11th June; On Styles

[OOC: Sorry, somehow managed to completely not see Johnson's reply.]

Considering that they were identical twis with the same last name, the announcement was less informative as it could have been, but Sewell was not about to correct his corporal in front of a sailor.

"Good. Dyer, you are excused - make sure Seward does not see you when he is brought down, and not a word of this."

It might be an unnecessary precaution, but Seward had unanimously been described as a bad piece of work, so the lieutenant preferred to take it. And of course he did not want rumours to spread - this was a matter for the captain to decide, not the half-informed feelings of the ship's company.

When Thompson reappered, he stood up again. "Thank you. Seward?" Seeing the lieutenant's uniform appear out of the dim, he nodded in greeting. "Mr. Mowett. We will be ready to go in a moment."

"I sent someone to fetch him - made sure he knew as it's an officer wants him, too, sir," Thompson said, and straightened as Mr Mowett came down. He glanced between Oxley and Thomas Shepherd; the younger lad looked distinctly unhappy.

Good; it might dissuade him from being so stupid in future.

With a distinctly peevish expression on his face, Dyer lingered barely long enough to make a salute before making himself scarce. Johnson did not watch him go, but was glad for his departure. This was, after all, nothing to do with Chicken Dyer.

The arrivals of the third luff and, close behind him, of the fresh-faced newcomer McIntyre with an obviously affronted Jonny Seward, provided Johnson with all the distraction he could have asked for.

"Jonny Seward, as sent for, sir," McIntyre said crisply, making a salute that would have almost pleased Johnson's old drill sergeant. Seward made his own necessary obedience but looked unreservedly cross. But he would be, really, having been flogged just the day before.

(Seward and Chase both were flogged on the 10th June.)

"Very good ... MacIntyre."

Sewell needed a moment, but then he came up with the name. The perfect salute and crisp demeanor made quite a favourable impression, and the usually stone-faced lieutenant looked almost friendly when he dismissed the escort.

He glanced at Mowett with a slight inclination of his head, inviting the Naval officer to address the sailor first if he liked.

"Seward. It has been brought to my attention by Lieutenant Sewell that you have been gambling?" Mowett started. He then crossed his arms behind his back and turned to face the distasteful sailor, with a wondering frown upon his face.

"Some little birdy also told me you have been bullying certain youngsters? I'll have none of that as long as I am third lieutenant in the Terpsichore."

Mowett waited, and, deciding Seward wasn't going to speak if he tried the nice approach, stepped up to Seward, closer - face to face almost.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I don't care which, man." he breathed, slightly exasperated, trying to intimidate the man to speak.

Johnson watched the maintopman's face with professional intent, aware that the barest flicker of any expression could tell him a great deal, but Seward seemed determined to give nothing away save his apparent disgust. Not even the third luff's change of tack seemed to shake the man.

"I ain't done any gamblin', sir. Or bullyin' neither. Birdies don't always sing the right tunes. Sir."

Of course, Johnson thought, it was no help that they had only Thomas Shepherd's word that it was Seward he'd been gambling with. That and the small pile of assorted coins on the mess-table. Threatening Seward with another flogging would do little good. He could not stand at the grating again until his back had healed after yesterday's dozen.

"You'll mind your tone, speakin' to an officer," Johnson growled warningly. Damned topmen... and that was what gave him the idea. What a stroke it would be to have the blaggard disrated? To lose his precious rate as an able seaman might certainly take Seward down a couple of pegs. But how to suggest it to the third luff?

Feeling that he needed to set Seward to rights there, Sewell spoke up after all.

"Didn't rat. I asked."

And he usually did not stop before he got a satisfying answer. He pointed at the small pile of money on the table.

"Anything like that in your seachest?"

"Seward?" Mowett urged.

"Are you going to tell us the truth or do we have to clap you in irons until you speak up?" he turned away from Seward to stand beside Sewell.

Perhaps the look of authority looming would shake the truth out of the damned blackguard.

It was noteworthy, Johnson thought, that Seward did not glance at the double-handful of money piled on the mess-table - or even at the nervous-looking Thomas Shepherd - but instead kept his baleful gaze fixed on Mister Mowett's single shoulder epaulet.

"There's naught in me sea-chest that shouldn't oughta be," the seaman answered. "An' what's another spell in the irons t'me, 'cause ain't I just had a checked shirt give me yest'day? I've naught to tell an' that's that."

"Sir," snapped Johnson. Really!

That was it for Mowett. He rarely became angry; in fact he was usually in a humoured, jestful mood - but since meeting John Seward he'd become a very different and very angry lieutenant.

