24th May, Morning - Deck

"Gone a bit sooner than twelve there, I think. But months.. mind." He smiled. "Well, it ain't clever the one who can read or write, but one who can think. And You can think, you've proven that many times. A man who can write can be as daft as an...." He looked thoughtful to find a comparison which would be amusing as well as true." Well as daft as some of them army officers are." He looked innocent to speak like that, even more since he hadn't exactly an experience in meeting many.

"Well or as daft as a donkey." He shrugged. "Is a skill.. ye learn when writing. t' skill anyone can learn. Jus' drawin' curves, n' points on t' piece of paper. 'member your name. Just like that. Curves, crosses, circles, waves if you want." He shrugged. "n' masts." He winked at the thought.

"So.., we ought ter stop talkin' that you'll learn n' just have you! 'know i won't be getting any more grog for writing your letters if I do it but..." He looked at Thompson playfully. "I can still have the time correctin' or checkin' them no?"

He touched his hair and made a scowl. "You don't be making it worse, jus' better. T' queue, like usual!"

"The mast one? That's this'n, ain't it?" He drew a capital T on the deck. "Start o' me last name, that is." He grinned. "Well, I ain't so daft, an' nor are you, neither. You din't mind writin' home for me, did you? 'Cause it was real nice of you to do it."

He adjusted his position a bit. "You'll have to put me musket down if you want me to do your hair. An' put the lid back on that tin o' brick-dust too."

"'zactly. The Tee. Tee of the Thompson." He nodded and moved his musket lower a bit. "I know you ain't daft. Told you that before. You're smart n' proper clever. You just didn't have someone teaching you to write, that's all." He nodded again with a smile.

"N'.. I was glad to write it for you. Is nice.. in a bit, and I hope yer not angry about it, but it's nice hearin' what you'd like to write to your folks too, and such. Brings things home. Makes you see how... how other people feel, I think."

He lowered the musket even more, shifting. "Is that enough, ter keep it down or would you want that I put it right on the floor?"

"You can put it in your lap if you like an' if it ain't goin' to squash you, bein' as it's so heavy," Thompson said. "If I... If I get a letter back, would you read it for me? An' mebbe help me write another one?" He leaned back against the bulwark. "Y'know summat... afore you come here, you'd've thought that if a man couldn't read or write, he was as daft as a brush, wouldn't you, Mathew?"

"I'll be honoured if you'll ask me." He smiled at the marine, a genuine expression on his face. "N' aye, sure will read it and write it. I like writin' fer you anyway." He adjusted the musket so that it rested over his lap. It was heavy but when balancing it right it wouldn't fall over on either side. Which was what he hoped to achieve as he didn't think Thompson would be happy if he dropped the musket or let it clutter to the ground instead.

"Y'know summat... afore you come here, you'd've thought that if a man
couldn't read or write, he was as daft as a brush, wouldn't you,
Mathew?"

"..Yeh, you could.. put it that way." He scowled. "I'd.. probably think that..." He made a face. "...n' worse.. possibly, why?"

"...yeh.."

"You do?" he said. "Oh."

He grinned as de Guarde positioned the musket across his lap. "Well, if you think what you would've thought, back then, an' what you've bin tellin' me, that I'm clever even though I can't read nor write, don't that show how much you've changed even jus' since comin' aboard Terpsy only a short time ago?"

"..Well true. But you're my friend now, n' I'm telling you all the things I'd have thought to be daft to tell another person. I would never.... have done it before." No, now that he thought of it, he wouldn't. "....I guess you're right again. ..I did change, though it is for better , is it?"

He shuffled around a bit and tried to mimic a commanding voice as he spoke:" Get ter work on that queue, private!" He stiffled a short laugh and peaked over his shoulder. "...T' only thing you were daft about.. well what your self perservance is concerned, n' sanity... is that you've started talking to me. I bet you regret it now!"

"It's much better. I think... Well, you'd never have learned so quick if you was still in the middies' berth, I know that."

