After the Battle

Apparently Thompson hadn't. Ah well., Johnson shrugged and continued on his interrupted journey to the orlop. He had two Marines to check after before finding out where Branning had gone.

Then, of course, he would have a look around for young De Guarde. It was good that he didn't have to worry about that little brat terrorising any of the seamen or his own Marines anymore.

The young former gentleman entered the sailor's mess deck, walking almost as carefully and as silently as one on the prowl to steal. His intentions though had been most to avoid meeting anyone but Chase, who'd been looking for his Hammock. He looked around and yerningly he'd turned in the direction where once his middie's berth had been. He near made a mistake earlier. Went to the berth and wanted to enter. As sailor that wouldn't have been right and he'd have to remember not to go on the deck reserved for the officers neither.

If not for the marines he might even forget. He still held his other pair of slops and shirt that he was given by the regulations and he was looking for Chase with the sourest look on his face. "Chase!" He called, no longer 'sneaking'. So foreign and so filled with danger this part of the ship now seemed that the boy looked more nervous when crossing it, as if at any moment a sailor could jump from his hiding spot and try to scare him.

Thompson had finished his business with the boy at last, it seemed. Chase looked up from his work and discovered that he was grinning.

"Here, lad," he called back, straightening up from where he'd been kneeling. He hadn't found the boy a hammock, but he knew now how he could.

He showed his annoyance about Chase's grin by his own sourer look, still he came to him. he wanted to add that he should not call him lad, or de Guarde but treat him as if he were a midshipman but thought that Chase would just laugh and that would only further infuriate him.

"..Got me hammock?" He asked in a tone as if Chase had been his servant.

Chase held his grin, unaffected by De Guarde's expression. "Not yet, but I'll have ya one soon 'nuff, if I gotta sew it up meself. Leave yer other slops over here. We gotta git back topside 'fore the bos'un comes lookin' fer us."

"Over 'ere?... N' where'd me chest?" He expected each sailor to have one, seeing as it was that way in the middie's berth. He shifted from his left foot to his right. "T' bos'un.." He began then frowned.

"..Aye.." He held his small 'treasure' in hand looking where he could drop it. ".. I'll be needin' a hammock before we are ter sleep.." He warned as if Chase was the one who would get in trouble if he had nowhere to sleep.

"Jus' here." Chase very nearly added a "sar" to the end of that, but stopped himself in time. He opened a battered sea-chest and waved a hand at it.

"Here?..." He peered at the sea-chest. It didn't look as if it had seen its best days, and this feeling showed on the boy's face. "Whose was...is it?" He asked as he took a step closer, not yet able to see inside.

"Mine," Chase answered proudly. "There ain't a lad aboard what'll muck 'round with yer kit, if it's stowed 'way in here."

He knew, of course, that most of the crew wouldn't take too well to the idea of having the former Mister De Guarde joining them on the lower deck, but the important thing was to avoid trouble. Nobody would mess with the boy once it was known that he had Chase's patronage. As distasteful as the entire idea was to him. Just as long as De Guarde learned his jobs fast, did them well, and above all didn't make Chase look bad.

He didn't look as flattered as one might be. Instead he looked down at the gesture and though he placed his remaining clothes inside, he carried a feel of one that was not at all happy about it.

Taking a step from the battered chest he looked at Chase. So, he wasn't surprised at the state of that thing, judging by whom it belonged. Of course he could have guessed, he thought to himself as he looked back at Chase. "If I must.." He spoke in slightly muffled spite, and more quietly. He was upset and did not like the present situation one bit, but he did have sense not to be too loud about it.

He pulled at his shirt uncomfortably. Soon to go on deck and higher. His frown deepened. When he wanted to help with the clearing of the ship's damage he thought of being the one giving orders and not the one doing most of the work.

Aye, you must, Chase thought tartly. Aloud, he said "Arright, time t'dash. C'mon, lad. I'll show y'how t'work the ropes up in the tops!"

He turned and hurried toward the companion ladder, expecting De Guarde to follow with the same haste.

The boy didn't turn to walk as quickly after the older sailor. He walked rather than ran. When Chase was already at the top of the ladder, the young sailor just began climbing it.

He didn't make that much of haste, near stubbornly even once they were back up in the fresh air of the open space of the deck. He did look to where the sailor was but exerted just enough energy that he needed and not a drop more. He frowned and then went to the shrouds, his eyes briefly on the ropes.

The boatswain was going to wear out his starter on that boy. Chase glanced down, already nearly to the foretop. He was going slower than the most lubberly landsman aboard. All that supposed officerly dignity had been get forgotten and fast.

"He's not comin' up ta join us, is he?" Chicken Dyer asked, his eyes wide in disbelief. Chase slung himself up onto the yardarm and chuckled.

"He is, an' then some. We gotta make him inta a proper seaman, or we're fer it wi' the cap'n. So no troubles, from nobody. Y'got it?"

