The Day After

"..Aye. Ye can tell them I am writtin' fer you.. but don't tell them 'bout what I m' gettin' in return." He looked thoughtful then nodded again:" N'.. not 'bout other things..." He tried to smile, slowly lifting his face from whence he had hidden it.

"...Did ye.. wot' did Yates think.. did ye talk ter him?" He remembered than how shocked the boy had been, when he saw the pair of them.

(and hammock attempt nr. 3 here as well)

"All right. Though if any of the officers ask, I have to tell 'em. An'... Mister Yates... I just said I was sorry for slackin', or lookin' like I was, and asked him not to report me. Which he said he wouldn't. I... I told him you was upset, though I didn't say nothin' else."

He still wasn't sure what Yates had thought, and determined to keep his nose very clean where the young lad was concerned. Though he was nice enough, from what Thompson had seen, there was no reason to push his luck.

".. you told him I was upset?" He frowned and shook his head vehemently. " You oughtn't have done it. He must've been right pleased to hear that, I'm sure!" He frowned wondering why it did not feel wrong that he was to hug a complete stranger, or atleast as much a stranger as Thompson was to him. And he decided that though it would never have happened on his prior ship, he liked this here and he would... well, he would enjoy it as long as the miracle lasted.

"..He looked shocked." He spoke subtly." ...not about your slackin' neither."

Thompson had been trying not to think about the shocked look on Yates' face. "Mebbe 'cause he never expected to see anyone givin' you a hug," he said slowly. "You... you ain't been so nice to folks here, y'know. An' he weren't pleased to hear you was upset." And nor had he been pleased to her about Thompson's spontaneous act of sympathy - something he would have offered anyone in de Guarde's position, upset and alone with no friends to offer comfort.

"I'm sure yer wrong ter think he weren't happy 'bout it...but " He shrugged his shoulders lightly gazing around the hold and then back at the plate that seemed to lay forgotten in his lap, his hand, on which an old scar was at best just near peeking from under the long shirt's sleeve, resting atop it.

"...'s good that he won't talk ter anyone 'bout it. ..best he do ferget it." He nodded faintly and sighed. ".. I've.. somethin'.. to owe ye. .." He murmured in a tone of secrecy, as if wishing that Thompson would also understand how much a secret this was. Your.. kindness. " He bit at his lip. "..Yer carin' 'bout a lad that could've been a danger too you too, when he were still a middie. Perhaps not a direct but.. ye know. N'.. ye've not called a price for it. .." His voice trailed off again, and subconsciously he tightened the hug he had, with that one hand free, around the marine.

Thompson sighed. What could he say to that?

"You tried to have a go at me, a bit... durin' the storm, remember?" He was looking down at his trouser-leg and his calloused hand resting on his knee. "I don't want to put a price on anythin', but... Try to give Chase a chance. He can help you a lot, but he won't do it willin' if you fight him. Join in with things, like if there's skylarkin' and dancin' on deck - on the foc'sle."

He shrugged. "We want you to be a Terpsy, like us, pullin' together, not fightin' everythin'. Fightin' only gets people hurt in the end."

"He helps... a bit." The boy admitted, perhaps willingly or unwillingly:"..Keeps them others ter behave, while he's around. So they don't threaten' me like... n' don't try bash me in." He touched the bruise though that he had gotten from the same man. Deserving yes.

He didn't know what to say to the next. The marine acted like a figure of a teacher. Patient yet unrellenting to what he was teaching. He felt there must be a trick in everything, a hidden reason for kindness, something that he would regret in having to pay later. It just seemed to good to be true and yet the marine told him it was and of course even if it were not... well he would lie, no?

"But he made it so.. .if he isn't round.. they can be wot' they want ter. ...'s cruel of 'im." He frowned. At times he wasn't even fighting, he'd just been too tired and too spiritless to want to do something.

"s' .. not always,... private, ..that I want ter say no. I'um jus' tired. ..we worked so much n'..they're made fer it,..n' they were sleepin'.. but I wasn't.. n' ..'s nothin' new ter not sleep, but ter be heftin' so much about, workin' such a deal physically. ..that ain't summat fer a middie."

