The mess deck

Time for dinner, the mid-afternoon meal, and Billy hoped he could at last hear the whole story about the new young gentleman. He'd been hearing rumors all morning, but once again he had managed to miss most of the action - not because he was swimming in the sea to rescue a drowning lad this time, but because his had been the watch below.

"So what happened? First it was Samuels?" he asked, looking at the nervous young tailor.

John turned slightly in his seat, listening. All he knew about anything recently was a cut thumb and a dressing down. Should be a bit of a good tale, this one.

Jim Samuels nodded cautiously, as if afraid the midshipman would jump out at him from the shadows. "Aye, he were angry about... sommat. And wouldn't stop harrying me. I were swabbing the deck, well, using a holystone to try to get a spot off, and he kept making me do it over and over, even when the spot were gone, all gone, and then Corporal Johnson told me to get below because the bosun wanted me, only he didn't want me, Corporal Johnson were just sayin' it to send me off." Here Samuels stopped, suddenly shy, never having spoken so many words during all the weeks combined of his entire naval service.

"You were lucky, mate." John said, turning to Billy and Jim. "Johnson probably saved you from an attempt at a flogging or something. Mind you, I got the same thing."
He put down his spoon and took a drink. "I was just sitting there, carving me spoon- you know what I'm like for a good piece of wood- and Sam, he nudges me to keep alert, like. Well, he makes the knife slip and I cut meself, see. So I'm standing there, angry with him and a kercheif round my thumb, and Mr de Guarde comes at me and starts on at me. Insolent, he called me, and lacking honour and a few other things besides. So I'm standing there, trying to work out if he wants to be talked to, or me to stay silent, or what."
John was warming to his story now, they complete confusion of people talking all round him, de Guarde yelling at him, and him trying desperately to work out how best to react.
"Well, I just stood there, figured he'd talk himself out eventually. He told everyone that I was trying to get out of work by cutting meself. Well, If I wanted to get out of work, I reckon I'd do a better job than this, Ay?"
Carefully, he pulled back the flap of skin, showing only bone and a bit of muscle. "I mean, it's not even on the ball of the thumb. And why would I want to get out of it anyway?" John let the skin fall back. "I wonder why he's got such a problem, I mean, this is a happy ship." He put the thumb back in order, pressing down on the skin to slot it into place, keep it from flapping round.
"But then, the captain comes up and starts talking to de Guarde. I reckon someone had tipped him off. Thankfully he didn't talk to me about it. Reckon de Guardes already got me marked up for something. Picking on a man like that." John took a breath, and another drink.
"What d'ye reckon is wrong with him?"