Afternoon Aloft, 1st July

"On'y jus' 'cause I's smaller nor you," Terry retorted, hauling himself over the edge of the foretop and dropping to sit opposite Chase, pulling his legs in to sit cross-legged, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his clasped hands. "Why's we back up 'ere?"

The topman grinned. "You was wantin' to see how a clove hitch goes round a spar, aye?"

"Don't mean you hafta use a reel life spar," Terry pointed out but shifted a bit closer anyway. "How's it do it, then?"

"Why," said Chase, affecting astonishment, "I thought you wanted to see it proper-done!"

He laughed and slipped down onto the yard. "Best way to learn it is to see it done right, then do it your own self. Lookit, then." He pulled the twine from his pocket and tied a clove hitch around the yard, then shuffled aside a bit so Button could see it.

"How'd you do that?" Terry said, staring down at the twine as though it had just magically wrapped itself round the yard. "Show us it proper, do."

Grinning, he untied the hitch, then did it over, taking it slow so the lad could see each step.

"Oh." He was still a bit nervous about going out on the yard, though if he stayed close in near the top, it probably wouldn't be so bad. And Chase was out there anyway - he looked as though he was enjoying himself. But with only a thin rope underfoot... It wasn't anything like so safe as the sturdy platform Terry was sitting on.

At least this was a nice easy hitch, not a complicated thing like some of the other things Chase had shown him.

"Wouldja... wouldja gissa 'and?" he said, a bit nervous about stepping out into thin air so high up.

"Mebbe." Chase spread his feet out a bit more to steady his balance, then held both hands up toward Button. "Jump down, then!"

Jump? Was he mad? Terry sat on the edge of the platform and nervously shifted his weight to the foot-rope, grateful for Chase's presence.

That wasn't quite what Chase had meant, but he hadn't expected the lad to take him seriously. The nipper was out on the yard now anyway so nothing else mattered.

"Right. Here 'tis again." Chase tied the hitch a third time. "Now you have a go."

Now, how was he supposed to tie it and hold on? He settled for clamping his elbow firmly on the fat yard, trying not to mind the swaying of the footrope and the empty air under his feet all the way down to the deck, and stolidly tied the hitch, copying Chase's as best he could.

"Helps a bit if you gots your feet spread out a bit," Chase suggested. "Good for balancin'. Not a bad job neither."

He tried spreading his feet a bit. The rope felt awfully thin under them, and he wondered how sailors ever got used to it. He couldn't help grinning up at the lanky seaman. This was probably the longest he'd ever spent with just one person without getting shouted at for something, and Terry liked it, a lot.

"Izzit used fer anyfin' else?" he asked, trying to keep his eyes locked on something solid, like the spar - or Chase's face.

"Aye. Some lads use it for tyin' fenders to lifelines." Chase shrugged. "Not me own preference, but some lads is lazy."

"Whaddaya use, then?" Terry asked, making up his mind to copy Chase - he didn't want the older seaman to think he was lazy, after all.

"Fer that? A bowline. If you're puttin' anythin' on a lifeline, it oughta be the most secure knot you can get on it."

"Jus' a ord'nary bowline... or one've the special ones?" He tried to remember them all - not easy, up here!

"Jus' an ordinary one. Best to avoid usin' somethin' fancy when simple'll do the job." Chase nodded at the footrope they were standing on. "S'jus' a bowline keepin' the stirrup on the horse, like. Simple an' sturdy!"

Except when it hadn't been tied right, and Terry flushed pink at recalling that it was his badly-tied bowline that had nearly dumped Chase to the deck all the way below them.

And then he wished he hadn't remembered that, and tried to get a firmer grip on the yard, just in case.

The topman lifted an eyebrow. "Ever wondered at why it's called a horse, then?"

He hadn't thought about it, and went to say so, but closed his mouth and shook his head instead. "Don't look nuffin' like a 'orse," he said.

"It don't, either." Chase nodded. "It's 'cause lads are always usin' it, like a beast of burden. Climbin' up and down on it an' all."

Sort of like something else, but he held that thought to himself.

"Oh." He looked up. "You's awful clever, Mister Chase," he added, the admiration plain on his face.

"You ain't slow, your own self," Chase told him with a grin. "Can't be, neither, if you wanna be a good an' taut hand!"

"I ain't...?" he asked, wonderingly, and frowned. Up here in the fresh air, way up above the deck, it ought to be easier to talk about things. "M... Mister Leat ain't said that, though he... 'e said summat like." He took a breath. "But if you an' 'im's right... why'd the pusser allus say I's... I's stupid, an'... an' iggerant?"

It was something he had found himself wondering a lot more over the past weeks since he'd been made Mister Leat's servant, but it wasn't exactly the sort of thing he could ask the officer, and he'd not really been able to ask anyone else - for one thing, nobody really had much time for a ship's boy, until this afternoon.