The Middies' Berth

That was simply unfair. Hardy hadn't done anything wrong, and if it hadn't been for De Guarde's accusing tone to start with, he'd never have been so defensive. Not that there was anything Thompson could say, though he'd rather not listen to a mate getting raked over the coals, especially by a boy half their age.

Hardy bristled, clearly now. "No sir."

There was nothing to apologise for and he would be damned if he gave way ti a midshipman on a power trip.

Smoothly, faultlessly, Hardy right-faced and marched out of the wardroom. Devil take that mishipman and his self-important beliefs in proper form.

De Guarde was red in the face, and his shoulders were shaking. He would have shouted after the marine if not for the knowledge that he had to be elsewhere and he would be in much bigger trouble than Hardy, were he discovered here.

And he hadn't even offered a salute, to add salt to his injury of a bruised ego. He gaped, and was speechless.

Finally he turned and looked to Thompson, but he couldn't find words to describe how upset he was. Instead he turned and with equal ferver he walked his way in the direction of the middie's berth. The nerve! He said no. Said no to a midshipman!

De Guarde wasn't going to be pleased by that, Thompson knew, but he couldn't blame the other redcoat. There wasn't anything he could say about it, however.

"Best... best get on with what you'm wantin' to do, sir," he said, wondering how De Guarde was going to behave now.

"You saw him." He turned after he had paced back and forth about four times and only felt he was best to stop as his rumb began to sting, ache and protest. Standing in place he felt the ship's deck steepen and placed his hand against the wall to steady himself. If he was right, they were changing direction, hard.

"..You SAW him!.. You heard him!" He was upset. That man not only behaved poorly towards him, but he didn't even wish to apologise when given a chance, when he was given an opportunity for them to part without any trouble at all. It had his hair on end, and he bristled and looked like a feline who has just confronted a canine and was still hissing, sputtering and ready to claw. "The nerve!..He should've apologised. You know he should've!"

"But, sir, I don't know that, sir. He's Lieutenant Brandeson's man, like he told you. And the Lieutenant ain't been well for ages." He shrugged helplessly. He was not going to side with anyone against one of his mates, he wasn't, officer or not. Especially this lad, who seemed to be all friendly one minute and was half-wild, scratching and spitting and wanting blood the next.

If they could get away from here as quick as possible and get somewhere Thompson didn't feel so much like an intruder - though even the middies' berth was foreign ground to him. If they could talk like civilised folks, Thompson might be able to calm him down. But suddenly, turning the middy into a proper Terpsy seemed like an insurmountable task.

And from inside his cabin, Brandeson began to snore gently.

"..It's not what he told me.. It's how he told it.. he'd .." How could Thompson not see it, when it was so obvious. So clear. "Didn't you listen? ..he mocked me. He said I should try moving that man meself. He said it in such a manner like he'd want to make a fool of me.."

"...lets go back." He murmured and shook his head. "..and he said no. You don't say no to an officer. You never say no to an officer..midshipman or a proper comissioned one!... " He waited for Thompson to move. He saw that it wasn't a lie by the snore that he heared, yet it still upset him.

Why did Thompson have to explain Hardy's actions? Be easier to bang his head against a beam a few times. Less painful too, probably. "He didn't mean it the way you think, sir. Honest." More than that he couldn't - wouldn't - say.

"All right, let's get back then, sir. If you'm sure, anyway." He stepped aside, trying not to sigh so the middy could hear it.

"..I've.. done what I came 'ere for." He didn't think much of Thompson's words. He knew what he heard and any excuse short of Hardy saying an apologsy would not do. He frowned, angry still but he couldn't accomplish anything neither here nor now. He'd have to remember tha man, another time another place and he would have him piping what he'll ask of him to.

He began to walk, and stopped only to wait for the marine. "..We've not been here." He murmured then and looked to Thompson: ".. If he tells anyone.. n' they ask. We've not been here. You'll be in trouble too if they learnt of it.. so.. ..know what to say..." He was still shaken, still angry and felt insulted, even as he walked, step by step, in the proper direction.

That sounded more like a threat than Thompson was entirely comfortable with. He shrugged. "Weren't goin' to tell no-one, anyways." If the words sounded sulky, it wasn't his fault. "Needn't threaten me, sir. Was on'y tryin' to help, like."

They arrived back at the middies' berth, and Thompson paused awkwardly outside. "Reckon I ought to stay out here, sir," he said, uncertain whether the middy wanted any company right now, and even less certain whether it would be a good idea risking getting caught inside the door again. Well, if De Guarde wanted someone to talk to, he'd have to tell Thompson so directly; he was getting tired of guessing-games, and they always meant trouble in the end anyway.

"I .. wasn't threatenin'..." He sighed as he stood at the entrance to their berth, his back to the marine. "..'wos' jus' saying.. we'd both be .. " He allowed his voice to trail off, and then he shrugged his shoulders faintly, his frown deepening.

