To offer an apology

He followed and moved easily in the shrouds, taking himself up as if he might've been born there. He let the drummer boy lead the way, though he could as well have gone and raced him.

"Thompson's me friend." He looked up again, paused a moment then continued. It really looked as if he'd done it without any effort, and once reaching the first 'platform' had used the sailor's way of swinging himself up and over. "You'd have been a powder monkey then possibly." He grinned. " Well ye'um chose like Thompson too. Picked a place ter serve in, n' a uniform t' go with it." His face looked bright, standing in his environment, well he was glad for it.

" Yer t' ones who rouse us up, n' then everybody's all worried like!" He added with a laugh, subtle but true.

He reached the maintop and paused. There was the second platform, the crosstrees, even higher up, but the maintop was empty at the moment and there wasn't really any need to go any higher, though Oxley wouldn't mind if de Guarde decided he'd like to up further.

"Folks gen'rally know we're goin' to end up in a fight a long time before we beat to Quarters," Oxley said, taking the futtock shrouds like any sailor and swinging himself onto the top. He frowned, curious. "How did you and Thompson get to be friends anyway?" he asked. It wasn't the sort of thing he'd expected to see, not really, though he'd heard of stranger things happening aboard ship.

"..t' twist of t' circumstances." He answered with a slight nod, looking upwards as if debating whether they could go another one up. He glanced to the drummer, surprised that he'd done it, not as a landlubber, but as an adequate sailor.

"Higher we go?" He asked first. After a moment of thought, for upon reflection he found it surprising that he had so formed a friendship. A marine and a midshipman, former or present, less wrong than that of a Tar and a marine, but still not as usual, he felt.

" I think it was much his doing..." He looked seriously at the boy. "Coming about at the right moment and raking..." He shook his head lightly. "He just.. refrained from boxing me ears..I guess. So it was either that or talking." He managed a small grin. "And he couldn't do t' hurtin' when he was on duty... guardin' me." He felt a bitter taste at what he had to say. Was it then, that he found to start trusting the man, when before he'd have wished him in trouble as much as any? He couldn't point his finger at the exact moment in which he had begun trusting, but he could say now, with a head more raised, that Thompson was his friend. Not as before when he asked him to keep silent.

"Yer don't approve?"

Oxley grinned and reached for the next set of shrouds up to the crosstrees. "All right then, higher it is," he said, and started climbing again.

He arrived at the crosstrees a few moments later, again taking the futtock shrouds back and around to reach the platform as a sailor would.

"I wouldn't say I don't approve, 'zackly, only that, well, it's a bit unusual, is all. And what was it he didn't box your ears over?" He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "Sorry - if me mouth runs away with me, I don't mean it to. Just, like I said, there's times I say summat without thinkin' first. An' if you don't want to answer that, you don't have to."

Joining Oxley at the higher platform he steadied himself. He glanced down at the small world below then briefly to where they've seen the boat go.

"I'm glad it finds at least your approval." The way his voice sounded it might almost have been a light tease. But that was De Guarde, so anything could be possible, really.

"If he did them, things possibly would have not turn'd as well." He glanced up, watching the soft whites of the clouds, that passed them in an unhurried, gentle manner.

"He speaks a'lot. Like you, jus' he keeps givin' advice summat less like yer. 's a good man." He flushed. Saying someone was a good man, why that was rather a compliment. "D' ye find it odder now.. that I'um a Tar?" Another time that he'd spoken an acceptance of something he had so loathed at the time of their fight. The good fresh air from the heights, might well have been doing him harm!

"I do not talk a lot." Then he gave a half-shrug and a lopsided grin. "Well, not so much as all that. Y'can't get to know someone without you talk to 'em a bit, can you, now?"

He sat down, leaning back against the mast and looking out at the horizon. "I dunno. It's prob'ly a bit less strange, now you'm a Tar, but it's still a bit out o' the ordin'ry, like." He looked up at the other boy. "And if you'd rather talk about me, or summat else, tell me. I don't mind you askin' question about me, after all." Or they could just sit here and stare at the horizon, but that could get a bit boring after a while.

"Ye have your words run out on ye. Yer mus' feel lucky not to have gotten cross with Johnson." At whose mention he made a face. He hadn't said more of him, for as he trusted Thompson, he was yet to fully entertain the trust in the drummer lad.

An offer granted, hadn't been ignored though, and with his feet dangling free in mid air, he'd turned his thoughts to what he really wanted to know. But first: "Less strange bein' ..wot I am now? But ain't natural ordinar'ly, that ye n' t' Tars mix, isn't it? With wot's a part of ye job, n'all."

"It's diff'rent, with Sergeants and Corp'rals, you know. You can't have a conversation with 'em, like you can with other folks. So I don't have that. Though I've crossed Corp'ral Johnson's hawse afore now." He shrugged.

