Drummer's Jacket, 26 May

"Oh, come on. You ain't goin' to b'lieve what I've got to say!" Oxley said, practically dragging de Guarde down the ladder almost before he'd passed the drum and sticks to Ware.

Lieutenant Cartwright hadn't said that he could tell de Guarde, but more to the point, he hadn't said he couldn't tell him.

"You drag me some more, n' I'll slip n' bust my ankle." De Guarde half heartedly protested, never imagining Oxley to be in such high spirits after they had been discovered by lieutenant Cartwright. He thought he'd look miserable because of what punishments the officer decided for them. But no, Oxley looked almost as if he just defeated a whole ship of Frenchmen all on his own, and had discovered a mountain of gold in its bowels.

"Easy, steady now. What is it? Did lieutenant Cartwright decide he will reward us or summat? .. did you just discover something that will make you as rich as a king?" He shook his head. "Calm down!" He nearly slipped and had to steady himself with his hand.

"No. I'll tell you 'bout that later. Well, he liked the joke, only he said not to do it again. But that ain't what I need to tell you!" Finally! The idiot was finally moving, though still too damn slowly for Oxley's liking.

At the bottom of the ladder he turned, unable to hold it in any longer. "How'd you like to wear that uniform, permanent-like?"

De Guarde wanted to cuff Oxley over the head. He was teasing him, taunting him! He knew he had to return the uniform to them, and even if they didn't need it, there was no way he could just wear it during his leisure time. It would appear a bit odd, to have a Tar prance about in a coat. Not that he'd be averse in doing just that, but he knew that the officers wouldn't exactly appreciate it.

"You're not funny." He murmured. "You know I'd like ter wear it, but you jus' said that lieutenant Cartwright said we can't ever do it again. You know as good as I wot' that means!" He scowled at his friend. That was the sort of humour he did not find funny!

Oxley rolled his eyes. "I'm bein' damn serious." He took a breath. "Right, It's like this. Mister Cartwright calls me and I'm thinkin' he's goin' to tear me a new one, right, only he don't. Says it was a good prank. Um... he said it was a well-carried off scheme. Then up an' says he thinks you's, oh, how did he put it? Said as how he thinks you's followin' the wrong callin', whatever that means."

He paused. "Then he says as how there might - might - be a way for you transfer into the M'rines, like." He folded his arms and grinned, watching the effect of his words.

Now Oxley was really pulling his leg! Cartwright would never have said something like that. Followed the wrong calling? Unlike Tom he knew what it meant. It was a compliment as good as any. A very fine compliment in fact. "You don't mean." He said, and only then realised his mouth was agape. He closed it, looked left and right as if looking for the two Shepherds, who'd be giggling in the background, in on the joke. But there were no Shepherds. Just him and Oxley. Alone.

"Me? Marines?..... you aren't pullin' me leg? Swear that you ain't. You ain't jus' jokin' around with me? Couse I'll thump you a new one , if you are!" He threatened, his eyes searching Oxley's face for any indication that he was lying and holding in laughter. "Swear it! Him, sayin' I ain't pursuin' a right callin'?" And their prank had gone well and earned praise with an officer, well.. not exactly how he wanted to attract the attention, but hell, praise was praise! No matter where it came from.

"I ain't - I swear I ain't! I promise I ain't joshin' you - he said it, honest he done. Deadly earnest! C'mon, I'll take you to go see him an' you can hear it for yourself if you don't b'lieve me!" He shrugged. "Well, mebbe not right this minute - he'll be havin' dinner, won't he. But after that. He'll tell you hisself if you don't believe me."

".. You say then. He means. He might consider me joinin' like. .for real n' proper. N' gettin' t' uniform like .. like a marine does?" He looked at the one he was wearing and imagined having such or similar, on him for longer than the time it took to perform a prank. He looked further at his gaiters and a smile spread across his face. That'd be real nice. Wear a proper uniform like that!

