17th July: The vile tempest

Sew listenend in, of course, but he stayed in the spirit room for the moment, a bit out of sight - well as much as a very big person in a very small, filled storage room could. He thought that perhaps Thompson might get a more truthful account of events without the looming presence of an officer cramping his style, and he was quite curious to see how the new corporal would handle the situation. As far as Sew knew, Thompson was fairly popular with the men, but promotion could change relationships considerably. He also started to run through the muster list in his head for potential lock picks - grunting inwardly when he realized that a rather large proportion of the men might potentially have commited that particular crime.

Was it too much to hope that Whyte would find all persons responsible, neatly asleep in one pile with all the missing rum with them (either inside or neatly bottled up), and with the proverbial bloody cosh and a set of lockpicks?

"Take your time," Thompson said, offering Gunn an arm to lean on while he regained his balance. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Chances are, he could not - if the men who'd done it had any sense, they'd have struck from behind. But Gunn might have seen or heard something before they'd struck which might help.

He was also very conscious of the officer's presence, even out of sight as he was.

"...Don't .." Gunn was searching for a good word that explained it. "..was guarding...then you wake me up." He hesitated then corrected himself in a simpler. "shook me..so i am awake, but corporal i did NOT sleep." He was almost certain he did not and his head was hurting rather badly. He reached back and touched the spot and winced.

There was a bump, which must clearly suggest he did not fall asleep.

"I know that... Someone clouted you acrost the head." Thompson let go of him and stepped back. "Did you hear anythin', or see anythin'? I mean afore I come along."

He was going to need to find a replacement for Gunn so the man could go and see the surgeon; he had no idea how badly he'd been cracked over the head.

"No , corp'.." Gunn tenderly shook his head. "...jus' t' really loud sounds of the ship and all sorts you can hear now." Yes, it was rather noisy above and below. ".... same thing." He frowned. He caught sight of Whyte then, coming around from where he had located the drunken ones.

It took a moment longer before Sew became aware of the reappearance of the youngster. When he did, however, he stepped out of the glorified cupboard and raised an eyebrow in question.

----

Not much behind Whyte, MacTavish appeared at a dead run, then stopped quite abruptly when he saw his corporal and his lieutenant standing besides Gunn. His face worked for a moment before settling into an uncomfortable, but determined expression and he approached; he seemed to be quite willing, though, to let Whyte go first with whatever he wanted to say.

"Found t' drunk ones , sir, corporal." Whyte reported. "...Didn't disturb'em.. but they are being pretty loud and.. they don't mean to stop soon, I think." He glanced at Gunn then quickly turned to see MacTavish behind him.

"'ello." He said then turned to the two higher ranking officers again. "Am I 'scused now?" He asked looking hopeful.

And here was the answer to who was going to replace Gunn, at least till the end of the watch.

"How many of them are there?" he asked. One or two, he could deal with, hopefully. Any more than that and he would have to take names so he could report them. Dealing with drunk men in this sort of weather just didn't bear thinking about.

"And no. I need you to replace Gunn on sentry here," he told the younger marine, picking the Irishman's musket off the deck and handing it to him. "It'll only be till the end of the watch, another couple of bells."

MacTavish was relieved that he did not need to report the drunkards he, too, had found, but he was slightly apprehensive nevertheless. He had hoped to get to Gunn before anybody else did - he owed it to a fellow Scotsman to make sure he wasn't caught napping or worse by any officers.

"I can take Gunn to his cot!", he offered, trying to keep his accent to a minimum. "My mother said not to let people sleep after hits on the head."

Thompson turned at the sound of MacTavish's voice. "The surgeon needs to see him, he's had quite a bash to the head," the corporal told him.  "I don't suppose you saw who done it, or anythin' else?"

Anyone who was drunk was going to be a liability - especially during a storm. Thompson felt like dunking them over the side and then bashing them over the head to try to knock some sense into them. If any of his marines were responsible for this, he would, too!

"I'll be goin' with them, corp'ral, sir?" Whyte said hastly. He had found the drunk, he had come back here and obviously he was not needed here! He looked up at Mactavish, then at Gunn.

He stopped to listen then. The creaking had been different as the sounds of straining would before. Higher up, still however terribly unpleasant.

MacTavish shook his head, looking more relaxed now that Gunn did not seem to be in trouble. Trying for his best English, he answered:

"Some of the new sailors. I saw that Carpenter's Mate, Hodgins, and three others. A dinna ... know their names, Sir."

He looked at Whyte for confirmation or further information.

