Libertymen Ashore, 23rd May, Oporto

"You try tellin' him he oughtn't to be hereabouts," Thompson said. "Wore me right down till I said he could tag along. Though if he does get the notion to do any more than that, there's goin' to be hell to pay, that's about what."

Taylor frowned. "Needs his ears boxin', he does. Might clear 'em out some, so he hears what he's told!"

"Never mind," Chase cut in impatiently. "We're wastin' time. C'mon then. We'll see he gets sat down so he don't move, once we're inside."

"Lissen' ter Chase. Wastin' time 'ere." The boy grinned, seeing as Thompson had albeit poorly stood out for him, to let him come along. Perhaps he didn't mean to, but what he said was true. He'd not take no for an answer, no matter how many times it would be said.

His face dropped a bit when Chase suggested he'd be sat down and he made a scowl, grumbling. "I ain't no child t' way you treat me." But he was still tagging along, and it was only a half hearted protest, afraid that if he protested more, he would miss his chance.

"You ain't a growed-up man, neither," the Marine pointed out. "Let's be goin', then." Whatever else happened, he didn't want to miss his chance because who knew when he'd get ashore again in such a civilised place as this?

"Be nice if you weren't actin' like a child," Chase quipped, leading the way into their chosen establishment.

Fighting back a retort the young lad instead thought it very mature to straighten up, to hold his tongue, try to appear taller, older, more serious, and followed alongside the Tars and the Marine. He looked ahead in the direction that they were going, wondering if he could easily recognise the cat-house and if there would be any girls outside, waving their wares at the Tars. Would the place be crowded? Would there be all sorts of girls? Would Terpsies have to wait because there'd be too few women.

All that busied his mind and kept the lad quiet, forlorn almost till he realised that he had cause to grin. He was going with them after all. And that was a small victory. "Is it far?"

Thompson shook his head, grinning. The lad still looked like a young eager boy, try as he might to disguise it.

"We'm here," he said, indicating where Chase had gone. "Jus' you 'member to behave yourself an' don't get up to anythin' silly, all right?"

"It offends me to hear you think I'm the sort that would." De Guarde answered in as deep a voice as his young throat could master, trying to sound older than he was. He looked at the building , if that it could be called, where a familiar sound of laughter mixed with rowdy undertones was heard. He could see one lass already, standing outside, but there were plenty more in. "In." He nodded and stepped towards the door, feeling as nervous as he was excited.

"You'll be stayin' over there," Chase informed the boy, pointing to a chair by the door. "This lass here'll see you don't move no-place, 'til we're done."

Thompson grinned as a girl came up and slipped her arm around his waist. She was shorter than he was, her head came up to his shoulder. She was murmuring something in Portuguese and he grinned down at her. Her bodice was cut very low, and she flicked her shawl over her bosom which seemed almost to be straining to escape. She ran her hand down the sleeve of his jacket to take his hand.

He glanced over to de Guarde. "Don't you go gettin' yourself into no mischief, lad, will you?"

Of course the lad wrongly thought that at the very least he would be let inside. Which had proven to be a wrongful supposition now that Chase spoke out. Thompson didn't exactly demand the same, but he was already busy with a lass, which wound an arm about his waist and clearly meant to do more than that, when she could take him inside. He gave her a glare without meaning to and folded his hands over his chest, not nearing the chair any more than before.

"t' least you can let me .. is go inside." He muttered, all his earlier excitement gone. "..sittin' out here..." He looked thoughtful. "Could make people make t' wrong assumptions!" Whichever they were. Bad for business? Because it wasn't a cat-house if a lad sat outside, that was what came to his mind.

Chase managed to direct a glare toward De Guarde, before an enticingly slim Portuguese girl came sidling up to him. "No. Sit there and don't budge. Ain't gonna be long."

The girl wound her fingers around the trailing ends of Chase's neckcloth with a smile and used the slyly-established leverage to pull the seaman along after her.

The girl took his hand in hers and tugged him forwards, still murmuring her nonsense Portuguese, interspersed with broken English. Although she was much smaller than him, she had a nice figure and filled out her bodice in a way that made him swallow at the sudden tightness in his trousers.

De Guarde chewed on his lip, feeling a pang of jealousy as he watched it all unfold. He stomped his foot, but knew that no sort of protest would help. As he watched the men, they looked already more immersed in their ladies and probably forgot who they were leaving behind, or else, if they were leaving someone behind at all.

With a sulky expression on his face he looked at the girl at the door. He wasn't going to give her any company, well not in the way of sitting here and greeting the customers and inviting them in! "..You're cruel." He snapped at Thompson, and glared at the disappearing Chase.

With the disappearance of Chase, Thompson and all the other Tars, De Guarde was left to sulk outside. Of course, if he had gotten so much as a good look at one of the girls, his cheeks might have matched the colour of Thompson's coat. But this did not matter. He was upset because he was left out and treated as if he were a child. Sure he might've been young, yet that was again, beyond the point.

Fueling his annoyance he remained seated there for a while as if hoping that a girl would spare him her time. One did come, but upon the realisation that he had nothing to pay with, her attention was quickly averted to a far more well of sailor. This man, he then escorted merrily inside. De Guarde observed them enviously, yet try as he might, his pockets remained empty, he had searched them several times. Had he not spent what he managed to have, for that little amount of drink, he could have been paying some. But now, he was as dry as paper on the account of coin.

