Light duties and men

"Wouldn'ta lost me, sir," Billy laughed. "I been swimming almost as long as I been walking. But thankee sir. Men'll be glad to hear that, sir, though they might be gladder to hear it from yerself. Over there's Jim Spencer, sir, what was steerin' the boat. Mebbe you'd like to tell him your message while I take care o' this lot?" he suggested, nodding at his burden of cleaning equipment. He did need to put the things away, but he also wanted to return forward to see if Mister Yates was all right. The lad had been looking peculiar.

"Aye, I shall! Carry on." He smiled dismissing the sailor. With that he had turned and approached Spencer, with the compliment that was deserved. But he hoped that the word would spread, for it was each and every man of the Terpsy that deserved the praise and he could by heart not speak with all of them. He'd try to make it known though. A bright young midshipman as he was, on his better way to become a lieutenant one day.

And thus he soon disappeared from sight, to his duties too as well as those not.

Peter stared down at the water. He looked back at his behaviour and was appalled. He should have turned the other cheek - well, he had in the end, but only to protect his nose. He had started the fight, and fought dirty, not caring what he did so long as he could cause pain to de Guarde. The midshipman had to be stopped from bullying Fletcher, of course, but ...

And worse than his behaviour then had been was the fact that he was already thinking about the next fight, and what he should do to win. It was so far from what his father would have wished, that Peter could imagine him standing frowning down at him, looking so terribly disappointed.

He watched young Fletcher, who seemed to be revelling in the excitement of the last few days, talking to Barrow. Barrow might be able to help him - that was what he was meant to do. They had said Barrow would teach him knots, and sewing, but what Peter really wanted to know was how to fight.

"Y'arright, sir?" a voice behind Yates asked tentatively. Billy had returned on the pretence of gathering the rest of Chase's equipment.

Peter turned back to face Barrow, and smiled, then dabbed again at the scratch on his cheek. "Ah," he said, "I realize you were concerned about us, but - um - Mr de Guarde and I were just trying out some moves, if we have to board and or are attacked. It's important to be prepared."

Billy gave him an understanding nod. "That's right, sir. Very important." Of course it was a lie, but that was none of his business. For his own part, Billy was only too glad to call the matter closed.

Peter smiled without any mirth or joy. "My father says that once boys start play-fighting, it stops being play very quickly. It must have looked like that to you."

"Well that's arright sir," Billy answered with some surprise. "Always best to be prepared for the Frenchies."

"Of course," Peter said, and then, quickly, "Is that the sort of thing you should be teaching me? Because - have you been involved in boarding another ship?"

"I have, sir!" Billy said proudly. "Just twice, mind. I were only pressed into the navy two year ago, from a merchant. Ain't seen so many actions as others, like Old Keane, say. You probably seen all the tattooed names and dates of battles he has. But as for teachin' you fighting, sir..." Billy looked uncertain. "I don't rightly know as it's my place... Maybe the master-at-arms...?" After all, the Articles of War forbade striking a superior officer, and how was a man supposed to teach a lad to fight without striking him at all? "I've never been assigned a-teaching before, sir. You're the first," he said with a grin.

Peter rubbed at his shoulder where de Guarde had pinched it. "It is silly for us to practise just with one another. Unless it is guaranteed that I won't be attacked by a fully grown Frog, just a porriwiggle." He grinned at Billy. "I will have to be prepared to face fully-grown men, and ... I'll mention it to Mr George. We ought to be prepared."

He settled down. He was definitely not going back to the berth until he had to - just before 8 bells he could be pretty certain that Chandos would be there, getting ready for their turn on duty. "Did you kill men, when you were fighting?"

"I'm not sure, sir. Mighta done. I didn't really have time to look and see. It usually happens all fast and... instant, like. You don't get time to think about it or watch what happens. So as long as a Frog's not hurting me or the Terpsys, I don't have time to watch if he's dying."

Mathew De Guarde wrote:"Spare ones are cleaner? Or more stiff to manipulate?" He nodded faintly. It made sense then, did it. Life or death meant, get the men to do proper because their lives depended on it. But you could do so with harsh discipline too. He smiled and placed Mallory's musket along with the growing collection of those that were properly cleaned and tended to.

He wished to ask more, but he felt that it would have him seem nosy and too personal like, so he turned his intention more the muskets and busied himself with a new one.

"A bit of both. Though some of them are dirtier... where they've been used if one of the others hasn't been working right, or if they've come from another ship or something." He watched De Guarde start to check another one.

