25th May Coming early

Pye pulled his head out of the water rubbing his hand over his hear when he heard a familiar voice call his name. He turned around and waved to Cotton, grinning. "Hey Gabe!" He kept on kneeling in the freezing cold water, not feeling the discomfort which would probably have made any modern lad think twice before even entering a river, let alone staying in it for long.

"You need help with that?" He asked, noticing that the rifleman brought with him, the kettle.

"No, it's easy enough to fill a kettle," Cotton answered, though he put the kettle down and unbuttoned his jacket before pulling his shirt off. "You didn't get all that dirty, did you?" he asked, amused, unbuttoning his gaiters and pulling his shoes off before joining Pye in the water.

"All but......"Pye looked at half his clothes already wet and clean, and the other part on its way. "...well, all but me rifle was as dirty as dirt." He grinned at his failed attempt of a comparison. There was still some muddy slush covering his shoulders and back, and he hadn't gone so far as to wash those. The skin exposed to the elements was darker, much more than the one always protected by the shirt and his coat.

He felt relaxed, though he glanced at Cotton's back, as if to make sure it was healing good. He reached down into the water and then send some of it at Cotton in a splash. As he leant down, a part of his own back was exposed, the unsightly old lines, pulling at the skin. "Mud Pye.. that's wot' I was today!" He laughed merrily.

Cotton ducked as Pye flicked water at him, but not quickly enough to avoid getting splashed. He swiped water out of his face and frowned a little as he noticed the scars on Pye's back. His own welts had mostly healed by now, of course. He ducked his head under the water, dashing the water out of his face again as he straightened up. "Well, I dunno what sort o' Pye you are now. Though I'm a wet Cotton." He shrugged. "Don't think it works with me name, though."

"Wet don't work with no name, I don't think." Pye chuckled and reached into the water again. Cotton's hair was already wet, but the rest of him had enough of dry skin to spare, for another splash to be worth while. "Isn't Cotton a sort of....fabric?" He asked and then leaned back into the water. He had to adjust his legs, pull them around so that he was able to sit. Then doing so, he allowed the river to do its own thing, the liquid slipping lazily over his chest and shoulders.

"Think so, but I ain't really sure," Cotton said, returning Pye's splash in kind. "I know what pies is, though, sure enough." He scooped up water, pouring it over his back and chest from his cupped hands, ignoring the fact that he was going to have a very wet pair of trousers.

"I ain't a pie though. Pye yes.... or so they say." He shrugged.

"See, your back looks better." He arched his neck a little. He held a hand to a rock. He couldn't swim, and he didn't want to test his skills at attempting to do so. They were in the protected part, where water was calmer. He had chosen it just for the reason too.

"That's good. " He smiled. "...be able to carry your pack easier 'gain, now."

"Feels better an' all," Cotton said, twisting his head to try to see what his back looked like. He sighed and gave up. "Get a kink in me neck, doin' that, I will," he said. "An' yeas, it's much easier to carry me pack now." He stretched. "Nice, t'be able to relax a bit, ain't it."

"You can look ..." He glanced into the water. If they were not moving at all, they could get a vague reflection. " Try lookin' in the water.. with your back like that, turned to it, if you want to. Though, it ain't... well, it has t' standard..look. Stripes on...." His voice trailed off. He sat up and rubbed at his shoulders. The mud was fully gone, though his skin now felt quite chilly.

"It is." He agreed and nodded slowly. "...Gabe, I'll be comin' with you. ...Ter t' wagons. If it's alright. I said to Vickery , couse he asked if I would."

Cotton shrugged. "WAs only fifty, though knowin' my luck, I'll get the other hunnerd-odd at some point." He shrugged. "Ain't nothin' I can do about that, though. An' the Cap'n's real nice, ain't he? Can't believe you said you'd come with us, though. It's a punishment for us, after all. You should stay with the rest of the Comp'ny." He didn't try to sound persuasive, though.

"Jus' stay low n' do what t' captain or t' officers tell you to. N' don't step a step outta liine.. that'll keep you from floggin'. N'...stay away from Hakeswill. That's t' surest way." He pressed his hand over his hair to have some of the water squeezed out of them.

