On the Gundeck

"At Corporal's feet?.. you speak no truer a thin'." He nodded, for he had fear of the man and some earned respect in that aspect. Which was only growing, as time passed. Being clipped around the ears added to his lessons on when to be quiet and when not. And this Shriver dropped right infront of the man, who had been angry solely for a chirp of a boy?

He shook his head. " Well I understand why he'd be complainin' 'bout... um.. t' corporal. not yer sar'nt tho'." He glanced quickly to see that they were still safe to talk.

"Yer know wot' he was 'afore he joined?"

"Dunno. Think he was a prize-fighter, but we don't know - that's only a rumour. What we think, I mean. I ain't heard him say to anyone." He shrugged. "We tried to be friendly to him when he first come aboard, but he won't have none of it, so we let him alone now. He seems to like it thataway, anyhow. Dunno why, like. Me, I'd rather have friends to talk with than not have anyone."

"Maybe he'd done summat bad when he was not a marine yet.. n' went ter join' t' escape bein' in trouble? Sor' of knowin' that if he goes on a ship he'll be well away n' out of sight. Though. .I dunno.. wit' all t' training." He smiled. "'s nicer ter have sumone aye." He agreed wholeheartedly, but then he was a young one and had a long life before him if a cannon would not find him, and hopefully if his death was not by the end of a noose as those sailors had said. One who escapes drowning, n'all.

" Though I hadn't thought I'd be even talkin' with someone who'd planted a black eye on me, yer know." He smiled and refused to remind himself that there was the thing of his slops. Now wasn't the time, not with how the mood was rather light even with the danger of a Frenchy, if there was a Frenchy at all.

Oxley touched his own eye. "I can't believe it, neither. And mebbe he did do summat bad - wouldn't put it past him, the way he is." He shrugged and rubbed his shoulder where the bruise de Guarde had given him was still a little tender. "Havin' friends is allus nicer'n not havin' 'em, ain't it?"

Not that de Guarde would really know about that, he supposed, still trying to get his head around the idea that he'd never had a single person he could a friend before coming aboard Terpsy. That went a long way to explaining his relationship with Thompson, though the drummer still wondered why he hadn't tried making friends with folks his own age. Everybody had some idea of how to make friends, didn't they?

"Well, s' a lot more talkin' ter be done, if yer have sum'one ter listen n' talk back. ..ain't like with wot yer a middie n' talk at people." As much as bullying gave a feeling of strength and made it feel justified and good for atleast a short while, it wasn't a natural pleasure. And if a man did talk back, it would've meant he was in greater trouble rather than exchanging the pleasantries.

"But is also.. havin' ter be a bit more vulnerable like. ... if yer say summat to someone, Like me ter you, that can be used like.. n', that's t' scary part." He bowed his head a little, at admitting such a worry. In a way, being a friend there was atleast a little of the control that one lost. And for someone who had connected the loss of control with something rather bad, the feeling could well have been unsettling.

"Aye. But, remember that the other person's feelin' the same about you - works both ways, see." He tried and failed to think of something to say to de Guarde that would show what he meant. "Talkin's allus best when you know the other person'll listen to you, but then you've got to listen to them as well. Fair's fair, after all, ain't it?"

"Well if yer talk, n' I listen.. then 'tis yer who is... um, bearin' yeself, so to speak. Yer mind n'all. So, is no trouble to let that, and perhaps better even so. Is fair, as you said." He glanced at the cannon as if expecting it to know how soon that it may be used, and if at all. He wondered if they would realise that their enemy was not an enemy at all. But who knew, they certainly didn't just yet.

" 's there any rules like.. even common sense kind? Like as in rules we have in t' navy.. jus' fer that?"

"Rules? For bein' friends?" He didn't gawp at the younger boy, though it was a close-run thing not to. "You are new at this, ain't you? Wouldn't say there's rules, as such. Unless you can put rules on what you an' Thompson have got, which looks like bein' friends, to me." He shrugged helplessly. "It's all what I said earlier, there's sharin' and talkin' and listenin' and a bit of give-an'-take on both sides. And there's fun. Lots of fun." He was very definite on that point; he might be almost grown-up, but he didn't see why things suddenly had to be boring just because he was sixteen, going on seventeen.

Well, he thought he understood and it helped that he'd had Thompson as friend. For there he'd tested or rather had done what they now spoke of. "Alright!"

He looked over his shoulder again and then at Oxley. "Wot' d' ye drummer boys do fer fun, when yer not on duty n' t' like? That is.. other than wot'.. uh, everybody does, no matter from which profession!"

"Talk. Play cards. Go skylarkin' with the other lads." He indicated the other powder boys, waiting by their own guns. "How'd you think I learned to get aloft like that?" There were all sorts of things, practical jokes among them though he wasn't sure de Guarde would approve of those. Well, maybe he'd learn to in future - you never knew, after all. "And there's the usual stuff of lookin' after kit. Pipeclaying crossbelts and the like."

"Aye. n' shinyin' up your brass plates right? Do ye have ter do much of additional care on yer drums?" He asked for he'd known that the muskets had to be cleaned, but then one did fire with them and salt water was awful to anything of the kind of material. Drums weren't the same, he thought, but surely they needed some tender care, which would see them through more years.

"I thought ye were a natural." He added with a silent chuckle. No need to draw attention, afterall.

Aye, polishin' all bits of brass and black-balling shoes and stuff as well as pipeclaying crossbelts and all that sort of thing. And you can't leave the skin of a drum under tension, 'cause it's no good for it." He grinned. "Dunno about a natural. Even birds have to learn how to fly, don't they?" He remembered watching a family of sparrows one spring morning as the parent birds tried to persuade the young ones that flying was fun. They'd ended up pushing one out of the nest. It had seemed so startled to flap its wings and not land thump on the ground.