---

Sew stood motionless, listening, but was already trying to remember where Hodgins fitted in the ship's hierarchy.

Sailors. Thompson felt relieved - he had thought for a moment that it might have been Marines, and was very glad that it wasn't.

"Can't believe you let a bunch of Tars get the drop on you, Gunn," he said. This would have to be delegated upwards, to an officer - especially in this weather. There was no point in having them confined in irons if they might be needed on the pumps or something, after all.

"Whyte, you're to take Gunn's musket and replace him as sentry here until I can get someone to relieve you. MacTavish, I want you to help get Gunn to the sickbay - the surgeon'll want to see to his head."

And then he needed to know as much as possible so that he could make his report to the officer of the watch who would decide how to handle things.

Whyte looked sceptically at the musket, though of course he did not dare to disagree with the corporal. He picked it carefully, lost grip when the ship lurched again and looked up at the sound. "Yeah.. what he says...there was this one.." He went to explain trying to straighten without dropping the musket. He succeeded and looked at Gunn then back at the door, remaining unlocked. "Corporal...what do I do if they come again?"

"They won't be coming again," Thompson told him. "Not if what you and MacTavish said about them gettin' pissed, anyhow." He gave the boy a slightly doubtful look. "You have bin trained about usin' a musket?" he said, suddenly wondering if he was about to be ordered to give the boy extra training in the coming weeks.

"Of course I have!" Whyte exclaimed, straightening up. "..Done it... some of it. Enough of it." He added rather sharply to leave no doubt that he was capable.

"Only... they could come to get some more.. or tell their pals." He glanced at the officer too, feeling he could be up to the task but then looking at Gunn, ..though, he had been told by these seamen that none of them had clouted Gunn over the head. He blinked again.

MacTavish pulled Gunn's arm over his shoulder and gave Whyte an encouraging look, answering nearly at the same time as Thompson:

"The state they are in, you watch them hit the other guy!"

He blushed.

"Sorry, Corporal. Uhm ... taking Gunn to the surgeon now."

Sew told the youngster rather grimly:

"You keep your eyes open, you challenge them, you warn them, and if more than one tries to attack you, you run and inform us or a naval officer. Make sure you get a good look at them."

"Sir I'm 'aright ..." Gunn murmured. His head was hurting and there was blood, but the youngester in James's mind, would not stand a chance against drunk men. Of course, he could not offer himself as a replacement. He had proven to have failed at the job.

He leaned a bit against the other marine. "...The ship's bloody moving like a......like a kicking horse!"

"Storm picked up ... once you have a cold cloth on that head of yours and the surgeon has done his stuff, you'll feel right as rain."

MacTavish more or less gently pulled Gunn towards the sickbay.

"I ain't an officer, I'm a Corporal," Thompson pointed out mildly. "And I don't care. You was out cold and I want the surgeon to see you. If he says you're all right to come back on duty, you can take over from Whyte and finish your watch here."

He needed MacTavish to help Gunn to the sickbay because there was no way Whyte could support the man there, not in this storm, if it turned out he couldn't walk straight.

"It's just a bit of a blow, that's all, nothin' to worry about," he added briskly. "Stop hangin' around here and get him down to the surgeon, MacTavish. Good man," he added as the Scot took Gunn's arm to pull him towards the sickbay.

"Anythin' else, sir?" he asked Sewell as the officer came out of the storeroom.

Gunn decided he did not have the energy to say that with sir, he did mean the same sir that Thompson was addressing moments later.

He nodded to MacTavish and then proceeded with him towards the sickbay, wishing the ship would stop tilting for atleast the amount of time that he needed, to reach his destination. He groaned as they were far away enough he muttered a curse in his native tongue.

MacTavish understood well enough to get the meaning, and grinned. Somebody who could still curse wasn't dying yet.

"There ... sickbay. Don't let them cut your nose off."

He gripped Gunn firmer around the waist to free one hand and shove the curtain back.

---------------

Sew nodded to Thompson.

"Inform the Captain and find me an officer who isn't vitally important on deck at the moment. If none can be spared ... then you ask where these ... men should be if we can get them ready for work. I'll keep an eye on them."

"Aye, aye, sir!" Thompson said, grateful for the direction which meant that he was not left trying to think of what to do about the drunkards.

He turned to head aft to see if there was an officer he could report to.

Bailey gave another shout moments before the wave splashed across the deck. The seamen had all had a good sense to strengthen their grip and but for one who slipped, but held on, not one had been washed into the waters below.

The youth nimbly dropped back on deck. the task had been completed and the sail was secured from the danger of flaying itself to bits.