24th May, Morning - Deck

"She was a nice enough ship. Very handy in stays, weatherly, dry." He saw de Guarde had hurt his head, probably yesterday, and tried to be careful there. "Tiemates. I dunno. You really think you could do a Marine's queue, as tight as I'd need it?"

This was pleasant, sitting on deck doing de Guarde's hair. It reminded him of the day he'd done Annie's, tying it with a piece of spun-yarn he'd found that must have come from the Dockyard.

"How come you have your hair long, when the other middies wear it short?" he asked, curious about it. From what little he knew, most folks considered long hair to be old-fashioned.

"I know I could make a marine's queue so tight it would pull yer eyes back to the top of your for'ead!" He murmured , speaking in whisper not because he thought someone could hear, but because it felt that he should and could.

He sighed contently, his hands that were in his lap, holding one figurine and the other less detailed loosely as they too relaxed. Could just have this done again and again after that.

"Well... I dunno. Though most of them middies wore it like that on my other ship. The captain was older.. n'.. he was old fashioned I think. He did wear something that must've seen many battles n' days at sea. But .. I really jus', I like it like that, n' it keeps from getting into my eyes if it's bound in a queue or summat. It tells me appart from them people out on land now don't it?"

"I s'pose it does. It's a good thing for a Tar to wear - you've seen most of 'em have got queues, though they don't wear 'em like I do," he said, finally finishing the plait. "Wouldn't want it quite so tight as all that. Tight enough to not fall out or come loose will do for me." He reached for the ribbon to begin wrapping it round. "Though, the Captain and Mister Bush both have queues," he said thoughtfully, trying to keep the ribbon tight and not let any lumps form in the queue.

"You like them figureheads?" he asked, indicating the wooden figures the lad was holding, when he momentarily had a hand free.

"Theirs are longer sometimes. Depends how good a Tar is in keeping long hair though. But.. they can get a proper whippin' length if they's good. Dunno what the girls on shore think about those. Ol' fashioned or jus'.. distinctive?"

He felt that the queue was soon to be finished and frowned because it meant the rest would be too. Maybe if he could convince Thompson to become his tiemate, somehow, he could have that done for him again? Each time!

"I do. As I said before, You're doing a good job on them, n' when you finish this one, Terpsy will be a flattered wooden lady here!" He grinned. "Would you... um'.. agree that I learn ter do a marine queue and then.. I could do it for you and you for me?"

"Could do. There ain't so many of us M'rines have queues any more. But you'd have to be able to do it real good - I ain't goin' to go gettin' in trouble for havin' messy hair just 'cause you can't." He smiled as he spoke, to take the sting out of the words. "It might be a bit o' fun for you, see, but for us, it's real important to look smart on p'rade."

He tied the ribbon and tucked the ends in, the way he was used to doing it. "Don't go blamin' me if folks wonder why you'm got a Marine's queue, that's all, Mathew."

"I'll take my task seriously George. Jus' because I am young it don't mean that I do not know when it is time to play around and when it is time to be serious and do my duty." If Thompson thought that he would not do his best when doing his hair he was sorely mistaken. Perhaps with his fingers much shorter and more delicate still than, well those of one much older, he could to a finer job in pleating. And even if it was only the same as an elder one, he would not allow the queue to seem unsatisfactory.

He touched his hair and carefully run his hand over the queue from it's base to its end, to feel how tight and well it was done. With a short nod he spoke: "I've had it before, remember? If they are bothered by somethin' as small and unimportant as that.. than god help them, they'll never be satisfied at all!" And then with a lighter smile he added. "Maybe they might think to start such a trend themselves, who knows."

"All right, all right," Thompson said easily. "Keep your hair on. Was only sayin'. An' it's allus the small things they go lookin' for on inspections. Sar'nt Quinn's a devil for it, an' Corp'ral Johnson ain't much better." He put his hands on de Guarde's shoulders and shifted the lad, altering his own position at the same time, so that they were sitting next to ech other again. "So, what d'you think to them two, then?" he said, indicating the model figure-heads. "Though Terpsy's has a long way to go afore she'm finished. Be nice if'n I can cadge some paint an' paint her up, too."

