Beating to quarters

Philip joined in the muttering of a few choice words and shoed them out, slamming the door. "Yessir." He touched his forhead, and turned to the light

"Not bright enough, in the wrong position, burngin the wrong fuel.... ANything else wrong, Doctor?" But he deftly tidied up as he muttered, and fixed the light and realigned the tools, wiping them and checking their sharpness. He was not an intelligent man, so far be it from him to understand what went on in that brain he was currently tidying up for....grumpy though it may sound.

Crozier sighed. "I only meant to stop it swinging. There's a catch that hooks on, remember? Just... see what you can do with it. Mister Yates, you're far too popular. Do you feel much pain? I can give you a physic but you'll most likely sleep - which is very good, except that you'll be taken out of the action. As your surgeon I certainly recommend it, though not sleeping here in the orlop. You'll be trampled underfoot, and your own berth is cleared. You may lie in my cot above, as I certainly won't be seeing it for many many more hours."

Philip dutifully chained the lamp up tightly, "Good enough, doctor?" he asked, with what he felt to be a correct mixture of solicitude, servitude and awe. "D'ye want me ter take Mr yates up ter yer own cot?" he added, very carefully withholding any grumbling he could have made about the Doctor and his soon to be lack of sleep. He'd yet to dicide if it was good or bad that the man could continue to work with a steady hand and eye on little sleep.

"Wait, M'Clure, not yet," he answered testily. "That's for Mister Yates to decide."

Peter lifted his head to blink at Doctor Crozier. "I'm feeling better now," he
said suddenly. "As if the tide has turned. If I may, I will go on deck, when we
catch the French ship. It - I won't be much use, but at least I will see, and
may be of help to the others. You can strap my arm so that it does not get
jolted, can't you?"

The weather was still running foul, and Leat emerged again to see the the Frenchman was widening the gap slightly. They needed to close, but if the swell became any greater they may still have to give up and head back. He looked to see where Chase had gone and turned to see the man watching him from the scuppers. He kept his expression blank, before turning away. The men would be wanting to know what had happened, yet now was not the time to invite such questions.

Kinsella was up by the captain on the quarterdeck - he was now very nearly as tall as Bolitho - and the other young gentlemen were scattered about the decks as was their station. Yates had not yet re-emerged; which meant that it was more than likely that the boy would not be rejoining them anytime soon.

Chase was still bewildered by the swift change in arrangements, even after returning to the Number Four gun. His mates wanted to know what the first luff wanted and he explained as best he could, though he left out the strange appearance and conduct of Mister Leat afterward. The seamen's talk fell to contemplation of the possible consequences of this new mentorship and how long it was likely to last.

Then Toby Flint coughed and surreptitiously pointed aft. Chase turned around to see Mister Leat appear on deck. Now what else was the lieutenant going to say?

The lieutenant felt Chase's eyes on him again and he turned back, seeing the topman and several others of his Division over by Number Four gun, readying the gun for when they closed up. Deciding to to give them something to take their minds off the incident, he walked over to them.

"I'll wager she's eager to start chewing at our Froggie friend there," he said, patting the gun's breach and feeling the cold wet iron slap against his palm. "Shouldn't be long now if this wind holds."

At least Mister Leat didn't seem interested in discussing or even mentioning anything that had so recently happened. Chase and the others grinned at the lieutenant's comment, heartened by Leat's apparent optimism.

"We'll be happy to let her, sir," Toby Flint declared, puffing out his chest proudly. "Just give us the chance, sir!"

Chase patted the cannon's barrel affectionately. "I've never seen the ol' girl fail yet, sar!"

"I'm sure she will live up to her name," Leat said, giving the topman one of his customary small smiles. The to the rest of the men. "All of you; I know that whatever happens you shall do us proud."

"That should hold it," Crozier said, tying off the end of the cloth he had used to brace Peter Yates' broken arm. "Does it feel snug? You can't move it? It may feel too tight, but it needs to be kept immobilized."

Peter stood up, and nodded. "It will do fine," he said. "I feel quite like Nelson - only it won't be for ever. Thank you. I'll come back and see you soon."

