After the Battle

Peter watched him go. It was, he thought, unfair. He had seen the surprise in Thompson's face, recognition he thought about the mention of grog, but that had been overtaken by a look of - what? He had rejected what Peter had said. Some hold, something de Guarde would do for him, something that Thompson wanted badly enough ...

He raised his eyes from the retreating red coat to the quarterdeck. The Captain was not there, but in his cabin below, recovering from the sword cut that had almost killed him. Mr George was, with the bandage round his head. Chandos, with a bruise on his jaw from ear to chin. And looking round at the men, so many with bloody bandages, who had fought and now worked to repair the ship... Julian. He bit down hard on his lip. He was the cheerful one, his father had always said, irrepressible. Feeling desperately repressed, he carried on towards the foc'sle, a smile fixing itself on his face.

John bit back a comment, which would have been something along the lines of 'that wasn't so hard, was it?'.
Instead he just raised his head again, having kept it bowed for fear of retribution himself. not that there was anything he was doing wrong, just there'd been too many accidents with de Guarde lately for him wanting to become the victim of another one.

His hands slowed a bit again in their work as the desperate need to be just another man about his work faded as the attention moved off them and onto the Private. This was ridiculous. He'd done nothing wrong...he put it down to some nagging shock, left over from the battle.

It was starting again. Chase scowled at the rope he had returned to work on, pretending that he didn't hear Mister Yates admonishing De Guarde. What would it take for that idiot boy to even begin to pay attention?

For an instant, he considered speaking to De Guarde, but he was unusually at a loss for words. What could he even say that wouldn't make the little snot angry? After a few minutes' careful thought, Chase settled for humming quietly to himself. It was better than nothing.

JOhn suddenly had a thought. Carefully he leant over to Chase slightly. "D'ye reckon, if we was ter find a fiddle or summat he'd have ter join in a dance or two?"

He'd seen it work before, people swept away by the all surrounding cheer and energy of the people around them. Of course, they couldn't do it tonight, he didn't think. But maybe tomorrow?

In silence the boy glanced between Westdale and Chase. He couldn't hear what they were speaking, though he was most curious of the content of their thoughts. By the sight of it atleast, they were not making fun of one, nor speaking something ill, else Westdale was a good talent in concealing his thoughts from showing on his face.

He frowned and placed a turn at his rope and shifted it uncomfortably in his lap. He had to stand up for a moment and stretch his legs who had by then fallen asleep , seeing him kneel so. He took a few steps back and forth then bent down and rubbed each from knee down to his ankle. He crouched beside his rope and arrayed the remaining of it so that he was able to lean against it, and then knelt again, but this time more half sat than before.

He was silent still as he pulled the frayed ends of the rope back into his lap. He curled his toes and had his foot slip back and forth a couple of times as if stretching muscles in it. The soles were already dirty but he payed them little heed. He glanced at Westdale and Chase again to see if they were still in conversation then turned to his rope, for he felt the eyes of the eldest midshipman on his back.

Chase looked sideways at Westdale, intrigued by his suggestion. "Mebbe so. Timlin oughta be happy to scrape a few tunes outta his fiddle, if he were asked. Next watch mebbe?"

The notion of De Guarde being obliged to dance was amusing. He wasn't likely to know a good horn-pipe, after all!

"Aye, I'll ask him next time we should see each other."
He just hope nothing vital- like fingers- had been lost to prevent their idea.

He raised his voice again, eyeing de Guarde, tossing up how much to tell him. "I don't suppose ye can knock out a tune, can ye de Guarde? It would come in real handy, now and then."
He had a sudden image of the sour faced lad standing over another vanquished music teacher, another dancing teacher, and manfully didn't let any of his amusement show in his face, keeping it open interest.

"..I can." He answered after some deliberation.

"What instrument?" He looked at Westdale with a raised eyebrow and then looked to the rope.

Unlike the sailors that were used to working these ropes and could do them with their eyes closed and their hands behind their backs, he wasn't as learned and had to keep his eye on his hands if he wanted to do it right.

John shrugged, raising an eyebrow in hurriedly sheilded surprise. It shouldn't be a surprise- probably the best teacher were employed, too.

"Depends what ye've got on yer." he answered gruffly. "Every now and then we have a play, see what we can get out...wouldn't want talent ter be buried, ye know."

"A fiddle, naturally," Chase answered, and grinned at Westdale.

"..I've excelled in other .."He wanted to say, more refined, but kept that to himself, "instruments.... rather.. but. " He eyed the two sailors hesitantly, trying to find some joke be played on him with those inquiries.

"...I can... a little." Talent be burried. He thought that when joining the navy his playing days were over, and as was with the lack of time for middies, it was rather true. Not that middies on Confidence played a tune much.

JOhn had ter grin at that. Clearly instruments hadn't been the word he was going to use.