"..jus' ter remind, that what is best.. I guess." He touched his forehead and rubbed it gently. He had wished for some grog right then. Something to ease his mind and the discomfort he was feeling, clear his thoughts. He wouldn't have minded to get a bottle of wine either, but grog would do just as fine.

He was still upset with Hardy and so as he entered the middie's berth he didn't reply the redcoated marine right away. He stood in there, listening to the shots from above. cannon balls earlier and now sounds of muskets. It meant that they were in range and close enough to the enemy that a musket shot would count. He doubted that the marines would waste their time , ammunition and powder if they were too far.

He looked at the door and with a grunt of a child sulking and giving in to the adult, he muttered a simple:" ..would you care to talk..?"

"Only if... what d'you want to do, sir?" He didn't mind talking; it would take his mind off the fact he was down here, not up there with the others. But if De Guarde didn't want to, was simply offering because he thought he should, Thompson didn't want to force things, or make either of them feel uncomfortable. And now he could hear musket fire, and would like to think about something else than what he was missing out on. Talking would be good, he thought, though he hoped De Guarde would be a bit more cheerful than he seemed right now. Dealing with a sulky middy was far beyond what he could cope with.

He paused in the open doorway, waiting for De Guarde to say what he wanted.

"I want to talk-- with you." He replied curtly and then added a tad bit more softly, even if perhaps he had to give effort to make such a tone:" ..I would prefer that."

And he peered at the door frowning. Though he enjoyed living, he wanted to be up there too. Wanted to see what was going on and see his men's cannons score damage on the enemy. He was still upset. Not as much as when the marine first dared to deny what he was demanded of, but enough that his face still carried that sulky look and lacked cheerfulness.

"All right then, sir. Only, I don't know what to talk about. I ain't so clever as you at thinkin' things up to talk about, see."

It seemed the lad was trying, at least. Even if he'd been short in saying what he'd wanted, he'd managed to soften it a little.

He still waited in the doorway. Did the lad want him in here, or outside the door, where he could see if anyone was heading this way? He didn't know, and didn't think he could suggest anything, seeing as the middy appeared to be so touchy right now.

Though it was probably not meant to be, the boy felt Thompson's words as a form of compliment and flattery and at that his tense muscles visibly relaxed. He was debating whether to invite the marine in or have him stand outside so that he would be sure to spot an officer in coming. Moving closer to the door, so that he looked pas them and at the red clad man he chose the first. Atleast for now. That private went upstairs and though he doubted he would, a possibility remained that he would come below again and had an officer tailing behind him. There was no need to tempt fate, just yet.

" We can talk..about ..the last time you've been to a tavern." With his mind on grog, it was the first thing that came up. He looked to Thompson:".. You marines do leave the ship, when in port.. do you?" He hadn't remembered seeing the red coats do more than to drill and to guard men from deserting.

"Aye, we do, when we ain't on duty, like. Last time I went to a tavern..." he thought for a moment. "That would be when I was in Portsmouth, just afore comin' to Terpsy. Was full of sailors and soldiers and the like. The Seven Seas, it was called, I think. Usual sort of place, rowdy as anythin'." The wenches were willing, too, but he was hardly likely to say that to a lad of De Guarde's age. "Good ale they had, an' all," he said instead. He was leaning on his musket now, keeping an eye out for anyone coming below unexpectedly.

"N' what did you do there? " He asked and leaned against the wall, resting his head lightly against the wooden boards. He didn't know that Terpsy was on a collision course with their enemy. Would he have known that, he would be more keen to get a good place to stand or lie, when the ships would screetch against each other.

"Tell it,.. like story. From comin' to leaving, .. if you can?"

Well, that was different. He thought back.

"There was a bunch of us waitin' to be told what ship we was goin' to, and we got permission to go out of barracks - this was in Portsmouth, like I said. An' the place weren't so far from us as all that. Usual sort of place, all soldiers an' sailors. So we got to drinkin' and talkin' - though I can't 'member what was being talked about, sir. Things we'd seen, and places we'd bin to, I think it was. And where we wanted to go - what sort of ship, I mean." He really didn't think he could talk about the whole evening, and the girl who'd sat next to him, leaning across and trying to show off her ample cleavage. How her corset had held it in, he didn't know.

"Was a good evenin'," he said. "Had a headache like you wouldn't believe in th'mornin', though."

"Ye've gone drunk then?.. right full and heavy?" He smiled and relaxed some more. It was nice to listen to the story and in his mind attempt to imagine its details. He wasn't a child who would seek to hear of a fairytale, just a young lad who was interested in another's experience.

