Writing home; 7th May

"Thanks," he said, taking the sheet and tucking it carefully into his shirt. "I ain't seen them since the Peace, and that was about six years ago. It... you don't know how much it means to me, to be able to tell them where I am an' what I'm doin'."

After all, for all they knew, he might be dead. He leaned back against the bulwark and gazed up at the press of canvas on the foremast. "I... thanks, lad. I 'ppreciate it, I really do."

He looked over at the boy. "Y'know, if there's anythin' I c'n do for you, you will tell me, won't you?"

He nodded slowly, the corners of his lips tugging upwards into a smile. "If I'um.. come runnin' n' hide behind yer... you tell em I've gone t' other way.. aye?" He spoke half serious half joking.

He followed his gaze up to the mast and then slowly dropped it to the sea. It still filled him with fear. So peaceful it looked, though still rather dark. It seemed to have no floors beneath, a body of water that went on and on, and didn't allow one to stand at the bottom and be alive. The cold water that chilled to the bone felt like a sleeping monster rather than a fortunate, kind lady of the sail.

Deceptively peaceful. Perhaps something that had the boy think of Terpsichore. Depths of the ship as depths of the sea.

A worried expression met Thompson's before the boy shook his head again and jerked his head downwards into a nod. "I'um .... I can count on yer, if there be summat... I'll need then?" He asked, with no malice in his tone. For the marine it could have been a dangerous promise, knowing how the boy was, his nature that was less pleasant to others up till now. And it would probably be the same to sailors.

But then he looked genuine and perhaps he was again making an exception for the red coated man. "I've.." He wasn't sure if it was right to say, to be honest infront of the private. Still holding himself for a midshipman while a sailor wasn't the best thing. Yet he spoke as man to a man. Or boy to man at least.

" enjoyed it.... t' writin' time here. ..Wos' peaceful.." And safe.

"Just... you don't do anythin' to upset 'em, an' they won't go chasin' you or anythin' like that."

He wondered for a moment if being able to trust the Marine was the lad's first step to learning to be a proper Terpsy.

He sighed, relaxing a little. "You know..." What he had to say might be taken the wrong way, and he didn't want that to happen. "Well, you know, bein' what you are now means you c'n be yourself without folks thinkin' bad of you. You don't have to be a certain way 'cause folks expect it of yo 'cause of the uniform you'm wearin'."

He touched the letter stowed safely inside his shirt. "An' thanks, f'r this."

"..Ye'um think.. 's better to be yeself and a bloody sailor.. than be summat else and wear a uniform?" He shook his head and tucked his arms under his neck, leaning against the wooden wall, behind him: ".. Ye'um sayin' that if they be chasin' me, it will be me fault. 's not true. Ye be puttin' blame on me that way, n'.." He lifted his hand as if to silence the marine: "Don't ye deny it.. it is so."

He pulled his legs up to his chest, gazing at the black hand print that stretched over his thigh, a smear that seemed only as one of the few others now. There were marks of gray against his knees and some at the rim of one pant leg. "'s not right fer a middie to be turned before the mast. 's worse than bein' caned. A lot worse." He would have eagerly applied that he recieves them few more, if only that would have him wear the uniform again. Even with his posteriors still in ache from before.

"but.. ter humour you.. n' say that I'm not meself, n' that I'd be meself now. ..what with when I become a middie again? They'd not have respect they have fer an officer...knowin' who I was, what I was. ..n' if I don't..." He flinched at the thought and bit at his lip, over come by the worry of that.

"..if I don't...'s..I should write ter me parents...maybe... maybe they could make t' capn' see t' error of 'is ways!" He spoke hastly for the thought of being forever a sailor was too terrible to consider.

"That weren't what I meant at all, an' I'm sorry you thought that. Only, well, think about it a bit different. If you've got two lads the same age, an' one's a middy and one ain't, who d'you think gets to have the most fun? 'Specially if all the middies have to be all grown up all the time."

He sighed. "I think that if you could be like this all the time, you'd make more friends than just me, an' you'd get more respect for doin' your bet as a sailor and learnin' how to do all the things that sailors have to. And they'll have more respect for you after bein', well, what you are now."

It wasn't going to be easy for the lad, he knew that. But he would have to make up his mind to make the best of it, and so far, Thompson didn't think he realised that, or realised that that was what he needed to do. It was going to take something to make him decide to just cope with it, and so far he seemed determined to think of himself as a middy in the wrong clothes. And Thompson just didn't know what he could do to help the lad realise what he needed to do to be accepted as a sailor.

"Depends what yer call your kin' of fun. 'aint fun ter have yer muscles ache n' feel like ye want ter drop n' never wake... n' middies don't ache that much. " He nodded knowingly, for which he could almost be an expert being as he had experienced both sides of the coin.

