Afternoon Aloft, 1st July

"Really?" At least, he supposed, people hadn't really teased him all that much. It was pretty strange to think that Chase hadn't always had it so easy, either.

He nodded. "Sneakin' buggers drew the cordage nice'n tight, too. Took a while to get it loose."

He shifted a little closer, as though to comfort the man - despite the joke having been played years ago, probably - maybe even before Terry was born. "Bein' in th'Navy ain't so bad now though... izzit?"

"It ain't, sorta. There's still plenny of lads what ain't any good an' plenny of officers an' cap'ns who don't care a whit 'bout their crews, but it ain't all so bad's it used to be." Chase shrugged. "I joined Hazard a few months 'fore Spithead happened, an' that made a whole load of things change, that did."

"The... the mutiny?" Terry wasn't sure how old he was, exactly, but everyone in the Navy knew about the mutinies at Spithead and the Nore that had happened round the year he'd been born. "Was you... was you in that, then?"

"Aye, that, an' no. We was cruisin' off Ireland when all that was goin' on. There's a coupla lads aboard now what was there, though."

"What's the... most excitin' fing what you've bin part of?" Terry asked, remembering just in time not to ask whether Chase had been at Trafalgar - he already knew the answer to that one was 'no', having asked that question only weeks ago.

Another easy one. "Boardin' me first prize," he answered. " 'Cause I were your age an' goin' right over with the lads."

Terry waited in expectation of a proper yarn. It seemed, from Chase's pause, that he wasn't going to spin it, though.

"Tell... please, do!" He pulled his legs in to sit cross-legged, looking up at the sailor, and fiddled with the end of the spun-yarn.

"It was some'rs off Ireland, on regular patrollin'. We'd chased a Frog brig but she got away, then we spotted another. She were a Frog too, an' only had ten guns. She fought 'em all on one side, which was brave of 'em. Then her company tried boardin' us, if you can b'lieve it!"

He grinned and fished out his tobacco pouch for another pinch. "One of the foc's'le men chucked an axe at me an' said to defend me ship. But the lads turned the Frogs back to their own weather deck, neat's you please. So I jus' followed 'em."

Chase had mentioned this fight before - it was the mention of the Frogs putting all their guns on one side that jolted Terry's memory - but he still leaned forward to listen. "Don't fink I'd know what to do wiv a axe," he said, scratching behind his ear.

"Ain't hard. Just swing it, ideally at the enemy." He stuffed the pouch back into his pocket, his cheek round with tobacco. "Needs two hands to manage if you're jus' a nipper, though."

"I'd be that skeered o' takin' out me shipmates, though," he said. "So... so how'd you get to doin' the boardin', then?"

Chase grinned. "Easy! Slipped over with a bunch of the lads, an' the officers never saw. Not till after, anyway. I thought the first luff'd give me a proper blowin' up, 'cause boys ain't s'posed to be boarders, but he jus' helped me git me axe up outta the deck an' said I were a bold an' brave 'un. An', of course, never to do it agin!"

And that reminded Terry of the storm and how he'd wanted to be up on deck instead of below and Mister Leat had let him... with the understanding that he wasn't to do that ever again. He couldn't hold back a giggle, though he bit his lip and gave Chase a sidelong glance right after in case the Tar thought he was laughing at him and was annoyed.

He arched both eyebrows and adopted a hurt expression. "What? Ain't me fault I needed help gettin' me axe outta the deck plankin'! It jus' got a bit more stuck'n I wanted it to, is all, 'cause of me missin' what I was really swingin' at."

And now Terry really couldn't help laughing and had to put both hands over his mouth. "Well, folks move," he managed. And men moved a lot quicker than boys, being taller and all.

"Aye. 'Specially when you're tryin' to split 'em in two with an axe," Chase said wisely.

"I'd go attem sidewise, me. I fink." He spoke with all the wisdom of twelve years of being smaller and physically weaker than the grown adults around him. "Wuzn't you real scared, though?" he asked, looking up at Chase and shifting position to hug his knees.

He made a face when he realised he could not spit over the edge of the mast platform. The only alternative was to swallow the tobacco juice, which he did. It would make him a little sick later, he knew.

"I learned how to use the axe properly later, from the bos'un. But no, I weren't scairt till after. Wasn't time durin' it all, really."

Terry wondered how that could be - for sure he'd be as scared as all anything, if Terpsy were to end up being boarded and he had to join in the fighting properly.

"The bosun teached you?" he asked, eyes round. Terpsy's own bosun, Mister Watts, was a fearful loud scary sort of man and Terry judged the entirety of bosuns against him, as the only one he'd ever known.

"Aye. Me an' the other boys. Din't have a Master-at-Arms, 'cause we was only a sloop, so the bos'un did the small arms trainin'. Fine hand at it, too, he was."

"No... no Master-at-Arms?" That was one thing but, there was something else he wanted to know. "What's the diff'rence 'tween a sloop an' a frigate?"

Nope. But the poor nipper only knew life in a frigate, didn't he?

"They're a far sight smaller'n a frigate," Chase explained. "Only got two masts an' the lads live on the gundeck, round an' 'tween the guns. There was a couple hangin' about when we took that Frog fort. You mighta seen 'em?"

He screwed his face up in concentration, thinking back. "Fink so... din't one've 'em 'ave a... 'ave a cleaner patch on 'er topsail? I fink."

He remembered the patch, anyway; it had been pretty noticeable when the ships had come up the river round that sort of time.