"It's summat you u get used to, though. An' tomorrow, you'll likely see me holystonin' the quarterdeck me own self, with the others." he shrugged again. "Bein' a Marine, I'm part of what we call the afterguard." Yes, de Guarde had been at sea for two years, but some things just needed explaining. "So we have a lot to do with the workin' of the mizzenmast - like if'n the spanker needs settin'. An' I was on sentry-go earlier, which I won't be tomorrow."

He broke off, thinking. "You've seen folks settin' the sails, or bracin' the yard round, haven't you? Everyone workin' together. They all pull together, pullin' their own weight, we call it. Now, just imagine that one of 'em's pullin' the wrong way, against all the others. He's doin' the best he can an' thinks he's helpin', right. Only he isn't. He's in the way, an' it's causin' a problem. So the bosun's mate comes over, gives him a swipe with the starter and shoves him into the right place. And then the job's done quick an' easy, 'cause there ain't anyone fightin' against the others."

"Yer sayin' wot' with it?...I'm not t' one causin' that much problem. ..not t' only one neither." He frowned, though the thought of Thompson's own holystoning activity somehow brought a smile to his face. If this man had to do it, then perhaps it wasn't as a demeaning a task, after all. Nae, that he regretted spilling water on Chase's back. That had been ... fun.

"You.. like bein' on sentry?" He wasn't shaking any longer now, and oddly he was ready to fall asleep, knowing or atleast having the feeling that he was full safe where he was, and the warmth he was feeling of the arm draped around his shoulders just amplified the feelings of ease and comfort. Even bad men needed a time to relax and be good. And some were saved and stuck to that side later.

"I'm sayin'... I'm sayin' you pulled one way on Confidence, an' we pull a different way on Terpsy, an' the way you pulled on Confidence don't work here, but you don't realise you're doin' things... wrong ain't thr right word, but I don't know how else to say it... an' you've got to be willin' to learn how we do it. It's the difference 'tween a green twig and a dry stick. A green twig bends with the wind, and grows. And a dry stick just breaks, and gets put in the fire."

He really didn't know how to explain it any better. "Sentry's... well, it's not there to be liked, or not. It's a duty. I like some places better'n others, 'cause you have things goin' on and get to see stuff. Other places, it just gets borin' and you get to wonderin' how long you've been there, and have they forgotten yo, and will your candles last long enough."

"Duty... doin' it fer duty. That's like on Confidence." His face brightened some, as he could find something that was normal, like his old ways, and that such thinking was shared by the marine, made the place much less foreign. "Yer.. good with words. " He bent down and slowly with one hand began to rub small circles against the plate, enjoying the task, however necessary it should have been. " You'd ...have done well enough on Confidence." He lifted the plate for a closer inspection and satisfied he lowered it, and continued with his task.

"...perhaps ye'd have needed to trust less.. not be so... hm... so believing in t' good of people, but you'r got yer mind in the right place. " He nodded lightly. "I ... thought yer didn't... fer a little. But, seems I was wrong."

"We all understand duty, and know our duties to the ship. But... it becomes more'n just a duty, a job, when you like your ship and the folks you'm with. ou c'n laugh an' joke an' know that when you ain't on watch, that you can talk with folks an' that they'll help you if you got problems an' stuff." He watched the lad working at polishing his brass plate.

"Don't you think... don't you think that Chase will like teachin' you better if you was a bit nicer to him? That you can make it more than a duty for him to teach you?"

"No. He'll be mos' glad if he needn't teach me at all." For one who had complained and did by far enough to try and avoid doing his duty as a sailor, his attention to the brass plate was rather surprising. He deemed it important that he were to do a proper if not as good a job as he was able, and this was shown with the care he gave to the thing.

"He doesn't say much agains' how I'm doin' it now. Anyways." He shrugged his shoulders lightly." Mus' be well enough, that I'm doin' it. No?"

"Mebbe he thinks you don't care. Or won't listen. I know he's been tryin' to teach you stuff... you were there when I went to finish sewin' Bob Green inta his hammock. Mebbe he just ain't got the words and don't know how to say it. All that means is you've got to learn to listen. When he wants you to do summat, there'll be a reason for it."

And maybe he did just want to not have to bother with the lad, but he was, which was a credit to the seaman.

"He's not complainin'.. but he teaches." He looked hesitant:"...I ...sewed Dunnock..inter his hammock...'s I don't understand why I'd be picked. By yer ways I weren't deservin' n' I'm sure Dunnock wouldn't have wanted it ter be me."

