A dirty business

Billy came hurtling down the ladder, returning after what had seemed like an eternity.

"Here, sir! Here's Doctor Crozier," he exclaimed, leading the way for Dr. Maturin.


[ooc - and now Billy and Crozier are free to be moved around as appropriate.]

"He'll be alright. .." He didn't know though. Horses could kill. He looked at the horse. The Stallion pulled lightly and then moved to drink. Carefully Mathew slipped around him and slowly moved away.

He reached up to get the lantern from a hook, barely able and with a help of a upturned bucket that earlier contained water, he removed it and walked to the marine. He lifted the lantern above the doctor.

"Come on, sir." He murmured to him. Glancing briefly to the stallion he made sure the animal was still more preoccupied with drinking. "Ye'um have ter finish gettin' us better.. ye know." He was asking the doctor to wake. Not because they'd really be in such great need to be taken care of, but because he wished the man to open his eyes, see he was alright.. sort of.

He looked up as Billy arrived and peered to see if he brought anyone with him :" Ah.. good!" He felt relieved. Someone who could really help the doctor. ...the man who swam .

(lunch time! Will be back soon!)

Well, the horse seemed all right, which was more than Thompson could say for the man lying silent on the deck, his head in the Marine's lap. "Doctor'll be here soon, sir," he said, trying to find if Mister Crozier was bleeding.

"Matthew, could you bring that lantern a bit closer? I can't see if'n he's bleedin' or not?"

"What happened?" Stephen asked sharply as he came into the hold. "Raise that lantern!"

"He got kicked by the horse, sir," Thompson said, nodding at de Guarde to do as Doctor Maturin ordered. "He's breathin' sir, but it don't seem... deep enough. I think. An' I've bin tryin' to keep his head out o' the dirt."

He looked anxious, although it was tempered by relief that Doctor Maturin had come. If anybody knew what to do, he would.

"Oh, an' mind me crutch, sir," he said, afraid the doctor would trip over it in his eagerness to see to the wounded man.

Stephen hopped over the crutch, and bent down next to Crozier. "You did well, Thompson - this place if filthy. Hold that lantern closer, boy! Barrows, fetch four strong men, and have Mister Crozier's assistant prepare a bed in the sickbay - we must move him immediately."

"Will he... will he be all right, d'you think, sir?" Thompson asked, looking into Stephen's face. "I mean, he is still breathin' an' all."

Doctor Maturin thought he'd done well. That was a real nice compliment, that was. And the doctor'd taken charge, properly. Thompson knew he'd been right to send for him.

Stephen took Crozier's wrist and counted, then placed the back of his hand above his mouth and nose. He was dead apart from the faintest pulse, and the just perceptible breathing. There was blood on the left side of his head; Stephen bowed down so that his ear was level with Crozier's own, and gently ran his fingers along the side of the surgeon's head. He did not need to hear the crackle - there was a depressed fracture to the skull. "I hope so, Thompson," he said, pulling up. "But I suspect I must trepan - have you any idea of the weather tomorrow? I must speak to the captain as soon as he is settled. Where are those blasted men?"

"The weather tomorrow, sir?" He shrugged. "Same as today, I think. Are you goin' to cut his head open, like you done with Joe Plaice?" He frowned. "I didn't make it worse, did I, sir? Movin' him, I mean." He looked worried at that thought. "An' I tested his heartbeat - only not like you just done - an' made sure of his breathin'. I... Was that wrong, sir?"

Peter slid down the companionway into the hold, and heard the successive thumps of the men behind him. In a glow from a lantern, like a devotional picture in one of the Catholic Churches, there was the bright red of the Marine, cradling the head of a prostrate man, and another man in a dark coat just rising back up. At the edge of the light, a horse looked on, with a boy at its head.

Almost immediately he recognized the participants, including de Guarde, standing by the horse's head. "I've brought the men, Dr Maturin - and some canvas to use as a stretcher - although he'll have to be carried up the companionways."

Ah, yes, he was not a sailor. He would ask the captain when he saw him. Stephen looked up to meet Thompson's eyes. "No, Thompson, you did extremely well. Moving him was absolutely necessary; if any of the horses' filth had got into the wound there is nothing I could do. If he survives, it will be in part due to your quick thinking."