He glanced at the other boy before looking back towards the horizon. "No, it ain't nacherel, ordinarily. But that ain't to say it couldn't ever happen, of course. I mean, I'm friendly with the other lads, like Danny Milburn, who's a ship's boy, as well as the Shepherd lads, who're in the Marines like me." He swung one foot idly.

"They're in t' marines.. though..n' ye do seem like some merry group here on Terpsy. Some alas.. not within' t' said quota." He glanced to the horizon and more out of habit and little actual reason, he'd swiped a glance left and right along it, then towards land where they've left their surgeons, surgeon's mates and all.

"Think they're already at work there?" He asked motioning in the direction. Then turned to observe the horizon again, squinting his eyes, as if trying to pick out more of what he was seeing. "Are t' sticks also King's or yers?" The question had been a random one, but his mind was a sure small bit distracted.

"The Shepherds are Marines, right enough. Danny Milburn ain't, nor's Johnny Stenhouse, or Fingers Berringer, an' we mess around with them often enough." He looked towards the shore. "Prob'ly. The boat's drawn up on the beach anyway, can you see it?"

The boy's last question made him look at de Guarde, a slight frown on his face. "Ain't never thought about that. They're Government property - which is the King's, ain't it - right enough, though it's little they'd care about 'em, I daresay."

He shifted a little missing his glass. Would've made all their sightings much more clearer. Though possibly, they would not found themselves up here, if he was the owner of a glass and a dark blue coat. ...Well, that depended too, so who knows.

"I think I can make it out over there aye..." He shrugged. "...Think, he'll live? The doctor." He paused and stood and again looked to the horizon, he scratched a hand against the cloth.

"I dunno. Folks keep saying that Doctor Maturin can practically do miracles and suchlike stuff, but I ain't never seen things work out like that. I hope so, though. What do you think?"

He couldn't quite believe he was up here with de Guarde. It had only been the night before last that they'd fought over something stupid, and yet here they were, being friendly and talking away about all sorts of things. He looked up at the other boy, who was standing to look over towards the beach.

"How are you findin' it - being a Tar, I mean? Or would you prefer to talk about me? Or summat else, of course."

"I don't know the doctor. I hope to trust the judgment of others who'd put their trus' in 'im." He shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly. "If they are correct, then our doctor shall fair better. That or if we are in luck and the injury to our doctor wasn't as grave as we'um first though it was." What was an interesting thought to the matter was that at the present moment he guessed, there were no surgeons, surgeon mates or such, aboard. They were practically without aid, should one have an injury caused to them by either clumsyness or bad luck.

"....I don't like it." He murmured and averted his gaze from land, rather studying the horizon again, as if he were a lookout, though neither of the two boys was. Certainly not at present.

" Well, imagine that.. ye was a drummer boy one time.. n' then they stripped yer of ye coat n' took yer drum n' told ye t' be a mere powder monkey. How'd ye feel?" He bit at his tongue. Did it sound as if he were complaining about the captain's judgement? He couldn't give ground to Oxley, that he would fancy something of the sort. Still, it was as he felt.

He should have known better than to ask that, he thought. "I..." He sighed. "Shouldn't have asked that. Didn't mean to upset you or nothin' like that. I just meant... Well, I dunno quite what I meant. And I don't rightly know what I can think of to talk about, with you. Mebbe you'd best think of summat, 'cause for sure I can't."

"...you've upset me during the night.. it is true... and,.'s a topic that ails me." He bit at his lip, in part he wished to stray from it and in part he wished not to show himself as weak and so easily hurt as if he were a child. He wasn't one, whether a Tar or a midshipman.

"I don't like wot' I was made to be, nor the uncertainty of my future. I have pride that disallows me from ... from writin' home n' appealin' fer aid." He flushed red and looked away from Oxley. He was more hesitant and yet decisive that he would keep his cool and also not act as a sad spoilt brat.

"...I do...learn' summat ..From t' other Tars." He shook his head again. "..is jus'. I miss me uniform." Perhaps it was wrong to speak of it after all, for he had felt sad and anxtious in a less positive way.

"I... I'm sorry," Oxley offered, awkwardly. "It was stupid of me to ask that, and I wasn't thinkin' right. I really honestly never meant to upset you, or nothin' like that."

And now it just felt strained and awkward again, and he didn't know how to put it right.

"What sort of things d'you talk about with Thompson, then?" he asked, trying to find a better subject for them to discuss.

He lowered his gaze. " 's not yer fault. Not this time." Oxley asked and his words had been probably running ahead of him again. He'd apologised and that made it better. People could make mistakes. After all, he was a prime example for that!