He didn't know why it was so much easier to talk to this marine, that he had not counted time, when he talked with him. He knew he should've given Chase a chance, and though he would be rather dead than to admit it verbally, he was.. also thankful.

"He don't complain'.. mebbe because he don't think I be doin' things wrong?... he's sure.. shown he was upset tho'...gotten me a smack, that."

"The only way to help you become a Terpsy... is for you to do things that Terpsies do. Mister Dunnock would've understood that. An', I dunno. Mebbe it's not what you do, but how you do it, more."

Why the lad was talking to him, Thompson didn't understand. But if talking would help, he was willing to spend the time. He'd never before had to think of the words to explain how he felt about things, or why he did something, and though it was nice enough, it was stretching him a little.

" If I die... could you sew me in?" He lifted his plate then and held it to the marine:"..I've done some work on it now. Look at it.. 's good?" He asked, realising that perhaps he was selfish in taking the man's time, but then deciding that yes even if he was, he would do just as he liked and have himself enjoy it.

"Me?" That was so completely unexpected that it floored him for a moment. "I.. I will, but mebbe when you make some friends elsewhere, they'd like t'do it."

He took the plate the lad held out to him and turned it to the light from the lantern. "It'd comin' on. Don't forget round the edge though. And leave a dry corner of that there cloth to get rid of the dust left behind, all right?" He passed it back.

He laughed. Stiffled at first, then a more heartfelt laugh of amusement at what Thompson believed. He held his hand to his belly and subdued the laughter into soft chuckles, and he shook his head lightly. "..Ye know ter judge me well and yet.. " He couldn't help himself grinning. "And yet you make such a strange judgement... " And then as if a switch had been turned his face returns to a serious gaze:" ...No. ...I doubt I shall have any more. ..You is all I've got.."

He took the plate offered back to him and with one listening to instructions, he began to work the side and then back from it to the centre again, making full certain that he was to leave some of the cloth dry as suggested.

(And now I run again, adieu!! )

Thompson was a little taken aback by de Guarde's reaction. "Y'know, if you tried to be a bit nicer to 'em, mebbe they'd be a bit nicer to you. Has to start somewhere, don't it? And it might take a bit of effort, but it'd be worth it, I reckon." He leaned back against the planking of the hull. "Just try it next time you see 'em. Don't 'spect anythin', don't try t'make the sort of bargains that you'll do summat for 'em if they do or don't do summat. Just... be bit nice. See what happens."

" A splendid suggestion.. Thompson." He said, but looked more amused than serious at what he was saying:"... It is just that I do not feel to be laughed at nor brushed off for my efforts... but yes. Thompson.. private, .. a splendid suggestion for one day." He continued his work with the brass plate, which technically should've been the marine's own job.

"Are you needed anywhere.. before we are to meet for the letter ter be written and yer tot, shared?" He tilted the brass plate to the side, turned it a little and then began with the circular motions again, the repetitiveness of the action feeling somewhat soothing.

"One day...? Lad, if you leave it till one day, that day won't never come. Trust me." He sighed. Well, maybe 'one day' was as much as the boy could concede now.

"I've got drill 'tween now and then, unless Sar'nt Quinn wants me to do another sentry-go somewheres. Where d'you want me to meet you f'r writin' it, then?"

"Could be t' same place 's now... 's quiet, n' easy ter sit." He nodded shortly. "N' we won't be watched neither disturbed. Not too rowdy as t' other places... n' no eyes n' ears ter need t wade off." He motioned about them then watched as a rat scampered away from the two men and crawled into a small crevice, barely able to squeeze her body through it.

"'cept perhaps t' rats... but they don' talk.. las' I remember. N' if they try, Emily's gettin' a treat."

"You all right with writin' in this light, though? Ain't any shame in doin' it elsewheres; folks know to give people their own space, even when there's folks around."

There might not be room to be private, but sailors knew not to interrupt and bother people having a private conversation, after all.

"Aye...me eyes are young, n' they can bear. 's when I'll be old that I'll need t' light of day.. else I'll see nought." He shrugged, glancing to the lantern. Perhaps it was a bit too dark, but he could manage if he would try. It would take longer though. "...per'aps... " He began but liked the idea less. "..We can go ter do it.. elsewhere. Not t' tot's givin'. ..But maybe t' writin'.