"We'll go, couse I don't believe you." Though he was starting to. "But as you said, later! N' we ought ter get summat to eat too, while we're at it. Before it all runs out." Though he didn't want to change just yet, but then he did have to go to his mess and this meant he had to. Or did he? He could as well appear there and confuse a few Tars, till they recognised him as who he was really. "....Tommy,... you know wot that means? If that is true! What it means fer me!"

"Yes, for real. Become a proper M'rine, with a uniform of your own." He shrugged. "Though... you wouldn't be an officer, you'd only be a common M'rine like me. An' if you stay as what you are now, the Captain'll re-rate you back to middy one day, won't he?"

"No he won't.. couse he hates me." He said matter-of-factly. "He'd jus' keep me a Tar till I was gray n' old or else till I got drowned." When he considered what Oxley just told him he couldn't help but grin yet again. "But if I get ter be a marine he'll have no say anymore. N' i'd wear a dashin' sort of uniform! Though.. did 'e tell you, wot duties I'd have? " He looked curiously at Oxley, and shook him lightly. "Come on now, tell me everything he tole you!"

"I jus' did say everythin' he tole me!" Oxley protested. "Well, no, not quite. Said that Cap'n Bolitho'd have to agree with it - though if you want to, I think he could make him. An' who's to say you'd be a Tar forever, even if you didn't take the shillin'?" He shrugged. "Reckon your duties'd be the same as mine, an' Sticks's - and Young Tom's. Though I never heared of a frigate havin' four drummers all at once, not ever."

" Captain Bolitho?" Of course the man would have the final say. If he needed more Tars, he would've said no. Though what use could he have of him, he wasn't sure. But if he did not need them, then maybe there'd be four drummers soon to tap away. And Sam Oxley would realise he had not been lied to after all, while a certain Hollow would never find him again. After all, he would look amongst midshipmen and among Tars at the very least, but not among the red coated men, poking their bayonets at his hide.

He chuckled, his day having its ups and downs, but going on a steep up at that moment. "We'd make this Terpsy a special one." He nodded with a laugh. "Tom, lad, I've no idea if this a dream, but if it is, don't wake me up!" He grinned, even as his tummy roared its protest. He was tired, but he would just as diligently work his way in the next watch. "Come along now! You need to eat, n' I need to, an' we need ter go get Thompson!" Because he wanted to tell him what just happened and what he heard, or maybe he could tell him later, when they were alone. He couldn't decide, only he knew he was very happy. He could hope now, and worry about the reality later!

Oxley couldn't quite believe how happy de Guarde looked at the prospect of becoming a Marine. "Ain't all roses, y'know," he said, and rolled his eyes as his stomach gurgled. "Yeah, all right - dinner sounds like a good idea. Tell you what. Seein' as we's at anchor and you lot won't be needed for sail trimmin' or anything like that, how 'bout I ask Thompson if he can slip up an' have a talk with you on deck? I know the folks on duty ain't allus workin' and so long as you's up there ready to be called, you can talk quiet, can't you?"

He looked de Guarde up and down. "Only, you'll have to get that stuff off afore you go on duty, don't forget. I'll look after it for you - or the Shepherds can. If they ain't asleep b'now."

"Ain't no roses, I know. But I tried 'fore.. n' there's no rowin' ter be done either. So that's plenty of roses." He teased his friend and straightened. He listened to the marine boy thoughtfully and considered what he suggested. "That's be a great idea I think. It would leave me workin' as I should, and avoid waiting ter be able ter see him too." He grinned and clasped his hand on Oxley's shoulder. "..you're smart today.. all you say. I wonder if it's somethin' you've ate in t' morning."

He chuckled as in response, or maybe of its own accord, Oxley's belly rumbled too. "Right, we better get changed, need my ol' things, and get t' coat to you lot, n' gaiters too. N'all. Stock included." He grinned and freed himself of it after a moment of fumbling, when his hands just didn't manage to undo it quickly.