He felt some of the burden lift with the question and he let a faint smile to his face before answering: "..All sorts of things. Sum'times he's jus' teachin' me.. n' sometimes is about him. Like, how's about knowin' why you came ter join t' marines, s' how I got to know sum' things like that of him too." And he'd asked when he was still in his blue coat.

(and now before it turns light, i better depart and crawl into me bed! Good night and see you tomorrows, I hope!)

"Teachin' you? Teachin' you what?" Oxley asked curiously, trying to imagine what sort of things Thompson could possibly teach someone who was, well, gentry. With schooling and everything. He didn't think de Guarde had been learning drill or anything like that. Maybe it was something else - he seemed different now to how he'd been when he first came aboard, and maybe that had been something to do with Thompson.

(Night! See you tomorrow, though I'll only be on for a very short while around lunchtime because I'm working in the afternoon. Boo!)

"Why, just drill of course." The boy answered with all seriousness. "He's a marine, is he not?" He held his expression for a moment, serious, convinced, then grinned, revealing he had only joked.

" Well.." He began instead, with a small chuckle on his lips.

"'bout Terpsy, 'bout things. Not t' ship n' how she sails. That he can't know much. A Tar would, more 'tleast. Not her rigging either." He tried to convey his meaning and looked at Oxley. " 's other things. Um' ..'s her being. Like..." He crossed his hands over his chest. "How I should give it a chance for example. Not judge but listen n' talk n' learn. That's one. N' more. I could say he is drillin' that in me mind. But that would jus' be a play o' words."

He paused and then grinned and added: " Though i did learn a few tricks of a marine also!"

"I think I know what you mean," Oxley said, slowly. "You mean he's teachin' you to be a Terpsy." He leaned back against the mast. "I think... I think it won't happen overnight, like. You won't wake up one day and be a Terpsy. You might wake up one day and realise you are, but that ain't the same."

He was glad he'd apologised, he thought, though it had cost him to do it. He hadn't realised what the other Marine had been encouraging de Guarde to learn, but he'd had an almost impossible task. Only, it wasn't, was it?

"I think you're learnin' it real well," he said, and looked back toward the beach. There was a flash of white and he sat up. That was a sail, dammit, just coming round the headland there. He pointed. "What d'you make of that sail there?"

"I don't think it would be that easy." He agreed. He was just about to smile, when the sail had been spotted, and followed the indicated direction. He studied it a moment and then his merry disposition changed to what could only be described as a lot less 'boy up in the masts' like.

He stood, steadied himself. He remembered how the last time he had spotted sail he failed to notify the officers. He'd instead busied himself with a sailor doing wrong. How different it now was!

"Don't look like one of ours." Not by first glance, and though he couldn't see the colours yet, he nudged Oxley.

"SAIL HO!" He did call so by duty this time, though the captain and officers shall certainly learn of Oxley's discovery as being Oxley's.

And more quietly he said: "Good sightin'." Then with a grin added: "What irony." And added no more, but it did amuse him that a pair of boys, of whom both had togehter a pair full of better eyes of sight were to have to come to the discovery.

(ooc - didn't quite know how to do it, but all credit does go to Oxley x.x and hope i didn't do any mistakes here! XD Anyhow, be back very soon, just need to change places - er compies and err some driving inbetween! )

"Didn't think it looked like one of ourn," Oxley said. There was something... different, about the cut of the sails or something. She was coming round the headland, which was why they hadn't spotted her before, but she was still some way off, and Terpsy was sailing away from her, too, having altered tack. "And if she ain't ourn, she's prob'ly Frog."

What were the Frogs doing out here? The Victorious he could understand, sort of, but that had been one frigate. This was the second French ship in two weeks, or whatever it had been.

And de Guarde nudged him before saying, "Good sightin'." And that made Oxley blink in surprise before grinning. He'd never thought to receive a compliment from de Guarde, of all people.

"Thanks," he said. "Though it was your idea to come up here; wouldn't have seen her so soon from lower down, I don't think."

Jonny Seward was the first one up the mast after the deck hail, closely followed by the newcomer Midshipman Slater. The maintopman peered suspiciously at De Guarde before settling himself comfortably in the crosstrees.

"Where'way?" He asked the two lads already there, just before Slater appeared. And what the hell was De Guarde doing way up here with a Marine?

"Over there," Oxley said, pointing towards the sail. "Jus' comin' round the headland, there. 'S why we couldn't see it afore."

And here was Mister Slater, too. It was starting to get a little crowded up here now with four people, though three of them were still only lads. Maybe it was time to head back down.

De Guarde knuckled his brow at Slater and shifted some so that there was more space for the two new arrivals. He'd noticed the look he had been given by Seward, yet thought to ignore it. Better that. With masked curiosity he looked at the new Midshipman. He'd seen his face here and there, but had barely learn't his name.

And then his gaze was on the ship. Possibly a Frenchy by all indications.