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It had not been one of Peter’s better days. First was the navigation lesson with William; he thought that they must’ve found some sort of new landmass or continent but in fact, he had just been holding the map upside-down. He tried his best to brush it off but the muffled giggles from the other two midshipmen had rubbed him the wrong way. After that, it was when he and Charles had found Thomas’ sketchbook. The three of them spent their lunch break drawing with each other and while Peter wasn’t surprised by Thomas’ gorgeously detailed drawing of some plant he’d never heard of, he was rather upset that Charles’ simple landscape looked so much better than his shaky stickman portrait. On the verge of a meltdown already, Peter wanted to have some time to himself and calm down but unfortunately, Charles had invited him to another game of chess and he found it hard to say no.
Pieces clattered to the floor as the raging midshipman flipped the board. “Careful Pete! You’re going to break it!” Charles was not impressed as he got on his knees, crawling around to find and pick up the little wooden figures. “Great, a king is missing. Are you happy now, Peter?” The other didn’t respond, still frustrated by how badly he had been losing. Annoyed, Charles continued berating his friend. “This is ridiculous. You’re having a tantrum over a game of chess !” Peter slammed his hands on the table as he quickly stood and stormed to the lower decks. Thomas (who had been watching them play) sat in stunned silence as Charles continued searching for the missing piece, grumbling to himself as he did.
It didn’t take long for the first and third mates to come rushing out from the officer’s mess to see where all the noise was coming from. “What’s going on here?” asked William. “You’re making an awful lot of noise for a chess game, you two.”
“Pete’s being a sore loser, again !” huffed Charles as he laid out what pieces he still had.
“I think something’s wrong with him, sir,” added Thomas. “He’s been testy since this morning.”
William sighed, gesturing for Martin to go back to the officer’s mess. “And where has Milroy gone now?”
“He went to the lower decks, sir.”
The officer nodded and left, searching the orlop deck and then the cargo hold for the midshipman. Eventually, he found Peter curled up in the corner of the lazarette, his face buried in his knees. Normally, William would have scolded him for acting like such a child but he remembered what Thomas had said; from what he could recall, Peter did seem a little on edge this morning. He carefully sat himself next to the other and spoke softly. “Is everything alright, Milroy?” Peter didn’t respond but did lift his head so that his face was visible. William noticed that he was looking around nervously, trying to avoid eye contact as best he could. “I’m not going to shout at you.” Still, Peter didn’t respond. “I understand you’re upset but it’s just chess-“
“It’s not that.” Peter sighed. “Charles is amazing at chess and Thomas can draw so well. They are so good at everything they do and I can’t do anything right. I can’t even reading a fucking map.”
“I think you’re being too hard on yourself.” William rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “So chess and art aren't your strongpoints; it doesn’t mean you don’t have some sort of talent. You don’t have to be good at everything.”
“But I’m not good at anything!”
“Well, what do you like to do when you’re back at home?”
“I don’t get much time to myself. I have to help my mother look after the little ones.” The midshipman paused. “My father used to take me stargazing when I was little.”
“Stargazing! There you go.”
“Any stupid bugger can look at the sky though. Besides, I don’t do it anymore…” While Peter hadn’t said why, William understood that it was another sensitive topic. “At least I make Charlie and Tom look better when I fuck up.”
“You can’t compare yourself to them. Yes, the other two are good midshipmen but, between you and me…” The officer switched to a whisper. “They had the help of their families. You worked hard to get here.”
“Yeah, but I’ll never get promoted like them.”
William sighed. “You’ll find something you’re good at. I promise. It just takes a bit of time, that’s all.”
Shrugging, Peter buried his face back into his knees. “I want to be alone.”
“Alright.” William stood up and walked to the door. “Peter, if you ever need to talk, just come find me.” After getting no response, he left without another word.
While still somewhat shaken up by the events of the day before, Peter definitely felt a bit better after apologising to Charles and getting a good night’s rest. And now to put him in an even better mood was today’s first lesson: sword fighting. Since Thomas was the worst at wielding a cutlass, Peter hoped that they would be partnered together. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to be the case.