"Aint fun ter be followin' all t' middies be tellin' ye.. n' nae havin' a bit of a say or be able ter tell someone else what ter do." He shifted a bit and then went on: "Aint t' fun.. bein' a sailor if ye do summat wrong.. same with a middie but.. t' sailor gets his back ter be flayed. Do that infront of everyone else too. See. 's not so nice, bein' a sailor. N' ye 'ave ter sleep with quite a few that are snorin' n' talkin' n' shufflin' about in their hammocks. Bein' a middie has ye.. well less of 'em fer one. N' don't think any of ours make a sound!"

He stood up. "n'.. think of 'ow many they are.. all tired n' smellin'.. many!.. n' bein' smaller. Bein' a middie ye say : Out of my way, sailor!.. or such, and they do so. But bein' a sailor sayin' it.. they'll turn, look at ye, smirk and stay put. N' t' more ye be saying - Move!.. the more they be thinkin' ter land ye one on the face."

He took a few steps, then returned to sit carefully beside Thompson again. "Not on this ship they won' 'ave respect. See,.. on another when they might not know, they might. But 'ere they'll think it like this... 's how I would. He was a sailor once, been punished that. Means that he's in no favour of t' cap'n.. means, that if he tells us summat and we don't want ter do it.. t' cap'n won't be too strict on us. Might even listen ter us instead of t' fallen one. See. I'd be a middie but me command wouldn' be as strong. Ye say.. probably that maybe with respect then it would be... but ..i'm not sure 'bout that at all. Respect is a fickle lady, don't know whom she likes more.. n' she always changin'!"

"You got a lot of things you bin thinkin' about, ain't you?"

He looked at the lad. "Well, it might be hard work, but then you have more fun when you ain't workin', which is why a good skylarkin' is mebbe a bit loud. An' you get used to the smell an' everythin', which we can't help. An' it ain't hard to not get a striped shirt at the gratin', you know. An' if you work hard an' learn to be a good a sailor, you'll get their respec' and you'll have earned it, an' when you get to be a middy ag'in, you'll know they respec' you f'r more than just wearin' an officer's coat. An' it don't change, but it'll be better f'r earnin' it, y'know."

He sighed. "I know you don't understand me right, but you'll find the truth of it right enough, but you have to make your mind up to be a sailor afore you c'n get to be a middy again. That's what the Captain said, anyway."

".. Ye mean.. that he means.. that I have ter... become a sailor firs'... and when he sees me.. i'm a sailor.. then he might consider .. only then he might consider turning me?" Much easier said than done. Or rather, could it even be? The boy found it a horrifying thought.

Skylarking was something he hadn't yet experienced as what he was. It wasn't surprising since they were but a day after he had become one of them so he could hardly judge if he wanted or did not want it, or whether it would be fun or no.

He had thought a lot about it though. About why he disliked what he was now, how awful it was and how humiliating. Boy, he had a good portion of the night to think on that. The part where he hadn't slept because he was afraid and because the sounds that others made bothered him more than he'd imagined they could, and then even the smell and the danger or the feeling thereof had the boy on edge. So he thought and he considered and a part of it he told Thompson. He had weighed between the captain ever turning him and his conviction that wouldn't happen and then strayed to the idea that yes he would and he was a fool to think he wouldn't.

It had so confused him, that even now his mind was still trying to make sense. Thompson seemed convinced that he was to be turned back, but only once he accepted his station. Which he did not felt was an easy thing to do. More out of frustration he muttered:".. better i've been made a marine...would've sure accepted it easier..." He blinked and looked at Thompson then.

" Yer sayin' it's easy..but ye don't know how it is fer me...and I'm...I listen to wot' ye be sayin'.. n' ye should feel honoured in that... I dun' listen ter many.. less so.. those who ain't me superiors.." He tried to ease his tone into something more kind.

"I've not been part of t' skylarkin' yet... so I can't say, aye.. is fun. Or nay, is not. I've .. talked with t' sailors 'bout that." He remembered Westdale. The man suggested it even asked him about his instrument's knowledge.

"Well.. talked makes it sound as if I did what ye're tellin' me ter do.. but.. 'wos more I was asked.. n'. .I answered then.. was short like.. but aye, wot' I want ter say is.. I can't say I be holdin' t' skylarkin' in such a high esteem jus' yet. Don't know it proper."

He smiled and managed another light chuckle:" Ain't hard?.. Ye'um forgetin' I got Chase on it meself!.. wos' easy then. Don't ye remember?...been' such a short time aboard.. n' he was flogged.. stripped shirt right there. S' easy if ye've got bad eggs with some of them Middies." He thought briefly on the frightened Fletcher and the angry Yates, Kinsella wouldn't be around and Chandos.. well, he seemed fairly content to be righteous. Even that though could change.

