24th May, Below decks

"Why would you scream, really? What are you going to say? That I'm not letting you go? Your word against mine. I say, don't wake 'em for nothin'. They'd most likely flog you and that's unecessary..."

He slowly removed his hand, but he was ready to grab the boy's neck if he tries anything. And he was still holding him with his left hand.

"You hate me..." He whispered, and his violet eyes softened. " You'd stab me anytime if you knew you could get away with it."

"That's.. mutinous talk..sir." He didn't scream, though he wanted to. Perhaps Claggart had some sense in what he was saying. His word would be nothing against Claggart's. Even less considering his history and how many a man he was getting in trouble when he was still a midshipman. His word - a Tar and a boy with the history of what others were to consider lies - and Claggart's, a master at arms.

"..you're the master-at-arms." He added quietly. Though if he could've answered, a loud YES would've been on his lips. An answer to both speculations. Yes to hate and yes to stab.

"Why, kid... I be not blaming thee. I see it in thine eyes... And to mutiny... it's one of the words not wise to say out loud. Like 'ghost'."

He seemed to be in a quite philosophical state of mind.

"Fear not... I'm not going to report thee for this." His hand was bleeding, but he didn't care.

"I hope I didn't get rabies." He smiled. "And now tell me why thou be so afraid."

Friendly... not good. Never good.

"...you ..will harm me. Won't you." It wasn't a question.

"I'um not 'fraid. Jus' ain't wantin' ter be here. Not when yer holdin' me. Ain't nothin' good from it.. i'm sure. Yer... yer too kind, n'...I don't believe you." He said, at last his voice carrying some of the strength and confidence from his old Midshipman's days.

"So I'll ask yer be letting me go now. Is for your own good, sir. I wouldn't risk.. yer word against mine if I were you. Who knows.. they might pick a Terpsy against someone so new.. like you."

"Well, I'm new... but you have a nice history behind you, as we know. I have good recommendations from my last Captain... and I still did you no harm. But you've bitten me. They're not gonna eating your tale..."

He was still kind. Too kind.

"You want to run again. To whom? Are you hiding a lovely lady in your chest?"

He laughed now. It sounded really velvety and very low.

"You know, you could really help me bandaging my hand. The surgeon would ask stupid questions if I'd go to him and you'd be in trouble again."

He sounded reasonable now. If they want to hide it...

"Ain't that bad" he said "but with all this white I'm wearing, I better not to bleed on it. Again... questions."

"I'll... help you, if yer let me go afterwards." Well as much as he sounded like he was making the rules, he knew he was just accepting Claggart's.

"N'.. you'll have ter give me .. a handkerchief or summat.. I dun have m' own.. n'.. it wouldn't be right anyway." He hesitated. "But.... you.. you'll have ter move yer hand from me clothes if yer want that." He relaxed visibly. Perhaps he overreacted earlier.

"Right..." He finally let him go. Claggart took his handkerchief of of his pocket - it was white and had an fine scent - and handed it over, then sat down on a cannon's trail.

"At least my life is not boring with you aboard. Biting, now that's something never happened earlier."

He looked like as if he was repressing laugh.

"...It was yer own fault." De Guarde answered as he unfolded the handkerchief just to fold it again so that a triangle was made from it.

"..if ye'um let me go n' didn't try ter muffle me mouth..ye'd not be havin' it now." It was odd that he had the courage to speak to the man in such manner. He folded the cloth over Claggart's hand once he had rolled it up, and crossed it on one side of the hand then tied it back over at the other.

"...is done." He stood beside the man, his eyes alert but calm.

"I was just trying to hinder you in getting trouble" he said in an almost gentle voice. "You have an extremely good talent for that, young man."

He smiled, but the demonic element was gone. Claggart resembled a half-tamed black panther right now.
When the boy finished it, he said something what he rarely said, and almost never meant it:

"Thank you."

He didn't seem to hurry to get up.

