22 May, First dog Watch - later in the evening

"Yer jus' bang it against t' floor long enough it makes a sound! N' if it don't make t' proper one, then yer bang a stick against it right next." Changing his mind he slipped of the companionway and knelt down to snatch the stick from the floor, where it rolled after it had been thrown and bounced.

"You're impossible," was Oxley's pronouncement as he finally buttoned his jacket correctly, on the second try. "Where's me hat got to?" He saw it, snatched it up and crammed it on.

"Oh c'mon," Andrew Shepherd cried. "Quit bein' a damned wet blanket. Ain't like yer gonna be on watch fer awhile yet anyway."

Tom Shepherd was nodding. "Aye. Too tight-spun ya are, Old Tom, an' that's fact!"

He twirled - or atleast tried to - the stick he'd found, seating himself down. It was a nice long stick, not too heavy, though he didn't know what sticks had to feel like to be proper and which would be a bad make. Couldn't have told the difference, if he held them a couple of times either. He tapped it on the chest by his side, only half listening the little bickering of the three drummers.

"Well, if it's one of you as is s'posed to be up there, you're runnin' a risk by not bein' there, y'know," Oxley pointed out. "Cross-Eyes ain't so blind as to see it ain't one of us, and then there'll be trouble." He shrugged, and turned to hunt for the drumstick he'd thrown earlier.

Tap.. tap tap.. tap tap.. tap tap.

It didn't sound anything like a proper drum roll or a proper sound for a tap, what with where it was done, but it amused the former midshipman enough to repeat it.

Tap... tappity tap.. and a few of the quicker sort. He grinned, and tried to twirl it all proper in his hand. It nearly fell back to the floor, before he caught a firm hold of it again.

Tap... tap tap tap... tap... tap tap... tap.

Oxley couldn't see it, but there was something tapping away behind him. He turned, to see de Guarde sitting there, playing with it. "Buckles! Lemme have that back!"

"Nuh." The boy blinked at Oxley, grinned and jumped of the sea chest, hiding both hands behind his back. "Wot' back?" He asked innocent.

"You bes' stop lookin' about n' have ye'self up to the drum!" He encouraged with a small grin. "Or dun' worry, like them Shepherds are telling yer!"

"You got me other drumstick. Lemme have it back. Please?" He held his hand out for it.

"I dun' have no drumstick of yours." He answered and took a step back. "Jus' one I found on t' floor. N' it ain't saying Oxley on that'un." He shrugged. "Can help yer find ye own, if ye'd like." Stubbornly holding onto the one that he'd played with a moment ago.

"Can't do much with one stick if you ain't got a drum," Oxley pointed out, reasonably.

"Got a seachest though. Will work fer starters n' practice!" He glanced at his 'drum' that was anything but adequate to make any sound that even remotely resembled that of a drum.

"Can use summat like a pot n' cover it with fabric. See if it works then." He added. He was pushing it a little, but atleast Oxley wasn't worrying as much about who would get in trouble when, topside. Which wasn't exactly his intention, but it worked.

The Tars had begun drifting back to their own messdeck, leaving Chase and Dyer behind to watch the argument over the drumstick.

"Better leave them two to it," Tom Shepherd said, nodding toward Oxley and De Guarde.

"Aye. I'll go send poor Berty back down," his brother agreed and headed back topside.

"A pot. That ain't no sort of a drum. Good luck with the one drumstick, an' all," Oxley said. It wasn't as though he needed the stick after all - he had spares. And the odd one from when Shriver had snapped one, ages ago.

"...Wot' do yer suggest then? Ain't like I could borrow a drum, bein' I ain't no drummer like you lot." When tired one was best to sleep, or if not, know when to have a laugh, stop the teasing and get on with it.

"N' as fer a drumstick.. hmph. I bet I could find another on t' floor sometime." He spoke with conviction.

"Well... you could ask to borrow a drum and learn some o' what we does," Oxley said, slipping the odd drumstick into place on his crossbelt, and standing with his hands on his hips. "Dunno what use you'd have for only one, though, an' we ain't likely to leave any lyin' around for you, neither, mate."