"I know it ain't easy for you, ain't it ain't goin' to be easy for you, but it'll be worth it I think. An' I think the Captain will make you a middy again, but you'll have to work at learnin' to be a sailor first. An' no, you haven't had a proper skylarkin' yet, but we'll have one soon,  mebbe even tonight.  We can ask Cob Chase if you'd like, an' see what he thinks about organisin' one."

At least the boy was listening, even if he couldn't understand what Thompson was talking about.

"You... Here, when you'm off-watch next an' get a chance to talk with the seamen, Cob and Billy Barrow and Westdale, try askin' 'em what they like doin' in their free time. Y'know, just talk about somethin', like you talk to me."

It wasn't Thompson's intention to try to recruit the boy to being like the Marines, but he did realise that the boy was more willing to talk to him because he was a Marine, whereas if he was a sailor, de Guarde probably wouldn't want to talk to him about things like this. He just hoped he could help the lad to learn what it was to be a proper Terpsy.

"Me ask 'bout it ter be organised? " He looked at Thompson as if he had just gone mad. A good enough reason why not to ask was, his conviction that if he suggested it, being who he was, everybody would say no just because they could.

"Bes'.. wait till they decide it on their own.. n' then.. possibly sneak n' without them noticin'." He wasn't convinced what Westdale said was right either. The boy seemed to live by his learnt convictions and habits which were only slowly being forced appart.

He made a face. "..Askin' em about wot' they like?" And at last shrugged:" ..might... but .. think I'll be stealin' meself for some sleep t' next. Or any if I can manage. Think 'bout where we goin'. Lisbon that is! You been there before?" It was too early to agree. Easier to talk to a man who wasn't in his line of command and perhaps a bit because he showed understanding first.

"Now, why would they say no just 'cause you'm askin' them? Don't you think they'd like a good skylarkin' themselves?" He shrugged. "Yes, you c'n sleep, right enough, an' none of us'll stop you, but that won't help you learn about us all an' how to be a Terpsy, if you spend all y'r off-watch time with your head down."

And then De Guarde offered a change of subject. Thompson smiled and nodded his head. "Yes, spent a fair bit of time in the Med around Gibraltar, and we came round here to Lisbon a couple of times. It's all hills though - an' looks nice enough from ship-board, but when you get on land it's different and you have to be careful where you walk."

"n' t' town? is it nice? " He considered the first that Thompson said, but was by now more interested in Lisbon and chose the topic to be for another time rather. "..'s got many taverns? Places to buy things? What are t' people like? Honest? Or cheats? N' t' port?" He wasn't sure if he could go on land as well, but hoped it no less.

(OOC - need to take cousin out now :/ ...see you later? )

"It's all right. Dirty though, what with folks throwin' things into the roads all the time. Quite a few taverns, though the army will probably all be there gettin' drunk an' everythin'. An the people... well, they'll like you well enough when they know you'm fr'm an English ship, but you want to hold on to your money just in case someone decides to help themselves to it an' save you the trouble of carryin' it f'r yourself."

He shrugged. "We'll likely anchor in the harbour rather than goin' alongside, though, an' folks who get to go ashore will get rowed to shore."

(OOC - OK. See you later. )

"yer think I'll be permitted ter go ashore too? "He looked hopeful. In part he needed to buy himself some supplies if there would be any sold in Lisbon. The prospect of taverns was also quite as welcoming to his mind. Filth on the streets seemed to be a common for cities and towns, more for some than others.

"N' careful with t' money? I hear.. do they assault , or jus' try ter pickpocket?" He looked at the marine with greatest interest to what he had to say thinking that it was less likely he would be permitted to leave the ship, but no less it was always better to be prepared.

"I dunno, but if they do, you want to stick close to the sailors so's folk'll be less likely to try anythin'. An' only take a bit of money so if anythin' does happen, they won't get it all."

Though the lad's chances of getting ashore in Lisbon were slim, Thompson couldn't tell him that.

"Y'know, even if they don't let you go ashore, you c'n ask someone to buy the things you want. Only, mind you ask 'em nicely, of course."

Was that what it came down to? Trying to teach the lad that he could talk to sailors as though they were human, without being thought of as, well, whatever it was he thought they would think.

"..You think they won't let me? " He wanted Thompson's honest opinion, even if he had a thought of what was probably to happen. It was a privilege to leave the ship when they were in port. Only those one trusted would go. Less rather than more on some ships. On some, very few. He didn't know how Terpsy worked in that field.

"I wouldn't trus' them with me money. Yer know. Sailors are drunks. .. even yer can agree on that ,no? N' they could say.. oh, I was stolen from, or summat!"