"Hmm, don't think it would bother our lieutenants or middies...Fletcher's terrified of me anyway. He wouldn't cause no trouble, I think." He shrugged. "s' Kinsella and Chandos ter watch out for."

"I told you before. I like them a lot. You've got a touch for it, n' with a bit of time, well work on the Terpsy, you'll have her finished. Don't know how you can get any paint that will hold on t' wood, but if I nick it anywhere, I'll bring it over." He leaned back and stared thoughtfully at the two figurines. "...George...um.." He wasn't sure how he could word his next request. "...uh.." He chewed on his lip. It felt nice when George brushed his hair over his back, since it was long enough. He hadn't meant to but..

"..I liked it when you ..." And he shook his head and frowned. It could be misunderstood and he didn't want to get in trouble or worse. Hanged. "..nevermind...thank you for t' hair."

"How come Mister Fletcher's terrified of you? That ain't nice for the poor lad," Thompson said, slightly reprovingly, holding his hand out to take the model of Terpsy's figurehead back, and pulling his knife out. "Annie allus liked it when I done her hair," he said. "Didn't have much more'n a broken bit of comb an' a bit of spun-yarn, like." He smiled. It had been a very long time since he'd really thought about his family and his home, but since de Guarde had offered to write his letter for him, a week or two ago or whenever it was, he'd found himself thinking about them a lot more.

"Dunno why he's terrified now. I can't.. well, frankly if I did anything at all, he could well have gone and sent me danglin'." He made a face at the thought. It was a very unpleasant, chilling thing to consider. "..but..." He ducked his head, hoping to avoid Thompson seeing his face. "...he's... oh he's jus' young and sees monsters everywhere." Something of an untruth.

He smiled and held his comb, of a much better make and not broken at all, in his hand. "..must'a been good practice..n'.. pleasant thing to do." He tilted his head up to look at the figurehead wondering when he could see it finished, but quite certain it would turn out very fine. "..You've had a....did you ever argue with Annie?" He paused and then softly added. "...if.. you want ter talk about them..but if it makes yer,.. makes yer feel uncomfortable, jus' don't!"

"I reckon it's summat more'n just that, Mathew," he said, studying his unfinished carving for a moment. "I don't mind if you don't want to tell me. We've all got secrets an' stuff of our own, after all." He smiled and lowered the half-finished model to his lap. "She'm three years younger'n me, I think. Well, I ain't exactly sure of me own age, but I think it's about three years. We was kinda close, like. I looked after her when Mum weren't around, when she was out workin', I mean, afore Annie was big enough to be left. I s'pose we was pretty close, but o' course we argued. What kids don't, after all? It wasn't anythin' mean, like, though. Jus' the... the usual sort of stuff." It probably wasn't 'usual' in de Guarde's experience, but even rich kids must argue sometimes, he thought. What difference did it make, really, whether it was over a crust of bread or a favourite toy, especially after nearly twenty years?

"I don't mind talkin' about 'em, but I don't want to go all-on talkin' 'bout meself all the time. It'd get borin' for the both of us, that would. But then, I don't mind answerin' questions. I just don't know what you'd like to hear about, that's all. I mean, I know how I grew up an' how you grew up are as diff'rent from each other as... as... wood an' water. And you'm probably jus' curious about me home 'cause it's so diff'rent from yourn. So I don't mind answering whatever questions you want to ask me. Honest I don't."

He leaned back a little and looked at the miniature figurehead again. "You ask away, an' mebbe I'll get the chance to show you one day."

"What do you think it is then? 'cos... well I'd like to see what yer mind on t' matter is.. n' on t' Mister Fletcher too." He had remembered how he had bullied him before and how the lad had been sent off when that rather unpleasant fight had happened. The one that proved cheap tricks would get people far anyway.