He raised an eyebrow as de Guarde tried to sound commanding. "You want me not to pull this hair of yourn, or what?" he said. "Sayin' 'please' wouldn't hurt... Even officers say that when they're givin' orders... unless it's in a battle or a storm or summat like that." He unwound the ribbon from the lad's hair. "Beats me why you don't ask a Tar t'do it. You'd fit right into our messdeck, with it all done that way I do it. Leastways, your head would. The rest of you looks too much like a Tar."

"You pull me' hair and I'll snatch yer ribbon and you'll have ter chase me up n' down t' ship if you'll ever want to see it again." Not that he meant to make that threat true. " He smiled and closed his eyes. If he would have his hair done he could as well enjoy it fully. "It's nicer if you do it and.. you know.. once yer go t' have someone who does a good job with your hair, you don't change yer .. 'air'dresser." He teased not even sure if that was a proper word.

He pouted a moment later:" Oi..why do I look like a Tar t' you?"

"One o' these days, I'll make you carry a comb in your pocket. It won't look so good as it would if I could comb it, though I'll do me best," the Marine replied, running his fingers through to try to get rid of any really bad snarls or knots, before starting to plait it. "Done prop'ly, with a comb an' all, it should stay pretty good for about a week, this. From one Saturday, through Divisions till the next Saturday. Strikes me you need a proper tie-mate to help you with it, though."

He grinned. "An' you look like a Tar 'cause you's wearin' a Tar's shirt an' trousers and you've got bare feet."

"If you wait I'll go fetch m' own from me chest. Jus' so you make it perfect 'fcourse. N'.. um....George, could you show me how ter pipeclay things?...Maybe let me ..um.. practice a little?"

He already decided to ask Thompson to do his hair at a later time again, just before the divisions, just when he was told the coat and everything would be ready. Of course, Thompson wouldn't know about it. He wanted to surprise him too.

"Shoe me sir.. and i shall not be bare foot!"

"If you'm that worried 'bout it, o' course I'll wait." He raised an eyebrow. "Why d'you want to learn to pipeclay stuff? It's a pretty dull job, that. Takes time to get it right, y'know." He grinned. You'd best find some shoes if you don't want to go barefoot - mine'll be too big for you."

"Well I'm not worried, I just want to see you do it from tip ter end all the way it should be. Well you do wait for me here, won't you? " He stood and caught the musket moments before it would fall from his knees and clatter on the ground. Embarrassed he held it out to the marine. "N'.. I just want to learn things, didn't ye learn that by now?.. Be it silly marine things or me own.. Tar things. T' more one knows.. t' .. uh.. better it is for them. And perhaps one day when I'll be tryin' ter help a friend out of trouble my knowledge of how to pipeclay things will come in handy, ever thought of that?"

He stretched his arms a bit and looked at his feet." Never let me have ye boots, do you. Tch!" He chuckled. "It'll be yer fault if I loose me toes to freeze." And he said it so dramatic like. "Anyway, Best I be on me way fer t' comb eh?"

"All right, you go an' get your comb. I'd best get this put back in the arms locker," he said, taking the musket back. "See if I can't find summat else to bring up here now I'm done with all the cleanin' she needs. Well, for now, anyhow."

He rested the musket across his own legs. "Freeze? Not round you won't you young shaver. Ain't far enough north for that - an' we'm comin' up to summer, too."

"Can still freeze an awful much!" The boy cried over his shoulder and silencing himself as quickly as he could go down towards his mess, the sole reminder of him being there or going anyplace was the patter of his feet, bare against the cool planks.

He made a sharp turn, ducked under a beam, jumped and shifted to avoid coming in collision with anything that was, living breathing or squeaking. A rat ran in fright from him, and there he thought he saw good miss Emily just waking up but then she usually slept in the lieutenant's room, so possibly it was a funny shadow playing tricks on him.

He shuffled further down till he reached his and Chase's chest and went to thrust things side to side to find his comb.