"Well Is not like it's hard ter figure where you're leaving them." The boy answered with a scowl. He crossed his hands over his chest, tapped his foot against the ground and saw that a few sailors remained or were slowly retreating. They did earn some looks from these men, a shake of one's head, and perhaps a shrug by some others. It wasn't anything uncommon for the young ones to argue, although the Tars and marines did that much less frequently.

"You wouldn't let me borrow a'one. Not a Tar n' not fer real, you wouldn't." He sounded quite certain about that.

Oxley shrugged, and stepped forward to put his arm around de Guarde's shoulders. "Well, you 'member what we was talkin' 'bout, with Mikey? Wouldn't it be much better if you could do summat with a drum?" he said, keeping his voice low. If they were going to do that, the fewer people who knew about it beforehand, the better.

What he was sulking about earlier, seemed to fade away with those words spoken and his hold on the stick became much more lax. "..It would." He murmured in answer, a whisper loud enough for the marine to hear and to be missed completely on the rest.

"...Would you?" He added trying to twirl the stick in his hand and nearly dropping it again. "...know som'one ter lend a Tar a hand?" He asked holding onto the stick, but probably Oxley would get it, if he'd just asked this time.

"'Course I would. It'd have to be done secret, like. An', can I have me stick back, now, please?" He grinned. It would be fun, having de Guarde stand there as duty drummer. It'd have to be when he wasn't on watch, of course... Maybe they could do it during one of the dog-watches... or one of the others would replace him halfway through.

They'd have to have one of the real Marine drummers nearby, in case the officers spotted it. There was n point risking real trouble just for a laugh, after all.

"It'll be fun. Have to tell the Shepherds, o' course. Sticks'd enjoy the joke, I know that."

With a sigh and a nod he held his hand out, the stick turned so that the front end was pointed at the Tar, and the one that a drummer would hold, at Oxley. Almost like handing over a sword or a knife. "Here you go."

Well it was the stick that belonged to Oxley, and though he didn't look as eager in parting from it, he did like the idea of being able to learn the drum, pull another prank, and have fun doing it! What could he do with one stick only anyway? Other than scratch his back, that is.

The feeling of merryness was infectious and so the boy was soon smiling with Oxley. "Secret, yep. Shouldn't anyone know! Not even t' ship's boys so'd.. we'd have ter do it down where nobody's doin' much lookin'." He was whispering that even now.

"..Should tell 'em or have 'em be t' first ter test it on?" He asked innocently, glancing over. "N' yer brother, he's looking awfully interested .. i think." He grinned.

Oxley hadn't thought of that. He did now, and grinned. "I was thinkin' of tellin' 'em," he admitted. "But testin' it out on 'em first... that'd be even better. 'Specially for Sticks. He likes a joke. Even if it ain't one he'd thought of."

He glanced at his brother, and offered him a little wave, which made Sam choke on his drink.

"A'right, you jus' need ter tell me when t' meet you. So's... how soon n' when, I need ter know when ter disappear from t' mess yer know. If you come fetching me, or you it could get suspicious and then people might start wonderin' wot' those boys are up ter. And your friend drummers.. oh, they'd be figgurin' it out too soon possibly!"

De Guarde laughed:" ..you've inherited all t' best.. in your family, didn't you?" At the sight of poor Sam chocking on the drink he'd been at.

"Could go up on deck for some of it - jus' so you can learn the rhythm without worryin' 'bout the drum, to start with. An' then... Dunno. Might have to take the drum down to the hold for you to practise on - though not on the skin, o' course. You'd have everyone panickin' properly if you tried to practise beatin' to Quarters on the skin."

He grinned. "An' Sam's all right. He's me older brother, see, an' better'n me." He looked up to his older brother, he always had.

"A'right. yer jus' tell me a day n' time.. n' i'um going ter be there.. least, as long as It's not my watch n' i have ter do t' holystonin' instead. Though you could do t' tappin' there.. .i'd jus' pretend not ter hear you." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"would yer think that'd get us in trouble?... workin' it all down, in the hold and actually soundin' a proper beat on t' skin?" He wondered how ill the rest of them would take it, but then decided that if they got caught their prank would not be able to be made true, so better not risk it. Any of it.

"...Better, I wouldn't say.. you two were quite equally matched all a'running there." He waved his hand. "N' you's a marine drummer.. .that'un is summat!"