Afternoon antics, Sunday

"Them boys. How good are they at climbin'?" He asked glancing at the ones that were gathered. There were certainly some that would be better and some that would be worse. "Generally speakin'? A*in't a landlubber 'mongst them, is it?"

"We ain't no lubbers," Danny Milburn said hotly, insulted, and Oxley rolled his eyes at him.

"They're good. As good as you are. Dunno that we've got any first voy'gers, though this far into a commi'sh'n, it wouldn't matter if we had. Terpsy's been commi'sh'ned a couple of years now, y'see. It'll be a proper race, though. Even if we had some lubbers, we'd split 'em up to make things even 'tween the teams, see."

"I didn't mean ter suggest that." Not for the most of them boys. " But glad ter hear it will be a proper race, that." And none of the boys freezing up in the shrouds and having to be coaxed back down.

Hopefully it would be sometime before the hammocks were piped up. "Think that Frenchy's still around?" The blasted thing escaped them a day ago, and though he'd nearly forgotten about him, the appearance of middies with a glass, reminded him a little of it.

"No idea!" Oxley said, grinning, looking around for the Shepherds. Ah - there they were, finally! "I got Sticks, and Jacky's got Tom," he said. "Makes it a bit more fair that way, see."

He looked around the group. "Which two want to be first then, seein' as me an' Jacky are goin' last?"

De Guarde nodded, seeing that they had two drummers to the other group's one. He didn't mind at all as long as the boys knew how to climb. They could well be the cook, just as long as they did! He looked about at the boys deciding that perhaps he ought to wait a turn if for no reason, just to see how it was done proper. Even if he knew the theory, he didn't want to commit to some unforeseen mistake just because he didn't see it first.

So he took a step back, as if that would leave space for one of their own boys to step forward and start.

In the end, it was Fingers and Sam who stepped forward first.

"'Member, you've both got to get into the top. None of this touchin' it only an' comin' back down. And the next one can't go till the lad in front of you's got both feet back on the deck." He looked between the two boys. "All right? Ready... Go!"

Both of them leapt for the shrouds, swinging themselves aloft like a pair of monkeys.

De Guarde stepped forward as a small line formed. They could not waste time in deciding who would go next. Not this time around. He joined the boys, watching as the two shot up from the deck. They were agile and able and soon cheers were heard all around. Boys cheering on their mate and holding their breath if it looked at all that he were lagging behind the other.

He found himself silently cheering for their own , urging him on, faster, quicker, but careful not to slip neither!

The shouting grew in intensity as both boys reached the futtock shrouds, swinging themselves backwards without a second's hesitation before scrambling into the top. Oxley thought Fingers was fractionally ahead as they each reached for a backstay to come back down, though he couldn't see anything in it as they reached the deck.

The second pair of boys shot up just as the feet of the first pair had touched the floor. De Guarde again regretted not remembering their names, but saw it as a less of an important fact. And the names were soon enough revealed, as the boys shouted them, with words of: "Come on! Come on! Faster! " And others of warning and encouragement.

He was next. He wasn't even sure how that happened, but there he was, feeling nervous and anxious while waiting.

This was Pete, on Oxley's team, against Terry, and the boys left on deck were soon chanting the name of the lad in their team.

Terry was back first, but it wasn't a long lead - Bobby had barely got his feet onto the bulwark to scramble into the shrouds when Pete landed back on the deck.

De Guarde slung himself into the shrouds as quickly as he were able. He bit down the worry for the moment only to advance as quickly as he could up the ropes. He was doing it faster than he could've thought safe. Much as if his life had been at stake there. An exhaggarration which might've not been that bad.

Up, at the top he turned quickly to begin his way back. It had been the first time that he'd have compeeted so with a team of boys. His own efforts depending of the other boy's as much as that of the boy's depended on him.

The wind shifted a little, a sharp breath jerking at the sails. It had nearly made the next step a rather precarious one. But no less successful.

At last he was down, both feet slapping firmly against the ground, the youth making sure he was out of the way when the next boy went climbing.

de Guarde and Tim both reached the deck at almost the same time, and the next two - Charley and Danny - were scrambling up the ratlines almost before the other tow had let go of the backstays they'd used. He grinned across at de Guarde. He'd done well, keeping up with Tim and making up the time that they'd lost.

De Guarde looked relieved and glad, grinning at Oxley. This was fun after all. It was fast, it demanded skill and it.. he liked it. He nodded briefly to Oxley before turning towards the next pair. Charley and Danny.

As cheers for either of the two boys became louder he joined them, this time not only in thought and mind but also in voice.

The two midshipmen were forgotten, wherever and whatever they might have been up to in that instant. It felt as if the happenings on the ship itself disappeared from mind, only the climb existing.

The next two went, though Oxley's team were trailing behind a little by now. The shouting had increased and those left on deck, Oxley included, were nearly jumping up and down with the excitement of it. They were catching up a bit, he was sure of it - it was Jemmy who was on his team, and the lad was a natural aloft. He didn't think it could get much closer than this, though he grinned when he realised the two Shepherd brothers were going to be racing each other.

