Afternoon Aloft, 1st July

"Tie it best you can, an' I'll tighten it if it's needin' to be," Dyer told him. He grinned, then shifted himself backwards to lash the near end of the new footrope to its proper place.

"An' don't forget to use both hands," Chase added helpfully.

Terry stuck his tongue out at Chase, though it was anyone's guess whether the topman could see it, thanks to Oxley being between them, and carefully tied a bowline in the stirrup, making sure that the new footrope lay in its bight.

"Betcha you can tie it wiv one hand, Chicken," he said, looking at it critically. "I know some folks can, anyhow."

"Course I can. Ain't a thing to it." Dyer smirked then whipped the trailing end of the stirrup in his hand around the new footrope, forming a knot without any apparent effort.

There was a snort from Chase, who was watching over his shoulder. "Show off."

Wow - that was fast. "Canya show me how to do that? Please?" It would really impress the other boys if Terry could do that! Though of course there were all sorts of other knots and things to learn and Terry didn't think he'd ever learn them all - certainly he'd never be as good as Chicken and Cob Chase, not if he lived to be ever so old!

He let the stirrup drop so it hung below the yard, where it belonged, and grinned. "Be glad to, but not up here. Ain't 'zactly the best place, is it?"

He wished the sailor hadn't reminded him of that. "Well, back in the top, then." He turned his head to look towards Chase again. "Izzere any more t'do out 'ere?" he asked.

Dyer looked toward where Chase was working with Oxley to get the remaining length of footrope properly rigged up. "Jus' need to haul the old horse in and send it down to the deck. Then we can go down too, if we wants."

Terry couldn't help nodding eagerly at that suggestion. Down on deck, where there wasn't any fear of falling off and it was solid planking underfoot, had never sounded so good to him! "Arrigh', then," he said. "You want help gettin' it in, Cob?" he asked, raising his voice a little to address the other sailor.

"Just catch this'n when it's passed to you," said Chase, indicating the coil of cordage that was the old footrope. He held the heavy coil out to Oxley with a caution to mind its weight.

Oxley adjusted his death-grip cautiously to take the coil. "Hell," he said, realising just exactly what that weight was. "Terry, shift back, you ain't gonna manage this'n, I think."

Thankfully the old rope wasn't likely to stain like the new one, and he somehow slung it over his head so he could 'carry' it, despite its length, and have both hands free, too. "Oughta do it - I hope!"

"Good lads," Dyer said, reaching out in case either boy's balance faltered. "Got that a'right, nipper?"

"Think so," Oxley muttered, carefully shuffling back along the yard. It would be easier on the foot-rope, of course, but he'd rather one of the sailors check his and Terry's knots - and there was the small issue of actually getting onto the rope in the first place, something he didn't quite dare attempt from his current position and location.

"How far back've I got to go afore I'm in the top?" he added, a moment later.

"Keep backin'," Dyer told him, deciding to remove one obstacle by grabbing Button under the arms and swinging the lad bodily off the yard and up to the mast platform. "Handsomely, now."

"What the fuck...?!" Terry said, startled to find himself flying through the air before landing safely back in the top. Oh. Not flying. Picked up and moved by Chicken Dyer, though it had felt much the same. He was shaking a little, grateful to be in the relative safety of the solid platform, even if he was still a long way above deck.

"Sommody oughta rinse yer mouth out with bilge water," Dyer commented placidly.

"Well, if you 'adn't've gawn an' scared me 'arf inta next week," Terry muttered in reply, his heart still racing but starting to slow down again.

At that, Dyer simply chuckled and held a hand out for the coil of old footrope that Oxley was carrying. "Here, nipper. Pass that aft, careful-like."

Oxley bit his lip and carefully shifted the coil of rope until he could pass it back to Chicken without overbalancing himself. "Cheers, mate," he said with a relieved sigh as he relinquished the weight, finding his equilibrium easier without it. His movements back toward the top were easier too, now.

Dyer slung the coil onto the mast platform, then stood up on the yard so he could step up directly onto the platform. "Nice'n steady," he said to Oxley. "Come 'bout now an' up you gets."

Out on the yard, Chase had got down onto the footrope, his bare feet spread wide. He was making his way steadily, if slowly, along toward the mast platform, using his weight to test that the newly-tied knots would hold.

"Easy f'r you to say," Oxley muttered, wondering just how he was supposed to 'come about' over a hundred foot up on the foreyard. He shifted carefully, trying not to look down at the deck a dizzying way beneath him.

"Think I might need a hand to get back up there, like," he said, not afraid to admit it.

A hand it was. Dyer slipped down onto the yard again, balancing himself by keeping one hand on the mast platform. "Up you gets," he told the drummer, holding his free hand out.

Then the yard suddenly shook and there came a startled oath from some ways out along it. Any immediate intention of helping Oxley was forgotten when Dyer realised what had happened and he too cursed.

A stirrup had come free, almost right beneath Chase's feet and the topman's legs were swinging free. Lucky for Chase his arms had been draped over the yard, so his two-fisted grip on the furled sail was as quick to achieve as it was solid.

"Don't move!" The topman snapped at Oxley, keeping very still himself.

Oxley froze right where he was, not daring to look and see what had happened, his heart in his mouth. He didn't even dare to say anything, looking up at the topman with wide blue eyes.

"Steady," Dyer said quietly, inwardly cursing himself for being slack.

The yard beneath their feet vibrated as Chase swung his legs from side to side, like a pendulum, until he got his left ankle hooked over the yard. From there he was able to slither that leg over and lay along the yard.

"You're a bloody lubber, Dyer," he called as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

Oxley held on tight, closing his eyes tight as he felt the yard shift a little under him.

Terry was sitting on the foretop watching wide-eyed. He'd thought at first that Chase was going to fall all the way to the deck, but he hadn't. Obviously one of the stirrups hadn't been quite as secure as they'd thought.

"I ain't the one nearly went divin'," Dyer countered in relief.

There was a grunt from Chase as he shifted forward along the yard until he reached the next stirrup along, which was intact. "Pass along that marlinspike an' some twine, an' leave the knots to me!"