"John Seward! Damn you, man!" Mowett's portly face flushed at his sudden outburst at the man. You certainly could've done this the easy way, but no. You make life as difficult as possible for every man jack aboard this ship!"

Face like thunder, Mowett turned to Sewell. "I'll have this man clapped in irons for the meantime, Mr Sewell. See your men to it." and then turning back to Seward he warned, 'This incident will be going to the captain, certainly. I rather think everyone aboard this ship has had enough of you!" Mowett passed Seward as he stalked away, fists clenched.

Having a Marine in trouble was one thing... Having a Marine in trouble because of a damned bully like Seward was quite another. Thompson was more than fed up with Seward already.

He folded his arms and scowled at the man.

"Johnson, irons for Seward", Sewell relaid the order curtly. To complete the picture, he folded his arms as well.

"His things, Mr. Mowett?"

While he was not impressed with Seward's behaviour either, by now he had a feeling that even though they might find nothing at the moment, they better secured the man's things just to stop the other sailors from having a collection to place false evidence there. He grimly contemplated whether the possible benefits of hearing whether Seward would say anything incriminating was worth the risk of locking Thomas Shepherd up next to him. He had a feeling that Seward could become rather nasty if he had the opportunty.

Mowett had made his way only a little way from the group by this time, but turned round sharply and looked straight at Sewell, nodding grimly. "Secure the man's things. They'd mysteriously go missing otherwise."

He then turned again and finally made his way away from the group back to his station on the quarterdeck. Midshipman Chandos would be seething by now - he'd been gone so long.

Irons it was. That was a command Johnson was perfectly happy to obey. "Aye aye, sir," he said and nodded at McIntyre. "This one and the Shepherds up to the irons. You'll do for sentry till the watches change."

The young Irishman did not even blink. "Aye aye, Corporal."

That was done. Now for the second piece of business. "Branning! C'mere." Johnson waited until the big Marine had hurried over before giving him the task of securing Seward's sea-chest and all its contents, and to suffer no interference from any sailors whatever their rank while he was at it.

Thompson looked across to Sewell; he had been under the impression that the officer wanted to get the lads' punishments over and done with. For sure the lads would like to get it over with pretty soon, too - that was only natural.

"Who shares that chest with you, Seward?" he asked, not really expecting a straight answer.

Johnson lifted a hand to stop McIntyre taking the seaman off straight away. The reply from Seward was delivered in a short, sharp, "Tom Merton."

"Thank you. Carry on, McIntyre."

Well, if he'd told the truth - and with two officers and two NCOs present, he'd flaming better have told the truth! - anything that wasn't Merton's must be Seward's. The other thing was, of course: Was Merton caught up in any of this in any way? Thompson didn't think so, but wouldn't like to swear to it.

The young Marine went on his way with only a nod to acknowledge that he'd heard, one hand around Seward's upper arm. A miserable-looking Thomas Shepherd preceded them and was joined a moment later by a surly Andrew Shepherd. Who, Johnson noted, had Lakey trailing deliberately one step behind him. Good lad, that.

Without looking up from the note he was writing, Sewell said:

"Not the boys, Johnson. Cane waiting for them. Bring it back."

Both McIntyre and Lakey halted, though only Lakey turned back, bringing the twins along with him.

"Sir," said Johnson, annoyed that his attempt to add to the Shepherds' punishment had been so swiftly thwarted. Letting those two sit for a while in close company to Seward would have been just what they needed before facing the boys' cane.

"Are we ready to do that, then, sir?" Thompson asked Sewell, remembering he'd been detailed to see to getting the other boy Marines down to witness it, when the officer was ready for it.

"Yes."

Sewell glanced at the corporal, then made sure that Seward was out of hearing.

"Afterwards put Thomas next to Seward, until the Captain decides on the gambling charge, and find us a good hiding spot nearby."

Thompson didn't think he could be blamed for a momentary lapse of concentration at that order. One eyebrow flickered upward for a moment and he blinked twice before getting himself back under control.

"Aye, aye, sir. I'll just go an' get a cane an' the other boys, then. Ah - where should we meet you, sir?"

Sewell had either not noticed Thompson's reaction or chosen not to notice it. Calmly he answered:

"Gundeck."

No need to let the sailors get an eye-full of what he considered a Marine matter. He fixed the boys with a hard stare, designed to make them uncomfortable.

"Right, sir." Thompson saluted and left on his errand. While he could delegate it to someone else, this was not the sort of thing he wanted to hand off; it might not prevent the men gossiping but it would lead to fewer curious onlookers who would need to be dismissed in a few minutes' time.