19th May: Supper - Down below with the Tars

"..is different. " He agreed again and figured that agreeing was no longer surprising him. The day had been strange, unusual. So many things happened and lieutenant Leat was a part of them. If he was all of a sudden agreeing to a Tar, and not only once, it was just the blame of that day.

"..Back on Confidence we wouldn't have let any fraternisin' between t' marines n' tars. Would've been a fools' errand." He hadn't quite realised that he was openly sharing an experience, a past time that he had before coming to Terpsy.

Not even as he continued: "But them were real blackguards. Strict discipline.. only thin' keepin' a man in place ter do his job proper..Man or boy." He nodded sharply and found himself repeating the words he had learnt and heard many times :" strict discipline an iron 'and and t' fear'd make people efficient n' learnt, fast n' with little time waste...."

And then before he could finish he blinked looking at Westdale. He dropped his gaze and took another bite of his meat, as an excuse to be silent for a while longer. He cleared his throat later, cleared it again before taking a sip from his mug.

Hoping he wasn't about ter get attacked, Westdale said, quietly, "That's what t'ey said, ay? But...is we here as strict as that?"

He left it at that for the moment, just one question and a comment, trying to keep looking as interested only as needed to encourage an answer. To fill in the pause he wiped down his plate and set the mug on top of it squarely.

"Aye.." It was a question. Easier to answer even if he felt awkward even considering it. "...'ere's.. not as strict towards Tars.. but ye'd not see a midshipman disrated on me ol' ship. Never would. So in that.. 'ere they are stricter too. "

He kept his eyes on the mug as if awaiting Westdale's next move. They've gone into the uncharted waters, but if Westdale thought that he was waiting for a time to strike, he was certainly mistaken.

"Well, but.."he paused, tugging at his shirt and feeling more than a little unsure of himself, "...why was yer disrated, is t'question, ain't it?" He hoped that by putting it in a less direct way, not asking the question of the boy, he'd be able to get more said, or less blame.

"Because t'captain, now, he wants ter see yer learn and ter have all them lessons, what otherwise yer'd have learnt, in yer old Confidence, some other way, yes? T'end of a rope, or what-have-yer."
He considered saying the next sentance even more, "But here, yer can learn with less problems ter that, and yer'll get t'knowledge not many officers get, of understanding it all, from both sides, see?"

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to put on a face which showed he wasn't trying to lecture, but was in fact trying to understand himself, or be sympathetic, at the least.

"I could've learned them as middie too... Yates will, Fletcher too. Kinsella did n' Chandos." He didn't mention the middie that was no longer among the living or the new one, for he did not know neither his origin not all that much about him but that he was aboard.

"I don't learn t' middie's lessons now, not t' lectures with t' cap'n.. or t' lieutenants.. " He had to bite his tongue for he was far too open with his thoughts and how he was feeling. It was a Tar, a man that belonged to the group of those he should not have trusted. He'd have to remember the occasions and reasons for it, remind himself of it!

"I'um.. learning ter be a Tar, but.. I won't be a Tar later.. no?" The question felt personal and voiced the worries he had, even without wanting to.

"Yer won't be a Tar, no. But yer'll be needing ter know and get Tars ter do thing fer yer, won't yer? and Yer'll be able ter remember how tired yer felt, and how all yer wanted ter do was ter fall asleep, and if yer lucky when yer faced with a group of Tars feeling like that, yer'll know how ter make 'em do their duty more'n how they would if yer just flayed 'um. See? Cause that'll take yer energy, too, which seems a waste."

He nodded at the mention of the lessons that de Guarde would be missing, "Yer'll be able ter catch up in yer learning, though, won't yer? and..well...some fo that stuff, without no numbers ter chase round on a slate, yer can work out anyways, by lookin' about yerself."

"Then, if this is such a great feat fer me.. why have we not all middies turn Tars. I'm sure t' others would benefit from such knowledge." And he'd have been delighted to see some struggle as he did. It looked rather amusing as he found himself yawning just as Westdale mentioned exhaustion. He rubbed his eye with one hand and squinted his eyes shut then open to bring some more liveliness to them.

" N' experience. " He knew a certain lieutenant would, but that was a more personal feeling, influenced by the unwelcome punishment.

He met Westdale's eyes again, boldly, again trying to read his face.
"And I'm to trust I will learn well from you anyways?"

Westdale shrugged, 'Tis a lesson which not everyone earns, perhaps?" He neglected to remind him that some people were quite capable of remembering those things, or imagining them, without a harsh reminder. And there were other reasons this boy was down here, not just to learn, but to be taught, as well.

He kept his eyes fixed on the boys face. "Learn from me? or us?"

"Both. " He answered, his eyes not leaving Westdale. "Can I trust you?" A silly thing to ask, for a liar would lie, and an honest man would tell the truth, but both would say the same. The boy expected perhaps, that if Westdale would lie , he might still be able to see it on his face or in his demanour.