Thompson sighed. "No, lad, I don't think they will let you. An' I don't even know if I'll get to go ashore. We have to row guard to make sure nobody's goin' to run, an' do all our usual duties an' everythin' else."

He shrugged. "You could ask Chase. mebbe, or Billy Barrow. Seein' as you'm in their mess an' they'm lookin' after you. Barrow'll likely be goin' ashore, seein' as he's the Captain's cox'n an' all, so he might be willin' to try to get your stuff for you."

".. Billy's the one I accused .. yer know." He murmured. He was considering it. Though not quite sure if he would ask either or wait for another port in which by all chance he may leave as well.

He sighed. Thompson was right about not letting him go, he thought so as well. It was some consolation that there were others stuck on board. "I'um sure you'll get there , to town. 'tleast in part.. once or so." he spoke encouragingly. "Or more.. if we are long there."

"... Think they'll let me go any time soon?.. I mean.. if we go to another port? Yer know I wouldn't flee. I'um got too much honour for that! Never flee. No matter how hard it may be. " He shook his head looking serious. "So'um.. if ever I disappear, know it wasn'.. me doin'. Ok? " He smiled lightly.

"Well, you could ask Chicken Dyer, but I think Cob Chase and Billy Barrow are more likely than him to get what you want."

He shrugged and reached a hand up to feel his queue. "I dunno. Mebbe, though, but I think you'll have to show you'm goin' to be a good sailor. An' don't ever tell me if you decide you are goin' to run, 'cause we'm the ones who have to bring deserters back, and I don't want to have to an' find you, all right?" He smiled at the lad.

He would dread being told de Guarde had deserted, and he was one of the ones who had to go after him, he knew that much.

(OOC - going out now. I'll be back in an hour or so....)

"No. Rather ask Chase or Barrow... or Westdale. I'll see 'bout it though. Or If'um you go then.. if I could ask yer. I trus' you to be one they'd fear mos' too. Like those tryin' ter steal." He tucked a few loose strands behind his ear, finding that his hair had been less neat now than it usually was. Quickly he ran his fingers through his hair and then undid the bow that held it tight together. Tending to the mess, he continued: "I won't run. Thompson. Not even as sailor."

He knew that it was a topic that the marines took rather seriously. After all they were the ones that had to find and retrieve those that ran. And the punishment for desertion was death.

"Won't run. Know that. Al'right? Never 'ave doubt in it. Alright?" He looked seriously at Thompson. " Remember that. I may not be a Terpsy, but I'm stationed on this ship. N' though I'm not one of yer...Me name's on t' list. So I don't go. I don't abandon t' ship! I don't run. I do me duty... n' don't run!" He nodded sharply and relaxed, his cheeks colouring dark red.

"I'um sorry." He looked embarrassed. "Jus'.. if I disappear.. n' I hope I won't. But if I do.. look ter t' sailors for that... not blame me." He turned around. " is it 'tleast half decent now?" He pointed at his hair.

(Have fun! And see you!)

"All right, lad, I believe you, that you won't run. An' if anythin' happens - which I'm sure it won't - I'll tell them so, so's they know you ain't a deserter."

Desertion was something the Marines took very seriously, and rarely joked about. Having to go and look for someone who had successfully got away was something nobody liked doing, and firing at someone in the process of deserting was something Thompson never wanted to find himself doing, especially if the man in question was someone he'd started getting to know.

He sat back again, relaxing a little. "An' if I get a chance to go ashore an' see what's what, I'll see if I can get the things you want. An' your hair looks better now, though you really should try an' find someone to tie it for you - a tie-mate, like, I mean."

".. Would it be too much... if .." He held his hair together with one hand, and the strip of black cloth with the other. "I asked yer this time. I'um wrote fer you so, ... you could do it.. Right?" He looked uncertain to ask the favour. He lowered his head. "'s .. since you are here, and I still don't get ..don't know t' others as much. "

He held the strip timidly towards the marine. " Please." He bit at his lip unused to asking, when usually he could've demanded. "N' thanks. If ye get ter go ashore, that would.. be splendid. You ought ter tell me if you do, so I can give you... well what i have ter pay, and you can buy it then. "

The request made Thompson blink, and then smile fondly at the boy. He took the offered strip of cloth a little hesitantly. "Are you sure you want me to do it, though?"

"Aye.. I'm sure. I..trus' ye." He turned slowly. "N' yer certainly not t' one who threw me over..n' ye 'elp me. Which all means ye mean me no harm.. n' so , me turnin' me back to you while yer do it... " He smiled, trying to look confident.

"You wouldn't hurt me.... would you, Thompson?"

"I'll try not to hurt you, I promise. Though I only know how to do it like mine, or Vinin's. You know, the Marines' way of doin' it." He turned his head so the boy could see his queue. "Like that, see? Might look a bit strange, a sailor with a Marine's queue."