Day Trip

De Guarde grinned, and as if suddenly receiving a boot of energy, the remaining part of going down went past in a blur of motion. He laughed and jumped of the railing landing on the deck with slap of his feet, at present bearing only the very thin shoes, known to be worn by Tars. "Ah, Mister Evans, relax. It's suppose to be a fun trip! " He grinned and gazed about curiously. ".. Why are those people staring?" He jerked his forefinger in the direction of some other tourists and a little child who kept on begging his mother whether he could climb up all the way like they did as well.

"Best not taunt him, lad. He don't take well to it." Chase tipped his hat back a little on his head and shrugged. "Dunno. Pack of right strange beggars, them. C'mon, the others're already below."

He trotted toward the aft ladder, ignoring everyone else around as he skipped easily down the steep steps.

"Silly buggers." De Guarde followed suit, passing the onlookers without so much as a glance. Of course he had, just as Chase and the rest of the navy men, skipped down the ladder not facing it, but rather facing the other way. They made it look so simple that a few of the younger visitors attempted it, but were scolded by their mothers, and one nearly slipped too trying to make it fast.

"Neat!" De Guarde exclaimed, before he came to a stop to look around.

Chase could only stare at the upper gundeck. It looked, at first glance, no different from any other gundeck. But on second glance... not natural, not natural at all.

"They keeps the guns aboard in dry dock?" Branning asked, his brow creasing in confusion. "An' why's it so bright? There's no lanterns anyplace about."

"Ships," Newbury muttered, a trifle uneasily. He disliked ships. This one didn't seem to roll and creak like most other sailing ships though. He stepped carefully down the ladder to join the others on the upper gundeck. "Tidy place, ain't it?" He asked as he looked around.

"Think they fitted 'er with the same things we got in the house... dunno how safe it is ter have 'lightnings' running up an' down a wooden ship but.. that's .. t' only logical thin' I can come up with. " He looked about and grinned at Newbury. "...You dun' like them ships? Or jus' fearin' yer might get seasick on it?" He had followed as well and was now looking about a trifle confused.

He grimaced. "No, I don't like any bloody ships." He'd gone for a soldier, after all, hadn't he?

"Well don't worry yeself, this'un seems to be as stuck in t' ground as a house would be." He tapped his hand against its beams. " Dunno how they made it stuck.. but do you feel it?.....feelin' nothing there. Nothing at all no matter what sort of water'd be outside. A pity really. Would be mighty fine to sail her places."

"How extraordinary," Blackwood muttered, gazing about the deck in obvious wonderment. "Are they gas lights? I had thought such things had not spread far beyond Pall Mall."

"Hoi," Chase burst out. He had wandered over to the nearest gun and was looking it over intently. "These guns ain't got locks or nothin' on 'em!"

Mayden frowned. "That's stupid. What's the use in having guns that can't be fired?"

"We sure this's really Victory?" Tom Mayden enquired, wandering aft from where he'd been inspecting the guns up forrard. "This don't look nothin' like a line-ship."

"What other ship's it likely to be?" Newbury asked, before cursing loudly when he knocked his head on one of the low deck beams.

A couple women nearby glared at him for his coarse language.

"O' course it's Vict'ry," Oxley crowed. "Din't you see her figurehead when you went round her bows? Only ship I know of what don't have a proper figurehead, like."

Somewhere behind him he heard a man say "See the boy in the red jacket? He's one of the soldiers they used to have on ships like this."

He swung around and frowned. "I'm a M'rine. Not a soldier."

"Redcoat's a redcoat," Chase teased, glancing over from his inspection of the nearest gun. "Only lads worth noticin' are us Tars."

Mister Evans came trotting up the ladder from the lower gundeck, looking unusually irritated. "Dunno what that lot down below've got for brains, but they're of a mind that sailors don't hardly leave their messdecks!"

Oxley snorted at that. "How'd they 'spect you to sail the ship if you never went topside?" he said. "Did you ask 'em?" He looked around. "Though seems they think us M'rines had this whole deck to ourselves, near 'nough." He indicated the nearest hammocks, which were labelled as Marines' hammocks, with the letter M before the number. "They right for'rard, them do, stead of only bein' four or five rows like they oughta be."

"Ain't right," Tom Mayden remarked, shaking his head. "Nothin' 'bout this poor old ship makes any sorta good sense!"

"Poor ol' ship is about right," Thompson said, coming up to them. "Oughta be afloat, poor lass, not stuck in dry-dock like she is."