" Aye, that they do, n' kittens to crawl before they walk." He smiled. "N' then later ter catch prey. Hone their skills before they can venture out n' live of their own or of their masters."

And this gave him an idea, though it could as well have been a silly one. "Before yer came aboard fir's n' then this ship, ye had any animals yer could call ye own, at home?" They were successful in keeping their minds rather far from the danger that they might soon face. As much as it could've been distracting them from a purpose, it actually had a far better one. Neither would worry , neither think of the blood and gore that followed each such encounter when two ships came clashing.

He shook his head. "Would've liked summat, but Dad wouldn't hear of it. He was allus in such a temper anyway, it was best not to upset him any more. Though we had some birds nestin' nearby, and I used to watch them all the time. They was only sparrows, but it was the closest thing I ever had to somthin' like that." He grinned. "And here, I like it when Miss Emily comes to pay a visit. She's real friendly-like, you know."

"She hasn't been full' trustin' ter me when I firs' saw her." Well, that feline might've sensed something or perhaps she was just a smart creature that could put one and one together. She hadn't clawed him though if he remembered right.

"She's shed her fur on Mr. Leat's coat." He murmured and thought that he liked that feline even more now. If there was some time and once the battle if there was any, was over, he'd make sure he found something that he could give to the cat. Hadn't seen her in quite a while now, though with the ship having so many dark places, he wasn't at all surprised.

"Sheds fur all over everythin', she does." And, though he couldn't say it, nobody had properly trusted the other boy when he first came aboard. "You like animals and suchlike, then?" he asked. Maybe he'd had animals instead of people when he was younger. That wasn't such a strange idea, really.

"Yes." He nodded in affirmative, his face brightening a little, and his smile broadening quite a good deal. "We've had some at home, and Sophie, wos' me cat, she had little ones.. little kittens! N' she chose an odd place ter have em in. Mother didn't like it one bit." He blushed as he was carried away with explaining, when he was but asked a simple short question which required but a yes or no answer.

"Well... aye. I like em. Don' ye?"

"Cats do the oddest things when they'm goin' to have kittens. Thompson tole us once that a cat near as anythin' had her kittens on his sister's bed. And yeah, I like cats real well. 'Specially when they're so friendly and all as Miss Emily is. She comes a-visitin' us a fair bit, if Mister Leat's on deck or somethin' like that. Seems to like the uniforms." He shrugged. "All the girls like a smart uniform, see, and she's no diff'rent."

Again he had caught himself moments before he would laugh out loud and earn them both a stern look from an officer. He did grin instead: "Ah, if all lasses were as simple as that.. n' as undemandin' too!" Miss Emily was satisfied with a mere bit of a biscuit, or a fat plump rat. Needn't have her taken to balls, or buy her the finest of dresses. Nor did she act as if she were a spoilt beasty.

"Cats are wonderful creatures! There's summat noble in them, how they carry themselves, n' with all that. Well, Miss Emily is a proper lady, no? So that says it all!"

"You know a lot of girls?" Oxley asked, and looked embarrassed. "Sorry, stupid question. "Cats are... well, cats. Ain't no law for 'em. They walk like they own the place. And aye, Miss Emily is a proper lady. She's an officer's lady, ain't she? Spends most her time in Mister Leat's cabin when she ain't paying social calls to us or goin', well, hunting."

He was out of his depth when it came to discussing girls; he'd known very few before he enlisted and afterwards, he'd not had the opportunity. Besides, they were highly-strung emotional things, weren't they?

"Well I..." And he was glad that Oxley hadn't pressed with his question. He couldn't admit that his opinion hadn't had a strong base.

" She's jus' secretly tryin' ter get ye'all in trouble, havin' cat hair on yer uniforms." He liked the feline even if they hadn't much met on terms that would be more favourable. It wasn't half bad though if his memory did not betray him.

" Well.. n' she does have a fine taste. Is the luxury sor' of, that she strives fer... though if she were quite the creature of promotion, she'd probably have sat atop our cap'n's coat!.. that is, she hasn't yet, did she?"

"I never heard of her sleepin' anywhere near the Captain's coat," Oxley said, imagining the scene. "He wouldn't be at all happy, even if it was his workin' rig rather'n his best uniform." The only officer who would put up with her doing that was Lieutenant Leat. And even he got pulled up for a messy jacket sometimes. But then, most of the Marines had been hauled over the coals at some point for having cat-hair all over them.

Cats. Tom Shepherd shook his head. "Bleedin' pests, cats," he said. "Ain't knowed one what was any worth, 'cept fer tearin' yer hands to ribbons. Or puttin' all its hair onto yer coats."

"Perhaps she knows that there are limits to which even she has to abide. Such as, a cap'n bein' that much a higher than us all." Or Emily hadn't yet had the opportunity to lie on the captain's coat. It could also be, there were still enough marines to go about and use as bedding.

"Oh... surely she didn't dare ter' lie on Shriver's coat as well?"

He heard the complaint about cats then and blinked at Shepherd. "You don't have a fine friendship with miss Emily, d' ye?" He glanced at the lad's hands as if expecting them covered in cuts and lines of red all over.

"Don't think I've seen Miss Emily scratch a man yet," Oxley retorted, grinning. "And she won't go lyin' all over your coat if you don't leave it where she can curl up on it. He shrugged. "I ain't heard that she's tried it with Shriver. Likely she's sensible enough to steer a long ways clear of him."