"Captain Vickery won't see you flogged.. no. He's too wise fer that. N' I mean wise, because he'd know you wouldn't do something bad.. n' you aren't the type to do something like that." He turned quiet, and looked partially embarrassed to have said so much again without even letting Gabriel utter a word.

".. I started learnin' with you. ...so I want to continue that." He bit his lip. "If....if it's fine with you. Jus' .. a little time of a day..when..if you have time. N'.." Again he grew quiet and felt like he should've scolded himself for speaking. He turned from Cotton, and while his back was facing him, splashed his face with water. It was a more sure way to be quiet unless he wanted to drown.

"Well, it was s'posed to be two hunnerd, but I only got the first fifty, so's the officers can send me back to the triangle pretty much when they want to, for the rest," Cotton said, and shrugged, running his hands through his wet hair.

"Oh, the Cap'n won't do it - he's too much of a Rifles officer for that, him. Kept me on as his batman an' all, when most officers'd likely have turned me off. Still can't believe that - an' he ain't turned me off, even now. Though I dunno why he never picked Newbury for his batman in the first place. I only ever worked on a farm, 'fore I 'listed, and Joe Newbury was a footman once, I think."

Pye turned his back, and Cotton tried not to sigh at the sight of the lad's back. "An' if'n you want to stick with me an' Joe, that's fine by me. Nice to know we ain't screwed up so much you'd rather go off with someone else."

"They can't couse you wasn't deserving of those first fifty.. let l'one of.." He tried to make the math of how many it would be. If there were 200 that were the total of the punishment, and of those 50 were already gone through then there had to be... He frowned and shrugged. " those other many." He said instead. "Captain Vickery knows that, I'm sure... he knows you're good Cotton. That's why he kept you as batman. Couse he knows you ain't a rotten egg."

He smiled and rose to his feet, so that only those would have felt numb, or ached from the cold. His hands had that funny feeling which disabled them from gripping on anything very tightly or in control. The feeling that prevented people from writing comfortably, till they would've warmed up again. It wasn't a bad case of feeling cold. It was just enough to know, that the river wasn't a warm soup.

He heard the sigh, he wasn't sure what it was for. He gazed at Cotton, over his shoulder, and blinked. At first he thought it was something he said, and he hurried to explain that: "No, you ain't screwed at all, Gabe. Don't you say something as silly."

"...Gabe, what's wrong?" He murmured. It was best he asked about that earlier. If he had said something, Cotton would tell him, and if he had done something he could correct and not do it again. If it were a bad memory, or if it was something different alltogether, he had faith that Cotton would explain it either way.

He had been told that the Rifle company was 'somewhere ahead up there', and that he was to find them and discover if there was any need for additional men to be sent forward. Word had filtered down that there were French companies somewhere ahead, most likely to ambush and harass the pursuing British army. Even knowing the usual veracity of such rumours, it never paid to ignore them completely.

Perhaps naturally, Blackwood had volunteered for the task of riding forward and conferring with the Rifles officer. Such an exercise would, he hoped, give his own company a marginally better chance at being sent forward, should there be a need for it. Certainly there had to be a need for it, he thought. The threat of having the army's pursuit slowed or halted by anything presented need enough, didn't it?

It was going to be fairly dark very soon, Blackwood judged, noting the progress of the sun's descent. Without sunlight to see by, he reckoned it would be quite difficult to spot the greenjackets. They, on the other hand, would probably be able to see him a far ways off, if they didn't hear him first.

What? Oh. Pye had probably heard his sigh, even though he hadn't meant to sigh in the first place, or for Pye to hear it, in the second place. "Jus', well, your back. Like mine. I jus' think it's a shame the Army thinks it has to use the cat at all. But you'm right, the Rifles don't, not if'n they can help it. An' the Cap'n won't, neither."

His hands and feet were getting cold by now and he thought it was high time they got out of the water. "C'mon, lad, let's go an' find summat warm to eat. I'm gettin' fair friz, standin' here." He waded out onto dry land and offered the lad a helping hand before picking up his shirt to dry himself off with it as best he could, before dressing, just pulling his jacket on over the top and leaving it unbuttoned as he stooped to fill the kettle.

