After the Battle

"One of you?.. I'll never be one of you!.." He sounded offended, and it was rather clear how deeply he was hurt that he was made a common sailor. His honour and pride had been marred by the action.

He was shaking again and just barely controlled himself as he followed the lead of the sailor. Something he had not done before. "Don' ye thin' yer summat now!.." He looked away and made a face. "..because... because you aren't." He said shakily and halted a moment as if to make his point.

Where were they? Anyone would think they had all day... And the longer Thompson hung around doing nothing, the more likely it was he was going to get collared for something he couldn't get out of...

Even as he spoke they reached the companionway that they were to descend. As he had earlier stopped, he was now again walking, carefully navigating the steps, his bare feet feeling tender and most sensitive to each little bit and particle of sand or dirt upon which he stepped. He hoped that the purser would supply him with a good pair of leather soled shoes.

And so soon they were nearing the bottom of the first set of 'stairs'.

It was all Chase could do to keep from snapping back at the boy. As if it was Chase's own fault that De Guarde had lost his rank! Without a word, the topman trotted down the ladder. De Guarde could follow or not as he wished.

To his surprise, there was a white-coated Marine lurking near the bottom of the ladder. "Hullo there, Thompson," Chase greeted. "Hidin' from ol' Cross-eyes?"

He felt his spirits rise a little, though the sailor's attitude struck a nerve so that he looked further more sour faced before a familiar name was called. Of course Chase was to blame for his misfortune. He had made him punish him with his act, which somehow brought displeasure to the lieutenants. Which still bothered and confused the boy, but he was trying to let it pass. Of course Chase was to blame because somehow, in the twisted logic one could have, he started it all!

He came to a stop beside his 'teacher' and peered at the marine in question. He found that the man did not wear a red coat, nor his stock. He looked near unfamiliar in his less than uniformed like, attire.

And there they were. He shrugged at Chase's words. "Not as you might say, mate. I was... I was hoping I could have a moment with the lad, afore I get me collar felt and end up haulin' on some bit of rope or summat."

De Guarde looked... Thompson couldn't quite put a name to how he looked. Shaken, upset, angry... all of those and more. He looked at the lad sympathetically.

Chase shrugged. It was nothing to him if Thompson wanted to waste his breath.

"Have as many words as y'like," the topman said. "I gotta find this fella a hammock. Send him 'long t'the messdeck when yer done?"

"Will do. If'n you can't find him one, see if the pusser's got any spare." He turned to the ex-middy, pulling another clean rag out of his pocket, and held it out. "Sorry it ain't much," he said. "I don't have a hanky to offer, though."

"Cheers, mate." Chase padded off toward the seamen's messdeck, thinking he might be able to filch a hammock from the French ship if he couldn't find an old one. If worst came to worst, he could just make one. Never mind the pusser!

He blinked at the offered and took it from Thompson's hand. He stood rigid till he could see Chase to be out of sight, or atleast believe he was far enough.

"...They.." He began and the rag was crumpled into his fist. He turned away, his eyes dropping to the floor. "..yer.. here. Wot'... did you wish ter speak with me..'bout." He collected himself, thinking that Thompson needed him for something. He only hoped that it wasn't now, to mock him.

"Here, lad, come on," Thompson said, putting an arm awkwardly around the youngster. "You want to talk about it, a bit?"

"No' right 'ere.." The boy pointed for Thompson to follow. He was not here to mock him. He felt relief, though still caution. "..'s not fair..not right!" He muttered harshly under his breath, feeling the rush of emotion. He was upset and he was angry, he was terrified of what his new possition would bring him and he was frustrated because he could do nothing about it, he was anxtious in not at all a positive way and still shocked. So shocked that he had not manged even to cry his lungs out at the injustice he felt.

He stopped after a short while and turned to the marine. "...look at this!.." He pointed at his clothes and what they stood for in disgust and pain.

"I tried to tell you. An' I'm sorry it's come to this, but it seems to me you've got a choice. You c'n either resent everythin' and spend the next however long bein' miserable as sin, or you c'n do your best to learn the trade and be the best damn sailor on the barky. An' I ain't saying as it'll be easy, 'cause it wont, but you've got a chance to learn how life works on the lower deck, which'll help you become a better officer in future."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. An' if you want to blow up at me, I've heard worse, so I don't care. An' I'll still be here after, all right?"

"A CHANCE?" He hissed and turned around to face the private head on:" A chance??..yer think I should be bloody thankful fer this?..'s shame what it is, humiliation! Unjus' humiliation!" His hands were in fists, and though his eyes seemed as if he were going to cry, his voice spat nothing but malice and anger.

"Help me? 't only thing it will help me is ter get killed.. Thompson. Killed. 'twon't help me be better. I was fair good enough!" He shook his head sharply." What do you know. You're not in me shoes.." He looked at his feet. "....or lack thereof." He added stiffly. "yer don't know how it is! 's all.. fine words, ter you. All easy talk!" His shoulders were shakin.

"'s me.. who has ter go and sleep wit' them blackguards.. 's me, who has to follow Bloody damned Chase n' listen ter him as my equal..he's NOT. N' he never will be." Finally he turned quiet and stared angrily ahead, a glimmer at the corner of his eyes showing how very upset he was. And then: "Easy fer ye t' say...but me.. I'll be havin' to live with them.. n' mark me words.. there be t' two want ter be killers... n they. They'll have me. Because NOW they can."

