Marines Aloft, 21st July

Terelly looked rather dazed, but was prodded not too lightly in the backside by MacTavish. With a yelp he went forward and reflexively gripped the rail.

It slowly began to dawn on him that this way he would at least be climbing with the Corporal, which might increase his chances of surviving, if indeed all needed to go up, and he copied Thompson's grip with a little more determination.

MacTavish smiled encouragingly, and Terelly took a few deep breaths, but swallowed hard when he heard Allen.

"You won't let me fall, will you, Thompson? I don't want to go swimming!", he asked softly, then placed a foot on the rail rather like a man trying to show some dignity on his way to the gallows.

"I will not. Just do everythin' I tell you to," Thompson said encouragingly, swinging himself up to stand on the rail next to the youngster, holding on to the shrouds with one hand.

"Right. Remember, one hand for you, and one for the ship, as the sailors say," he said. "When you'm climbin', you want two hands or two feet on the riggin' all the time - three points o' contact. Hold on with both hands and let's take a step up - it's jus' like climbin' a long ladder."

Terelly gripped the ropes so hard his hands hurt, and he recited every children's song he knew to keep himself from thinking about what would happen if his foot slipped through the ropes; but with his teeth clenched together to keep them from chattering, he first moved one foot, then the other one rung up, staring straight upwards.

"There! See, it's easy!", MacTavish called, meaning to be encouraging. "Allen, don't you think he's doing fine? He'll be up there faster than you in no time!" He grinned at the other man, daring him to contradict him and discourage the youngster.

"That's it. Now move one hand, then your other foot."

Thompson could remember his first time aloft, and he'd lived all his life in a Navy town until he'd enlisted, so he knew how high the masts were.

"You'm doin' well, Terelly, really well."

"Well he'll certainly be gettin' up there faster'n you, MacTavish!" Allen replied with a laugh. "But then come t' think of it, everyone can get up there faster'n you!"

To Terelly, he shouted, "Doin' great, Terelly! You'll be beatin' MacTavish before you know it!"

Terelly was the first victim of this strange procession. He let out a deep breath of relief. If Thompson had been picking the next man who'd go up, the odds could have had him be picked. Since somebody volunteered, the odds were favourable. He glanced at Allen, one of the experienced marines. He was making light of the situation. Easy for him! He was not going to be the one falling into the water because he's forced to do things that he doesn't know how.

He sighed and watched the two climbing. If the lad fell, he would make full sure that he would clear the deck, should he fall in that direction! If he fell into the sea.. well, hopefully there was enough of him left to save!

"Just going up more slowly so everybody can admire my style! If I really put my mind to it, all you will see is a scottish blur speeding up to the top!"

MacTavish struck a heroic pose. While he was a good and fast climber, it was doubtful that he actually win a race against Allen (although he would probably give him a run for his money), but that had never before stopped him from boasting.

While the other Marines down there laughed, Terrelly conquered inch by inch the shrouds, often with breaks in between steps where he held on to the ropes with all that he had and squeezed his eyes closed, fighting a feeling of vertigo. Still, slowly but steadily he went higher and higher. When he finally reached the point where the futtock shrouds veered off, however, he blanched and stopped, turning huge, frightened eyes to Thompson.

"All right, lad, you've done really well," Thompson said. "Now, I ain't expectin' you to do what me an' MacTavish done. If you look up there, you'll see a hole in the plankin' - it's called the lubber's hole an' it'll be the way you'm goin' up, got that?" He pointed up. "An' once you'm up there, it's solid deckin' to stand on. Shall us go on up, then?"

Terelly had his jaw clenched so tight he couldn't speak, but he gave a tiny nod. The lubber's hole certainly sounded more managable, and although he felt that the name was not complimentary, he was quite willing to take that if it meant he could finish this task quickly and without any new complications.

Every step brought him closer now to the reassuringly solid mast, and when he finally reached the top (he was not quite clear about how - he had followed the corporal move for move and not looked left or right), he actually went so far as to hug it to steady his shaking knees; they had worked well enough on the way up, but now that he was done climbing, they suddenly seemed to be made out of jelly.

On the deck, MacTavish cheered loudly.

"There! The first one up! Well done, Terelly!"

Terry had observed the progress all until Terelly was safely at the top. He was especially attentive of where the boy had gone at the most dangerous spot. So, through the hole, not around the outside. It was something he intended to remember, just in case.

He glanced at Allen again. Him and the other marine, MacTavish, if he remembered correctly, were both seasoned in this climbing and old, well compared to him, it must have meant that they had gone there often enough and still lived! The problem was, he only had the limited pool of people who had made it, he could not know how many had not because they would quite obviously not be standing here, cheering the unfortunate souls upwards. He nervously adjusted his off white drill jacket. MacTavish was a safer bet to stand behind than Allen. He was much broader and thus a perfect 'pillar' to hide behind.

He began to inch towards him. He did see Allen as being a bit too lean , but then realised that the path he needed to cross towards the marines in question was far too long and on the wrong side too. Instead of disappearing, he'd probably only stand out more.

Could he bribe someone to go up twice instead of him? There was still money he could earn, though he doubted his firing abilities this high up, with shaky hands and aversion for heights, would be a safe bet for him to hit anything that was supposed to be hit!

MacTavish, with a broad, encouraging grin, looked around.

