June 5th - Water in daylight, see in the dark later

"Only stupid thing I ever done was talk to you in the first place," Cotton added bitterly. "An' much you care that the Captain's dead an' all." He turned his back on the two turncoats to head back to the French camp. His whole world had come crashing down and there was nothing he could do about it.

He was dead?... Vickery was dead? No. That could not be. Pye was grateful for the fact that Cotton was looking the other way. He hoped that Bright thought his own intervention silenced him, for he was unable to say anything just then.

He bit at his lip. Vickery could NOT be dead. He just could not. He was not the sort of man who would just die like that. He'd have died perhaps in some heroic encounter with the enemy, leading on and winning and then..... but not die just like that.

He could not say he did not care, try as he might to play out that part, he just could not bring himself to say as great a lie as that. But he could not be quite so quiet, or else Bright would become suspicious and then things would only get worse. "....You better be smart n'uff not ter waste yer water an' yer food. Ain't gettin' any tomorrow, 's wot' scarse food is with us." Good, he did not make a mistake at saying them instead of us. Could be proud of that.

Vickery dead? he still could not believe it. Not the honourable man, that he came to admire and trust.

"Shut it," Bright told him.

Cotton was obscurely glad that someone else was irritated with Pye's nonsensical ramblings as well. That the other man was also a deserter was galling, though. Cotton couldn't fault the French for fighting their hardest, of course, but that anyone could turn their back on their own side and join the enemy was incomprehensible.

Especially when doing so meant betraying an officer who had put himself on the line to accept the man into his own company. It was Pye's betrayal of Vickery that hurt the most, rather than Pye's betrayal of Cotton himself and his comrades.

Pye walked on in silence. It may have appeared it was because of Bright, but in truth, he was mulling over what Cotton had just told him. Vickery was dead. This did not bode well at all. He had liked the captain, as an officer and as a man who treated others fairly and was himself an honourable person.

That he was now dead, quite certainly by the hands of the French, made the lad ever more eager to finally be through with his plan, where the French coat could yet again be discarted. He knew he was taking a grave risk. Both if he was caught before his plan became a reality or if they were freed by the English sooner than expected.

He glanced at Cotton, and then gazed ahead at the prisoners that they were nearing. His plan was, just as the one he had once for revenge, complicated and yet simple enough. He had not begun making preparations that day, but had been slowly and gradually proceeding towards his goal ever since his coat was swapped. His poor tatters rolled somewhere at the bottom of his cow hide knapsack.

Was it time that day?... Ought he wait for one more evening? He owed it to Vickery. To bring his men back safely, to have them freed.

"Comrade..." Pye spoke, with a similar tone to Francois: "...I'll hope then..not t' hear that tone 'gain from ye."

Francois now glared at the insolent Englishman...well, ex-Englishman.

"Do not tell me how to speak or what tone to use. Recruit! I will speak as I please, you do not outrank me," he snapped, then took a deep breath to calm down.

"Let's all just keep moving," he sighed.

"Ain't tellin'. Jus' hoping, Soldat." Pye replied to that, though his own voice dropped a little as if accepting his station. The two almost resembled a pair of dogs, testing each other and attempting to set the extent of their boundaries. Snapping and growling, but not biting. Submitting, or attempting to make the other submit, but remaining at a distance even so.

Two young pups who may have had masters visiting before, and now had to share their one home, because one master had gone on vacation. One of them did not like the new arrangement, or perhaps it was very much so that both did not.

He walked, just as Seviére did, keeping a careful eye on Cotton when he could. "You're bein' on picquet duty ternight?" He said after a long pause, which brought them ever nearer to the group of riflemen, to which Cotton would be returned.

Pye kept giving him wary looks, which suited Cotton just fine. The young man should be wary of him, after everything that he'd done recently. He'd looked taken aback, shocked even, when Cotton had mentioned that Captain Vickery was dead. Had he not even known that? Cotton had thought that Pye had admired and respected the Captain. Obviously not, though, or he'd still be in the dark green jacket of a Rifleman, instead of wearing the blue coat of the enemy French.

Cotton was just glad that Vickery would never know precisely how mistaken he'd been about Pye's character.

That sounded like a good idea to Bright. He did not wait for the others, however, and instead started back toward where the rest of the prisoners were being kept. There had to be other likely unfortunates to needle, after all.

There they were. With Bright going ahead of them, it was for the two young soldiers to watch over the older rifleman. Not a hard thing to do, though they had little trust between themselves. Pye cared only so little about it though. He did not come to make friends.

"Tomorrow we march again. Get yeself rested so none of you go n' lag behind." This was almost it anyhow. Just a little longer and Cotton would be delivered and Pye free.

Now that wasn't even worth a response, of any sort. Cotton had been in the Army for over four years; he knew how to look after himself and was willing to bet that he could keep marching long after Pye had needed to fall out for a rest.

The younger man was really starting to get on his nerves now. It was a good thing they weren't that far from the camp or he'd lay the boy out cold, consequences be damned.

Pye knew he was telling the other man things that sounded obvious and yet, they were things that he mentioned for a different reason than Cotton was probably thinking. No matter.

They were almost there, and Cotton could be dropped off. A few steps across the rugged terrain, some between the various men that sat or stood, ate or languished about when not on duty. There were some that had headed to a place or another with some purpose, and some whose duty had not yet ended.

And then, further ahead, guarded by a pair of soldiers were the riflemen. The guards were just about to be exchanged with a new pair. They needn't bother as much though, as the camp was rather alive and there were many more eyes watching.

"Ain't tellin'. Jus' hoping, Soldat." Pye replied to that, though his own voice dropped a little as if accepting his station.

"Very well then," Francois was not going to push it with his new 'comrade', he realized they were going to have to at least tolerate each other if they were fighting in the same unit. Though how Pye could willingly fight his own countrymen, he did not understand. Though if the Portuguese came after them, Pye had better fight like the devil himself if he didn't want to suffer the fate of any French who fell into their brutal hands.


Pye walked, just as Seviére did, keeping a careful eye on Cotton when he could. "You're bein' on picquet duty ternight?" He said after a long pause, which brought them ever nearer to the group of riflemen, to which Cotton would be returned.

"No, unless the sergeant changes his mind. I get to sleep this night...for once," Francois answered.

"Ah." Pye indicated to Cotton that he should move ahead towards the little circle of prisoners. "Well, that's good." He glanced at their prisoner then at the man. "Our job's done 'ere." And the other lad could go as he pleased or rather Pye did hope he would.

"I'm off to my tent then, careful there are no escapes on your watch, as it would look very suspicious given your new allegiance and I fear things would go badly for you with the officers," Francois warned calmly enough then left, he was tired.