He looked away as he heard the young voice. "Thank you, Mister Yates. He must be carried with only the most necessary movement - all hear me, now - gently and firmly. Mister Yates, if you will hold his head as the gentlemen take his body; it must not be allowed to loll about."

"Yes, Sir." Peter knelt down to take the surgeon's head from the Marine. There was blood on his head. "Where is the wound? I don't want to touch it..."

Thompson shook his head. "It was de Guarde as tol' me what to do, sir, about movin' him and keepin' his head out of the dirt, sir. An' he was the one what sent for the doctor, an' all. I only though to check his breathin' and heartbeat... an' I couldn't feel any blood, neither." He looked up into Stephen's face as the sailors bent to shift Crozier carefully. "I was real careful doin' that, sir, I promise."

He looked at Yates who had knelt next to him. "Just above the left ear, sir, here." He indicated the area on his own head.

"On the left side, a few inches above the ear," Stephen said the four men bent to lift the surgeon up. "He was kicked by that infamous horse. There is only a single companionway to the sickbay - that will be the most difficult part."

"Yes, I see." Peter put his hands under the surgeon's head, supporting the right side, while the men Barrow had rounded up circled round, to lift him by shoulders and legs, two to each side. "We do have experience," he said. "After battles and things... But you know that, of course." He adjusted his legs under him, and glanced at the men. "On three. One, two, three." The five of them stood up, as one, and shuffled round towards the companionway, Peter ready to walk backwards.

(ooc : De Guarde had moved from the horse a few moments before Billy returned. And had been tinkering with the lantern then. )

De Guarde observed as the others were at work and held back. The other doctor was there and he looked like he knew what he was doing. Well, that certainly came as no surprise, else Dr. Maturin would not be calling doctor, his profession would he? He'd kept the lantern up when told and as told and stood aside when the men went to lift their patient.

And even as they did, he stood to the side, glancing back at the horse to see him calm and not irritated by the sudden influx of bodies.

"Of course," said Stephen, standing beside Yates. "You, De Guarde, help Private Thompson up once we are clear."

"Aye, ..." He hesitated for he didn't know how to address Maturin properly. Deciding a sir would do no harm, he added a:" aye , sir." He didn't ask about the surgeon. There was no time for questions now. It was urgent that Dr. Crozier is taken up as soon as possible and that there he is tended to. Questions and inquiries could come once the danger was over, or.. hopefully not the other scenario.

He shuffled back a little and waited for them to pass fully, then turned to Thompson. Hopefully the man's ankle was also not jarred worse. Damn that stallion!

"Are you ready, Sir? Will you go first, please?" There might be an awkward moment at the top of the companionway, as they tried to bend the surgeon backwards - an extra pair of hands then might be useful.

"I will, sure - follow me, now: slowly, handsomely..." Stephen said, holding out his arms in case he was needed.

It was not quite drill-perfect, but they reached the foot of the companionway without jarring the surgeon's head. It was surprisingly heavy, and Peter kept his hands spread, hoping that the ship would stay this steady, as he climbed the companionway backwards with no hands... But Dr Maturin would be at the top, and the stairs were wide enough to allow men to carry loads up and down. "Ready," he said to the men. "Hold him steady and start..." He found the first rung behind him and started to shuffle up, leaning back against the steps for support.

Were they on the upper decks, they could have used a tackle, thought Stephen as he intently watched the delicate operation, but they got Crozier up the stairs with never a slip or a fall. "Well done, gentlemen - now to the sickbay, as handsomely as before; we do not want a trip now."

"No, Sir" Peter glanced at the others. Robbins, used to handling guns, was keeping an eye on them as they shifted grip for the walk to the sickbay. "Ready, Mr Yates!" he said, when he was satisfied, and Peter, still walking backwards led the way, feeling behind him with his feet to avoid the trip they did not want.

Stephen put a hand on Yate's back to guide him, and placed his other underneath Crozier's neck, to avoid any strain on it. "You are doing fine, Mister Yates - not too fast. We are nearly come to the sickbay."

Peter was grateful for the occasional pressure on his back, warning him of a difficult step ahead - the beams did not worry him yet, but the floor was almost as treacheous. He was glad when they passed through the door into the sick bay