22 May, First dog Watch - later in the evening

"So long as they'm white it don't matter where you got 'em from," Oxley said. "You could cut 'em down a bit - they's a bit big, like. But, aye, they'd do. And if you don't want to cut your hair, you'll have to get it put in a proper queue, like some of the older Marines wear. I can't do it, though, 'cause I dunno how. And... ah, bother. You'll need a hat, too, an' a stock."

"I'll have to ask Thompson that. " He touched his neck and then the top of his head as if only then realising he was missing a hat. "Oh, can you give me t' sticks back again, ter try to do this dinner time rhythm." He murmured. ".. Hn... n' so we have.. slops that need shortenin, n' a shirt. We need t' gaiters, n' the hat n' the stock n' coat, n shoes too, if those can be borrowed. Is there anything else that we're missin?"

He touched his hair, where the queue should be when they were done. "I can ask Geo.. Thompson ter do that. He has a queue himself n' he can do one good sort! Maybe I can teach you how to do it sometime. A proper marine queue." He laughed good naturedly but only because he found it funny that a Tar would teach a marine how to make a marine's sort of queue. Of course Oxley wouldn't need one. "...Why do you have your hair short, anyhow?"

"'This dinner time rhythm'. Oh, you'll make a wonderful drummer, callin' it that," Oxley said,, handing the sticks over. "It's called, Roast Beef of Old England, silly." He shrugged. "Don't think there anythin' else. Got a crossbelt you can use, though it might take a bit o' pipeclayin' afore it'll pass an inspection... or you can use my usual one an' I'll wear me old one."

He leaned back against the carronade slide. "I got me hair short 'cause when I listed they was still wearin' hair in queues, but the captain of me first ship said he wanted all his Marines to have their hair short, 'cause of the jacket collars. An' I ain't grown it since, 'cause nobody's tole me I have to. There's rumours goin' round that we're all goin' to get told to have short hair anyhow, one o' these days."

"Hmph. Dinner time rhythm.. Roas' beeef of Ol' England. Now you tell me which comes ter be said quicker!" He adjusted the grip on both sticks and turned a bit so that he could tap on the cloth as he heard it be done. First with the proper slow start. It was easier and better that he started with a pace that he could comfortably do, than to tap quick, miss beats he shouldn't and mess it all up.

"Say.. if I learn how to pipeclay it could, would you let me borrow the old one, so I pipeclay it in me free time. Borrow some of t'... well the stuff for it. Wouldn't want you to not pass inspection and get yelled at because your belt was in a terrible state, when in truth It was me wearing yours and you an old one."

He tried again, this time it was all faster done, almost at the correct rhythm and pace to what Oxley had shown him.

"Silly. ..short 'air is jus'... well, don't it get easier into your eyes than long one would? You can't 'zactly bind it up into anything so with a bit o' wind and you're made blind, no?"

"Nah. It gets too long, an' I shove it under me hat till I can see the barber an' get him to cut it for me, don't I?" Oxley said. "An' if you want to say it quick, you just call it Roast Beef. Don't have to give it the whole long name, not when folks know you'd talkin' about drum calls, see."

He shrugged. "Could do that, I s'pose. Or you could wear me new one an' I can pipeclay me old one... Folks won't know what it is I'm workin' on, after all, but they'd think it awful queer if you was to go pipeclayin' summat. Depends when we want to do this how long we've got to get me old one back up to scratch, that's all." He frowned, thinking of something. "Or... if we are goin' to let the Shepherds into it, mebbe we can all work on it a bit when we've got time. One crossbelt looks the same as any other, arter all."

"Your new one? Well if you think doin' extra work for t' sake of a new drummer boy who don't know 'nothin' 'bout pipeclayin' yet.. slavin' away by your ol' belt for hours and hours is no trouble, I won't stop you." He continued to tap on the cloth. " Beefer. That's what I'm goin ter call it."

He said the last out of the blue and then turned around. "Good thing you lot keep ol' stuff with you.. even when you don't need it no more, else.. how would we even be able to pull this off without strippin' one of you three!"

"Don't know how much work the thing needs. And it's worth keepin' hold of stuff, 'cause who knows when you might want it again. Like... if summat happened to me new crossbelt, at least I've still got me old one I can use if I can't repair the new one or summat." He stretched, then pulled his legs in a little closer, and snorted. "Beefer. You do come up with some strange stuff. Or not so strange... though I think if we tried strippin' one of the Shepherds, we'd have to strip 'em both, or fight his brother off while we did it."

