Preparing to sail

"Should the capitaine and I not present ourselves to the Captain?" Stephen asked as he and two of the sailors eased Padstowe into his cot.

"I've asked Lieutenant Leat to let us know - or let you know - when the captain is free. He's been busy all day and night with last minute changes," he laughed, his voice trailing off as he realized that some of the changes had included the additional cargo of three horses. He finished with a cough. Then he added, "And he knows Captain Padstowe is ill, and he won't wish to make him stand on ceremony unnecessarily. Lieutenant Leat will tell us when the moment is right."

Stephen smiled, relieved. "Excellent. If it is possible I will put my bag in my cabin, and I should return these clothes to the purser. Captain, you will be well here? I would recommend sleeping if you can."

"I shall be well enough, thank you," Padstowe said, giving a small smile up from his cot. It seemed the sailors were all for tucking him in booted and coated, so he cast a look to Stephen.

"If somebody could help me off with my boots first?"

"Of course," said Stephen, pulling them off none too gently - he was a physician, not a lady's maid or a batman. "Your dunnage is being brought in - I will be back to check on you soon. Sleep well."

"Thank you," Padstowe repeated again, sensing that he dare not ask any more of the doctor. Some rational thought was returning, and he realised that he had already tried Stephen too much; so he began to struggle out of his coat - a motion that perhaps was not best for his shoulder and made the cot swing violently.

Crozier chose to hang back, checking his impulse to help. The captain was the doctor's patient after all, not his own.

"What do you think you are doing?" asked Stephen incredulously when he realised what Padstowe was about. Was the man going out of his way to try to provoke him? "Stop this instant - if you wanted your coat off you should say so, not open your stitches like a halfwit."

Crozier suppressed a smile and pretended to be busy with the teapot in the wardroom. He had an immense respect for Doctor Maturin, but at the same time he was glad not to be his patient.

Padstowe stopped, mid-tangled in his coat, a blank look on his face.

"I thought you were going on deck to see to Capitaine des Sablieres."

"Not if as soon as I turn my back you will go struggling and twisting! Are you doing this deliberately, Captain? Sit up, if you absolutely insist on not sleeping in your coat - a soldier too, for God's love..." Stephen undid the knot of the sling, and hung it on a peg on the door of the cabin.

"It's my best coat," Padstowe pointed out in his defence. Not to mention soldiers only slept in their coats when they had to; it was uncomfortable at the best of times, and certainly not something anyone would do by choice.

"And?" asked Stephen, who had slept in his coat any number of times. Once Padstowe was sitting up, he managed to quickly tug the right sleeve off. "Now, I will try not to wrench this at all."

"Thank you," Padstowe murmured again. He sat as still as possible as Maturin removed his coat, and for good measure his waistcoat and neckcloth. He would be comfortable enough in shirt, trousers and stockings.

Even though he had grown accustomed to the process of readying a ship for sea, it was still a task that Bolitho did not entirely relish. Thankfully the crew of the Terpsichore was perfectly adept at such preparations, which made for a smooth operation all around. Yet, as captain, it still fell to him to ensure that everything was in place for the impending voyage. And the added task of settling the horses had not made things any easier. Though flattered to have received such an important bit of cargo, he was still none too pleased that Wellesley had chosen their ship to transport his horse. But, even with the extra work, at last it seemed that all the preparation was finally winding down. So Bolitho allowed himself a respite and came up on deck.

He had been expecting the arrival of their guests as well, and was wondering if they had come aboard. When he emerged on deck, he caught sight of Leat nearby, and decided to ask the lieutenant.

"Mr. Leat," Bolitho said as he approached, "Has there been any news of our guests? Have they arrived?"

"They have, sir," Leat said, turning around and saluting. He indicated Raoul. "May I present Capitaine des Sablieres, though I know you have met before. The two doctors are down in the cabins settling Captain Padstowe in. They will be up presently, I am sure."

And just to make certain of that, he turned and waylaid a passing midshipman (it happened to be Fletcher) to go below and tell the doctors that Captain Bolitho was now at liberty to receive them.

"Ah yes, we have met. Pleased to see you again, Capitaine," Bolitho nodded in Raoul's direction. He was surprised he had not noticed the Frenchman at once, dressed as he was in his proper uniform. Obviously all the preparations had worn him out more than he had realized.