"You'um.. not borin'. Could not get that way, George. Might be that ye'd run out o' all t' things that happened, but that's only once I've real questioned you for years and years alone." He smiled and shifted a little where he sat, gazing at the figure that the marine was carving. "Jus' if you promise to show me, you'll be bound by that promise. I'll tell you that. No backin' out of it when t' time comes or summat. When we get close enough to your home that we could be left ashore and all. Jus' you promise me that first. On your honour or summat." He smiled and leaned closer, shuffled a little, till he could peak over the marine's shoulder and rest his chin there just as he watched his figurehead expecting the man to work some on it. He had even attempted to make him lean more upwards so that he could manage that feat. "Does it take long?.. .ter carve this'un out? You pick.. do you look for t' sort of wood you feel is right a long while before it too?"

"Once someone's scared of someone else, they stay scared like that for... well, mebbe even forever, unless summat happens to show 'em they don't have to be scared no more," Thompson said, beginning to whittle away at his carving.

"Mebbe I ain't borin', but I think I am, an' I dunno what you'd find interestin'. And sure I'll show you 'round at home, if you still want to see it when we get back to England. If we even go to Chatham 'stead of Portsmouth, that is." He smiled and shifted position a little so de Guarde could watch him work. "That's a promise, though I dunno that you'd accept a promise on me honour, me not bein' a gentleman, like," he added, and shrugged, smiling. "It depends on how busy we get. If we ain't so busy, I can spend more time on me carvin' so it gets done quicker. I only do 'em in odd moments anyway, makes it last longer, 'cause I dunno what I'll whittle when I'm done with Terpsy here."

"Hmm.. Well you know.. I dun' think I'd prefer them not being scared of me, if it meant they'd be t' bullyin' or payin' back sort of lot." He shrugged and adjusted his position again once Thompson gave him a comfortable space to do so.

"You ain't a gennleman maybe but.." He had to shrug again. "You do have honour, don't you?.. Pride n' honour n' such? Or do you live completely without it and I have mistaken m'self in me judgement of you?" He asked and then as more of an afterthought to the carving he added. "..Well you could always carve them marines in wood, or us Tars."

"From what I seen of Mister Fletcher, I don't think he's either one of them sorts of lads. He just seems a bit quiet an' shy, that's all. Well, not shy in a fight, but you know what I mean."

He chuckled. "Aye, I do got honour, like that, only I never heared of a Marine Private or a foremast jack get asked to promise on his honour afore. It don't work quite like that with us. Though I can, if you want me to. Won't break me word even if you don't want me to, though." He frowned, thoughtfully. "Never tried real people afore. Only the figureheads, and they'm made of wood anyhow."

"He's a timid sort, that'un.. though I ask that ye don't tell anyone I said ..well that I even talked about them midshipmen. Don't want ter get in trouble if summat I say is true, but cruelly unpleasantly so."

He grinned and then added more seriously. "..He's timid.. almos'. .well las impression I had o' him was.. that he was a real scaredycat or summat or maybe ..well dunno. That's what I thought anyway. ..He was easy to.."He bit his tongue and shrugged.

"Well I ask of you now to swear on your honour..n ' as I'um a... Tar now, that's only appropriate anyway." He paused and scowled. He could've said something that he was sure his parents would've spat out. Something along the lines of - but you'll never be a gentleman for where you were born - but he could not. The marine was his friend and it wound him quite strangely to think of being so.. in ways cruel.

"well, you try it then. Make summat.. ye need a model or sum'thing?"

"Terpsy's his first ship, I think," Thompson said mildly, and grinned. "You sure you don't want me swearin' on the Bible or anythin' like that?" He carefully slipped his knife along the block, shaving off another sliver of wood. "All right. I swear on me honour that I'll take you round me home... alleyways, taverns, brothels an' all, if you want, if Terpsy ever anchors at Chatham. Will that do you?" He looked critically at the block. It was recognisably Terpsy's figurehead now, he thought. "Dunno that I'd need a model," he said, looking up. "There's plenty of folks aboard Terpsy, after all."

"I'm sure.. besides, I ain't got one." He piped in and then grinned as he listened to the solemn swear that he indeed should do as he promised when and if they would ever land in Chatham. "I would ask that you do the same, if perchance we have landed in a port that's close enough ter that even if it ain't being called the way. Understood? No loopholes, that's what I want."

