In the night on Terpsy

Chase turned at the hail and found himself grinning despite his temporary black mood. "Barrow! Course I were at an oar, parta the cap'n's boat crew ain't I?" The topman shrugged slightly. "Dunno what all happened, bein' on the foc's'le wit' Williams an' Dyer 'til the cry went up. But s'bad doin's alla same."

Billy nodded thoughtfully and then suddenly looked concerned. "I fair swore at the lad in the water when he were thrashin' about, before I knew who he was. I wonder if he'll remember and have me at the grating next!"

Thompson couldn't believe that the new middy had gained an enemy so quickly. From what Cob Chase had said, Thompson had gained the impression that the sailor had almost allowed himself to be flogged simply to show the rest of the crew what sort of person Mister De Guarde was.

It was too much for Thompson to work out right now, and he climbed into his hammock, allowing himself to be lulled to sleep by the familiar sounds and motion of a ship at sea.

De Guarde slowly slid to the floor and sat, with his knees bent, legs closer to his chest. He could no longer sleep, as much as he wished he could.
He decided to ask the doctor for something to ease the throbbing in his head, but for that he needed to wait for the man to come. And the doctor was most probably still resting, ignorant of his patient's plight.

Feeling sour, he could begin to recall the events of the past day. The time that took him to board the new ship and the faces he'd so far met. He wondered briefly about Yates, the boy was younger , yet he had an opinion of his own. Harder to manipulate than Fletcher, who was overexcited, overeager and over naive. Well, atleast he thought so, though at the dinner the boy was certainly showing some of these traits.

His thoughts wandered to the dinner, and with a heavy heart he recalled few of the events. His memory hazy, he did remember drinking. Drinking heavily at that. He winced and touched his temples, the oddly familiar yet always unpleasant sensation stabbing relentlessly at his senses.
"Oh god.... mus' it always be like d'at..."He whispered clutching at his head, bringing it to his knees.

So now was the time to recollect the events that lead to him nearly drowning. He still remembered being jolted awake by the freezing water, and the terror he felt when he began sinking and knew he could not do much about it. He wasn't a swimmer. He didn't feel it like something odd. What he did find odd was what he remembered what he first thought was a dream.

Boy his head hurt, it was hard to concentrate on following his thoughts and making good assumptions. So.. two men. There must've been two atleast. For he did not feel like he was being carried over one's shoulder, but instead navigated around the ship in a possition similar to lying in his hammock. How tall? The question itself was a silly one. He could not remember more than feeling hands, one covering his mouth. But.. again. It was a dream, or was he just barely awake enough to see how it really happened? He shifted uncomfortably.

The feeling that there was someone, who was able and was daring enough to enter the midshipman's berth just to do him in, was unnerving. A potential murderer amongst the men, it must've been Bolitho's fault. The captain was too soft, ofcourse! It was that, that permitted such a creature to exist.

He grunted. Did he need to have this inner dialog just now? Could he not wait till his mind cleared and his headache subsided, till his stomach did not feel as if something particularly foul has entered it, and at the same time did not complain about being empty. He just felt miserable and feared the time, when he would need to face the first lieutenant. Bush, he knew nothing about the man. Would he forget, forgive? He didn't look like too kind a man.

With another small grunt he forced his mind to take rest and just stared blankly infront of him, at his feet, that were bare of shoes. The later remained luckily dry, in the mid's berth. Another indication he had not been one to walk on deck. For if he did, he would surely had put those on.

M'Clure the surgeon's mate stumbled into the sickbay looking sleepy. He was startled when he saw the boy sitting on the floor, having forgotten there was a patient at all. "What are you doing there?" he asked.

[OOC: Oh sure Mr. De Guarde, blame everything on the captain! ]

Bolitho had been standing by the rail for some time now, mulling over the night's events. He knew his thoughts were too troubled to allow him to get much sleep this night, yet he was feeling the need to return to his quarters. So he finally left the rail and made his way back to the cabin.

Once returned to his private quarters, Bolitho resumed nearly the same position he had been in when he had heard the shouting from the deck. He seated himself in a chair and simply sat there, thinking about everything that had transpired so far, and worrying about what might still be to come. If De Guarde already had crewmen ready to commit murder...Bolitho shook his head and cleared the rest of that thought from his mind. He did not want to come down too hard on the crew, but perhaps that would be needed if things got worse. He could only pray that these fears would be ungrounded, and to hope for the best.

The doctor was admitted to his cabin later, having been told the captain was still awake. "Mister De Guarde is resting in the sickbay now. He's not injured at all, just the ordinary muscle strain you'd expect from his struggle in the water, and chill and fright. He'll be fine. But if I may make the request, I'd like him to have an uninterrupted sleep - I don't even know when he usually rises - well no, he hasn't even had his first morning yet. And light duties, just for the day. He'll be stiff and fatigued, probably. If that's acceptable to you, sir?"

(ofcourse, Who else could be blamed? XD)

De Guarde winced lifting his gaze slowly towards the arrival. He recognised the man and answered in a faint whisper:"..'couldn' sleep..." He lowered his gaze:"...m' head 's.. right killing me..n' me limbs...also." He did not feel the need to be more tactful or less honest. The throbbing just felt as if it would get worse if he tried to stand, and so he still remained on the floor.

"...d' ye..have something I could take. "A grimace was evident on his face, the boy's eyes pained and unhappy.

"He's a true stoopid bugger if he does," Chase grumbled. " 'Tenant Leat figgers I had summat t'do wit' the lad goin' overboard, too. This whole bleedin' ship's gone mad."

M'Clure stared stupidly at De Guarde. It was too early in the morning to be thinking. "I'll have to ask the doctor. Wait there." Asking the doctor evidently meant rousing him out of his bed, but M'Clure soon returned with Crozier behind him.

"Can't sleep, Mister De Guarde? Feeling a bit sore? All right, one moment." He unlocked the dispensary and disappeared into the room for a few minutes, then returned with a glass of something. "Swallow this, and you'll feel better and sleep well. The captain has given permission for you to sleep as long as necessary, and you'll have light duties for the day. You'll be all right. Now up with you, back to your cot. And then I can be back to mine."

The bottle was swiftly emptied, giving it's taste or it's look no attention as long as the medicine was promised to ease his discomfort. Slowly he moved to his feet. "...aye , doctor." He sounded bitter, but relieved. Light duties were a thing he could only have hoped for, other mind, than no duties at all. And with the sleep fully permitted he was sure to take this rare chance.

He staggered to his hammock and slowly, painstaingly, he hefted himself into it again. "Doctor..."He began uncertainly:"...has the capn'... said anything about... dinner? Was he, um... cross or..or was it all right?"

If by chance the doctor would've left already, the boy was satisfied only with going back to sleep, hoping for the medicine to work at greatest haste.

Dr. Crozier gave a noncommittal answer. "He didn't speak to me about it. Get some sleep now, and so shall I." And with that, he and M'Clure both left the sickbay.

At the order the young lad closed his eyes, sleeping fairly sound for the rest of the night and somewhat longer into the morning. Peaceful at most, and not as tired, at best. Without dreams for certain, and with considerate warmth for sure. Even a little while into waking, he would still be found with eyes closed, and resting, an arm hanging from his cot.