The Passengers' Cabins

"Of course," Leat said, realising that he was, in polite terms, being kicked out. "Dinner will not be long from now, and will be in the wardroom. We usually dine informally, as duty requires that we must come and go when needed."

"Of course - and it is rather more elegantly that we manage on campaign. A glass of wine and a loaf of bread, under a tree - not quite a picnic, but usually lacking in such niceties as tables and even plates..." Raoul nodded. "Thank you for telling me of Mr Crozier. You will let me know ... But I shall go there myself."

Leat smiled.

"It comes from carrying our home with us. Until later then, monsieur - and I hope you will find Mister Crozier improved."

He inclined his head and exited the cabin, replacing his hat as he went out and leaving the wardroom behind to head down to the hold.

[OOC: And goodnight again, now. I hope all of us under snow won't have to be dug out tomorrow. ]

[Nearly four bells in the afternoon watch. Friday 19 May]

On his way up from the hold, Raoul was conscious of the Marine following him - those heavy boots were not easy to miss - but he did not look round, just crossed the now deserted wardroom and went into the cabin and closed the door. He had already begun to hate this space, with its creaking outer wall and the thin bulkheads. He remembered that the Earl had had this very cabin, and wondered how he had survived. Perhaps ... But he was not going to ask Markham for anything, not while it was possible that the Sergeant was on guard outside until some other arrangements could be made.

Damn.

A few minutes later a knock sounded on the thin wooden door.

"Captaine?"

It was Padstowe's voice.

Raoul sighed, stood up, straightened his dolman, and opened the door. "Captain." He stepped back, and offered the chair to Padstowe, while he sat on the edge of the cot.

"Sergeant Quinn has just informed me of what happened," Padstowe said greatfully taking the chair. "I hope you were not injured?"

Raoul grinned mirthlessly. "Unfortunately, I am not at all hurt. He signalled his blow early enough for me to avoid it."

Padstowe returned his own humourless smile.

"Yes, I suppose in a way it might have been better had you been."

He shifted in his chair, adjusting his jacket which he was a the moment wearing something like a pelisse.

"I have of course heard the private's view of things from the sergeant - but fortunately for us he does seem to doubt the man's truthfulness. Would you be so good as to relate to me your version of events? Apparently you told the sergeant you went down to feed the horses."

"The Sergeant was telling the truth, at least. That is what I told him. I produced the apple and fed half to Bethany and half to Noix. The first apple I had already wasted, pushing it into the Marine's face."

"And what caused you to push the apple into the Marine's face?" Padstowe asked calmly.

"Self-defence," Raoul said. "As I said, I had avoided his blow, but I doubted if he would have stopped until I was unconscious under the horses' hooves. I did not want that - I wanted him to back away."

"And Sergeant Quinn came across you both just after that," Padstowe said. "It's a mercy he did."

He sighed.

"Quinn has gone to inform the captain and his own officer, and I expect we shall get a summons shortly to explain ourselves. The question for me is have you broken parole?"

The captain gazed directely at Raoul.

"In my opinion you have not, as you claim it was self-defence, and by Sergeant Quinn calling the character of his man into question I do not think Captain Bolitho will demand that we put you in chains. He is a reasonable man, and should listen to reason."

"Sergeant Quinn - I think he would wish to see some restrictions put on my movements, and suggested a guard or escort." Raoul frowned back at the Captain. "That would be acceptable, I suppose, since I cannot expect others to believe a Frenchman over the word of a Marine. He was, I think, determined to provoke me, but if he had not struck at me, I would not have retaliated." He smiled slightly. "But I do not accept that I would have lost a fight. He was big, but stupid. I am not entirely without skills in fighting - the apple was a chance to get juice or possibly even a pip in his eyes, and to ..."

"I do not doubt it," Padstowe said. Des Sablières had after all very nearly got the better of both him and Sharpe, which meant that that the Frenchman was certainly a mean fighter. "But I'm glad that it was not your fist outright that hit him - a mark, but a softer blow if it were. And coiuld be interpretted as an impulse swing in self defence, or that you did not wish to do him any great damage."

He frowned.

"As to an escort... If Sergeant Quinn is suggesting it then the captain will almost certainly think it might be for the best as well."

Raoul raised an eyebrow. "I wished him any damage I could do to him - I wanted to silence his foul mouth, as well as to get clear of him. But I was aware that such behaviour would be misinterpreted, so ... The apple and the flat of my hand. What would have happened next I cannot say."

[OOC: Bath, followed by dinner - see you later.]

Padstowe gave a thin smile.

"I suppose an apple is the correct thing to stick in a pig's mouth... What you should have done after that was impale him on a spit and roast him slowly over the galley fire."

"Next time I leave my room I shall take a spit with me. Although I suspect that will not be until we reach Oporto," Raoul responded "Unless I am under such escort as would relieve me of anything that might be taken as a weapon." He reached into his pocket for the knife, and offered it to Padstowe. "I had this to cut the apples. I did not expect to have to defend myself."

Padstowe took the knife and twisted in his hands.

"I will return it to you," he said. "After we have been to see the captain. You have not broken your parole, this is not a weapon, and were a guard set on you - a trustworthy Marine would be the choice - then there will be no need."

Raoul looked from Padstowe's face to the knife and back. "It is not mine," he said quietly. "I took it simply to cut the apples. But - " He turned and pulled the sword out from under the cot, "this is a weapon. Perhaps you should take it until the Captain decides what action to take."

"Thank you."

Padstowe took the sword and tucked it under his arm.

Raoul looked at the sabre under Padstowe's arm and sat down as suddenly as if the strings that held him up had been cut.

"Thank you. I meant none of this. I only took apples to the horses." He swallowed. "I made no secret of it."

Padstowe felt some sympathy for the man; he had, after all, been assuered of a good reception, and had only received such so far.

"I do not believe for a minute that you had any other intention," he said, hopefully reassuring. "Perhaps on reflection it was not the best idea to go down into the hold by yourself - a dark, dangerous area aboard ship by all accounts. In sight of the officers and other men the coward did not dare make his move... I think a Marine guard is more for your safety than the ship's."

"I am not so good a swimmer that the ship is in any danger - I ..." He remembered his interrupted conversation with Dr Maturin, and gritted his teeth - a gift once given cannot be taken back, and he had no wish to do so. "And as for my safety, that rather depends on the Marine, or the seaman, do you not think?"

"I do not think all the Marines are of such a disposition as the one that assaulted you," Padstowe said. "I will ask Lieutenant Leat - of all the officers he is the one I know for certain has our best interests at heart, including yours. He will know something of the Marines and recommend a man."