"Cob Chase is one of the best men on this ship, and if you stick with him, ain't nobody goin' to do anythin' to you... 'specially not try that again. An' I never said it wouldn't be easy, but d'you think you'm the only one who's ever been 'shamed by things he can't help?"

He was tempted to take the boy by the shoulders and shake him, but that wouldn't help. He sighed, and rested one hand on the beam above his head. "You wouldn't find it any easier if they'd made you a Marine. Leastways you know a bit o' sailorin' and that'll help..." He took a breath and released it, trying not to show his irritation. "I want to help you, but you have to want to be helped, 'cause I can't do it for you. D'you understand me?"

"I don' need help.. I jus' need me rank back n' me chest, n' coat, n'.. n' me berth!.." He was aware that he might have been pushing it and that perhaps Thompson came here to comfort him yes, but not to listen to the angry ramblings of the young middie.

"I know what I need ter know.. but ter sleep in where they do n, mess t' same..." He shook his head. He felt that even if he were to cry or beat his hands against the marine's chest till his tears and feelings would burst to the surface, it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't give him his rank back.

"..You don't understand." He murmured more subtly. "..s'.. s' best we go there..ter where I have ter be. ..i won't let them treat me like a sailor..m' not one." He did tighten his hold on the marine. For a few moments he hugged him, and kept his face hidden then he pushed him away. He might not have been ready yet to accept things as they were and though he was taking some out on the marine, it wasn't something personal against him.

"I'm sorry." He was frustrated, but didn't know how to say that to the lad.

"Lemme give you a bit of advice. It won't be easy, but it will help you. Might make it easier in the long run. They - we are men. Folks like you. An' we've got feelin's too. An' you want life down here to be as easy as possible, though it ain't what you'm used to. You want to shout or blow up or hit summat, or someone, you come find me. You don't go showin' your temper to the other folks down here unless you'm sure you can take what they'll give you."

He sighed again. "You'd best be goin' afore Cob Chase thinks I've done summat to you. An' Corp'ral Johnson'll be lookin' for me afore too long, an' all."

"I can handle it.." Didn't sound as convinced as he'd meant to. Just barely he nodded and straightened just a little more. "..I've handled them before.. can't be anythin' ter not make it t' same." Except that before he was able to use his rank to keep himself safe, which now he could not do at all. He wasn't safe and if a man decided to strike him he would not fear to be hanged.

"...ye.. ye said Terpsy was good. But..its not." He said accusingly as if Thompson had lied at him before. And with this he turned and he began to make his way to the home of the sailors and the wherabouts of Chase.

"She is though. You just got to learn how to see it, is all."

Thompson sighed and shook his head. He probably ought to report to Corporal Johnson before it got too much later; he was in for a dressing-down as it was, by his reckoning.

And if he came across Lieutenant George first, it would probably be a major dressing down at that, not reporting for duty as soon as he'd been dismissed by the Captain. He sighed and headed topside.

His chest was throbbing awfully, which dampened his relative good mood. Sergeant Quinn was nowhere to be found either. And it seemed that at least two of his Marines had gone and disappeared.

At least, Johnson grudgingly admitted, the work of cleaning up the Frog ship's deck was mostly well in hand. The Tars had taken over the more complicated repairs, which left the Marines with little to do but return to Terpsichore. Johnson himself was one of the last to go back across.

After putting the lads to work helping the Tars with the mess aboard their own ship, Johnson headed for the forrard companionway. He wanted to find out where Branning had gone, for one, and see how McEwen and Everett were faring.

"Thompson!" The corporal burst out, abruptly, remembering that Marine's existence upon seeing him appear on the ladder. "Where the bleeding hell have you been?"

Typical... Just bleedin' typical of how his day was going.

"I bin... I bin standin' sentry on Mister De Guarde, Corp'ral," he said, finally making it to the top of the ladder. The Corporal's face didn't look any happier closer up, and he stood to attention, hoping he wasn't about to be on the receiving end of his notorious temper.

"In the Tars' messdeck?" Johnson asked, his suspicions blooming swiftly. Thompson couldn't have been newly relieved from that post either. He was in his drill jacket and lacked his musket.

"Who relieved you, then?"

Oh, boy. It looked like he was for it now...

"The captain sent f'r him. He's... he's turned him afore the mast, Corp'ral."

Which news might hopefully improve the Corporal's temper a bit. He might still find himself pulling a double duty or something, though. Nothing he couldn't cope with, though he'd rather not have to.

Johnson stopped, half a heartbeat away from berating Thompson for not returning directly to duty. De Guarde was... the corporal found himself grinning. How very unfortunate for the boy.

"That so." It was just too perfect. Perhaps there was justice in the world after all.

"Cut along then, help the lads at the ropes. I'll get you and Branning for extra duties later." Johnson paused. Speaking of, where was Branning? "You haven't seen that big lout, I don't suppose?"

Well, that was interesting. That was very interesting... Thompson didn't think he'd ever seen Corporal Johnson grinning, yes, downright grinning before.

"Aye, aye, Corp'ral," he said, and cut along, unwilling to risk ruining the Corporal's sudden good mood. Though it hadn't escaped him he was down for extra duties, as he'd thought he would be. Ah well, you couldn't win them all, could you?