He'd forgotten all about the two midshipmen, and the adult sailors gathered on the foc'sle for their afternoon off, who were grinning as they watched the lads racing aloft.

De G uarde glanced at the sailors that were observing their antics, while others came only to enjoy their free time. He scanned the faces and noticed how many looked entertained by their racing. He returned his gaze back to the boys climbing the shrouds. He'd cheered for a few moments, grinned as some of the boys who had already done the race were now panting with the effort.

When he looked back at the crowd, for a moment his eyes met with one of the sailors. Well, there were a few, but only that pair he had noted. Feeling an unfamiliar chill. He glanced in the direction of the railing where the boys have just exchanged places again, and as he looked back the sailor was gone. He searched the crowd for the face, but not finding it, he turned back to the race. It was close, a very close race! Who'd win was still up to debate and each of the boys still taking their turn in climbing.

Jemmy had caught the other lad up and swung himself easily into the top before reaching for a backstay to come down by. Oxley was sure there was nothing in it now - this was one of the closest races he could remember.

Both boys were gasping with the effort as they arrived back on deck, allowing the next two to start climbing.

It was going to be interesting when it was the two Shepherds racing each other. You couldn't get much closer than having twins against each other, after all. Even though Tom Shepherd was a bit bigger than Andrew, it wasn't enough to make it a real difference in something like this. It all depended on whether one of them had a head-start, no matter how small, over the other lad.

Thomas was still annoyed with his brother for taking so long getting his half of the sea-chest sorted out. And of course leave it to Andrew to manage to cut himself with the stubby knife he usually kept in the bottom of the chest. Andrew's hand was now firmly bound with a strip of old shirt, a mirror image of Thomas' hand - it would not do for either of the twins to have any sort of differentiating mark.

At least they'd made it topside in time to be included in the games. They were split up, naturally. Oxley had named the teams each Shepherd would be on, but it was amusing to see Jacky Fisher hesitate before pointing at Thomas. The twins grinned at each other as they joined their separate teams. Lucky for Jacky that he'd picked out the right Shepherd.

"Ready for it, lads?" Andrew asked, peering up into the rigging carefully. Thomas flexed his fingers and winced at the sharp throb in his hand. It wouldn't be fun hauling himself up the shrouds but there was no way he was going to let his brother get the best of him.

What were the two boys playing at all with how they were bound. He'd noticed the bandage a short while ago, though he payed it not too much attention till now. But they were near ready to go for it, nearly their turn, and so the covered hand stuck out like a sore thumb.

He thought back to Maturin, and wondered if the man had actually read the letter. Well, it would be even better if he did not. Would mean he needn't feel humiliated with having had to apologse or worse, have to do so in person. Actually, it would've been best that he did NOT read it. Splendid even. Well as long as no other officers got a hold of it, it was all good as well.

Oxley grinned as the Shepherds finally appeared topside. The smile turned to a puzzled expression as he noticed they both had a hand tied up with what looked like a strip of old shirt, or something. He was going to collar them afterwards and find out exactly what they'd been doing below.

"You'll be goin' up when these two get down," he said to them, glancing up to see them each reaching for a backstay to come back down to the deck. "You gonna be all right doin' it with a bandage on your hands, though?" He paused, closed his eyes for a moment and flexed his own bandaged wrist. "Can't believe all three of us've ended up wearin' a bandage," he said ruefully.

Thomas looked up toward the crosstrees, then back at his brother. "Sounds good to us," the twins chorused, unconsciously unifying their words. They grinned at the expressions on the faces of the ship's boys. It was always amusing when they timed their speech like that.

"Cut ourselves tryin' to fix somethin'," Andrew said in explanation, glancing his bandaged hand with a shrug.

"Pure bad luck," Thomas added and grinned. They exchanged glances again.

"We're ready to go, though."

Oxley was used to how the twins could say the same thing at the same time, and finish each other's sentences. He wondered if they did everything together, and glanced back to their hands. Seemed they did. Well, who would've thought they'd both manage to cut their hands?

"When they get back down and not before. Or at least, when the one on the same team as you gets down, anyway. Jemmy's on my team, Billy's on yours, Tom," he said. There was no use them getting confused as to who was on each team, after all. They were about halfway down now, and he grinned before yelling up at Jemmy encouragingly.

"Got it," the Shepherds said and moved toward the shrouds, ready to start their climb as soon as the other two boys made it back to the deck.

Oxley grinned, shaking his head a little, as he watched the downward progress of the two ship's boys. If they came down much faster, they'd take the skin off their hands, Oxley was sure of that.

They arrived back on deck within seconds of each other, and he yelled at Andrew as though the other drummer couldn't see for himself what was going on. "Go! Go on!"

And up they both went, grimacing and cursing at the stabs of pain in their injured hands. Thomas was just a hair heavier than Andrew but no slower for it. It was going to be a neck-and-neck race all the way up, at the very least.

Oxley had known that this would be close. You couldn't get much closer than having twins race each other, after all. He found himself almost jumping up and down, yelling with excitement, urging Andrew Shepherd on.