He put his hands behind his head for a moment, then straightened up. "You want to learn summat else yet?"

"Ha, I'll hold one Shepherd and you strip the other.. or we tie one into his hammock, have the other held onto, so we can actually strip him.. and you do it, i hold him.. or would it be better the other way around? I could only make him not move so much if I used t' grip i had on yer wrist. Trus' me.. that one makes anyone trying to.. well swing their fist on you, in theory.. not be able to!"

He grinned. "With Beefer n' Roll, I'd like t' learn some more yet, yep! Need summat to practice while bored stiff on watch or in t' dark of the night.. when one can't close n' eye fer it!"

The picture of holding down one Shepherd and stripping the other made Oxley laugh. "Don't think they'd let us get away with it," he said when he could talk again. "S'pose we'd better learn you the other 'portant thing you need to know as a drummer. There's all diff'rent ways of doin' this - most ships have summat like Heart of Oak for it. We've got a drum-roll, which you know, with two taps. Sounds better than tryin' to remember a rhythm when you's nervous as all hell." He took the sticks back. "I'm talkin' 'bout beating to Quarters. Goes like this," he said, and demonstrated.

"We'll just have to stick around t' big marines or tars or even t' officers. I bet they wouldn't dare do anything if we had some of them on our side coverin' our back!" He laughed with the lad imagining the merry scene and not so merry endings, probably.

"Always wondered how that'd be done." He whispered as he listened to the taps and watched the hands work. It looked a bit like magic when done by a skilled hand. The sound one could feel, not now as much though since it was muffled. He could imagine it though, he'd remembered well enough as hearing it before.

"Beatin' to Quarters. Ain't shortening that one." He smiled somberly. "Two taps." He added quietly.

"It's a drum-roll for a count of... four, an' two taps, repeated, till everythin's cleared away. You can tell when it's all done, 'cause you'm standin' on the gundeck, see, and when all the guncrews are in place, you don't have to do it no more. It's easy 'nough, that. You try," he said and passed the sticks back over.

"Hmm... so if we are slow you lot are dead tired by the time all's done? " He asked taking the sticks in hand again. Atleast he didn't waste half the time just adjusting them in his palms no more. He held them not too firm as he began , this time at a quicker pace right from the start. He tried to remember the Roast Beef and the first Drum roll and now add the beating to quarters to his number of learnt rhythms.

"Like this then, is it?"

"Yep, like that. Only, the drum roll ain't quite so long between the taps. Not that anyone else s goin' to notice, o' course, not when they'm runnin' around like chickens with their heads cut off!" He grinned at his pupil, proud of the other lad's accomplishments. "You's doin' really good there, Buckles, honest. Last time I tried to show anyone, he was so slow to get it, I nearly wrapped a drumstick round his neck."

The lad felt himself grow with pride his chest puffing out a little at the good compliment from Oxley. Sure his cheeks were a bit red, but it was all a good sort of reason. He had to rub his jaw, because he was really grinning too hard.

"Hush you, we ain't running like headless chickens.. not 'least my mess isn't!" And then the boy added:" ..glad you're not wrapping no sticks around me neck.. or that i'm not givin' you any good reason for it... would be an awful waste for a stick, ter be ruined like that!" He peered curiously at the boy though:" So who was this... daft .. em.. slow pupil of yours?"

"Well, they ain't only 'cause we ain't akcherlly beatin' to Quarters," Oxley retorted. "You do that on the drum, an' just watch the dust fly!" He grinned and leaned back. "He was a kid 'bout your age, bit younger mebbe. His dad had bin a M'rine, so he joined up, as a drummer, an' they sent him off to sea with us in Atalanta, half-trained. He was a good-natured sort of kid, but he couldn't get the hang of drummin' at all, for ages. Someone wanted us to teach him to play the fife, but he wouldn't've bin able to do that. Well, not till he was a bit older, if then. Name of Patterson, he was. Nice little bugger. Just couldn't keep the same time two minutes runnin'."

"Hmm. Poor sod. 's not easy being a marine drummer if you've got trouble at keepin' the rhythm n'all. Though I understand tis hard." He nodded. "So, in the end.. he did succeed, didn't he?" He asked. "Or did you send him to be a private marine 'stead?...how do you even pick who's a marine n' whose not, though? That is, a marine drummer and who's a marine private? It's all about what age you are? Could no older man be a drummer or no younger a private?"

