Relaxing in the Crown

The initial slight shock was worn off and now McIntyre was grinning. "Well now, Billy," he said playfully. "I know one thing you wasn't able to hold down! Lucky you then!"

Thinking that he was being addressed, Billy grinned again. "So you do remember me! Aye, I'm a lucky fellow to find two o' me best dads right here at the Crown. Tide, you met these men yet?"

"These two?" Tide looked the old fellows over and shook his head. "Nope. What're you doin' with two lubbers for dads, then?"

"I didn't get to pick 'em on purpose," Billy protested. "I were just a wee babe. An' besides, they're marines. Not lubbers like yon lads in the mud. Ain't that right, Da?"

How did he know they had been marines? Springfield's coat was almost unrecognizable and McIntyre was with the army now. The unsettling impression of deja vu touched off by the young seaman's arrival at last began to resolve itself into an actual memory. It was nigh on impossible, but it was the only thing he could think of that made any kind of sense. "Davy?" he asked warily.

The most McIntyre could do was stare. How was this even possible?

"Weren't that in the West Indies, though?" He managed after a moment.

Billy shrugged. "Mighta been. I can't remember too well." Then he patiently corrected Springfield. "Not Davy, Billy."

Pye was Cold! He lost the grip of his hose, and now felt the cold retaliation for it. He'd struggled to regain the hold for it, but Burke was still stronger and bigger than him. This and he had gulped a great deal of water while trying to get out of the way. It did not mean he was not going to try.

Reaching around he tested whether the other man was ticklish. It was a cheap shot but shivering and still laughing, the lad was ready for almost all.

The bucket remained rather lonely, forgotten and tipped into the mud. The two lads were sometime cleaner sometimes more muddy, depending whether they were just hosed down or whether they landed on their backs in mud. Just like Pye managed a moment ago, slipping on the mud itself. The ground around them was getting rather worse.

Oxley followed the trail of mud into the tavern. He needed a decent tot of rum.

There were a couple of redcoats and a sailor and he waved at them cheerily. "Any chance of a tot?" he asked, looking around.

Billy nodded amiably at the lad. "There y'are, young Oxley. Come an' meet two o' me dads, old marines like you, they are. This'un's Billy Springfield - Billy like me - and that's Da' McIntyre, corporal he is."

He came in and saw that Mister Evans was there, too. "Oh, hello mister Evans," he said, and turned back to Billy Barrow. "How come you's got two Da's, then? Most folks only has one."

"Oh, I got lots. Maybe a dozen or so. Ain't that right, Da?"

Oxley blinked. Barrow hadn't just called him 'Da' had he? He must have been looking at someone standing behind Oxley, that's all. "Got any rum?" he asked again, looking around.

A tot. Right. McIntyre fetched one up with a practised ease. It was indeed the West Indies, now that he thought about it some. A fair few years ago without a doubt. Imagine meeting up with the grown-up version of that wee babe!

"Oh aye," the oldster remarked. "We never could work out who the proper da was, neither."

"No," Billy agreed, "nor me proper mum neither. Though I thought later as it mighta been Jemmy."

Burke slunk back into the Crown, tugging Pye and a bucket of water with him. Both were squelching wet with water, but the mud had thankfully all been washed away. They had finally given up their fight as a draw when both realized that the water was just too bloody cold.

He blanched to see the room so crowded - and with sailors, too. Doubtful at best that they'd be able to sneak in quietly and clean up unnoticed. Nothing for it, then.

Squaring his shoulders, he marched over to where they had dropped the scrub brushes. He tossed one over to Pye and grabbed one for himself. Then set to scrubbing up the mess they had made of the floor.

Pye sneezed and looked apprehensively at the mess that the pair had caused but that they both now had to clean up as well. It was too good to ignore that a single little shove could send his partner right back down into the mess and skidding across the floor. Why in fact, with enough force, he might have been able to make a greater line across the room with the momentum!

Pye blinked and took the brush and studied that two. A pair of them and they could have them on their feet. Much nicer sliding across the floors without the need to be on all fours! "Hey..Burke." He called and then - splash.

"Oi!" Burke said, startled as more water splashed onto him. He looked up to find Pye having slipped and landed on his bucket. Now, there was a fair amount of water spread across the muddy floor. Burke scowled.

"The idea was t' clean up th' mess, not make it bigger!"

"S' not bigger, jus' more spread out." Pye countered with a grin. "See, t' mudd's more dill...di... is more ..watery." He shuffled and looked quite innocently at the other man. "Was an accident, that. I swear." Though the brush that was quickly making its way to Burke's hair, would not be.

"Sure it was," Burke said with a sigh. Ah, well. It wasn't like this mess could get any more messy. They already had a fair amount to clean up. A bit of movement caught his attention and he turned to frown at Pye.

"None o' that now!" he said, waving his own brush in the younger man's face. "Else ye want me t' scrub yer face with it."

"Face? Now now, that ain't fair. I'd only improve yer hairdo.. you'd made me bleed all over t' place." He indicated the hard bristles of their brush. "You wouldn't want your partner bleeding all over t' floor which we've just cleaned?" He asked innocently, having tried to scoot closer to have the hair in reach at last. He was grinning.

"Coulda been, even." There was no telling, especially not now, years after the fact. McIntyre grinned. Not that it mattered!

"Oi," he said abruptly, his attention drawn by the two greenjackets who were still working at scrubbing the floor clean. "Belay that foolery, you got enough of the deck to wash!"

"What deck, we're not on t' ship 'ere! S' just floors all around." Pye returned, momentarily distracted from his intention to scrub the other rifleman clean with a brush.

The oldster shook his head, sparing a moment to set the asked-for tot in front of the young drummer. "Don't be a nuisance," McIntyre told the grasshopper. "Be 'bout your work an' it'll be done so's you ain't gotta worry 'bout it anymore."

"Aye ,we'll do." Pye turned to Burke and lowered his brush. "Lets finish t' floor first an' then.. you." He grinned and went for the doors. This time really making an effort to clean up the mess that the two had made. After a few moments he stopped only to loose his coat his shirt as wet as the garment that was worn over it, and clinging to the lad's frame. Tugging at it a bit he continued with his scrubbing, humming to himself all the while.