It was really strange seeing all the people wandering around her, folks who obviously weren't sailors and knew nothing about it, judging by the way one woman was talking to her children, neither of whom could have been more than about seven. "If you lived back then, you'd be a powder monkey and have to fetch the powder and cannon-balls for the cannons," she was saying, which made Oxley bite his sleeve.

"Too right," Mayden agreed, and grabbed the long tails of his coat away from a sticky-handed toddler. "Mind your bleedin' fingers, there! This ain't a damn toy."

To his immediate dismay, the child burst into tears at his harsh tone and fled toward his mother - who, Mayden noted, was wearing less clothing than the cheapest harlot. He ignored the glare turned his way by the boy's mother, as he'd busied himself with attempting to clean the traces of chocolate from his coat-tails.

"Couldn't pick a cannon-ball up at that age," Oxley pointed out, finally able to bring his laughter under control. "An' ship's boys ain't jus' powder-monkeys, neither."

What was a young kid like that doing in a plce like this, anyway? He tried not to goggle at the woman who scooped him up. She was showing an awful lot of leg, and it looked like she was wearing a pair of officer's drawers or something. Whatever had happened to her skirts?

De Guarde watched amused as the child cried after having tugged at Mayden's coat tails. One of the younger children wandered from his mother, which as the first, was rather 'scantly' clad, but then as he looked, most women here were. The boy looked at him, placed his hands at his back and all proudly said: "You's a powder monkey!.. but.." He hesitated taking a longer look at Mathew: "....you're no monkey..."

De Guarde blinked, scratched the back of his head, and leaned closer. "See here boy.. t' lads weren't called powder monkeys because they were monkeys. ..it was.." And here he wasn't even trying to say it as it was: "They were called that simply 'couse they climbed up the masts like a monkey, n' slept in the powder room!..N' when things gor really raugh, they were covered, head to toe in white powder, and sent as ghosts to the enemy ships." He nodded knowingly. "N' they howled, like true heathens see, and jumped and hopped, and climbed like mad. ..And t' gun crews.. .that is.. crews that had to deal with firing these." He patted the cannon. "Well, the finest were manned by the powder monkeys. These boys were so strong they could throw a cannon ball right at the other ship if they wanted. They were chosen boys." He grinned. "t' heart of t' ship.. second only ter t' midshipmen."

The boy stared at him, and then squeaked: "Wot are midshipmen?"

De Guarde leaned back: "Those were t' mos' important boys on t' ship. See, all these ships were run by boys, even t' captain had to listen to them!"

The young lad shook his head. "T' captain was t' boss!"

De Guarde chuckled softly. "Oh no, t' captain was only there for them to consult with."

"But that man said.." The boy spoke again.

"we know better, see." De Guarde looked at the other men and before he could continue the lad asked. "What are those green dressed men?"

De Guarde thought for a moment and then added: "Those? Oh they also work on the ship. See, we have our soldiers colour coded. " He grinned innocently at the marines. " .. T' marine soldiers are red. We use them when we hunt lobsters and the French, plus they look real nice on deck. T' marine seaweed soldiers are green. As t' name suggests, they are used ter collect sea weed. We sometimes use them in land operations.. because they can pretend to be trees real good." He grinned.

"But.. why are the other ones red.. isn't that... so easy to spot!" The boy demanded.

"..not at all. But you're a smart one. We have red and green for another reason too. If we fight in autumn, we use the red ones. Their coats are near invisible among red trees! And when it's spring.. here, t' green ones!"

"Buckles!" Oxley was flatly shocked, though he couldn't help grinning at the effect the other boy's words seemed to be having on the strangely dressed child. "They don't sleep in the powder room, they sleep on the gundeck with the sailors, though that's only 'cause there ain't so much room in the powder room."

It was funny, though. He wondered how anyone could think that de Guarde had been serious. "And if Cap'n Bolitho hears what you've jus' said, you's goin' to be for it!"

The boy was confused. There was this red clad boy saying that what he was just told wasn't entirely true, and then there was of course De Guarde, who still looked so credible to his young mind. De Guarde on the other hand scowled. "Oh hush, Tom. You know that truth hurts, but there's no way it ain't one!" He grinned and patted the boy on the head.

"So as I was saying." He stuck his tongue out at Tommy. "This here boy.. he's a drummer. "He had said that as it was. "What that means is, that every morning when we need ter be woke, he has to be the first, and then he rattles his drum all loud like and usually he's the first one to take a dip in the water too." He grinned. "Couse you know how men are, fresh woken!" The boy giggled.

Oxley rolled his eyes. "Make you take a dip," he said. "Might wake you up prop'ly, that might." He elbowed de Guarde in the ribs. "Only jealous 'cause you don't wear red like me, ain't you?"