"Did anythin' ye wished ye haven't.. like.. ..don' know..., been so sick ye've rolled in ter a ditch. Sommat you wish you wouldn't have done?" He didn't mean to find something that would make Thompson uncomfortable nor any knowledge that would in some strange way, aid him later. He just knew that men when drunk did things that in days later they could regret or laugh about. Some got drunk and got caught by a press gang for an example. They sure regretted doing that!

"Not that night... though I've bin that drunk, once. I on'y a bit older'n you are now. Sixteen, I was, an' the others saved me some of their tots. Had a head like a blacksmith's forge, an' needed a bit of air, so I went topside, feelin' a bit green like. And I walked into one of the lieutenants. Thought it was one of me mates - couldn't see straight, and it was dark as anythin'. Told him 'e should watch where he was at, and 'e looked at me. 'You're drunk, Private,' he says, and all I wanted to do was throw up. 'So what if I am,' I says back, not thinkin' straight, wantin' to get to the rail, which he let me do afore callin' f'r me to be clapped in irons." He shrugged. "Ain't anyone who wants to meet the cat, like, though plenty of folks do, and it ain't the best thing to be thinkin' of when you got a head like a church bell on a weddin' day."

He smiled at first and then he laughed softly, for the image that Thompson had portrayed, both with the detail of his story and with his finishing word had felt familiar and amusing. Not the end result which had been the cat though, and for which the boy had remained a bit more sober tilll the last word was spoken.

With laughter slowly dying out he leant against the wall again and sighed softly catching his breath:"... n' ye were able to compare a sound that ought ter bring most delight to the groom with summat as dreadful as an aching head, of which the feeling lay fresh on his mind.

"You've stopped befriendin' drink' much . .early." He murmured and ran a hand through his hair, easing down few strands that had gone messy. "Ye've any.. more of such stories, private?" Listening to them had drawn his mind near completely from what was going on above. He could have sworn he didn't even hear the muskets firing, nor the tremour of the balls that struck their hull.

Well now he could, but while the story was told he'd been more distracted by those words. He heared the painful creaking of their hull, the sound of balls smashing and shattering the wood, sending splinters at the unsuspecting wictims. He could feel it under his feet, as the ship itself seemed to respond to the ache she was made to suffer.

He shook his head, for there was nought to do, and hoped that Thompson would instead have another story to tell. Or if he so wished, even a question to ask.

"What sort of thing d'you want me to tell you about?" Thompson asked, listening to the sounds of battle going on above them. The thud of balls hitting the hull reverberated around them, with the sound of cannon being fired, their wheels squealing a little on the axles, and rumbling on the decking as each gun recoiled as it was fired.

He was glad the boy had been amused by his anecdote. The laughter, soft as it had been, had seemed genuine at least. He just couldn't think of anything else to describe to the lad.

"Hm..." There was still a lot that he did not know about the man standing guard at his door. With a slight wave of his hand he showed that he was considering it, and with a small sigh, that he was close, but not yet at an answer.

He adjusted his shirt and his coat so that he looked more presentable and then leaned down to adjust his stockings too, beneath each leg of his breeches.

" I'm not too particular on what you could tell me. " He began and he lifted his hand studying first his palm and then the back of it. "But should you not know what to speak of.. then, I'll have you a.. question here.." He touched the scar that came through from one side to be mirrored equally on the other.

" In battle... a story of one, perhaps?"

(OOc - and now I best be hitting the sack , good night and see you!!)

"A battle? There was the time we fought Ackeron. That was in the year five, when I was on Surprise. She was only small, twenty-eight guns, and the Ackeron had forty-four. She was built in America, y'see, and they have big frigates that they build. Anyway. We first seen her in the fog and exchanged shots, though it was at long distance an' we couldn't hurt her, though she shot our rudder away. We was only saved by towin' her into the fog." He grinned. "Cap'n Aubrey weren't one to give up though, and we must've chased her halfway acrost the Seven Seas, though she got on our tail once and we had to build a raft. Waited for night, then lit lanterns to make them think it was us afore we changed course to give 'em the slip. We went round the Horn after her, and found her on the other side o' the world. You never saw a battle like that un. The Captain made us look like a whaler, so she got right in close afore we opened fire. It was a desperate fight - she had more men, bein' bigger'n us, and we somehow boarded her. I got a bullet in me, so I don't remember much of the end of it, 'cause I was lyin' on deck wonderin' what had happened."

A twenty eight to a Fourty-four.. n' you won, n' tricked her? And even escaped in the fog, when you couldn't be steerin' yourself?" The boy was amazed of the way they fought and then near lost and then fought again and finally they won. Even if he could not recollect the final moments of battle, it was enough for the midshipman. Perhaps that last trick wasn't most honourable, but there were tricks that one used when all else was lost. When a man dared chase such a ship across the ocean he was well deserving to do it too.

"Where'd you get shot?" He asked again, still imagining the epic battle, though it must've been more epic in his mind than what it reality had been. "Must've lost many.. since you were so few, and they so many!"