Writing home; 7th May

"Oh.. I didn't mean.. that ye'd pull me hair.. , I meant, hurt me.. like cause injury.. ye know. Summat worse than a tug or a yank here and there." He couldn't help but chuckle at the misunderstanding.

"Aye, don't mind ter have me hair like that. Will keep it full outta t' way." He combed his fingers through his hair releasing them at last. "So, 's fine by me, n' fer them. let 'em stare. I dun' care."

"Oh, right." He shook his head, grinning at the mistake. "An' no, I won't hurt you like that. I promise. An' you'll have to sit round in front of me a bit so's I can do f'r you, then."

It might look a bit strange, but it might help the lad, for the sailors to see that someone didn't mind being tiemates for him. Even if it was a Marine doing it, it was something.

"Aye, that." He nodded glad that the private understood. He slowly turned and shifted, till his back was turned to Thompson. He held his hand in a small fist to ease his mind. He was safe with the marine, since if he had wanted to do him in, he had plenty of opportunity and didn't use a single one. And he promised. And he needed him too. For writing.

"There, is that alright? Or d' ye want me ter stand or?" He asked tilting his head briefly to look over his shoulder.

"You're all right down here, lad." He smiled, recognising the trust that the boy had had to show in him to turn his back like that. "An' you'll have to tell me if I hurt you. I don't mean to pull too hard, but I'm used to doin' it tight, for Vining. You know, ready for inspections an' that sort of thing."

He started combing the lad's hair out with his fingers, and smiled briefly as the letter tucked inside his shirt crackled a little, reminding him it was there.

"s' ok. Thompson. 's long as yer leave me with hair on me head.. is good." He was struggling with himself, and to offer such trust to another was a great feat for the boy. He hoped that the marine was worth lowering his guard, was the right choice to very much literally bare himself easy for attack and death.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Vinin' ever complain 'bout how tight yer pull it on 'im?" He asked not wanting the session to become a silent time between them.

"I ain't goin' to pull that hard, I promise you that, lad. An' it's never as bad as the first time. They really pull hard, doin' it for the first time. 'Cause it's supposed to be six inches, an' not every recruit has his hair the right length to get a queue that long. Well, not right off, anyway. An' bein' as you'm a sailor, you don't have to keep to our regulations for it."

He was ready to start plaiting now and paused. "Look down, would you? Or I might do it too high for you, elsewise."

"Think by pullin' they'll pull it outa yer head like ter make it ter six inches?" He looked down as instructed, placing his hands at his knees to steady himself. "Yer can pull as yer want. I'um not a crybaby.." He smiled though the marine probably could not see it. "n' ye can do it how's it right..aye? Know t' sailor don't need ter.. but they be thinkin ye wus' doin' a sloppy job if ye didn' do it right like."

He kept himself as still as he could, not wanting to end with a queue turning left or right, too high or just the wrong way and have to redo it again because he was fidgeting. "n'... please don' .. say that word... Say.. cos' I'um.. not a marine.. if yer need.. but not.. t' ...word ye jus' said." The smile faded a little. "'s... not ready fer it. me."

"You don't need to have it as good as us. If you did, I'd have to go an' find some candle grease for the wispy bits. Spiders' legs, we call them. An' they won't stay where you want them, 'cause they'm never long enough."

He paused. "You'll have to get used to hearin' it though, you know. Bein' called a sailor, I mean. An' ain't it better to hear it from someone friendly-like than from someone like the bosun?"

"Um...." He considered the option. Wouldn't do half the harm if none of his shorter strands of hair came into his eyes because the damned things refused to be where they were supposed to. "Then.. get it." He nearly forgot to stay still and stopped himself from nodding just as his chin began the arch downwards.

What Thompson said next, had the boy frown and flinch when the bosun was mentioned. "..but it sounds...terrible." He murmured as his frown deepened. "'s worse if I'um called by him.. even if is true.. but.." He sighed. "Makes it feel like ye'd want ter say it in spite.. even if yer don't."

"Y'know, you can't allus have what you want in this life and folks who learn to take the good with the bad, well, I ain't sayin' they find it easier. But they mebbe find they can cope better with it. An' you've been lucky enough, bein' born to a family with money, an' goin' to sea to learn to be an officer. An' even bein' a sailor ain't goin' to last forever if you work at it."