He sighed and watched the men go by. Some entered the cat-house, other lingered about with interest. There were the cases that passed quickly, though it was probably to go to a different house of women. Then there was the merry loud singing that made anyone who had an ounce of musical ear cringe and wish his ears would've been chopped off. De Guarde hummed to himself, dangling his feet from the chair, and finding the wait even more excruciating. Finally he hopped of his seat. The men were still entertaining themselves. He made a few steps to the door, nobody there to stop him yet. His cheeks coloured a shade of red at what he had been able to witness, and he felt a pang of jealousy so strong that he curled his fist and pressed it against his chest, to settled himself down some.

He turned about, his cheeks still hot when his eyes fell on a form of a drunk. Stiff backed even when there was some drink in him, and so much crueler, the man had approached the cat house as any other. But there was a slight, though very noticeable difference. His uniform, for it was that, was that of a midshipman. The entrance to the cat-house had been blocked to him by a body of men and prevented that he could make an easy slip inside.

"...Well.." The voice slurred and De Guarde failed to move at all. "..wha'zoo we 'ave here." The only fortune as well as misfortune there was, was that this man was drunk and might not remember any of it in the morning. He dearly hoped so. He squinted his eyes tightly shut when arms came about his shoulders, as in an act of a hug, a fine greeting if it weren't for who was offering it. Even the grip tightened, fingers curling about his queue in a clear indication that he would not flee, or shouldn't. "..you look familiar." He felt his heart jump, but voice still departed him. Oh he begged though, pleaded and prayed even, that he would not be recognised.

A hand was shakily brought under his chin, so as to turn his head and reveal more of his face to the faint light. "..Ah yes." He hadn't even realised that they had both moved. He had just followed without meaning to. "You." De Guarde averted his gaze forcefully, and so turned his face as well to have more shadow cast on it. "The little twirp, the no good midshipman." The voice continued, amused, entertained. "Couldn't hold your tongue before, you little bastard. What did you leave in me chest when you were gone?"

De Guarde gasped as his collar was tightened. He couldn't strike out. "You do remember, don't you." It had been a rash decision, only because he knew he would not be coming back, only because he was certain he would not ever see him again. "And now.." Laughter. It made the boy flinch even as he struggled to have the tight grip on his collar let up. "..look at you. Is it really you?.. what are these things you're wearing?? Drank away your coat? You damned sot." And there they were. In the narrow street, that connected on each side, but had a man in need of walking a long way till they could reach the other end. He could still hear some laughter and suggestive calls in the distance.

"..y..yes." He stammered, perhaps believing that Mister Hollow would believe his lie. "Ah no.. no, my dear. I don't think so." Though the man was not as drunk as to be just so stupid. Or perhaps a strike of genius had got him if not when he was sober, then when drunk. "You've been disrated. A little bloody, no good Tar you are. Only fitting of course. Only fitting." He felt the hand tighten on his shoulder hard enough that it would leave a bruise. He still failed to attempt fleeing. If only because his feet felt as made of lead, and his mind was not yet decided. It did not seem to notice they weren't on a ship, so running might get him lost, but certainly safe too.

A sudden strike had him sag to his knees. He was almost glad that it was in a place, hidden from view. "Time you pay..oh, at least a little. Don't consider yourself out of debt after today." There was silence for a moment, and then a kick which had the lad sprawling. "You remember Dunning's?.." Almost nonchalant. " The man that died 'couse of you?..." It wasn't an accusation. Rather it sounded more as a taunt, a note of amusement. "Think you should take a good look at who yer servin' on.. that ship of yours." A kick to the side had De Guarde curl up, whimpering. "Should finish somethin' too...Since you took m' time of.." Which De Guarde reckoned, he would've very much loved to give back, or never to have taken either. Run. He had to, he would, right now.

"Who's on t' ship?" The lad whispered clutching at his side. "Him who know him..." Was the reply, a sneer, a delighted laugh.

He began to crawl, but was kicked again. Nobody would see it, Hollow knew how to strike where things could stay unseen, out of view, but if someone would've stripped to show them. And he wouldn't. Couldn't report it to the captain, wouldn't be believed, neither could he have explained how he got to meet this man when he was suppose to be on the ship.

He pushed up, after being struck down and felt his belly sick. His head was yanked up by his hair. It all happened quick, the succession of events. It was so familiar that the lad might've frozen if not for the fact he was not on a ship and could actually run and not be found. When a hand came close to his mouth he bit hard on it, shoved up, while the man hissed in pain, and stumbled forward. He ran as fast as his feet could take them. Nobody would learn of it. Hopefully Hollow would not remember who had bit him. If he did, ..he was a midshipman and he a Tar. So, he better not remember!

When he would get on the ship he might get some of his drink, but nobody would know he had met with this midshipman, that day.

It was a while later that he arrived in port again. He could see boats alongside the peer. There was another ship of war, and he knew it was not Confidence but the other. Defiance. He smiled. Somehow it felt that the name of that ship suited his feelings. Defiance. He'd run from the midshipman and he was here now to wait for his peers and to sneak back on board. Let them worry a bit, when they'd come from that house. They didn't let him go in then, well they could as well look for him after.

He knew such thoughts served noone. It was he, who needed a ride back on board without being discovered. He moved to sit on one of the crates, which would have been transported aboard the next day. Leaning back, he yawned. Here, he was safe. His feet dangled above the ground and he watched the soft sway of the sea. He could run.

But... he would not. There was no honour in deserting a ship.