"If wind is more yer style I reckon we can dredge up a flute or two, as well." he added.
He was intrigued now. "What did ye first learn, de Guarde? I've always wanted ter be able ter play, meself...but all I ever been able ter manage is background knowledge, never tha actual playing, as such."

".. First.. I've learned to play a piano.." He answered dully, lifting his gaze again to study the sailor. "I've known to play a cello.. a bit later." He shrugged his shoulders faintly. He had a fair history of teachers of music that attempted to keep the young boy busy and distracted so that his parents could live their own pleasant lives.

He felt somewhat tense, for he didn't know why Westdale had a sudden interest in what he once played. " ..picked them.. here and there." He shifted a bit and quickly sprung his hands to the rope, when he caught sight of Chandos walking past. The midshipman did not look at them.

John leaned forwards a bit, intrigued. Some crazy fetish for older instruments had prevented him from ever getting near a piano. "A Pianny, ay? Nice? was it as.. sensitive as they say they are?"

He sensed some discomfiture and leaned back again. "I guess ye couldn't fit a cello on board, not with the space it would need....but a fiddle's the same basic idea, so ye could switch easy enough, ay?"

(ooc- fresh from orchestra, at which I switched from Organ to piano accordian. that was fun.)

"Yes. I probably could." He was startled as to why he was suddenly to play something when before these sailors were rather happy to have him chugged into the cold of the water. Not Westdale or Chase, perse, but the idea was the same.

"It is nice.. aye. Rather delicate.. pleasant to play." He hesitated again and found himself doing that too often in such a short time. "I could play.. but why are you asking that?" His eyes switched between Westdale and Chase.

John nodded to Chase, letting him do any other answering that needed to be done. He was still far away int he land of music, and would have to keep a sharp check to make sure he didn't end up pestering de Guarde about it for the rest of his time with them.
He held out some hope, now, that the time wouldn't be asl long as the had feared. Anyone who could play could be easily turned that way, he trusted.

(ooc- though the real reason is just, if in doubt, natter about music. and I'm off. to music! Later.)

"Could use a dance," was Chase's answer. "Summat t'get the lads back t'thinkin' an' actin' normal. Even it it's a short dance."

"Your lads won't dance to my music." Curt and to the point. He knew they would refuse. After all the middie that was disliked wouldn't bring more but nervous stares.

He looked up at Chase.

Grinning, Chase tugged firmly on his newly-spliced rope and replied, "Ya'd be surprised, I think."

"You'd be disappointed." He replied looking down at his rope. "..I can if you want me to.. jus', don't ye expect many of the others to share your.. enthusiasm." He tugged at the rope and grunted as it had gotten almost fully loose at his first tug. Back to the drawing board.

"s' no catch, is there?" He asked bluntly and eyed the rope critically.

The topman shook his head. No catches where he was concerned. "Donahue'd be hoppin' mad if we moped 'round, he would. An' them others too, I'd guess."

"Aye." He gritt his teeth and glared at the rope in frustration. "'s no good." He murmured. "..t' rope's no good." Though it was his concetration that dwindled enough that he did a poorer job.

"Can yer do it?"

"Hm." Chase looked at the rope De Guarde passed to him. It had been torn up badly, but it could be repaired. It wouldn't be possible to join up the two ends again though.

"Think I can get it..." he looked around for a moment. "Need t'seal up the ends first, though. There a tar bucket 'round here?"

"A tar buck...." He used the opportunity to stand and stretch his limbs again, while he glanced about for the said desired item." Aye, over there by t'.."He didn't know the name of the sailor though so he chose to wave vaguely at his direction, so that Chase could see.

Thompson had reached his post again. He was a little shaken by Mister Yates' vehemence and was trying to work out why the lad had been so... well, like that.

Yes, Chase had been flogged, but he'd decided they should have a skylarking, if only to show that he (and the others, of course) weren't going to be bullied by De Guarde.

And Thompson would have done the same if it had been Yates, or Fletcher or any of the other young gentlemen who'd been upset over something with Thompson the only one around. But he hadn't said that - couldn't say it, indeed.

And for some reason, Yates was upset or angry about De Guarde trying to get his hands on grog over and above his own tot. Or was it simply that the lad had tried to bully it out of a couple of the other young gentlemen? The Marine didn't know, and didn't know how to ask.

Would Yates be angry with him, if he gave up a tot one day, just to write home? Well, be written home for, which was the same thing for him. Or would that make it all right, that he was happy with that arrangement?

Could he say that to the lad? Did he really want to tell another middy about his past before he joined?

Right now, the Marine had more questions than answers, and didn't know who he could talk to about it all. He sighed, watching the activity going on as Terpsy recovered herself from the engagement with the French frigate that rumour had said was called Victorious or something.