22 May, First dog Watch - later in the evening

Not the only one? He didn't know how many boys or men had gotten in trouble by this creature, but he knew he was starting to loathe and fear him. It was at that time he wished even more that he was not a Tar but a midshipman.

"..N'... you won't... report me ter t' captain.. cos' of this." He hesitated. "Cos' of drinkin' n'... n' that earlier?" He was sure that many men would begin to speak ill against Claggart. It wouldn't be long, nor would it be hard to imagine that. The way he was, a cruel man.

"I feel your hate... you are on the right way. Fear awakes anger... anger awakes hate..."

And hate leads to the dark side, but Claggart couldn't possibly know this.

"And aye, I won't report you to the captain. As long as you behave."

He had a little purse in the hand, and dropped it in front of the boy. He could've given it to him, but... it's more stylish if you humiliate him even more.

"Take this. Say you aren't lucky, little rat. By the way, what's your name?"

He looked at the purse and knew its meaning and he didn't want to admit to himself that he was actually going through with it. He was a coward, he'd tried hard to become better, to do good, but now... How would it be any different than Confidence?

".... ..can call me Rat..." He spoke bitterly. Buckles was for friends, fellow tars, his Christian name was just for the very few if not just one. His surname he felt undeserving, though he knew it might've been smartest he would have used it. He was still standing though, not yet at his knees and by the purse, but he was shaking enough.

"That will happen anyway, but I asked your real name."

Tone just slightly colder... to make it threatening. Hey, he's being nice and asking his name, and the little rat is trying to play the badass guy?
Not a good idea when you've barely gotten your neck out of the hemp.

"...De Guarde." He wished to say that Claggart had heard it before, when they've first met but perhaps it would be too prudent to point it out so he kept his tongue.

He lowered his gaze. He felt sick. It was not the sort of ill feeling that came with drinking too much but one that came with the disgust of himself and his deeds and all that had just happened.

"..May I go now?" He said, his voice so small.

"You may. And..." he reached for the bottle "leave that here. Better safe than sorry."

He wouldn't care the boy will be drinking again, but he didn't want him getting in trouble too often. The grayer and more mediocre you are, the better spy you make.

"I don't need scandals or fights, understand?"

De Guarde made a move to protest. It hadn't been easy to get a hold of a bottle and there was some saving of grog that he could have accomplished in having as much. He'd have hugged it protectively, looked at Claggart for a moment. He looked any ounce a daily drunk, protecting his precious load.

Realising this perhaps he slowly loosened his hold on it, biting at his lip as he allowed the man to take it. "..scandals or.. fights, sir?" He asked, wondering if he had meant fights amongst sailors. The later he was glad about, if it was that. The little purse of money lay still at his feet, and he made a great effort not to have it in his vision, or cast even a glance at the thing.

"Yes. You know, melt into the crowd. Don't stand out. Except, of course, in battles. That's allowed."

"...Me?.. You mean, I 'um not ter fight, sir?" He stared at Claggart. "..I'um not meanin' t' fight.. ain't noone.. that would. Ain't allowed ter.. n' isn't good." He spoke with indignation in his voice. "....."

He had second thoughts on the deal and so he whispered. "But..sir.. is there a way that... I could do summat else than.. what you told me to?.. could even press yer coats or summat. "

"No, little rat, I told you I'd find something that fits your talent - and I have found it."

He pulled his rattan back.

"And now, get out of my sight. I'll summon you when I need you."

Without the need to be told twice, the boy moved past the master, and found himself running a distance , even if it meant he would stumble and that his head would feel a deal worse.

Once he was certain the man was no longer anywhere close, he slowed to a stop, slipped into a dark corner, breathed heavily and slumped along the wall. He was holding the purse in his hand, which shook and trembled and he wanted to hurl because it was so wrong.

He hadn't remembered picking it up, but there it was. He wanted to cry and he wanted to return to the master and tell him the deal was off. But then, he'd be flogged and he would hang, and he was just a young lad and didn't want to die. He was a coward. A bloody coward.

"...and then ol' Toby Cross, from Defiance goes a-runnin' past wearin' one of them stocking caps, like what wimmen wears to bed. He don't pay none of us no mind, neither, jes' carries on chasin' after them two Frogs like they'd stole his rum."

Chase grinned and shook his head, while Taylor and Joe Crabtree chuckled. Williams' story was probably heavily embellished but it was still plainly amusing. The tale also served as an accompaniment to the side-errand of retrieving a bundle of Frog blue-jackets that they'd taken as prizes. The wool would be useful as spare fabric for repairing clothes or making thin blankets.

"...and then ol' Toby Cross, from Defiance goes a-runnin' past wearin' one of them stocking caps..

He looked up slowly. Of course he could hear the Tars, and the familiar voice of Cob Chase. The boy stood motionless.

...like they'd stole his rum."

He tried to smile a little. It, .. it had to be amusing. Clutching the purse in his hand he made a step forward. He hesitated. Go to the Tar's mess? He hadn't even realised how close he'd gotten, all in his will to run.

"...'ey." He murmured as he entered slowly. No use in turning then. He looked at Chase n' waved to him, then silently dropped onto a chest.

"Hey... Privy!" Sam Oxley said, grinning to see a slightly familiar face. "You're Shepherd, right? Hardly recognize you without the muck and smell!"

De Guarde's abrupt appearance startled them, but only momentarily.

"Lookee here, then!" Taylor said cheerfully. "Didja know, lads, that this bold fella here's responsible fer keepin' them Frogs off'a the Marines, when they crawled up outta the sewer?"

The others laughed. Chase wiped at his eyes and looked askance at Sam Oxley, managing only with an effort to contain his mirth. "Shepherd? This'un? This here's Buckles!"

Williams elbowed Oxley playfully. "Aye! Cantcha tell a Tar from a Marine, Sox?"

Oxley grinned with mild confusion. "Oh. But I thought... Yeah, I did see him washing off after the privy, alongside my brother Tom, and he said his name was Shepherd. Andrew Shepherd, ain't it?"

Now they had a real reason to laugh heartily.

"Sticks Shepherd?" Chase gasped, after a long moment. "Ain't so, ain't so. We'll interduce ya t'the real Andrew Shepherd, Sox, dontcha worry!"

He continued grinning while they all laughed at him, though he still felt slightly confused. "So that's Buckles, and he's Chicken, and Taylor and Spencer and you're... Preddie?" he hazarded, trying to remember.

Chase, still grinning, pointed at the others as he named them. "Buckles, Taylor, Williams, Crabtree. An' me, of course!"

"And you're Dyer."

"Nope. Dyer's topside. I'm Chase."

Oxley grimaced while the others laughed. "Well lets see if I can at least get all the important ones straight. You got Captain Bolitho, first luff Bush, then Mr. Leat, and I know Mr. Deverel. And the master is... Tadcock. And the bosun's Foxley and the pusser is Watts..."

De Guarde's cheeks became red. He shook his head at Taylor and was trying to signal Chase that he was not to convince Oxley who was the real Shepherd. In the laughter he was slowly forgetting Mr. Claggart. He wasn't successful, but it didn't really matter. The hearty spirit was quite contagious.

"N' yer know wot' yer brother is, don't ye?" He smiled and then looked to Chase.

Sam looked at them both in puzzlement before answering. "What?"

"Yer know t' other Oxley, don't ye?" He arched an eyebrow, Sam hadn't just forgotten it, had he?