"No rowin'?" Oxley looked incredulous. "Dunno what it was what I was doin', comin' back from that there fort, if it wasn't rowin'." He grinned and nudged the other boy in the side. "You'd best be goin', else they'll have eaten all the best food up an' there won't be none left for you!" He poked his tongue out. "Ain't so smart as alla that, clever-clogs. And ain't you got your old shirt on under that there jacket, anyhow?" He held his hand out for the stock. "You won't want to go wearin' this all the time when you do end up havin' to, that's for sure!"

"Only you was rowin' couse you was pretending to be a Tar, remember?" He laughed and shook his head as Oxley's reply. He touched his side, and for once knew he wasn't being hurt, but that the boy was only doing so in jest.

"Aye, aye. I will. Oh, better give yer t' coat, don't I? " After handing his stock back to Oxley, he carefully returned the crossbelt as well, and that was followed finally by his red coat. "I wouldn't mind a stock, if'un i had to wear it." He poked his tongue at Oxley. "See you in... will you tell Thompson ter get up on deck?" He looked thoughtful. "But, dun' tell nobody about this yet. Don't want them knowin' if'n Cartwright changes his mind or t' captain don't allow it, you know." He was afraid of failure, of his hopes shattering nicely into bits and pieces. And even know, of having that happen publicly.

Oxley took the crossbelt and coat back. "We'll keep 'em safe for you," he said. "Though, you'll prob'ly get your own crossbelt an' stuff." He shrugged. "'Course I'll tell Thompson. Already said as I will, din't I?" He winked. "Ain't no sense in tellin' anyone else yet, anyhow - though I might have to tell the Shepherds."

He suddenly clapped his hand over his mouth, having just remembered something. "I ain't even tole 'em we ain't in trouble yet! Oops."

"You might, but only after you make them swear that they won't tell anyone!" He trusted Oxley and the Shepherds too, but he could always be more careful. It never hurt. Well, almost never. He stared at Oxley and then covered his mouth laughing softly. "Hey, tell you what. You sober up right now! Be as serious as if yer pet rat died." Which Oxley did not have, probably. "And.. look all pale too.. if ye can, use yer brick or whatnot dust for it." He raised his hand as if to ask Oxley to wait.

"..So.. go off to them, be as serious and as like you was told by Cartwright you're in awful sort of trouble. Only tell 'em what is true when they're all pale themselves or summat." He grinned and shrugged. "Or.. I'd do that If I would be t' one givin' them t' news!"

"Don't reckon I could pull it off, though it'd be fun to try. They'd never forgive me, though, not them two." He grinned. "Anyhow, best be off, 'specially if you's wantin' any dinner. An' I'll find Thompson and tell 'im to come see you on deck. 'Least, I don't think he's on duty this dogwatch." He shrugged. "See you later then, Buckles, me ol' mate."

"Deal. "If Thompson was on duty however, he would just wait for a different opportune moment to talk to him, boast to him and explain everything that had happened since they last parted or atleast since the prank began. He felt hot, even though he was no longer wearing the coat. It was only his nerves.

He nodded again, his smile brightening and widening when Oxley said his farewells. Mate. "See you, Tom, While yer at it.. you might tell t' Shepherds and you, thanks for making this possible." He motioned his hand towards his coat. "'appreciate it very much!" And then he turned slowly about. He would run for the mess and look forward to eating his way into a much less hungry state. "See you, mate!" And he ran in the direction, skipping a step and laughing softly.

Thompson raised an eyebrow as young Oxley came scampering up. "Um, 'scuse me, mate. I... Um, I bin asked if you'd go up an' have a word with Buckles. Only, well... Mister Cartwright found him doin' duty as a drummer an'... You ain't goin' to b'lieve this, but it's true as I'm standin' here. He's only gone an' offered for him to take the shillin' and become a M'rine - if Captain Bolitho lets him." He shrugged. "An' Buckles bein' what he is..." he trailed off.

Thompson stood up. "So, he'm goin' to be on duty now, ain't he?"

And at anchor, even those on watch would be stood down which would give him a chance to talk with the lad. "I take it the offer was goin' to be for him to be a drummer?"

