10 June; In Irons

Thompson felt responsible.

He didn't like feeling responsible, at least in this particular way. If only he'd gone for'rard on the gundeck, or Chase and Seward had made the vaguest pretence of breaking it up until he'd gone past...

Being the duty Corporal, he had the keys to the irons, which he handed over to Mallory once the two prisoners were confined, going through the other Marine's orders for the position by rote - only realising a shade too late that he'd said them as though he was the one being placed on sentry. Ah well.

"If you'd had the sense you was borned with, Chase, I'd've gone on for'rard an' left you to it. You could've at least made the pretence of breakin' things up," he said. At least he'd landed a decent hit or two on the other sailor - Seward was going to be nursing a black eye for the next few days.

Good.

The cold iron made his ankles itch, but the shackles allowed no room for him to shove his fingers underneath them so he could scratch at his prickling skin. Which was not to say Chase failed to try. He abandoned his efforts when Thompson addressed him, using that same irritating tone he had employed earlier.

"Ain't nobody asked you to stick an oar in to start with," was Chase's curt reply. There had been a couple of petty officers present and none of them had attempted to get in the way. Only if things had started to get really unpleasant would they have broken it up.

The topman swiped at his nose, which was still leaking blood. "You ain't fit for talkin' 'bout sense, anyways. Seems you gone an' lost alla yours since gettin' that bit of decoration."

The marine heaved a sigh. "You're a flamin' idiot, times, Cob Chase," Thompson said. Those other petty officers were, too - they'd be in for it if the officers realised they'd done nothing to stop the fight.

"Dunno as you had any sense to start with - or you'd've kept it off the bleedin' messdeck. Fightin' like that in front of half the crew... you know the Articles as well as I do. An' if you'd at least have pretended to stop it, I'd've walked on without sayin' anythin' more about it, an' gone aft on the gundeck, too."

Which was as close to turning a blind eye as Thompson thought he could get away with.

Oh please.

"Funny thing 'bout that," said Chase. "Half the lads was happy to watch, 'til you came 'longside."

He had no time for playing stupid games like this bullock was suggesting, either. Pretending to stop until he had gone indeed. Not a chance. Putting off the handling of business was not Chase's style.

"Least they had the sense to stay out o' the fightin'," Thompson pointed out. Even if they didn't actually have the sense to stop the fight.

He liked the Tar. He just wished that sailor wasn't quite so quick to wade in - though Seward needed sorting out.

"You'm so bleedin' quick to use your fists," he added. "I know who it was threw the first hit in that bar - though I damn well didn't let onto to the bleedin' provosts."

If Chase could just think for a moment beforehand without wading in... but that'd make Thompson's job too easy, wouldn't it?

Of course they did. It was only proper to let two lads settle their own disagreement by themselves, without outside interference. But it seemed that only the sailors respected that sort of thing.

"D'you want a medal for it, then?" Chase wanted to know.

So Thompson hadn't peached to the provosts. That hardly absolved him of guilt in this instance. It was a shame, really. For a while, Chase had thought there might be good in the fellow.

Chase was just as thick as Terpsy's planking, apparently. Thicker, maybe. He was a good sort, otherwise - just too quick to punch people when things weren't going right, though.

"Can't solve every little upset by hittin' someone - even if they are pissin' you off," Thompson pointed out, folding his arms. "Shame he didn't knock some sense into you while you was scrappin'." And at least Seward was sporting a black eye. That was something, anyway.

"Like to have killed him," said Seward, with a scowl. "Coward's way, hittin' a lad from behind like that!"

Chase curled his lip, but addressed his remarks to Thompson, feeling that if he acknowledged Seward, he'd only want to clout him again. Not, of course, that he didn't want to belt the Marine one too. "That just shows you ain't got any idea what goes on 'round the messes, that does."

Thompson ignored Seward, despite wanting to give him a kick in the ribs to shut him up.

"Reckon I've bin at sea jus' as long as you have, an' I know damn well what goes on on the messdeck. It won't wash, that, y'know. If you need to knock seven bells outta someone, do it some'ers where half the ship ain't goin' to see it - or get it done quick afore someone hasta take notice of it. If it'd bin the bosun or the master-at-arms who'd've come along..." Thompson let his words trail off meaningfully.

Oh for.

"Is you really thick's all that?" Chase shook his head. "You don't got a clue, for sure. Mebbe if you did, you'd know what this stupid lubber's been up to. He deserved that thumpin' an' if we wasn't bound up I'd give him another!"

He touched his swollen nose gingerly, then scoffed. "Or mebbe not. It ain't any business fer a Marine to have anythin' to do with."

"I ain't been doin' a thing to deserve nothin'," Seward spat. "Filthy lyin' swine, you are. I'll have yer guts fer a necker, see if I don't!"

"I never said he didn't deserve it," Thompson pointed out. "But doin' it in full view of everyone ain't the right way to go about things. An' it's my job to see that there ain't no disturbances in the ship - that's why there's Marines aboard in the first place."

And Seward would protest about it. Thompson wasn't sure exactly what had been going on, but it had something to do with de Guarde and quite possibly with young Button too, and grown men picking on younger lads was something that couldn't be borne.

He'd be sure to report that part of it, too, when he reported this. And he really ought to try to talk with de Guarde and try to get to the bottom of it all.

"If you lot are s'posed to stop 'disturbances', mebbe you oughta try a bit harder," Chase suggested flatly. Anyway, having a go at Seward in front of the lads was a far sight smarter than doing so where nobody could see. It was a public lesson in what happened to folks who stirred up trouble. Viewed in that light, it was a perfectly acceptable thing to do.

Thompson sighed. This was getting them nowhere. what was done, was done, and he had to go and report the consequences to the officer of the watch. And maybe next time Chase could contrive to pound the liver and lights out of Seward a sight quicker, so there wouldn't be anything for Thompson or anyone else to see by the time they heard about it.

"I got me eyes on you," he told Seward, bluntly. "Aye, you an' your mates. You stop causin' trouble for decent, hard-workin' souls."

"For all the good that'll do," Chase muttered. Decent, hard-workin' souls indeed. Thompson must not mean the Marines, then!

There was nothing to be gained by hanging around here any more, in Thompson's opinion, and he did have other places to be.

He handed the keys over to Mallory. "If there's any bother, call me," he said, pulling his jacket straight before heading aft to go and report to the officer of the watch.