He continued plaiting and reached for the strip of cloth. It would be just about long enough, he thought.

"An' then there's folks like me. I was born in a brothel, an' there was never much money so there was times when I didn't eat for days, an' the first real clothes I ever had was after I 'listed, 'cause I'd only had rags afore that. An' I know I ain't ever goin' to be more'n a Private, even if I'm servin' for years."

He laid the strip of cloth along the plait before beginning to wind it around the plait and itself, pulling it tight and making sure it overlapped a little to keep any hair from showing before tying the two ends together and tucking them in neatly.

"There. All done."

"...I'm... sorry." He felt selfish and before he might have not given a damn and he probably still cared very little of what lives others had, Barrow, Chase, Westdale, Dyer.. With the list continuing to take all the names of the sailors and some of the marines too. He didn't much care whether Leat had come to be, through the ranks or not, whether there were some men who could never be but what they were, sailors that would die being just, sailors.

But against Thompson he felt like he was scolded and rightfully so. His life wasn't half bad. Things were missing, but they had money. Didn't they. They always had food and clothing, never would starve.

"... If I hadn't taken good n' bad , n' gritt me teeth n' bore it... then I wouldn't 'ave been here." He spoke harshly, defensively. ".. I would've tried ter be gone on me other ship. I would've!" His hands were in fists. Thompson was right. But so he thought, was he. "Ye'um sayin' me life was a splendid one.. .n' sure.. 'twasn't hunger, n' 'twasn't a brothel, n' I had me clothes.. more pairs of em.. n' more colours.. n' more shapes...n' I had other things... n' when I was a middie, I couldn't be flayed on t' back.."

He shook his head harshly again, and looked down. " But 'twasn't all good. Wasn't like yours.. but .. but if I was like ye'um sayin'.. then I would've not been here.. I would've ended it.. or fled... fled n' be caught n' killed."

"I didn't mean to upset you, lad. An' I'm sorry if that's how it sounded." He took the lad gently but firmly by the shoulders to turn him around so he could see the boy's face. "I was only sayin' as it was f'r me. But I was lucky, too. I've got me mum, an' me sister, and we'd do anythin' for each other. An' mebbe you ain't got that, an' don't understand that. So you don't understand what you writin' for me means. An' I wish I could tell you."

He smiled, a little sadly. "An' I know you won't run, ever, 'cause if you was goin' to do it, you'd have done it by now. Or got out of the Navy somehow, anyway. So I know you've got courage to stay. What you need now, really need, is to find the courage to learn how to be a sailor. An' I can't give you that. That's summat you've got to find yourself. In there." He indicated his own chest.

"An' mebbe learnin' to call yourself a sailor is the first step to findin' that courage. We all - me, Cob, Billy, even Westdale, I think - we all want to help you. But if you don't want to be helped, there ain't nothin' we c'n do. Like... you wanted to write for me. But if I hadn't told you what I wanted to say, you wouldn't have been able to do the writin'."

He realised he'd leaned forwards a little during his speech, and sat back again. "D'you see what I mean?"

"..Yer can't write t' letter... if I don'.. tell yer what to write." He placed his left hand against his shoulder and smoothed out his sleeve. He turned to do the same with his hand that bore a small faint scar and smoothed out the other sleeve. He then lay both hands in his lap and as from habit began to tug at one sleeve, the hand who was not occupied, curling up slightly. Always when nervous, stressed or under pressure.

" Yer.. frustrated..'rent' ye?" He murmured. He lifted his hand to his queue and gently touched it, feeling along the length, seeing it done well, proper, without a strand of hair out of place or peeking out from under the cloth. There were of course seome 'spider hairs' out at the top of his head, but as the marine said, only candle wax could've done those in.

"... Thanks fer t'.. queue....looks,.. good.. well, feels good, dun' know 'bout looks.."

"Aye, I am, a bit. An' I'm sorry. It's 'cause, I know what I want you to understand, but it's summat you feel in here -" he touched his chest again "- and I haven't got the words to explain it. What it feels like, an' why I want you to be part of us. So, I just keep sayin' the same things all the time, though mebbe I say it differently, 'cause I'm tryin' to figure out how to say it so's you can understand me meanin'."