Oxley nodded and Thompson reached for his baccy pouch. "I'll have a word with him then. Run along - an' don't do anythin' that'll get you in trouble."

He headed for the companionway up to the gundeck to wait for the watch going on duty to be mustered and stood down so he could grab the lad for a quiet chat.

He had to be quick to get his dinner. He had to get ready for the next watch, which would have left him being on watch for nearly ..well he did not wish to think of it. He had made the sacrifice and stood by it. His mind was still riddled with thought of the offer. To be able to join the marines. He liked them, he wanted to be one of them and he was damned if his parents had a say in it. A youthful stubborness and conviction had him make a rather rash decision. It hardly took long for him to be going about his way, but so lost in thought he was, he would not have noticed neither Thompson, nor even a Frenchman passing by.

To become a marine. His life would've changed, but it would be better than being a Tar. He was getting used to the latter, yes, but... Well, he knew that he would not be given a chance to be a midshipman again. Not with the present sort of lieutenants and captain. They would not see him as dong any good and, he had to admit, since he had been put before the mast he hadn't been as well behaved neither, as he could have been. Oh how it would feel nice to celebrate the present success with a bottle of drink. Get drunk, that'd be just perfect.

What an extraordinary turn of events. Thompson had never heard the like before. He headed for'rard to the foc'sle and stood by the rail, filling his pipe. The calmness of his actions belied the turmoil of his thoughts and he turned to gaze across the river to the lights of the town as he waited.

De Guarde wasn't going to turn the offer down, but he would never be an officer again if he didn't. Thompson was convinced that Captain Bolitho would not keep him a Tar forever, but he didn't think de Guarde believed him. The lad seemed to think that the Captain had some sort of personal grudge against him, which just couldn't be true. The Captain hadn't had all that much contact with the lad, after all, and it was extremely unlikely that he would use his authority to ruin a lad's entire future career in the Navy and refuse to re-rate him, ever.

Thompson had known midshipmen of twenty or thirty, who were simply unable to pass the examination, but still had the rank and authority of a middy half their age and of more than twice their ability.

De Guarde could be a good officer, if given the chance to be, once he had some of his more over-bearing ideas knocked out of his head. But did the Captain see that, or not?

For Thompson, that was what de Guarde's decision rested on, and he could not tell the lad, for definite, that Bolitho would, or wouldn't, ever reinstate him.

He had managed to fill his belly much sooner than he expected and having returned his appearance to that of a skip happy Tar, he lost no time below decks, that he could in seeing if Oxley had already contacted Thompson and arranged them to meet. His hair was not a mess and still retained the proper, albeit marine, queue on it. He grinned and tapped it. Could be something he would have, done every time the hair needed tending!

He stretched his legs. Standing in place did make them somewhat stiff. Ah, .. and just as he was to turn he spotted the familiar face by the rail and his own expression turned to that of a bright smile. He grinned even, his hands balling into fists, and as he ran - for he had failed to contain himself to a quick step - he skipped over anything at all in his path, be it a Tar's leg, a piece of rope or wood.

"George!" He exclaimed and saw that the man meant to smoke. He looked about himself quickly, nodded as if having confirmed that there was nobody that could yet bother him and that he knew where he was to run and appear when the muster was called. "George!" His jaw was beginning to hurt from all the grinning. "Did you see? Did you hear? No you couldn't have? Oh, you did! T' rap n' tap today. You know who did it? Do you? Do you? I give you three guesses!"

Someone was calling his name and he turned from the rail to see the young lad come running up to him, his face wreathed in smiles. "You'm as bad as a puppy, you are, lad. Calm down. An' I saw you up by the quarterdeck there, with a drum, where it ought to have been one of the Shepherds. Had us all took aback you did, when we seen it was you." He grinned at the boy, who seemed more eager than ever.

"They called the muster yet?" If they hadn't, de Guarde needed to go with the rest of his watch until the men were stood down, when they could find somewhere on deck that was a bit more private, to talk.