"Alright, whose the next one? Don't make the corporal ask - he'll just pull you out like a worm out of the earth. Come on! Step right up! It won't hurt at all and will be over so much sooner!"

There seemed to be no movement on the deck below when Thompson scrambled down a little to check what was going on. He took a breath.

"Right. Whyte, you'm next. Birdy, you come up with him."

"Aye, aye, Corp'ral," the blond Marine called cheerily and slung his own musket across his back before turning to the freckled, nervous-looking youngster. "Just do what them two just done, you'll be fine. C'mon, then."

"...Can we jus' pretend I was up there an' be done with it?" Whyte asked hopefully. He had already paled when his name was called and stopped trying to inch behind the biggest marine of the bunch. He had nearly succeeded too!

He gazed at the mast then back at Birdie, the expression himself a clear - you gotta be joking me! -.

Robinson grinned. "Nope. If the Corp'ral wants you up there, you better be goin' up there. He ain't asked you to do it on you own, though. C'mon, you do everythin' I do and remember it ain't a race." He took hold of the shrouds, a clear look of expectation on his face.

".....ain't thinkin' to race." Whyte answered sullenly and sighed gazing up. His throat felt dry and his hands felt clammy and cold and soon they'd even make themselves so slippery and weak that he'll plummet to the deck and die!

".. It's bleedin' high!" He looked pleadingly at Robinson. "Can't you distract t' corporal...n' then make him think i've been up there n' back? Willing to pay you for it, honest!"

"Don't be such a silly," Robinson said briskly. "You heard what the Corp'ral told Terelly - it's jus' like climbin' a long ladder. It ain't as hard as you's makin' out. Anyway, you ain't doing it on your own, are you?"

"An' you can guarantee that I ain't gonna fall?" Whyte asked stubbornly. "Cos'...I'm too young to die." He straightened up a little and he might have taken a step forward to get closer to the railing, but he was still far enough that a few more would be needed.

"I can guarantee you's actin' like a child," Robinson said. "You won't fall if you do things like the Corp'ral said. Both feet or both hands on the ratlines at once, see. C'mon and stop dawdlin'."

"I ain't!..." Whyte protested though he moved closer to the railing. He sighed, looking back over his shoulder then back to where he was supposed to climb now. He gulped then peered over the railing and into the dark depths of the sea. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

"....what now?" He felt as if the ship had decided to move and shift much more now, even if its rise and fall had been quite minimal and had in fact not changed since the beginning of this training. "...show.." He felt his heart hammer in his chest. He was afraid of heights and here he was, having to go up the nimble, thin ropes up a thinner, nimbler mast to a tiny, tiny plateau higher up!

MacTavish, still grinning, moved closer.

"Now you climb up there! Tell you what, I will stay on the lower part, right behind you, so if you loose your hold, I will catch you. And bite you into your behind! See how fast that will make you climb up there."

"....but.." This was getting just a bit ridiculous. He could not say no at all now. He had two marines willing to assist him and not have him fall and if he managed to somehow miss one, he would most certainly have still been cushioned by another.

He sighed. "A'right.." He gulped and looked up again. "..But if I fall and break something.. i'm blamin' you both!" He was not looking forward to having a teeth imprint of MacTavish in his bum either!

He pulled himself up, setting his right foot on the rail. A few more deep breaths, muttering to himself not to look down and pretend that he was only going up a very, very odd, very long companionway.

He was going to fall, it's slippery, it's awful, the ship is moving, the sea wants him, he was going to FALL! He bit hard on his lip and pulled himself all the way up, so that his feet and arms were all on the ropes. They were not ladder taut either!

He thrust his arms between the ropes and hugged them tight. He looked back over his shoulder at the two marines then at the corporal. The bloody mast was going to keel over, he KNEW it, it was!

After a few long drawn out moments he tried to pull himself one step higher, and another and then stopped again. "All the way up?"

Robinson rolled his eyes at MacTavish, then grinned. "All the way, just take it one step at a time. You want to hold onto the shrouds - the upright bits - though." He indicated the thick, tarred ropes that led up to the fighting top. "Keep jus' lookin' at the rope there and listen to MacTavish and me. We'll get you there an' the Corp'ral won't be able to say you didn't do it."

Whyte adjusted his grip just as he was told and began to climb very unsteadily and quite slowly. He stopped more often than not and then at one point, when he had almost felt confident he looked back over his shoulder at the two marines below.

The problem was not the marines, but rather the distance between himself and the deck and sea. He froze hugging the ropes tightly. Why anybody ever wanted to go this high was beyond him. There was nothing but his legs and arms that kept him from falling and right now both pairs felt like putty.

Robinson saw the signs and scrambled to a place in the rigging where he was level with Whyte.

"Hey, Chalky," he said. "Ain't no need to try livin' up to your name. Look at me. Look at me!"

MacTavish, true to his word, had climbed up right behind Whyte, keeping his mouth shut for once. He didn't want to distract the already unsteady man or make him look down - and he wasn't to keen on an accidental foot or more in his face either.

Now however, he glanced at Robinson, then climbed up to Whyte's other side, one arm ready to sling it around his waist, should his legs give out under the trembling man.

"Just listen to Robinson ... We won't let you fall!", he said softly, not expecting to get through, but feeling the need to say something.