“You have all been doing well in our previous lessons but in combat, you’re not always going to have the same duelling partner,” announced William. “So for today, instead of fighting amongst yourselves, I’ve asked the help of Mr. Davies and Mr. Nichols so you can try your hand at a real challenge.”
Peter fiddled with his sword nervously; he didn’t want to fail at something again, especially not something he enjoyed. He hoped that whoever he was up against would go easy on him. To make things worse, he didn’t even have a say in who he would practice with. That had already been decided by William beforehand.
“Hershtik, you’ll be duelling Mr. Davies. Lanke, you’re with me. That leaves Milroy with Mr. Nichols.” Looking across at the officers, Peter couldn’t help but notice a smug smirk on Nichols’ face. It didn’t fill him with great confidence. But he couldn’t argue with William’s decision. All he could do now was try his best to not embarrass himself once again.
Instead of fighting all at once, each midshipman and their officer adversary would duel with an audience. First up was Thomas and William although there wasn’t much to say as it was over rather quickly. Thomas knew how to fight (in theory) but he often hesitated before striking which left several openings for his opponent. Charles and John were next. Unlike Thomas, Charles was a much more skilled sword fighter. His technique tended to lean on the defensive side as he usually blocked first before striking. John’s attacks were quick but calculated and, after a decent fight, Charles was also defeated.
“Well done,” said William, “Now it’s Milroy’s turn.” Nichols confidently strode over and assumed his starting position. Not wanting to delay this any longer, Peter stepped up too, gripping his sword tightly. The first mate smiled. “Alright. Off you go.”
Before William had even finished his sentence, Nichols had already lunged forward. Luckily, Peter was able to react in time and blocked the attack. Their swords made a harsh clang as they collided. Normally, Peter’s technique during a sword fight was to try to land as many attacks as possible; however, he had to adopt a similar fighting style to Charles as Nichols seemed to be taking an offensive approach to the duel. It was hard at first but eventually the midshipman began to effectively block and parry instead of flailing his sword in the hopes of winning. Skillfully countering each of the officer’s strikes, Peter noticed that his opponent was getting increasingly more frustrated and his attacks were slowly becoming more clumsy. Maybe he wasn’t as good as his cocky demeanour previously suggested? Their swords clashed once again and, using all his might, Peter managed to corkscrew around Nichols’ blade, forcing the sword out of the officer’s hand and sending it flying. The weapon landed by William’s feet.
For a moment, the whole deck was stunned into silence. No one (not even Peter) could quite believe what had just happened. “Well,” started Thomas, “If no one else is going to say it, I will: that was bloody brilliant, Pete!” Charles nodded excitedly in agreement.
William chimed in. “I have to say, I agree with you Lanke.”
Peter beamed as a grumbly Nichols trudged over to pick up his sword. “Yeah, yeah. Great match, Milroy. Unfortunately I have some duties to attend to now.” The second mate shoved his weapon to John and lazily waved as he went below deck. “I’m sure you can finish this without me, William.”
The first mate chuckled. “Seems someone’s ego has been bruised.” He turned to look at Peter. “You’ve got a real talent for swordplay.”
The midshipman smiled sheepishly, flattered by the compliment. “Thank you, sir.” He had hoped to talk to William for a little while longer but Thomas and Charles were already whisking Peter away so they could talk more about his phenomenal victory. Maybe another day, he thought.
“Why the long face, Ed?” asked Martin, sitting himself with the other three men in the mess.
William burst into uproarious laughter. “Ah, he’s just grumpy ‘cause our boy Milroy beat him in a duel.” The first mate continued to cackle as Nichols tried to hide his anger.
“He got lucky,” explained Nichols, trying to defend himself. “Besides, it’s only one stupid fight. I’m not upset.”
“You could’ve fooled me. You’ve got a face like a smacked arse.” Martin, and even John, began chuckling too, amused by the comment; William was practically howling with laughter at this point.
Nichols muttered under his breath so his comment would go unnoticed by the other officers. “At least I don’t pretend the midshipmen are my sons.” Getting out of his seat, the second mate quickly left to go sulk in the privacy of his own cabin. He wasn’t going to let himself be humiliated any longer by those fools.