Afternoon Aloft, 1st July

At that, Chase grinned. "The bos'un's mate reckoned I were clean 'nuff, after only one dunkin'. But that weren't good 'nuff. Not fer Cap'n Butterfield's satisfaction."

"The captain sent you back in?" That was mean. Nobody had made any of Terpsy's boys get scrubbed again once they were done with, after all.

"Nope." Chase turned away again to spit over the side. "Had the bos'un fetch up a razor, an' in two shakes I were as bald's a baby's arse." The memory made him reach back instinctively to touch his pigtail. " 'In case there was lice,' the cap'n said."

"No!" Terry's eyes were as big as saucers and he instinctively adjusted his hat. "He never did!"

"Aye. For gettin' rid of lice, an', he said, 'cause a lad fresh to the sea oughta start off like he'd just been born. 'Cluded growin' a proper queue from nothin', that meant." He brushed a hand back over his hair. "I wore a hat fer months till there was 'nuff grown back to make a little tail from. Hate the things now, I do. Hats, I mean."

"Reelly?" Terry was particularly fond of his hat - it kept his head warm, after all, and helped keep his hair out of his eyes. "Never 'ad a 'at till the S'sity gimme me cloves an' stuff." He rubbed a hand over his trousers.

He nodded. "Aye. I only wore one 'cause it covered up me head till the hair was grown back. Then I traded it off fer some 'baccy. Ain't figgered it was right to cover up what I earned, like, anyways. Me 'tail, I means." Then he grinned. "But it's diff'rent fer everyone, I think. Havin' sommat you ain't before an' all."

"'S'nice to 'ave 'em," Terry said, and shrugged. "Well, 'cept the shoes. Ain't ever wore shoes afore, and they ain't any too comfy." He wriggled his bare toes with a shy grin.

"I hate shoes. No earthly use to 'em," Chase agreed. He fished out his tobacco pouch. "Pinch?"

"You sure?" Terry asked, reaching forward to take a bit. he chewed for a few seconds, not liking the taste much, before asking, "You ever tried smokin' it?"

This lad would not be a chewer, Chase guessed. Not that it really mattered. "Coupla times. S'how I started with 'baccy. But chewin' can be done any time, really. Smokin' is a bit harder. 'Sides. Clay pipes need too much work keepin' up."

"Jus' wondered. I tried it once." He shrugged. "Made me cough, like." He scratched the back of his neck. "Did it take you long to... to learn all the ropes 'n' stuff?"

So the lad had. Chase remembered that evening.

"Coupla years, or there'bouts. Once I got to learnin' it proper anyway."

A couple of years? He might just as well have said 'forever'... but on the other hand, that meant that people wouldn't expect him, Terry, to learn it all overnight. "I know the sails - the square ones, any'ow." And he knew some of the ropes - things like the braces and halliards.

"Good things to know, them. An' what they're used for." Chase spat over the side. "D'you know 'bout the others?"

Terry thought for a moment before shaking his head. "Don't fink so."

He had expected that answer. Pointing toward the bowsprit, he said, "That 'un nearest us is the fore stays'l. The one next after it is the fore topmast stays'l. Then it's the flyin' jib."

"The fore stays'l, fore topmast stays'l an' flyin' jib," Terry repeated obediently, looking for'rard at the triangular sails set between the foremast and bowsprit.

"Now have a guess at what they does," Chase said.

"They's sails, they 'elp the ship go along, don't they?" Terry said, frowning. What else could they possibly do, after all?

"Aye, they does that. They catch the wind the square sails don't, an' they help keep the ship steady. Good for lighter airs too, they is."

"Oh." Well, that made sense, being as they were sideways on to the square sails. He had another thought then, about Chase himself as opposed to sailing and all. "Why'd you join a Navy ship an' not a... a Indiaman, like?"

"Indiamen don't fight, do they?"

"Well, no but... Ain't it safer in a Indiaman, though?" He looked up at Chase in awe. "Didja start out bein' a powder monkey? Like me?"

The topman shrugged and leaned out to spit the last of his tobacco into the sea. "Mebbe safer, but loads more borin'. Who'd wanna spend all his time sailin' in convoys when nothin' ever happens?" Then he grinned. "Nope. I worked fer the carpenter, so instead of runnin' powder, I were below fetchin' an' carryin' fer him."