"Oh,..that." Pye arched his neck a bit, as if to try and see the offending back exactly. He shrugged. "This'un....was justified, 'tleast by army rules." He muttered, clearly showing what he thought of it. Justified or not. "..why the rifles are better." His face brightened at that thought. "And mister Vickery. " Though, he did not know what their punishment would have been for the same crime. He didn't think he wanted to know, and certainly he would not give them any reason for them to show him. Not the rifles, to whom he felt loyal and very willing to serve.

He took the offered hand and with Cotton's help, he pulled himself out of the water just then realising how numb his legs now felt. His trousers were wet, clean and clinging to his form, while water dripped heavily from them. He bent down to squeeze them along his leg, wrenching the very bottom as much as he could. He trembled a little, his body's reaction to cold, rather than his thinking it was freezing. He brought his hands in and out of his fists and pulled a walked past his shoes, unbothered. "Warm food ." Or food in any form. "Sounds like a fine idea." He grinned and looked rather excited about the idea. "We should hurry, if we don't want them to eat everything up!" He looked for a moment, genuinely concerned. He began to squirm into his shirt, which was dryer than he, but also quite wet, tugging and pulling till the resisting fabric rested half way over his chest, and had his head pop out at the top. He looked up attentively, and then shook his head. What faint sound he'd heard, that wasn't standard, was probably just his imagination anyway.

"I'm sure they'll leave somethin' for us," Cotton said, guiding Pye back towards the others. He froze, glancing over towards the picquets as someone called a challenge. "We ain't 'spectin' anyone, are we?" he said, musing aloud.

He could see the dim silhouette of a man on horseback, and wondered what was going on.

~~~~

Roper hadn't been on watch for long when he became aware of the dark shape of someone approaching them on horseback out of the near-darkness of late twilight. "Who goes there?" he called, standing up with his rifle ready in case it was a Frenchman. It could have been the missing English officer, but the man had come from the wrong direction. The only people in that direction were, he thought, the rest of the 2nd Division, but he wasn't going to take any chances.

Pye carried his shoes, and a few other articles in hand, having left the gaiters off to be quicker meant that they were now draped over his arm as well. "Didn' hear anythin' of that." The lad shook his head. "Vickery didn' say no." He added gazing more alert in the direction, where the silhuette could barely be seen.

The challenge came from almost squarely ahead of him. At least he had been going in the right direction. Blackwood pulled his horse to a stop.

"Captain Blackwood, Second Guards," he called out.

"He wouldn't," Cotton replied. "Hold on, I want to see what's goin' on here."

It was someone from the Army. Roper shifted his rifle so he wasn't pointing it directly at the newcomer, although he didn't relax his guard as he stepped forward. "Advance an' be recognised," he said, adding, "Sir," in case the officer thought he was being impudent or something equally stupid. Not that he'd recognise any of the Guards' officers, of course, but he'd certainly recognise the uniform. What the hell was a Guards officer doing out here, anyway?

Taking care to keep his hands resting lightly on the pommel, Blackwood walked his horse slowly forward.

"I am sent up to speak with your officer," he went on, when he was able to make out the form of the sentry ahead of him.

It was pretty hard to make out details in the dark, but he'd approached from the right direction, and the profile was right for a man in the uniform of a British officer, with the cocked hat and everything. Roper was about to speak when Cotton came up, looking damp and hastily buttoning his jacket. Not wearing his shako, he improvised by tugging his forelock to the mounted man.

"I'll take him up, Tom. Well, Zack an' me'll take him up, anyhow. If you don't mind, that is, sir."

Roper nodded, a pale flash of movement in the darkness. "All right. You know where he is better'n I do anyway."

Pye had followed Cotton. He slipped his hands quickly into the arms of his coat. He was still barefoot, with the pair of gaiters and shoes still in hand.

Hearing his name, he swiped at his soles with two abrupt jerks and then slipped both of his feet into his shoes, moving quickly towards Cotton. He was thankful for the dark, keeping his gaiters bundled up so that they seemed to be anything but the piece of his kit that they should've have resembled. He mimicked Cotton's greeting to the officer, standing as stiff as if he were a redcoat again, right after.

"Obliged," Blackwood said, nodding slightly at the second man-shaped shadow that approached. "It has been quiet, out here?"

It seemed to be, at least.

"Mostly, sir," Cotton said. It was probably safest to leave things to Captain Vickery to explain. Especially after the way he and Newbury had managed to screw things up.