A Summons

OOC - This picks up just after De Guarde left the gun deck in Beating to Quarters.

IC -

One of the ship's boys, a scrawny, unkempt lad called Fingers, came scampering over the spray-soaked deck. "Chase!" The boy squeaked, nearly sliding past the Number Four gun in his momentum. Tommy Dunnett had to grab the boy by his scruff to stop him tumbling away along the gun deck.

"That's me, sure," Chase said dryly, wondering if he was being sent for by the captain.

Fingers swept a dirty hand over his face and back in a futile attempt to brush hair from his face. "Mister Bush wantin' ter see ya, lay aft quick-like he sez!"

Mister Bush? That wasn't much better than being summoned by the captain. Chase almost gulped. Mister Bush was rightly feared and to be called by him could mean nothing good.

"Cheers, Fingers mate." Chase ignored the startled, sympathetic glances from his gun crew and went aft. Mister De Guarde, that little devil, must've come up with a way to drop Chase in it with the first luff. What other reason for the summons was there?

Was it again a middie's complaint over a sailor, by all means the very same sailor who had already been whipped and been made useful solely for the light tasks? It did seem so, for there he was, the blue clad lad on his way to the lieutenant most likely to repeat his report.

Though he did look as worried as Chase looked uneasy. Did one of the midshipmen see what had gone on, and had reported it to the lieutenant? Or was he just intimidated by Lt. Bush as were many who had the pleasure of meeting him. Perhaps Chase himself was to blame, for he was there behind, coming as well. He narrowed his eyes at the topman when he saw him approach, a glare that held little sympathy but much of promise of bad things.

There was a knock at the door. No emotion that would betray the reason why they were there. Neither annoyance that might've calmed Mathew, nor stiffness that could've made Chase perhaps more hopeful. Let inside they were witness to the lieutenant still seated at his desk, with his piercing, unrelenting eyes on them both.

It had to be Mister De Guarde's doing. Why else would the boy be here? Chase returned the midde's glare evenly, keeping his own expression mostly blank.

"Sent fer me, sar?" The topman asked, saluting Mister Bush.

Bush regarded the two of them quietly for a long moment before nodding, very slightly. "I sent for both of you, on a matter of a somewhat delicate nature."

That couldn't be good. Chase tensed, just slightly. The first luff went on without seeming to notice.

"You, Chase, are probably more aware than Mister De Guarde here, of the practise of assigning mentors to new midshipmen?"

A muscle in Chase's cheek twitched. What. "Yes sar," he said.

What? He didn't know whether he was to feel relieved or worried. Assigning mentors? What has Chase to do with that? He wasn't going to be asked to suggest which sailor might take him under his wing right? He kept his face blank as he looked to the Lieutenant.

Not in trouble, but this might turn for worse. The lieutenant observed them both carefully. Was he waiting for something or was he just considering the words that he would use, build up the atmosphere before the final act?

"And you are probably aware that we have not yet assigned a mentor to Mr. De Guarde.." He let the question hang.

Chase forced himself to nod. "Aye sar." This wasn't about Mister De Guarde spinning some yarn to get him awarded more lashes, that much was becoming clear. The alternative, however, was even less favourable.

"It would seem in the best interests of you both if you, Chase, were to become Mister De Guarde's mentor," Bush said.

The statement was like heaving a brick through a parlour window. Chase stared at the first luff in stunned disbelief. He what?

"I trust neither of you have any objections."

A..... WHAT?! WAIT... wait a minute just now. Did the lieutenant suggest that he was to have Chase, the man short to be criminal as his mentor? Did the sky suddenly... no wait. Wait! The look of shock was as clear on his face as was the sun on the cloudless day.

Any objections? He had plenty! But he kept silent on that and shook his head:" No sir." No objections.

" Chase, You will teach him as if it were his first day on a ship. And you, Mr. De Guarde, shall listen. I do not wish to hear any complaints whatsoever. Have I made myself clear?"

He looked at the both of them making sure that they knew that he was not singling any one out in this.