"..You,.." The boy was surprised to receive a thank you from a man who was anything but the type to give it. " .. are welcome." He said and took a step back. He however did not try to flee, believing he might have reacted wrongly.

"Sir.. it just.. I don't know what you have been told 'bout me.. but I'm hardly that bad."

"People always make things bigger... especially bad things. I know you are a drunkard, but that's hardly a sin... although bad for your health. And, well, you are a rebelling type, but which teen boy isn't?"

He seemed almost too kind.

"Surely you have enemies who used your bad luck..."

And his weaknesses...

"To remove you from your rank."

Claggart was sure the boy longed for revenge.

"..there's always enemies." The boy answered vaguely and turned away from Claggart. He wasn't feeling fully at ease around him, but his words were kind, and tempting. "...wos' thrown over board,.. if you can believe it! Nearly drowned once... but that.. they aren't to blame for ..my disrating." He looked rather sourfaced at the thought of it.

"...I'um not a drunkard though!" He huffed, glaring at Claggart. "Only drink a little there. No more than yer average... Tar or middie!" Which wasn't exactly true.

"Thrown overboard? Who did it?" Suddenly he looked very protective.

"That' a murder attempt, even if meant to be a bad joke..."

He smiled when the boy protested.

"See, I can understand you. One must have something that helps to forget..."

He himself used opium. Sometimes. When he couldn't bear the world. Or when he had no chance to answer pain with pain...

"I..... I don't know." His frown deepened. Nobody was apprehended for it. Nobody punished, nor questioned. "..I was..." He bit his lip, his cheeks a slight colour of rosey pink due to shame. "... ..under the influence at the time... I had, uh..." he did not want to tell the man of the fact that he had vomited over Mr. Bush's lap and was in such a bad state that he was thrown from the dinner and told to rest. And that also he had been taken to rest and only woken once it was too late.

"..I was supposed to sleep in my hammock and then.. I know, I'm certain they had to be two, but ... I don't know who, sir. I wish I knew.. they did not allow me to pursue it. .gain the knowledge of who it was!"

He sighed and felt, wrongly too, that Claggart understood him and his kindness was not played. "It's.. not easy, sir." To forget, to get drunk and have his mind free, free atleast for that time.

"My poor boy..."

Oh, how he longed to know the whole thing. Note to self: question the others...

"But you see... if you can't stop drinking, it gets worse and worse... why do I care, you say? I knew someone like you, once... and there was nobody to help."

(Quoting a yet unborn hero, from a yet unborn genre of an unborn art - why not?)

"Wos'.. a middie when it happened. So.. so the men would've been hanged!" He spoke with a tone that clearly stated that he felt the injustice of the whole thing.

He watched Claggart and though he scowled he gave it thought. Thompson had told him similar, to stop. He'd been told times enough and yet he did not want to.

"...sir..it won't get worse. I'um knowin' that...was.. though, the person you knew, was he your friend?"

'And you would love to see them hang...' he thought.

"Yes, he was a friend... years ago. He was a middie too... a sweet little thing, talented and nice... but somehow, nobody knew why... he began to drink too. He even stole rum. He was caned a few times, but nothing could stop him. I'm sure he had some serious problem... a child this young wouldn't drink otherwise."

Claggart knew more than he said. Oh, much more...

"He didn't lost his rank though. Our captain had a heart of gold... but the boy couldn't be saved. He was slowly decaying. I saw it and I couldn't help him... he refused every try."

Actually, it was so... except that Claggart was the reason behind the boy's despair.
He told it all very sad - and it wasn't just pretending. He loved that boy on his own way. There was a soft light now in his violet eyes.

"Poor thing..." he sighed. "May God have have mercy on his soul."

"What happened to him?" He asked a bit anxiously. Claggart was playing all the right strings and the boy was drawn to believe him as much as a bee was drawn to a flower.

"Did he... did he die, sir?" It felt familiar, a story so close to his heart as if it were his own, although it was not. And he should not have been coming closer then, looking at Claggart with the expression of trust. He'd been told to give a person a chance, taught not to judge too quickly. It was for Tars, but perhaps master-at-arms could fall into that group as well.