Dyer looked resentful but he nodded. Chase dangled both legs from the yardarm and looked down. "C'mon then, yer lucky the bos'un ain't set his starter 'gainst yer shoulders!"

The boy hmphed, even if he knew he was testing his luck at the most inappropriate time. He could go slow up to the yardarm as he did to reach the railing or he could show that he had no trouble in climbing the ropes.

Deciding for the later, if only to show that he could do things rather skillfully if he wanted, he hauled himself up on the ropes. Fast and able, as he did the time he raced young Yates up to the tops. He felt the pain at his slops pulling against the bruised and damaged skin on his rump, yet tried to ignored it just to make his point. He'd of course used the path of the sailor rather than the easier of a landsman, and went so till he had reached Chase. He narrowed his eyes at him.

"...What d' ye want.."

Dyer started to speak but Chase elbowed him. Now wasn't the time.

"We'll be takin' this sail down so's the sailmaker an' his crew can set it t'rights," Chase said. "C'mon out onta the yard an' set yerself t'a spot. We're nearly done castin' the sail loose anyhow."

Dyer shifted over toward the space that Chase abandoned earlier, giving Chase and De Guarde enough room to work.

De Guarde cast a glare at Dyer and nodded curtly. He slipped into the empty spot beside Chase, glancing at the deck below them briefly. He bit at his lip and eyed the yardarm angrily. It was back to giving just enough of his, but no more than that. He glanced at Chase briefly to see what he was doing before averting his gaze at his own task.

Now that he was back in his element, Chase felt happiest. His fingers worked at the ropes almost of their own accord. The others spread out along the yardarm were nearly finished, by the time he looked up again. They were waiting only on the word from the boatwain to let the sail down.

He glanced at De Guarde. The boy was taking his precious time, wasn't he!

"Here," Chase hissed when Mister Watts hollered up for the foretopmen to let the sail free. "Pull this, an' let it drop!"

"..Ye could.." He began and then shook his head and pulled sharply before he released it as told. He looked down at the little figures below, and spotted a coat of a midshipman. He near slipped at the sight and hissed sharply, tightening his hold of the yardarm.

The sail fluttered down to the deck under the careful control of maintopmen and the men on the foretop shifted along the yardarm to make their way back down to the deck.

Chase nudged De Guarde and regarded him with narrowed eyes. "Move it 'long, there's rope-work t'do on deck. An' y'better move quick an' stow yer complainin', or I'll let the lads have their way wi' ya."

"They're watchin' me." He pointed towards the officers:" Your threat is hardly supported by anything but wishful thinking." He sneered and smirked at Chase. The watching may have been a double edged sword for the boy, but it gave him some confidence to stand against a taller sailor. Only out here though and he wasn't yet thinking about the below deck.

With a delibaretly thought out movements he made his way down the ropes. Not at all as quickly as Chase would have wanted. Still he did avoid the snail's pace, just for the sake of better judgement. He was testing how far he could go, atleast that was as obvious as day.

"They can't allays watch the lower deck," Chase grumbled. He swung down the futtock shrouds and went swiftly down the shrouds to the deck. De Guarde was taking his time, as expected, but Mister Colburn had spotted him this time.

"You there!" The boatswain's mate bellowed. "Move yer skinny arse along, yer like a bleedin' landsman! Git down here an' stop wastin' the cap'n's time, bloody lubber!"

The boy looked defiant, yet quickened his pace down the shrouds, taking only enough care that he would not slip and end rather in the water than down on deck. He thought back on Chase's words and felt a small sense of dread about his threat, so that it was the second reason that did have him quicken his pace just some more.

Once on deck he looked towards Mister Colburn and then quickly moved out of the way of the sailors still coming down.

John prevented his own smirk with some difficulty. Serve the lad right, too, to be yelled at.

He watched gleefully as de Guarde learned there would be as little slack for him as for anyone else on board. Malicous maybe, but understandable and, since noone was going to get hurt by it, plenty of harmless fun.

That look- it would stay with him forever, he reckoned. He saw the lad start, and just hoped for his sake there was no answering back.

Mildly he landed on deck near the lad, not quite sure what to say other than a gruff 'thanks' as he moved to not get squashed.

Chase had tried to tell him. Now Mister Colburn would know to keep an eye out for De Guarde.

"C'mon, an' quick," Chase hissed, a torn length of rope already in hand. There was a lot of splicing to do and with the sailmaker and his crew hard at work on the foc's'le, the task of mending rigging was to be managed amidships.

"Y'knows how t'splice, aye?"

"..'fcourse I.." He began then with a scowl he added:"...No." Curtly. He eyes Westdale and glared at the men remembering him as the one who had attempted to hurt himself to put himself out of active duty.

A splendid company, a disrespectful, mocking Chase, and this man!