felt much fear climbing. If all went well, it was as safe as walking up stairs; and just in case it did not, he made sure that his hands and feet were well placed for each step. He could do it faster - he had done it more quickly that this on his first attempt, trying to impress Chandos. But he did not want to impress de Gaurde, or at least not in that way. One day, perhaps.

But he would use the futtock shrouds, not the lubber's hole. He had too much pride to pretend that he couldn't do that.

The shout from the deck was almost a shriek. Mr Fletcher, his face turned up like a white dish, shouting "Mr Yates! Mr De Guarde! get down here this instant!" Peter slipped one arm round the shroud and peered down. He was about to ask why, but Fletcher would not be standing there shouting at him without good reason. He called up to de Guarde, and started back down, just as carefully as he had been climbing up.

As quickly as it began, so it was finished. The high tone of the yell carried up to the two mids. While Yates heard it, it was only his later call that caught the attention of the second mid.

A deal higher than mr. Yates , Mr. De Guarde peered downwards as well. A scowl appeared on his face. Still he climbed down, a greater care taken and a slower motion done. He touched the deck a short time later and straightened up. He clasped his hands together, rubbing palms together.

Fletcher looked hot and irritable. "Yates, you were supposed to show Mr de Guarde to the berth, and then take him to the Captain."

Peter frowned. "Was I? Sorry. We were... " De Guarde had reached the deck. Peter looked at him. This was not going to help the newcomer. A bad start, and, probably all his fault, although he couldn't remember anyone mentioning the Captain. "Sorry," he repeated, dividng it equally between Fletcher and de Guarde. "Is he waiting for us?"

"For God's sake," Fletcher said angrily. "You think he has nothing to do but wait for two middies to finish skylarking. Get up there and wait for him to notice you. And then be sorry."

Edrington returned the other man's smile. "Do the cavalry drill at all? I thought you just taught them not to fall off, and to look down their noses at infantrymen." He looked with some sympathy at Findlay. "I know it makes little difference, but you might feel better on deck. The sea is relatively calm, I assure you, and there is a pleasant warmth in the air."

"What time ye waste asking' more questions! We've to hurry now!" He had grasped young Peter's arm and pulled him onward. "Come, before we come more late than we have already!" He recalled Yates mentioning that the captain was a fair hearted man so surely he would not rage about their slight lateness.

He let the other midshipman lead after they left Fletcher behind, a many hundred of thoughts running through his mind. The captain he was to meet and knew so little about, he cursed young Yates for forgetting to leave him more confident with knowledge. Damn the boy! And damn that midshipman who called to them with such anger!

He nearly bumped into Yates when they arrived at the Great Cabin's door. He breathed in sharply and then exhaled slow, in an attempt to still his fast beating heart. He felt hot, and uncomfortable but above all, a small deal afraid.

Bolitho heard movement outside the cabin and guessed that the errant midshipmen had finally answered his summons. Sure enough, the door opened a moment later and the marine sentry announced the arrival of both Mr. Yates and Mr. De Guarde. He took a moment to appraise the new midshipman as he entered the room. The boy seemed to be doing his best to conceal his apprehension by covering it with a somewhat arrogant expression. Bolitho hoped that was merely a facade, although he feared that arrogance was more than likely the boy's attitude as well. But he was not going to judge De Guarde on his appearance alone. It was his performace which would determine the sort of officer he was going to be.

"Well, I am glad you gentlemen have decided to grace me with your presence," Bolitho said, trying not to sound too stern as he approached the young men, "I summoned you both to this cabin as soon as Mr. De Guarde was properly settled. Do you care to tell me what you have been up in the time since then?"

Peter stepped forward, before de Guarde had a chance to speak. "I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't realize that you wanted to see Mr de Guarde that quickly. We were talking about the ship" and the cat "and I offered to show Mr de Guarde around."

Irritated yet silent at Peter's forwardness, Mathew studied his new captain. Who was this man and what was his fashion of leading his crew? Was he a stern one in truth or had his heart been softened too dearly to make it a proper officer's again.
The sense of discomfort that clutched at his chest, subsided with each passing moment as he was made to feel more at ease in the company. He recalled how his former captain Burnett, would have dealt with boys coming late. Nay, if the introduction had been anything to be judged by, he needed not to fear this man as much.

His musings aside, his eyes had gazed boldly at Bolitho for a chance few before they averted to a more comfortable a possition. "Aye sir."He added to mr. Yates's story in a calm and collected manner. Indeed, near arrogant the tone, though he must've tried to guard it from being heard. There was no need to elaborate on how their time was spent. Not in his mind atleast.

"I see," Bolitho said, observing Yates as he spoke, and De Guarde as well. He hoped that they were not trying to cover up any sort of mischief that they may have been up to, but it seemed Yates was telling the truth. Bolitho had so far found him to be a honest lad. But he did not yet know if the same could be said of Mr. De Guarde. His brief speech was all he had spoken thus far, which made it difficult for Bolitho to make any sort of real guess about his character. However, he did notice that the young man was staring at him in a rather bold manner. A little too bold for Bolitho's taste. It seemed the boy's arrogance might well extend to his manner, which did not bode well.

"Mr. De Guarde, I trust you will be able to find your way around the ship quite well by now, seeing as how Mr. Yates has given you a thorough tour already," he said, fixing the boy with as stern a glare as he could manage without appearing too overbearing. He was not about to let the midshipman think he could get away with anything on this ship, and he wanted the boy to know that right away.

"Aye, sir."He replied. His eyes met with Bolitho's and try as he might to hold his gaze, the glare had had him soon drop his own. He felt that the captain expected he answer more and a part was unwilling to do so. Not out of disrespect to the man but out of certainty again, it needed little explanation. His left hand was turned slightly to close on the cuff. His fingers clasped onto the fabric and tugged absentmindedly at it for a short moment. "...I've seen.. some ...all of the ship, sir."

The feeling of the captain's gaze still upon him felt unnerving and the silence brought the boy, who'se tone had changed little, to grant the captain with another whole sentence."...I believe it shan't be a problem at all, sir."

"I am pleased to hear it, Mr. De Guarde," Bolitho said, softening his tone somewhat, "I merely ask that you strive to be punctual when summoned in the future. That goes for both of you."

He glanced at Yates too, not wanting to appear as though he was singling De Guarde out. They were both tardy in coming to the cabin, which he did not approve of, but which was still not a punishable offence. Bolitho wanted to assert his authority to the boys, yet he did not want to appear a tyrant who would frighten them witless.

"Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir. I understand." Peter glanced at de Guarde. It was his fault, and if the other boy had not been so stiff, probably the Captain would not have looked so sternly at him. It hadn't been his fault that Peter had misunderstood his instructions. And that meant that he had to be prepared to make it up to him in some way. He had rather not be in debt to de Guarde, in any sense.

"Perfectly..sir."A clipped reply. He felt it an injustice that he was scolded for not arriving when it was his messmate that forgot the full extent of his given duties. Tensing, his face had carried little of his feelings about the reprimind, but for the lips which turned into a thin line.

A first impression was poor and he did not delight in knowing the captain was dissatisfied with his performance before he even begun his service aboard. Though Yates was addressed his feeling, misinterpreted, was that the captain had thought him to be at most to blame. Another thought that had the youth's demanour stiffen in turn. He stole a glance to mr. Yates and wondered if the boy had done it on purpose or truly did not know to bring him here.