The surgeon gave him a wry smile. "Not too soon. Good man."

Peter smiled back. "I'll be safe," he said. "We'll take the Frenchman, or sink her." It would be better to take her, he thought, and wondered about how wet it would be on deck. He would need something, since he would not be running around to keep warm.

Peter goes here

From here

Peter came up on deck, to find that the rain had slackened off, and it had been possible to start preparing the guns. Gun crews stood round, and the lieutenants were making their rounds. Mr Leat was there, talking to the men of Number Four gun. Peter could not see Mr George, but thought he ought to report to someone.

Pleased with the fact that they were catching up to the French frigate, as well as the fact that the storm was letting up, Bolitho turned his attention to the gun crews. They all seemed to be in good order, and looked ready for the impending fight. Then he noticed that Yates had at last reappeared on deck. He was pleased to see the boy, hoping that meant his injury was not too grievous.

"Mr. Kinsella," Bolitho said to the midshipman standing nearby, "Tell Mr. Yates I wish to speak with him."

"Yes sir," Kinsella said.

With that, he promptly crossed the deck and approached Peter.

"The captain wishes to speak with you," he said swiftly, then he added in a lower, more concerned voice, "Are you alright Peter?"

Peter wondered just how he looked, but any lack of composure would be attributed to his accident, and his arm, rather than the shock he had just had. He smiled up at Kinsella and said: "I've been a lot better, but I couldn't stay below, not for my first action. What would I write in my journal about it if all I saw was the orlop?" He looked towards the Captain and asked, quietly: "He's not angry with me, is he?"

Kinsella smiled back at Peter.

"Good point. And I'm glad to see you up and about, at any rate," he said.

Regarding Bolitho, he added, "I don't see why he would be. Mind, he didn't say why he wants to see you, but I think he simply wants to know if you're fit for action and all."

Peter grinned. "As fit as - at least I am right handed." And he walked smartly to the quarterdeck ladder and climbed it to face the Captain. "Yates, reporting for duty, Sir," he said, adding, because it was the sort of thing Captains would want to know: "Dr Crozier said I could come up, Sir."

Bolitho resisted the urge to smile at the midshipman's prompt arrival.

"Ah, Mr. Yates," he said, nodding, "I trust you are not too badly injured then, if Dr. Crozier has allowed you to come up. But are you fit enough for duty? I would not want you to damage yourself permanently."

"My arm is a bit broken," said Peter. "And I can do most things with my right hand... I expect. I can walk messages, at least. Or ..." The arm was physical, but he was aware of how little he knew. "I can do my duty as far as I have been taught, Sir, but ..."

"I see," Bolitho said. For all intents and purposes, it would be best if Yates went about his proper actions. He did not want to appear to be too soft on the boy, nor did he want to deprive Yates of a chance to see some action. After all, the boy had to learn sooner or later that officers in the King's Navy had to do their duty, to the best of their abilities, despite suffering through injuries.

"Very good, Mr. Yates. Carry on, and I shall summon you again if you are needed."

"Thank you, Sir. Sir, do you know how long it will be before we start." He blushed again and said. "I'm sorry, Sir." He looked across at the other ship and bit his lip. She was not that far, surely, and looked - somehow more menacing than he had imagined. As big as they were, he thought, though it was hard to tell.

"As soon as we come within range of the French ship, Mr. Yates," Bolitho replied, "Which should be any moment now..."

It was impossible to give the boy an exact time frame. Though they were closing on the frigate, and the time when they could at last open fire was fast approaching, he could not tell Yates the precise instant they would attack.

"Be on your guard, for the time will come soon enough," he added.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you." Going back down the companionway was slightly more difficult than going up, but once on the main deck he made his way down to the gundeck and saluted Lieutenant George, who looked at him encouragingly.

"It's good to have you back, Mr Yates. Take your station and keep the men to their duty. But I'll be asking Mr Chandos to sight the guns this time, since we'll only be firing one side at a time. You pay attention, because next time it will be your job too."