Westdale looked down, then, considering, breifly, what this might be about.
Gravely he looked back at the boy again, "Yes. Yer can trust me."

Well, and was that a big step, or not? should he ask the same question in return? He decided against it, for now, just because of the answer he was sure to get, one he wouldn't be satisfied with. It would take mroe than some words, however well spoken, to convince him of any trust that might be professed by de Guarde.

If Westdale had lied, he was an expert, a professional in that trade, else he must've instead told him the truth. He held his eyes locked on that face for a little while longer, and then dropped it, taking a sip from his mug.

"You won't have me get in trouble.. by some ploy of yers, aye?" Another question quite similar to the content of the first. Westdale, Chase, Barrow, Dyer.. he remembered their names now, and he was getting to learn their trade and ways. Others too, slowly - a bit of the sailor who loathed to see him present with the tars or perhaps to see him present at all, and some who were more or less able in the ways of the ship. He wasn't sure why, but he felt that knowing one's mess with whom one shared the number, was and would be important.

Westdale shook his head, "I told yer afore, de Guarde. WE all stick together, unless yer done something bad, or are getting us all inter trouble."

He added, lightly, "Which yer aren't going ter do at t'moment, s'far as I can tell, or, at least, yer haven't fer a while." he smiled.

He meant to hold onto this trust, see if it would work the other way as well, and do his best to get de Guarde into a position where he'd be much better to work under. After all, how often were you given a chance to talk, try and gain, respect from your middie, or soon to be, middie?
And by the looks of things, he wasn't alone, witht he rest of the mess seemed to be accepting him, too.

"Stick together.." The youth repeated long after Westdale has finished. It looked as if though most had gone over his head and he payed no attention to it, but the expression on his face showed different. Thompson had told him to talk with the Tars, learn from them, listen to them and accept who he was. That lack of acceptance had gotten him into trouble and a fight with the drummer boy. It had had him loose his temper and the consequences were far from appealing. Dyer got him back below without anybody seeing him humiliated, Chase had looked for him, thinking him dead. Worrying about him.

Perhaps many of his thoughts were mirrored as feelings on his face, and when he found more voice to speak again, it wasn't a tone of a middie wanting obedience at all. "..We..ye'um mean meself too? As one of you? " He should've been insulted that he was considered an equal to Tars by them, instead he felt .. well quite the opposite.

Westdale nodded, "Course. Yer...one of us, I reckon."
He didn't feel any need to comment on the change between when de Guarde had first been put with them, and now, nor to remind him of how various men had scoured the place looking for him, or kept and eye out, taught him a better way of doing something, or checked he had a seat. All the inumerable bits and peices each fo them had slowly started to do, the same as they did for each other, showing, to the rest of them, they were accepting this newest addition.

He smiled at de Guarde, wanting to know, but unsure of the asking, "Is it..Yer not going ter try get us al in trouble, or something, are yer, now? ter.. test it, or something?"He had wanted to ask more along the lines of if de Guarde was happy with the feeling of beign one of the, but didn't dare to. Besides, they'd had enough questions which woudl only be answered one way, lier or no.

"... I could. " He began, then before any sailor could interject and possibly protest and voice his mind he added: "...But then.. wot' would I be proovin'?...." he hesitated. He wasn't used to being kind or considerate to the Tars. It wasn't natural to him for quite a while. "..That Ye'um all look good with a striped shirt I got 'fer ye?" It might've been an attempted joke failing.

He saw what they did, didn't pick it up at first. Slowly though, thinking back to it, he recalled a few occasions and how they could've been different if not for the sailors taking a more active role in the happenings. Not that any came to see him below with the horses. But he might've just liked it better so. The marine was a different call in that aspect.

" Westdale, if'um anybody's plannin' ..anythin' bout t' marine." He heard it said before. That the marines would get theirs coming, for thumping in a Tar, even if the said Tar deserved it.

".... please... " He hesitated again :" ...tell 'em not ter. " Now, that was probably a shocker, him trying to avoid an event in which the sailors would get in trouble. He rubbed at the cloth across his eye. Perhaps there was someone he could ask about it for the night.

Westdale shrugged, smiling a little at the joke, which he took it to be , given the lightened tone.

The marine was another matter, "I don't hear everything." he reminded de Guarde, "It depends on what yer doing, and where, as ter that. So I can't make yer any promises. And they mightn't listen ter me, anyways."
he wanted to make it absolutely clear that he wasn't, in any way, going to be held accountable for anything that happened, although he'd try his best, if he got the chance.
He wondered, again, what the deal was with the Marine obsession de Guarde seemed to have, but again decided not to ask. It mightn't be an answer he wanted to hear. ANd of course, once de guarde was back as middie, the rules would change again.

