Sailors with shackles

De Guarde did as told, careful to sit himself down again. He wigged his toes moved his legs forward so that the shackles would fit easily around them. He waited there, then. "....I'll lie 'bout us bein' there. Ware." He murmured quietly. "We wasn't..did it all in a bucket." He nodded slowly.

Quinn had gone below, choosing not to rag Johnson over the state his jacket was in after Fingers had returned it; the Corporal showed his tender side infrequently enough that Quinn didn't want to risk him never showing it again. And clothes could always be cleaned.

He'd headed down to the magazine, choosing to begin his rounds of the sentries with Mallory, who seemed to be fine, though he appreciated the new candle Quinn supplied for the lantern hanging near him.

"Right," Ware said brusquely, stooping to secure the leg irons again. "So what 'bout the bucket itself, then? An' Thompson?"

~



His search for the necessary authority took him down belowdecks, following the directions given by Tide Evans. If the quartermaster was to be believed, Sergeant Quinn was going about his rounds.

"Sergeant Quinn," Leaford said, pausing on the ladder upon discovering his quarry. May I beg a word?"

"It might be smart yer fill it.. or have someone fill n' empty it. Fair say it was used then." He shrugged. "N' he didn' see Thompson 'ere.. so he's safe...we jus' tell him ..."But there was a problem. Master-at-arms did give Thompson his key, the key which was then used to unlock the leg irons. He however did not see his legs freed, so they could still claim it was only a safety precaution in the case that there might be a storm or such reason, which would demand the lad freed else he drowns. "Wot' really transpired... like t' bucket."

"Carry on," Quinn said to Mallory, who relaxed fractionally as the Sergeant turned to see who wanted him. "Mister Leaford. How can I help you?"

Master's mates generally didn't have business with Marine NCOs, unless they had been sent by an officer to request the NCO's presence somewhere.

Ware rolled his eyes. "Problem with that," he pointed out, "is there's no bucket."

~



"There is an issue with one of your lads." Leaford was not one to mince words when he was after something. "The prisoner sentry."

"Send someone ter get it or we can plain lie we didn't do it at all, or me needed doin' it." The boy answered with a shrug. He did not know whether Leaford had meant to drop the charges, but he could not take any risks and surprisingly, even with the earlier disagreements he did not want something bad to happen to Ware either.

The only person currently being held a prisoner was the lad de Guarde. He certainly could be a mouthy lad, but for any of the Marines to have a problem with him... That didn't sound right, to Quinn's ears.

"What sort of problem?"

Was the boy really suggesting this? "Aye," Ware grumbled. " 'Cause lyin' always makes things better."

~



"His sentry saw fit to turn him loose," Leaford replied. "They were up forrard when I came upon them. Visiting the heads, as they claimed."

Turned him loose? Quinn relaxed marginally as Leaford continued. At least Ware hadn't been so damn stupid as to leave the boy unattended, which was a minor consolation.

"Right, I'll go and have a chat with him. Thank you for letting me know, Mister Leaford."

"Happy to be of assistance," the master's mate replied, turning to make his way back up the ladder. His business was ended, unless Quinn had any further use for him. Which was unlikely.

More likely, he was just happy to stir up trouble for his Marines. Quinn watched him go, before turning back to see to the sentries on the various storerooms. There was no point heading up to the gundeck and then having to come back down here, after all.

Dickin and Vining seemed to be all right, though Quinn was sure that Vining wasn't wearing an issue stock. He couldn't be completely sure in the dimness of the lanthorn light, but it looked as though he'd tied a cloth round his neck. That would be something to sort out later.

Up the companionway. Higgins was on sentry outside the wardroom and had nothing to report, leaving Quinn to head up to the irons where Ware was on duty.

Damnation. That heavy tread coming up the ladder could only mean one thing. Ware straightened up, as much as he could owing to the low deck beams, and steeled himself for a sound blowing up.

"Private Ware," he said, when he reached the top of the ladder. "What's this I hear about you letting your charge go gallivanting off to the heads?"

"Sarn't," Ware said stiffly. "Prisoner needed to relieve himself."

Of course. They were hardly likely to go up to the heads for the view, or to take the air. "Mister Leaford seemed concerned that you had released the prisoner from irons for no good reason."

If he could have, Ware would've cringed. "Weren't so, Sarn't."

This would be no issue if De Guarde hadn't tried to dispute the point. Damn the boy. Ware hesitated, knowing he ought to say as much. It wasn't outright lying if he didn't mention it...

Ware confirmed that it had happened. De Guard could not stand in and say it was not so. He studied the man and shook his head. And they all talked about that just moments ago too. How hard was it to remember something like that. He looked at Quinn instead. "Sergeant." He began. " If Ware's to be guilty o' anything it is , doing his duty too strictly." He scowled as if that was true and he was feeling quite awful, having to suffer in the chains.

Who'd asked the boy? And anyway, Ware had had no business taking the lad anywhere while he was supposed to be in irons awaiting punishment.

"So he needed to relieve himself?" Quinn said. "And you brought him straight back here afterwards?"

Ware had probably wanted to, but had been prevented from doing so by Leaford's sticking his nose in where it wasn't wanted.

De Guarde frowned. Sergeant Quinn was not as nice as he remembered him. He held his silence though, because this time Ware could easily answer the question. They went straight back, or as straight as Mister Leaford allowed them. In that there was no crime committed.

"Straight's I could, Sarn't. Once the boy gave up arguin' with Mister Leaford."

Stupid beggar.

"Don't go argufyin' with folks, lad, it ain't so healthy as all that," Quinn said, turning his attention on the lad sitting on the deck. He looked back to Ware. "Well, there ain't a bucket round here he could've used, and you stayed with 'im all the way. I don't see as there's any problem with that. He's back here, ain't he, after all. I'd say it was jus' bad luck you runnin' into Mister Leaford, thataway, that's all."

"Aye, sergeant. " The boy nodded quickly. He did not argue, not exactly but if Ware wanted to put it that way, he would not argue with him over it. Or with Quinn about whether his advice was right and sensible or not. He smiled, with some relief, instead at Quinn's decision. No bucket was good after all.

Bad luck indeed. Ware held his tongue a moment, considering, then settled for a simple, "Aye, Sarn't."

"Ask for a bucket next time," Quinn said. "Carry on, Ware."