He looked down and saw de Guarde's hands in his lap. He was tugging at his sleeve again, and Thompson wondered what made him do that. It seemed to be some sort of habit.

He smiled as the lad raised a hand to feel the Marine's handiwork.

"Thanks. It'll stay put for a bit like that, as well, if you don't pull it all out tomorrow."

"Ye'um tryin'..."

He dropped his hand back into his lap, the nervous tugging seemed not to have started again, though there was once or twice it near looked like it would. "I'll ask yer for t' candle sometime... keep all hair in place." He made a small smile. He hadn't decided what to answer the marine in relation to his efforts. He could have shrugged it off and continued their talk on the queue.

"..Ye think I'um not listenin'.." He looked up at Thompson. "Yer be sayin'.. many things.. n' tellin' me 'bout this ship. " His eyes, as pale blue as the sky in winter, looked less frosty, less uncaring than they did before. " I don't know what ter tell ye.. what ter say. Ye suggest I talk ter others.. n' me habit n' learnin' tells me not ter talk t' sailors as if they were me same..., yer tell me to trust them, n' yet I fear ter do so knowin' things.. that I've learnt. I try, n' listen...n' don't think ye... well I talk to you, don't I? I trust you , so.. .you mus' be doin' summat right."

"I don't think you'm not listenin'. I think... I think you'm listenin' real well. I think it's your habits and learnin' that's, well, stoppin' you understandin', a bit. An' I think that you learned things on your old ship that... don't work an' don't fit, here on Terpsy. So I think you've got to... unlearn... that, about not talkin' to the sailors an' stuff, an', well." He shrugged, frowning, and then smiled.

"I want to ask you summat. An' I don't want to hear what your trainin' says, an' your habits, 'cause I want to learn what you think, inside yourself. Do you... do you want to be able to talk to the sailors, friendly-like, the way you talk wi' me?"

"Yer don't want ter know me trainin' n' learnin'?" He looked at his hands and was silent for a good few minutes. He pulled at his sleeve, he looked lost in thought and when he looked up he was still as confused and uncertain.

"Inside meself." He repeated, even with the accent that Thompson spoke in. "If... " He began and then as if afraid he would fail a test he bit down what he had wanted to say, and found himself instead, saying the learnt."... t' sailors are differen't. They'um are t' bad..kind."

He knew he'd done wrong, for more hastly he added:" I.. I'd like it better if I'um had friends...like you." And he wasn't sure at all if he said it right now. The tugging continued, and he had to pull the sleeve up, for he'd made it as low with the earlier actions. "I..'s... did I say right?"

He couldn't tell the lad he'd got it wrong. He was trying hard to get it right and seemed to freeze up if he thought it was some sort of test, and that was all wrong as well. One thing at a time, though.

"Mebbe I asked the wrong question. Lemme ask another one, then. If you could talk with Cob Chase the way you talk wi' me, would you do that? An' I want to know what you think, not what... not what your officers an' captain on your old ship kept sayin' about sailors. Just, what you think yourself, inside."

He looked flustered. He didn't want to loose what he had, a person he was able to speak with. But with one wrong answer he felt he might have him up and go. The test.

He lifted his gaze nervously up to face the marine. "....I .. I dun' know." Which could as well be the most wrong an answer of all of them. " I'm not sure..." He fidgeted and looked away.

"I... I talk some with Chase." It was said defensively, perhaps the boy expecting that it was what Thompson wanted to hear. And more confident that he was on the right trail, if only to do as the marine wished, to see him pleased, he added abruptly:"...sure talk with Chase like you.. would be right."

"A body c'n have more'n one friend, y'know," Thompson said, wondering whether the lad had said that because it was what he thought the Marine wanted to hear, or whether he really did think that, under all the training and lessons he'd learned on his previous ship.

"If you want to be friends, even a bit, with Cob Chase, you've got to try talkin' to him in a friendly way. Ask him summat about himself, offer to help him with aummat. That kind of thing. An', well, he ain't no different fr'm me, underneath the clothes we wear. Not really."

(OOC - and the Marine's going to find a nice warm hammock. See you around, though it might not be tomorrow. It'll definitely be the day after...)