Thompson shook his head as the lad scampered off, before gathering his own things together and heading down to the Marines' part of the messdeck to drop his cleaning things off and turn his musket in to be locked away. Once that was done, he headed back up to his sea-chest, rooting through to find his current wood-carving project and a completed one, before going topside again.

The damn comb had been hiding and somehow managed slip all the way to the bottom. He cursed it and yanked it up, shoving and pushing the clothes back in place.They were a bit wrinkled but he didn't think he should pull them all out again to fold them as neat as new. Chase could do with one day of wrinkled clothing!

He smiled, shut the chest, slipped past the few men and returned to the place where he and Thompson had last talked, his comb triumphantly in hand.

Thompson was back first, despite having to hand his musket in, and he wondered where de Guarde was, or if he'd run into any sort of trouble. He began whittling a bit more of the latest project, Terpsy's figurehead, while he waited. He looked up as the pattering of bare feet announced the lad's return.

"There you are, then, Mathew," he said, putting his knife away. "C'mon an' sit down, then."

"Sorry I was late. But seems my comb thought to make a run for it while I wasn't there. Had to chase it down t' whole mess, up t' mast twice and over t' sea near all the way to town.. any'ow. This comb had failed and now... well I spared it its life 'cos I need it." He grinned and held his hand with the comb out to Thompson. "Ah.., what were you doin' 'fore I came? Please show?"

He saw the knife be put away and if he wasn't wrong he could see something held in Thompson's hand too.

Thompson grinned and held the completed out figurehead out. "This's Calypso," he said. "Served on board of her, under Captain Ramage the last days of the Peace, till I was discharged into Surprise under Captain Aubrey. An' this other one I'm workin' on will be Terpsy." He indicated the block of wood that was starting, slowly, to take shape.

"You wanted me to do your hair, didn't you?" he said, and passed the model of Calypso's figurehead over so de Guarde could have a closer look.

Taking the figure in his hands he studied it carefully turning it about and around so that he could see it from each angle. "Is very nice." he murmured and looked back at Thompson. "Terpsy'll be proud too once you finish her. Might not want to let you go to no other ship there." He winked. "....I wouldn't." he added more quietly and looked on to the block of wood , carved bit by bit where soon the figurehead of Terpsy would be.

"Aye, my hair there... Gave you the comb, didn't I?"

"Aye, you did," the marine said. "When you'm ready, then." He started combing de Guarde's hair out. "She was a nice ship to serve in, Calypso was. Like Terpsy is. A bit biger - thirty-six guns, to our thirty-two. But nice enough. French-built."

"French built? So.. was she originally called Calypso, or was that the name her new captain gave her... or our admirality.. whichever comes first?" He asked again finding it best that his eyes were closed. It felt nice to have his hair combed. Thompson didn't seem to pull all that much, and anyway, even with an occasional tug it still felt ten times better than if he had to do it himself. Now he had only to lie back and relax. Nothing more.

"Is it very messy?.. m' hair?"

"I think she was La Sylphe or summat when she was took. The captain renamed her, I think, and the Admiralty agreed, not havin' a ship of her name on the List." He kept combing, finding it pleasant to do it. "No, it ain't so messy as that," he said. "Though you'll have to learn how to do mine so's we'll be quits." He finally laid the comb aside and started plaiting.

"I see. La Sylphe. Well wasn't that bad of a name for her, I think. Though perhaps it would be hard for the Tars to know how to call her proper? I don't know. Calypso sounds pretty nice too, in me opinion..has a greater meanin' too. N'.. maybe it just marks a new start. From.. servin' t' French to servin' us... well you."

He could just fall asleep like that, with his hair plaited nice. It hurt a little where the crust had been made, from the earlier time on shore, but oddly Thompson hadn't made it actually hurt that much more, or make him yowl in pain for it. "Mmm.. Teach me n' ye have yer tiebuddy or wot'not you want ter call it. I guess you're right about it being only fair, after all!"