"I don't mind answerin' your questions, you know," he said, when it became apparent he was not going to say any more. "It can get very quiet down here at time, and it's nice to hve someone to talk to."

Peter sat for a moment, looking thoughtful. "That's the whole point, isn't it? Most of us don't do it for King and Country, we fight for our ship, or our friends. And anyone who threatens them can watch out, because we will fight until they stop."

He looked up at Quinn and felt a touch of assurance in those words. He placed a hand against the musket and when he saw a spark he lowered it again and glanced to it for a few moments of silence.

" Do you often work alone here, sergeant?" He asked, prompted by the offer, and though it wasn't the question he wished to ask earlier it made to break the barrier some. He still could not bear that the doctor has refused him laudanum. The wretched man said that the punishment was for too few a stroke to be deserving of that.

"n'.. I don't want ter ask a question that you'd think I were there to insult you, or that would make it feel as if I were impudent."

"Often, yes. Not always, though." He looked at the lad. Not wishing to be thought impudent... it was a start. "If you ask politely, and accept I might not choose to answer, I won't think you're being impudent. After all, we were all young and curious once."

He wondered what De Guarde could possibly want to ask that might lead him to that conclusion, but waited. Growing older did not mean you grew less curious, after all. You just learned how to hide it.

Well one needed to start somewhere, and a bold question was not exactly light on the menu. But a testing one could be.

"Why'd ye come ter join t' marines?" He asked that and placed the musket beside the ones clean. He reached and took another and checked it as smoothly as the one before. He felt tired yes, and his muscles were unused to the constant hauling of the very heavy objects. But he continued, for he saw the number of muskets stlil in need to be checked, and he certainly wished to give each a proper check up.

"I come from Hampshire, near Winchester, and I always liked the look of the army uniforms - there were lots of soldiers near us, you see. And one day I went to Portsmouth on an errand, and I saw a poster for the Marines, and it talked about adventure and prize money. So I 'listed."

He saw the very slight tremor in the boy's arms. "If you want me to hold them while you check, will it help?"

Billy nodded at the sense of Mister Yates' comment. Smart lad, he was. "That's right, sir. Fight until they stop. And we do do it for king and country like, but... I reckon our friends here are part of that country. And the captain's like the king's own man on the ship here."

Having given up the idea of getting any rest where he was, John had been roaming, still, though he wouldn't admit it, feeling a tad of centre. He'd heard these voices and wondered, then heard Billy, "the captain's like the king's own man" Why were they talking about all this fighting? he wondered. Interesting talk, really. He stopped just shy of actually talking and hunkered down to listen.

"Aye, perhaps 'tis better. We will do more that way. Sorry, sergeant." He looked apologetic that he was tiring at such a speed, even if many excuses could've been given for that. He placed the one he had checked to the properly taken care of. It wasn't that hard at all, and with practice you could spot a thing out of place much easier and faster. You knew where you had to look for them, and you knew what was what and how it needed to work.

"Jus' help me hold them a bit." He felt his belly sound it's protest of hunger and he went to ignore it. Middies were always hungry, as it was. And always hoping for the opportunity of more food.

"Have you gotten what you came 'ere for? T' Adventure, the prize money n' the like?" He also felt thirsty but unlike with Fletcher, who could be bullied into giving him a drink, it could be near offense to ask a marine.

A middie and a Tar were talking close nearby. Branning found himself listening to them, at first in idle curiosity. Then, as the topic of their conversation became apparent, he turned to listen with a more apparent interest. Wanting to learn fighting, Mister Yates was. Now that was interesting.

Branning shifted away from his chosen spot at the rail and drifted closer to the pair, the aching lump on the side of his head already forgotten. "Fightin's like a sport, sar," he said. "A nasty one, anyways. Takes lots of practise to be good with it an' a fair bit of heart 'sides."

He looked down at Barrow and grinned. "But Barrow here's got it. S'fer ship an' mates first."

Billy grinned at the marine. "Takes lots of practice just walkin' about below decks. Trouble with yer hat there, mate?"

Peter smiled up at the big marine. "For king and country, or your shipmates and the ship, it's all the same, really. If I need to fight, it's not prizefighting skills I'll be needing, or the ability to throw a boy the same size as me. I might be faced with someone your size." He looked up and the smile became a grin. "Perhaps not quite that large, but ... I'd like to be able to defend myself, and my friends."

"Not sure how you'd go about felling a giant like Branning here," Billy said with a chuckle, eyeing the marine up and down. "Probably'd have to sneak up behind and slice his leg with your dirk or a sword. Like this," he added, demonstrating a cutting motion with his hand.