Now that the Capitaine was aboard ship, Bolitho could not help wondering what the crew were thinking. It must be common knowledge by now that a French prisoner was aboard; surely the word would have spread like wildfire among the men already. He could only hope that he was not doing more harm than good by allowing the Capitaine to be a passenger.

"Captain Bolitho, I do not wish to interrupt you in your preparations, but to express my gratitude to you - though I know that Dr Maturin will do so, since it is he..." Raoul smiled, finding the situation slightly beyond the etiquette he had learned. "Everyone else seems to know what they are to do, and is doing it with skill and enthusiasm. I hope that my presence will cause you no trouble. I am sure that it will soon be realized that I am no kind of threat to the ship - or to anyone on it."

"Thank you, Capitaine. I greatly appreciate your sincerity," Bolitho said, "And please do not worry. I'm certain your presence will not instigate any trouble."

He smiled back at Raoul, though his expression hid the uncertainty he was truly feeling. He trusted the man, at least enough to be allowing him aboard, but Bolitho knew the men would not be so quick to trust a man they would be viewing as an enemy. It was not Capitaine des Sablières who worried him. It was his own crew.

Sergeant Quinn wrote:"Aye, aye, sir," he said, and called Everett back to pass on the orders, making clear that it wasn't to keep the Frenchman under guard, but to keep any curious seamen or Marines out.

It wasn't completely unexpected, Quinn thought. Some of the men would probably not appreciate having a Frenchman aboard, whether he was officially a prisoner or not, and would try to cause trouble somehow.

"Carry on, Sergeant," Cartwright said, glad of the man's response.

When Quinn had gone, the lieutenant turned back toward the French officer. Captain Bolitho had appeared and was, it seemed, speaking with his guest. Cartwright stayed where he was, unwilling to interrupt.

"I have confidence in the discipline and sense of the Royal Navy," Raoul said, his own doubts rising again. There had been looks, which could not kill in themselves, but could signify a willingness to kill. But he remembered the conversation with Dr Maturin - at least they would not face anything as problematic as a French attack. Probably.

"I have been advised to retreat to the taff rail - which I understand is there," he pointed. "So as not to be in the way. If I may do so?"

The Marines were all chattering about the passengers, and Quinn overheard several comments about the Frog, especially.

"He's a guest of Captain Bolitho's," he said, interrupting. "He is to be treated with all respect you would show any other guest of the Captain's. And unless ordered otherwise, you will let him go where he pleases while he is aboard Terpsy. Carry on."

At least they had cabins in the wardroom, so that they would hopefully not be disturbed too much by the seamen - or the Marines themselves, not that Quinn thought his men would ever go barging in where they weren't wanted, where officers were concerned, anyway.

He headed back down to the arms locker to continue with what he had been doing.

"As do I," Bolitho said, trying to alay his own fears, "And I have confidence in my crew as well."

That statement was true, of course. He did have the utmost confidence in this crew. Yet a captain could never be certain of how a crew would behave, even one as good as the Terpsichore's crew. And he had no idea how they would react to a French prisoner being a passenger. Thankfully, these troublesome thoughts were interrupted by Raoul's request.

"Of course, by all means."

So saying, he stepped aside to allow Raoul to pass.

A French prisoner who was not a prisoner? That didn't make any sense, to Thompson's way of thinking. But what the Captain wanted, the Captain got. He'd have liked to have been able to go on deck, though, and hoped he'd be able to manage it later. Right now, though, he'd just be in the way. There wasn't anything that a marine with a sprained ankle could do.

Which reminded him that he hadn't yet seen Doctor Crozier about it. Understandable, as the surgeon was busy with the passengers. Apparently, it had been his idea that they were taking passage north with Terpsy, and Doctor Maturin was with them, (well, Thompson had seen him earlier, anyway) and some Army officer or something, who'd been wounded somehow (the gossip didn't quite explain how).

But once Doctor Crozier was free, and Thompson wouldn't get in the way if he shifted himself, he would have to see the surgeon, so that the Captain could get a proper report that he was unfit for duty.

"Doctor Crozier, sir!" a breathless Fletcher gasped, bursting into the wardroom with his usual exhuberence and earning a frown from the surgeon. He paid no attention. "Mister Leat says that the captain will see you now!"