Chat on the Foc'sle

"No, just sayin' that if you wanted to go back to your hammock, I don't mind. It's diff'rent, see," Thompson said. "Or we could find a spot below, where it's warmer, an' carry on talkin'. Up to you."

"Ah." He wasn't yet as sleepy that the hammock would sound like the best place to be, tempting though as it were. but below, where it was warmer could be better now that the fresh air has been breathed in.

"Where do yer think we could sit, if we went below fer t' warmth?" He asked.

Thompson shrugged. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately, he thought. "Dunno. Might have to be the hold, what with hammocks piped down a while ago an' folks wantin' to catch some shut-eye."

"Well that's fine with me, 's long as we'um not disturbed n'all. Not by sounds of snorin' though, since they'um mean well t' people ain't really awake." He grinned and slowly pushed himself to his feet. He held out a hand to the marine, offering him one to help him stand up.

"'s all if you don't mind stayin' up fer a lil' while longer, before we'um both go n'.. turn in our hammocks." He added with a soft nod.

"I'm all right for a bit longer. It's when I fall asleep you've got to start worryin'," the Marine said, allowing the younger lad to help him up. "Somewhere on the main deck, is it, then?"

"Somewhere so. Whenever they'um quiet n' leavin' us alone would be just fine." He straightened up and began for the companionway that would've taken them from the upper deck.

"If ye'um start sleepin, I'll just poke yer, remember. S' wot' you suggested when we came up here. Jus' if it don't work, I dunno wot' I'll do."

"All right. Just 'member to keep your voice down so's not to wake anyone up," Thompson saidm following the lad down the companionway.

"Since I dun' want ter see 'em up, I'll be sure t' whisper." He did already do so, just as they went down the companionway and made a few turns, and walked some more to find a place where they could settle and not be cold. He yawned and remembered how they'd have done so before. A ship wasn't a good place to confide in no friend, when so many ears could be there to try listen as well. And that's when they had to look for a spot, such as this too.

"There, would be a good spot?" He turned and he'd whispered as he promised earlier. No need to have some sailor either listening in, or grumbling about the boys who caused nothing but a ruckus and marines who did the same, even when not on the drill.

"Aye, looks good to me," Thompson said, keeping his own voice low. He settled down on the deck, leaning against the ship's side.

"Uh.. may I.. may I .." He paused, and then hesitated and looked down at Thompson, and he stood so for a while, undecided. Then with a quick and sharp shake of his head he was going to sit down.

"..There.. settled." He murmured instead, inviting for the marine to speak first if he so chose.

"'Course you can sit down," Thompson said, smiling. It was dark enough that he risked putting his arm round the lad. "So, what were we talkin' about, apart from me home, then? Or weren't we, and it was still us talkin' 'bout me home?"

He smiled, though the dark hid that mostly from view. It was the thing he'd wanted to ask and Thompson had known. It needed no words, and it was good comfort and they were left alone so he could enjoy it.

"We was talking 'bout yer home, n' how it was n' how yer dressed n'.. aye. " He smiled leaning close. A hug and it felt like there couldn't be anything wrong with the world and he was feeling that too often now. Could have well blamed Terpsy for it, or Thompson. "How many times have yer scraped yer knee n'.. n' have ye ever cried cos of summat like that?" He added, still in whisper and soft: "I'um mean.. if you want t' answer it. If yer don't, jus' say 'fcourse." He smiled.

"Scraped me knee? Dunno. Allus seemed to have bruises an' suchlike when I was young. Half the time I never knew how I got 'em." He shrugged. "The only time I 'member cryin' is when Punchy Wright hit me an' knocked me into the wall. That hurt, proper hurt." Though it hadn't been proper crying at first, and Punchy had strode right past him and out of the building before he could so much as gasp.

He hugged the man before he knew he had meant to, had a small tight hug that could've been that of comfort well enough. He was thinking of the older marine crying after he'd been hurt, trying to imagine him all younger , as a child even. He looked up and found that the darkness hid much of the man's face , concealing as well his expression as the detailed image that he was to change.

"Did he see you? Cryin' I mean, or had he gone or summat before you did?" He murmured softly, in a whisper he knew only Thompson could hear and he wanted no other anyway. "Is.. is'um good if they don't see it. Then..well then you'um winnin' a little. Because.." He nodded. "yer not givin' them t' satisfaction. Of seein' yer cry.. but, but if 'e saw you, well..sumtime happens that, too."