"Aye he is.. he's got a striped shirt at t' back. " It felt so much easier now that he wasn't asked a question directly and he felt he could easily protest or add. " How many of them sailors do yer have as friend." He asked then. If he was to make friends with those, which he still sincerely doubted, he could ask Thompson how much of his 'preach' he also did practice.

He relaxed someone and rested both hands, on a knee each. "Ye'um sayin' I should.. but wot' bout you?"

(OOC - was just about to say the same.. actually both , oddly! Well hope to see you around perhaps later tomorrow (also if I can come) or certianly as said after tomorrow! Good night and sweet dreams! *this former middie scampers into his own cosy hammock*)

"I been flogged as well, you know, years ago, so I've got the scars on me back fr'm it. An' I reckon my best mates are in the Marines, 'cause that's who I spend me off-watch hours with, an' mess with, and all that. I reckon the sailors I get on with best are Cob Chase, Billy Barrow and Westdale. I reckon you should try to get on with them 'cause that's who you'm goin' to work with an' mess with an' all that."

It wasn't that he minded being friendly with the lad, but that he felt de Guarde should be trying to get on with the sailors a bit better. He could understand it if the lad had been made a Marine, but he hadn't, and there was no skills Thompson could teach him that he might find useful or practical. But then, the lad hadn't yet made up his mind that he needed to learn any practical sailors' skills.

When the lad finally did realise he needed to learn things that only the sailors could teach him, Thompson would be happy enough to step back and let them teach what they could. He just hoped to be able to help de Guarde learn how to fit in and be a proper member of Terpsy's crew.

"..I was with them when we had ter work." He looked up at the mast and the canvas that was attached to it, often the centre of some sailor's life and work, and death when they fell. "But in me off watch time.. I'd rather ter choose.." He pulled a knee up to his chest.

"'s hard to go against what ye've learnt. I'um new here. Don't yer cling ter yer old, and known... doesn't a man always do so , even more so when he's in a foreign place? Somethin' that feels right fer 'em?..See. Look an example like. Ye'um landin' someplace.. n' have ter refit, but uh.. it's not a place like anything you've ever lived at. You'll live like an Englishman there, won't ye?.. You won't suddenly throw of ye shirt n' be like t' natives.. n' wear lots of bone jewelery n' start eatin' men? You'll rather stick ter what you know.. till you think they might be right... or perhaps even then think your learnings n' upbringing was more proper?"

"That's mebbe true, but I've moved ships afore - sev'ral times, in fact. An' every time you get to a new ship, there's new things to learn and different ways of doin' things, because the captain's different. Like... oh, one captain I had used to come up with really strange ideas. Like the time he tested all the watch officers - one of 'em had to tackle a fire in the Master's cabin, that weren't real, an' another one had to deal with a ship full of shot-holes, when we weren't anywhere near any French ship. An' another captain I had liked his gun drills and did 'em every day, if he had the powder for it."

He shifted a little to lay down, propping his head on his hand. "It's different things. I smoke, right. An' one ship I was on, I could only smoke in the galley. Here, I can smoke on deck. You've just got to get used to Terpsy's way of doing things. Don't think of it as bein' better, or worse. Just... different."

(OOC edit: I don't know how much I'm going to be online today. I'll see you later this evening or tomorrow. Merry Christmas, for all of us! )

"How quick did you get used ter t' new ways?" He imagined the few examples that Thompson gave him. It appeared in such detail in his mind, that he could nearly have thought to hear them shouting, or hear the sounds of ropes and hull and feet walking about and the shots of the cannons.

"..maybe t' first ship like? How much longer than to move ter t' second or so?" Perhaps later, moving ships would have become more of a habit. Lessons learnt, it would've been easier to do. know better what not to do on a new ship and what to learn no less. Whom to talk to. Thompson just happened to be here as the man he talked first with. He had become.. he was slowly realising, the closest to what a friend in a book would be. He'd been his tiemate too, which accounted for something. He wondered if they would not have been at different ends if not for being made to stand or be together for so long in wait and with nothing to do.

(OOC - alright. Merry Christmas to you and to all as well! Enjoy the day wherever you may be being and see you in th evening or tomorrow! )