"It's a bit to do with age. I know there are some drummers who are proper grown-up men. But if a boy joins, he can be a drummer or a boy Marine - though I'm not sure what they do, 'zackly. Never served with one of 'em, see. But they ask if you's any good at music or anythin'. And he did manage it, 'venchally. Though they were goin' to make him be a boy Marine if he couldn't get it. It was that and a lot of practisin' that made him get it, in the end. You could be a drummer for real, if you joined the Marines. You got no problems with it." He leaned back against the carronade slide and put his hands behind his head. "I'm goin' to have to watch out for me job, ain't I?" he said, smiling.

"We've already established that we'll be having four drummers. No need to be fearing I'll take your job.. just your drum n' sticks." He winked to show he was only joking and that, as much as he enjoyed drumming, he would not take that job out from under nobody's feet. He felt flattered to be told he could do it though!

"So, anything else ye will be showing me now? N'...will you tell me when I'um good enough ter try drummin' on the shell of that?" He nodded. "The drum that is. ..wonder where you'll be getting a stock though. Or do you have one nicely worn in? Would want to have that one then. All comfortable and all, that!"

"We've prob'ly got a nice new stock you can wear," he said, grinning. "Have to talk with the Shepherds, though. An' I can't think of anythin' else you need to know right now. Unless you can think of anythin'. You know the things we use the most, anyhow, which is what matters, after all." He sat up. "When're you s'posed to be goin' on duty? 'Cause we can find one of the Shepherds now - or both of 'em - an' show em what you've learned, if you want to."

"Nice new stock? Oh darn! You want me ter suffer t' stiffness of a fresh new thing such as that, don't you?" He was grinning too though, and was laughing a little with the idea of what they would soon be up to.

"I only need ter be on watch once this one's over, so we should have a little while left." He stood scooping the cloth up and holding it to the lad, so that he could store it wherever he intended to. It surely couldn't be left there though anyway.

"Best hurry now that we've decided they're in on this!" He pointed at Oxley. "N'.. sure, i'll try jus' I hope none of them two lads laughs! Or they're gettin' t' stick.. where they least want it!"

"We all have to put up with new stocks, ain't no reason you can't. And then you'll properly be one of us, see," Oxley said. This whole idea was just brilliant... he couldn't think why they hadn't done it sooner Oh, right. None of the other ship's boys could actually manage to pull it off. De Guarde could at least stand straight without fidgeting, when he needed to.

"You keep my sticks clean, will you?" he said. "C'mon, if you ain't needed on duty. Otherwise, I'll go and find 'em and bring up here so we can talk about it."

"I'm not needed no. Tole Ya. It's the next watch I'll be called up for!" He patted the sticks and shifted the pair both in one hand. "Clean, n' present!" He grinned stretching his leg a bit. It felt that the left one had thought to fall asleep, his right one just felt a bit uncomfortable after having been held in the same position for all that time. His bum agreed that hard surfaces were never as fine as a soft hanging hammock could be.

"Hmph. Cruel drummers!" he teased and tapped the stick against Oxley's shoulder. "Off with you, you rascal. Smell them brothers out!"

"Well, c'mon, then. Let's go find 'em together, shall we? I ain't too sure which of 'em's on duty right now, but whichever of 'em ain't will be real interested in what we bin doin', I know that much." He scrambled up, picking up the rag to stuff it into his pocket, and held out a hand in case de Guarde needed some help in getting up. It looked as though his leg had fallen asleep, from the position he'd been sitting in.

De Guarde grasped Oxley's hand, pulled himself forward. Hopped on his good leg and made a few limping steps with the help of his other. He felt his knee buckle oddly, and decided that some rubbing of the sides of it would just do the trick. And indeed, once the feeling of prickling red ants subsided and some strength came back to his leg, he was again walking and able to run just as he pleased.

"Thank you. So.. where's t' place you lot o' drummers usually hang about when you're not on duty? N'.." He grinned. "since they'um looking just the same, one and the other, would it really be much of a difference if we found either .. t' first or the second?"

Oxley took de Guarde's hand and shifted so that he wouldn't get pulled over. "You sure you's all right?" he asked, as the other boy bent to rub at his knee. "We usu'lly end up round on the messdeck with the other M'rines," he said. "And I don't s'pose it'll make much diff'rence, though if we can find Sticks it'll be better. Young Tom's more serious than Sticks is, gen'rally, though he likes a laugh just that same as we do."