He smiled in the dark as he felt the boy's arms tighten around him. "He'd gone afore I quite knew what'd happened. I kept away from him after that. He was all right when he was sober, only I daren't risk bein' around when he was after he done that, in case he was drunk. He wasn't a real bully, not like some, though. He just had a real nasty temper on him when he'd had a bit to drink."

" Mm' yer did a smart thing! N' he didn't see you too, so that was good. Good cos' then, he couldn't have seen you cry." He smiled feeling a little sleepy, but more than that he felt at ease. It was another eventful day. It demanded work alright, effort, time and things happened that he hadn't expected, but it left him with a feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment. That and of course pride in having a shirt he'd so recieved from the marine.

"Sometimes Bullies make bullies ,yer know. 's sort of like learning t' ropes... jus' t' other way around. I mean. Um...ah, don't make sense, do it?" He shook his head and rested his head against the man since he could. "But he didn't make yer that. Jus' smarter than him, he did!"

"I think I know what you mean, lad. If some folks are bullied and that's all they know, it means they have to be bullies themselves to look big an' strong. Is... is that what happened to you, on your old ship?" He smiled as de Guarde rested his head against him.

"t' look big n' strong." He murmured in echo to the marine's words. "That too."

He was quiet then, staring ahead into the darkness. He could hear a mouse or probably a rat squeak. It scampered ahead of them then disappeared into an invisible hole. There were a few other beady eyes that observed them then all at the same moment they turned and ran.

"...Aye, I.." He began: "...There was,...could say so."

"You ain't a bully though, not inside, not really, are you?" Thompson asked. The words were quiet, non-judgemental. It seemed to the Marine that de Guarde had been transferred from his former ship almost in the nick of time; if he'd been there much longer, he would have become inured to the miseries of those around him and would have become a real, habitual bully, unable or unwilling to respond to the friendly advances of people around him.

"Inside? ..Who'd know. Do I?" He frowned. It had become a past time on his old ship. Once he felt the power that it brought him, the feeling of control that he could lack at other times it was like a thrill. More one did it, the more they wanted to. The ability to get someone in trouble was something he'd grown used to, something that didn't work at all on Terpsy.

"Wot' does it even mean inside, or out?" He then said, and perhaps it was more a question asked, than a musing of his own.

"Well, what I mean by inside is... well, the person someone is really, an' not summat they pretend to be. Like, um. If someone seems to be happy all the time, but is really sad inside 'em where folks can't see it, they're not really a happy person, are they? I s'pose what I mean is, was you pretendin' to be a bully 'cause that's how it worked on your old ship? At least, pretendin' at first, only you just found it easier an' easier to be a bully after the first few times?"

"..Well'um. " It was a sensitive and a very personal subject, so that it had the boy shift uncomfortably. An internal battle was fought, between the choice not to speak more on the subject and one to answer the question as it was asked.

At last one of the two won, and the boy relaxed somewhat, still quiet for a few longer moments before speaking.

" Didn't want ter be weak, yer know. Is no fun to be, n' if them knows, then you get lead about like a fool." He listened , but there was no other sound than the scatter of tiny feet as the rats again went on their way.

"N' ..is easier, was easier. They'd done it n' yer had to eventually. Wasn't yer place ter be soft! Do that, n' t' Tars figure it, wouldn' be no respect had." Or fear, where respect would not blossom.

"I'um.. ..if ye act like that.. they start ter believe it, n' then, it starts ter feel nice. Better than if ye'um at t' bottom of t' ladder n' others be doin' it instead of you!"

It was pretty much what Thompson had thought, then. "Ah," he said, softly. "I think... I think that if you could learn to... to be a bully like that, sort of put that on like you do your clothes, it'll be easier for you to learn to be who you are really inside. An' that's the... the you, that'll get to be a Terpsy."

"But .. I liked it. In time, it felt as right as seein' t' sun risin' in t' morning. "

" N' yer go n' look for wot' them do wrong, you see. Ter assert yerself or summat. S' like t' clothes became t' skin. N' yer can never shed the skin." And he wondered if it applied to himself as well. What if, being a bully had been what he was, but he hadn't known till he was given the chance.

"Well, that's 'cause you got used to it. Like... well, if you had a real uncomfy coat but had to wear it all the time, you'd get used to it, an' it'd start gettin' more an' more comfy, till you couldn't 'member a time when you hated it. But I think... I think you can learn to sort of take that old coat off an' be yourself more. Sort of." It probably wasn't a very good way of explaining what he meant, but Thompson didn't feel he was very good at thinking up ways to explain things.