The Captain's Quarters

"Last I seen, he were arright. Carryin' on wi' summa his mates, like them Tars do."

Branning fished inside his coat for a moment until he found his snuff-box. "Care fer a dip?"

"Got me pipe, thanks." He shook his head. "And the Colonel axed if'n I smoke, and Mister Leat thought he'd invited me to have a smoke with 'im, like. As if someone like me could do that. Him bein' an officer, an' all."

He thought he'd like to get to know the Colonel, but officers and men didn't socialise together; it was practically unheard of.

With a shrug, the Londoner stuffed a healthy pinch of snuff into his cheek and tucked his snuff-box back into his coat. "Mebbe the officer ain't arright inna head?" Branning suggested, his words muddled somewhat by the tobacco in his mouth. An officer inviting a lowly Marine to smoke with him must be raving mad.


OOC - Which is a little funny considering that I've got drinking with a couple of my officers before! o.o;; Modern days indeed.

"He didn't invite me; Mister Leat just thought he had." Which was daft of the Lieutenant, but there was no way Thompson was going to say that. "Ain't for the likes of us to get all friendly with the officers, after all, is it?"

OOC - you're not the only one. Been out on the town with officers, staff sergeants, colleagues an' all, me! Man, I miss the Army at times... (till I remember the PT )

Ah. Branning leaned out over the rail and spat some used-up snuff into the sea. That made a little bit more sense. "Notta bit," he agreed. " 'Specially if the officer's 'Tenant Brandeson."


OOC - Ahh PT. I don't do any of that, I'm broken. *nods* If it weren't for all the BS, it'd be a real good gig all around. It's the people that keep me going to work every day. *cough* Army Strong!

"Yes, sir. My elder brother is to inherit the firm when father eventually goes the way of his clients, so the loss of one son was not so bad for the family as it sometimes is for others."

"Hardy had to practically carry Mister Brandeson out, afore he fell over," Thompson said, feeling the shame of the flare up up again. "An' in front o' the Army, too. T'ain't right, it ain't."

(BS baffles brains! And PT was a b*tch! I miss the people most, I think.)

Branning made a face. He wasn't surprised by that news, but it was distasteful to hear all the same. "Poor Alf," he said, shaking his head. "Ain't a fate I'd wish on anybody, bein' 'Tenant Brandeson's steward! The resta the dinner went arright, though?"


OOC - The people are great. Even if they're troopies. *smirk*

Thompson grinned. "Mister De Guarde was that drunk, he threw up. Right into Lieutenant Bush's lap. Silly beggar."

"The wee blaggard!" Branning almost choked on his snuff and was obliged to spit the entire wad out over the rail to keep from swallowing it. He swiped at his mouth, chuckling wryly. "Feel a bit bad fer Mister Bush, but no sorrow fer the young gennelman!"

"Reckon he'll be meetin' the gunner's daughter tomorrer, or me name ain't George Thompson," the other Marine said. "Careful with yer baccy there, mate."

"You are not lost," Edrington commented. He looked at the tip of his cheroot, listening to the noise of the water, the chatter from people invisible in the dark, carrying in the silence. "Would you go back?" he asked finally.

"If I'm left on the beach, yes," Leat said, watching the clouds drift across the moon. It was a very beautiful moon tonight. "If I find myself an old lieutenant, yes."

He paused.

"But if I get my step, no."

Edrington looked across at the lieutenant. That would be the point of difficulty in the Navy. Oh, they would promote people from before the mast, who had worked their way up from the lower deck, through the ranks of the warrrant officers, and, provided they could pass the exam, they could be promoted to lieutenant and officer rank. But to get a decent posting, or even more, to get one's step to Captain, required interest, patronage or incredibly good luck, not mere ability. In the end, it wasn't that different from the army.

"While the war lasts, the first is unlikely," barring disablement, of course, he thought. "The second though: how old would you have to be to count yourself an old lieutenant? Would you be tempted by a mere command, if your step were delayed?"

"Mebbe that'll please Corp'ral Johnson a fair bit," Branning said as he pulled his snuff box out again. "Eh. Ain't the first time I near to gutted me dip," he added. "Least I can't be ill later if I spit it out first!"

"Mebbe. It'll keep him off'n our backs fer a bit. And you just be careful wi' that. Can't go wastin' good baccy at sea, after all." He took a drag on his pipe. "Ain't good, gettin' on the bad side of the officers, after all. Wouldn't fancy bein' in that young gentleman's shoes."