He peered at the statue and smiled more brightly. "Mmm. t' little details ain' going to be easy to do, eh?" He then added with a chuckle." Sure they are 'but other than mariness, there ain't none standing as still as a rock!"

"i thought it was me hometown you wanted showin' round, not any town in England we might possibly drop anchor at," Thompson pointed out. "I dunno all the nooks an' crannies of Portsmouth or Plymouth, do I? Though I'll certainly take you to a brothel in one of 'em if we end up there, if that's what you'm so concerned about."

He grinned and indicated still-blank face of his miniature Terpsichore figurehead. "I want to get the shape right so she'll stand up afore I get down to any of the real fiddly stuff. If you do all the firddly bits an' then have the rest of the shape to whittle out, you've lost an awful lot of work if somethin' goes wrong, see." He looked at the boy, feigning surprise. "An' what makes you think I'd want to carve a Marine, anyhow?" he asked, his lips twitching in a smile.

"Oh no, you misunderstood. What I meant is, that you'd show me yours even if we had ter take a carriage for it.. if it weren't too far. Didn't mean you'd be showin' me ohers , though I'm sure ye know a few more than me." He grinned. "That's all. I'd be willin' ter pay for the said transport if needed 'fcourse.. n' only if we was allowed and again it wasn't too far from where our ship would've been left."

"Oh.. that's smart thinking there." He had said after a moment of thought and at the description of how work had to be done. Fiddle out with the most important things, such as the face, and if that one works, the rest should be done and finished too. But only once one is satisfied with the all round make.

"Umm. Well You wouldn't want ter make a Tar, that's fer sure. N' ye marines are as motionless as the Terpsy's figurehead anyhow.. so it wouldn't be as if.. you'd have trouble with that, would you?"

"All right. If we anchor at Chatham, or Sheerness, or the Nore, or Deptford or Woolwich, an' we get a long enough leave, I'll take you an' show you round at me home. Promise I will," he said, and looked back to his carving. "Well, she's near enough formed prop'ly for me to start on her face. I mean, you can see what it is I'm tryin' to do, can't you?" he said, and assumed a thoughtful look. "Though I dunno. There's one or two Tars I might want to make figures of."

"Deal, that's a deal!" Mathew smiled and shuffled to sit more upright. "N' don't you have any doubts that I'd not be interested, because I would be interested. I want to see it, n'..well, I Do." He said no more to that but grinned.

"I can, n' I think you should real start on her face now, form it up all proper and then.. well then you'll continue on t' rest of her body." He nodded with confidence as he pointed at the little form. "Wot tars would you carve out, George?" He asked more curiously and leaned over to see the figurine better. He smiled remembering how he was told that slowly, with each carving stroke the form would come out of the wood.

"All right, all right. It's all narrow poky streets an' courts an' weatherboarded houses an' smells you don't want to ask about, though, but I'll show you." He paused, looking at the model in his hand, considering his next few strokes carefully before carefully starting work on forming Terpsy's mouth. "She mightn't be exactly the same as the real figurehead, o' course," he said, pausing again to look up. "But the main bits are the same, or as near as I can get 'em."

"Hmm.. wot' are those all smells from, tho'? Do ye know? I wos' wonderin' when you mentioned them before, n' I know wot' smells the bilges have and why, n' I do why t' ship can stink and how terribly the horse's dung does... uh pardon me language, but.. those streets then? Why so?" He smiled as he saw the mouth slowly take shape. It was one hard thing to do, be it to draw or carve it out. It was the human face or in this case the Terpsy's that was always so distinct and so terribly demanding.

"I have faith in you ter do it well, George."

"'Cause, well, the privies smell, like privies allus do. An' it don't allus get done in the privies, neither. An' folks ain't so clean as they are aboard ship." He shrugged. "Fact o' life, livin' in that sort of place, that is. An' there's horse dung an' stuff all in the High Street, but not so much in the Brook an' the other poor places, like Red Cat Lane, which is down near the Marine barracks along the Dock Road. 'Cause the High Street's got the decent inns, places where folks like Admiral Nelson and other officers stay."

He lowered the knife and nodded, pleased with the result of his work. He adjusted his grip on the knife to use the tip to carefully mark out Terpsy's eyes.