Horatio often wondered what kind of amusement his men got up to now that he had stopped
the rat baiting that had left Styles's face covered with 'boils.' He knew that curiosity
would soon get the best of him, so the next sunny day, he roamed the decks, searching out
his men. Matthews and Styles were together, whittling while sitting on huge rolls of rope.
While the men were skilful, Horatio did not linger, quickly growing impatient to discover
the others. After walking the rest of the decks, he had located all his charges but one -
Oldroyd. To say that Midshipman Hornblower was somewhat concerned at this absence is an
understatement. His eyes roamed the ship, finally settling aloft, where one bare foot hung
over the edge of the fore top. Hornblower gulped, but quickly ascended to hunt his quarry.
The sight that met his eyes was not one he ever would have expected, from Oldroyd least of
all his men. Oldroyd was sitting perched on the edge of the fore top, a shuttle and thread
merrily flying, fingers confidently working a quick and easy pattern. Hornblower said
nothing, watching mesmerized by the speed and precision of the craft. Finally, after
Oldroyd looked up and nodded at him, Horatio spoke. "What are you doing?"
"Oh, naught - just something one of the old tars taught me long ago. Thought I'd
forgotten 'ow, but the fingers, they remember."
Horatio asked with some trepidation tempered by genuine longing, "Teach me?"
Oldroyd glanced uncertainly into Hornblower's eyes, and seeing no taunting there, he
nodded.
And this is how Horatio learned to turn thread into that most mathematical and delicate of
knot work, tatting.
THE END