"Yes, sir." Jacob Chase as his mentor? Not that he had any preference to the sailors, but that damned man.... !

"Aye sar."

Chase's mind was whirling. Him, Mister De Guarde's mentor? Had the first luff gone mad? How was he supposed to teach this lad anything?

"That is all." Bush turned his attention away, indicating that the meeting was over. For a heartbeat, Chase stood where he was. That hadn't just happened, had it? It couldn't have.

He looked warily at Mister De Guarde. Oh boy. "C'mon sar," he said shortly, turning partway back toward the gundeck. "Might's well..." Might's well what? He had no idea.

Too shocked to protest the boy made a singe short nod and followed Chase, for once looking like an obediant puppy. Chase, his mentor. The very man he had flogged, now to be pretty much his teacher. Once they left the cabin and the lieutenant behind he couldn't have mastered a single retort and just looked up a the topman.

"...might's..well...yes.." He murmured subdued not even knowing what Chase wanted to say. His mind was still reeling. It was wrong. So wrong.

Where to even begin? He didn't know what the middie had been taught before or even what he would tolerate being instructed in. It was all a mess.

"Don't s'pose y'know how t'man a gun then, sar?" Chase asked, feeling a little stupid. That was not a feeling he was used to.

The lieutenant said that he were taught as if he'd not seen a sail nor mast ever before, and so the boy simply shrugged in answer. He looked at Chase and knew that this was no more favoured by chase than he was by him.

"I suppose you will show me, Chase." He replied instead, making his tone so, that it was clear he was wanting him to make a move on already.

Chase grunted. Of course he would. The others on his gun crew weren't likely to be overly pleased with the change in their group, but they'd bear it.

"Glad to, sar," the topman muttered and headed off toward the gun deck.

The midshipman followed the topman and looked as pleased as a child being made to eat a lemon. He frowned and looked back over his shoulder to the lieutenant's own humble abode and was reminded of the little feline that dirtied the coat of their second, with her soft light furr.

He looked after Chase and sped up his walk a little to catch up with him. The two men who both had been flayed, one lower and one upper, now having to walk side to side. In a way it was ironic. ".. no complaints." he muttered looking at Chase, as if to tell him that they were going to work together and as much as they probably loath each other, they would not be set before the lieutenant for their michief.

It was though at this point that the second lieutenant appeared on the gun deck; red hair soaked and wild, eyes blazing angrily, skin almost white from the cold spray - like some ghastly phantom seafarer returned from the waves to seek vengeance. He saw the two figures go to climb the companionway and roared out to them to stop.

"Chase! De Guarde!! Stand fast!"

A chill ran down the boy's spine at the tone of the lieutenant's voice. If he hadn't meant to, he did freeze in his spot, and resemebled a deer caught in the headlights for all it was worth.

What did the lieutenant want? The voice.. no, the voice was not promising anything good to come from it. He felt his throat go dry. He licked his lips but his tongue felt like a slob of meat, weighing down on his jaw. "S..sir." He stammered, quickly saluting. Barely doing so, as much as his hand began to shake in fear. Something was wrong. Once lucky, he doubted twice he would be.

De Guarde froze and Leat strode over to him and Chase, his feet strangely finding no problem with making their way across the slippery deck.

"Lieutenant Bush - what did he want with you?" he growled. "Tell me."

"..n..nothing sir.. he just a.. appointed a mentor to me. Chase here sir. My.. my mentor sir. S.. said that he s..should teach me. " He spoke so quietly that a few words were lost to the sounds around them. The lieutenant was scary, he was angry and that had the boy wish to disappear, become invisible or run away. Neither of which he could do.

"Mentor?"

The lieutenant looked incredulous for a moment, but then he quickly sank back into his previous smouldering rage. He turned back to Chase.

"Alright, Chase, back to your post. You!" he snapped at De Guarde. "You, come with me."

And not waiting for either Chase or the boy to acknowledge him he turned on his heel and strode across the deck back towards Bush's cabin.