"I hardly believe that you don't hear it all.. Westdale. Bein' that if word travels quicker than the sun's rays anyplace.. it would certainly be right below decks." He said that half serious and half amused.

"It isn't what I am doing though... but more what t'..." Well, what the marines did, hauling the pair of his slops up in the rigging, with his shirt and his neck cloth to follow, leaving him right bare out on deck.

"..what 'appened." And if Westdale didn't know, he was sure as day not to be the one telling him. It was enough that what he'd thought would remain a secret in the 'bare as the day he was born' part, hadn't lasted. But then, it was below decks on a ship, that it happened. Secrecy was not too high on the agenda here.

He yawned. "..Might I ask yer.... t' be t' one wakin' me fer t' watch today tho'...I've a fear that even if a broadside was fired at us for a full hour, it wouldn't be wakin' me once me eyes come shut."

Westdale grinned, "Yer hear bout everything eventually." he had to admit, "tHough mebbe it wouldn't be in time ter have a say in it, like yer want."

He had to try and smother the grin at the delicate explanation of the clothes disappearing. 'what happened' indeed. Of course that was common knowledge, and would prbably remain so for a while longer, though it probably wouldn't make it off the ship for a few months yet.

The yawn was loud in his own ears as he caught it, and grunted. "Yer'd be woken, if a broadside was being fired at us." he pointed out, though smiling at the comparison, "I'll wake yer, though yer'll have ter wait fer me ter wake up, too."

"Ah... ye may say I would be.." He shook his head again reaching up and irritatedly pushing at the bandage at his eye. The only reason he hadn't removed it was, because the doctor hadn't said so and he really didn't need to have one at his back for 'disobeying' the orders even if those had been long overdue.

More so now, that the other doctor had been, to put it kindly, not the gentlest and most tactful a soul.

"..bu' I've a feelin' I'd jus' turn about, cover me head with t' blanket n' sleep on, thinkin' s' just someone snorin' as loud again. Mebbe that ...wot' 'is name? " He went to explain in a very short few words, whom he had meant, and soon found himself distracted with another thing. He placed his mug on the plate, which was by now empty, and pushed it slightly away from him.

" Yer not t' kind o' Tar who's late... are you?"

"Late? fer duty? me?" Westdale was tempted to keep saying, int eh same teasing tone, that he was woudned. But it wasn't so long ago that they had actually had a conversation in anger, well, de Guarde had blamed him, and insulted him, so he refrained, not wanting to bring that up again.

"Yer worried I'll make yer late?"

"...No...well I'm not certain. It is you, who's said, that you 'ave ter wake up first, almos' as if warnin' me that ye might not be the one to wake early." He didn't wish for an argument though, or an accusation. He was trying to break the habit, not sure why just yet, but atleast a tad surer about the wanting it.

"I ...mean no offence, jus'.." Lieutenant Leat had been rather cross with him, and he didn't want to draw any more attention whatsoever to himself, that evening. ".. all I need is a word...that ye ain't... that's all..." Placing trust was also not a thing he'd wanted to give so easily.

Westdale nodded, "Fair enough. But I'll be up in time ter cut yer down, or somesuch."

He should have realised that although the trust was there-hopefully- it was small and maybe shouldnt' be joked around too much. He yawned this time, blinking his eyes open. "Yer've got another long day tomorrer, don't yer?"

HE meant it as a polite question, not at all as an accusation, and tried to show it as such.

To know he was certain not to oversleep - though he could've hoped that all the others would've considered to 'cut him down' the same - was good to his tired nerves.

"I don't know..." He admitted lowering his gaze. "Seems like each day stretches out longer than a Frog's gut, nowadays." Nights were somewhat batter, though hardly perfect.

"N' has me carry jus' as much as a full Frog would weigh'... left n' right." He offered a small smile. "...I hope it ain't nothing like today, tha's for sure." A day he'd surely never forget too. "N'... could yer....." He'd spent most of that evening talking to Westdale, his inhibitions in not trusting him to carry his dirty dishes to the sink had gone for the moment.

"Do me a favour..?"

He raised his eyebrows, blinking, "So long as yer not thinking I'll be yer slave, from now on." he smiled, "What with waking yer up, and checking yer've got a seat..." He let that idea trail off.

"..'s much as I'd not mind.. a personal servant, which suits and befits a young gentleman perfectly.. "And he was acting the part at the moment just as admiringly. "...you may need to wait a few winters before you may become me personal steward." With the smile and expression still in check, he shifts a little atop the chest.

"But,.. so... that ye nae despair..." he looked seriously at Westdale, then at last allowed a smile to creep up onto his face.

"....I'll ...ask yer to help me retie t' dressin' 'ere." He pointed his finger to it. "...up fer t' task.. ye think?"