"Did he change ship and... was ..what happened?"

Claggart let his voice tremble... just a little.

"He died..." And he closed his eyes for a second.

"He fell from the rigging one night... everyone though he was drunk again and he lost balance in the darkness. But I saw it... I was in watch, and the first to reach him... he died in my arms. And with his last breath he told me he couldn't bear it..."

Well, this was exactly true. He felt guilty then... he never thought it will come to this.
He turned away, as if trying to hide tears...

I.. I'm sorry sir." He said knowing what sin the boy had committed though he didn't know its reason. Still could he guess what drove men to drink or this middie to it? Perhaps.

"...but..I would not do such a thing sir. I drink.." He admitted too openly. "But...only when I may." The compassion for Claggart's case had given the boy the feeling of safety and belief that he could confide in him without the fear of it backfiring. Thompson was still the man who knew most, but this one could help him return to his glory and he understood, had experienced it, saw. It was a kinship he thought he observed.

"..when I am bitter maybe. I do miss being a midshipman." He sighed and sat down. "..Though I'um learning to be a Tar,.. it takes the captain horribly long to change his mind and give me my chance back." He bit his lip. No, this man would understand. "I've gotten better, very much. I do all what I'm told and yet..." He shook his head and pointed down at his slops. "It doesn't matter. Fighting I did, don't matter either." He looked at Claggart with a frown. "...I.. I wouldn't do summat like your friend, sir. It's hard , but.. I don't like dieing either. Been through worse!"

"You still have hope... if you fight bravely and show you are worthy... have faith."

He sighed and turned to the boy again.

"He didn't deserve hell. And there he will be forever if the priest are right. Why is God cruel, Matthew? Why is he punishing someone who went though hell while living? Isn't it... injustice?"

Yes, Claggart believed in God. And he believed in Satan - a rebelling Satan who thought God was the real Evil - because he was a hypocrite. Devil, at last, doesn't pretend to be good.

"I don't want that again. I really hope you will be more lucky."

"He committed a sin, the way he died... he lifted his hand against himself, sir. It is that , that condemned him. If he had been slain in action his life.. " He did not know if he believed or if his faith had been lost with the growing faith of the bottle, but he spoke of what he learned or thought he knew. Reasoning much more as a young one than anything.

"He would have fared better. I am sorry that he died though..." He looked bit his lip and found himself sitting closer, as those who would entrust each other a secret of sorts. "...and my regrets that you've had to see it too." He looked at his hands and the scar on one. "I've.. lost a .." He shook his head and grew silent. It felt unnatural to speak with the master-at-arms with such familiarity of his personal, very personal experiences.

"Sin... is it really a sin? The Bible says so. Some philosophers thought otherwise."

He put his hand gently on the boy's shoulder.

"Speak... if you feel like it. I want to help."

Well, help indeed, although his interpretation of "help" was slitghly different from others'.

He looked up at the cool gaze, the pale skin that was framed by the dark well tended mane of hair. The hand felt cold through the fabric which had the boy shiver involuntarily. He sighed. The man wanted to help, he was a mere master-at-arms and yet was more able to be true to his word than some of the others. Strange friends he was making on Terpsy.

"Is nothing to help, sir. The man died when I was still on Confidence. He was a marine and he helped me when I've been injured. the first.. and last time of his kindness. Then he died." He smiled sadly. ".....I do not know how it is to loose a friend exactly.. not such a one as you had..but I'd know now that I have one. And I know it would hurt me terribly... I just wish.. I wish the past shan't repeat itself.. in loss." He made little sense but to himself.

"It will not, if the Norns want so. I'm not planning dying in the near future."

He smiled.

"Have faith, young man. We're going to beat Boney's minions."

He slowly rose, as if his back would hurt.

"Dammit, these cannons were not made for sitting. My old bones! Would you like a walk on the deck? Nothing's like a May dawn..."