The boy looked positively terrified. What did he do that angered this man so? Did Kinsella go and tell, or was it a bad mood that brought this upon himself. He felt his heart beat so fast that it threatened to break through its cage, and he hurried after the lieutenant, not sparing a single moment to look at Chase.

He felt his breeches stretch against his bottom, but it didn't matter. Making the lieutenant wait at this time was a death wish. To Lieutenant Bush.. why were they going there? "..Sir?" He was finding himself even more terrified now. What was going on?!

Leat ignored the frightened question from the midshipman, but carried on straight to the first lieutenant's cabin and barged straight in without knocking.

"Leat!" Bush looked up in surprise, frozen in the middle of putting on his oilskin. "Whatever's the matter?"

"Plenty," Leat growled. He pointed an accusatory finger at De Guarde, who had just caught up. "Is he or is he not still a midshipman?"

Bush frowned at him.

"Of course he is, why shouldn't he be?"

Of course he was! What kind of a question was that? He was too afraid to make a retort and so he stood, saluting to Bush. He looked at Leat, then at Bush and then back at the second lieutenant who looked as if his cat had just made his coat its scratching post.

He gulped, and felt his legs weak where he stood. If he was a midshipman? Still a midshipman? He was! But what did it mean. What was on that angry man's mind? So many questions stormed his mind, that he near had to reach out to steady himself. His eyes had gone wide, and the habit which showed how nervous he was, had started again, with his hand tugging at the cuff of his sleeve. Tugging, tugging, and more so near jerking the cloth downwards.

Bewildered, first by Mister Leat's hail and then by his gruff order, Chase saluted and escaped back to the gundeck. What the devil was wrong with the officers these past days?

Leat frowned back at Bush.

"Surely you've heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Of what he did - just now! Kinsella informed me." He glared at De Guarde. "He threatened Chase! Got him up against a corner, threatened to hit him, have him flogged again and to stop him going to the tops."

Leat did not need to elborate, for it was perfectly clear that such behaviour from a young gentleman was unacceptable in the first place; but such behaviour whilst chasing an enemy and in foul weather was inexcusable. Bush's frown turned into a scowl which he turned on De Guarde.

"Is this true, Mister De Guarde?"

"..s..sir. I didn't threaten ter flog him...I... he was .. He's on light duties... he wasn't suppose ter..." And if he was to tell him to go to the tops when he was not permitted his safety in mind, it was as bad as if he had prevented him from going when he was able.

" I..." Kinsella told them. He shouldn't have! He didn't know it all, how dare he come and tell! He felt tears well at the corner of his eyes, terribly intimidated by the two lieutenants even if Bush was still of a calm temper.

"...I... " He could lie. Or tell the truth, because Kinsella was his senior and he was longer on board and who else would they believe than a boy who was much sooner to become a lieutenant, had a past that was to aspire to.

"...I wanted him to tell me who threw me, sir. I was certain he knew. ..so I ...I threatened hm a lil'..jus' so he'd tell." His shoulders dropped. The rest was true. He'd threatened him and he'd wanted him hurt, pushed against the wall of the bulk, back first. So that he would feel worst pain from the injury.

"Of course it's true - there were witnesses!" Leat snapped bitterly. And De Guarde confessed to it himself. It had gotten out of hand; everybody aboard knew that it had, and this latest incident was the final straw.

Bush, his face now furious, dumped his oilskin on the chair and stuck his head out of the door.

"Marine!" he bellowed. "Marine to First Lieutenant's cabin!"

He looked from the first to the second lieutenant. Again.. was he to be taken below again? What did they mean to do, when he had.. he had done nothing much wrong. He felt tears at his eyes gather in number and rubbed them and felt his throat contract as if he were wanting to sob.He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out and he looked more frightened than ever.

He had seen Lieutenant Bush before, but to see him furious as he was now and see the same look on Lt. Leat's face, it was as if the day had turned to night, and all was doomed to be lost.

"..." Even as he tried to speak, he found himself silenced, and he could do nothing more now, but shake.


( ooc have to run now!! move the middie as you please while I am gone! Will try to drop by soon!)