25th May - Lieutenants in the tavern

"I'm not about to let loose women aboard our ship, Mr. Deverel," Bush retorted, "That is called discipline, which is a quality that most officers possess. Though if you wish to have her come aboard your ship, by all means go after her."

He gestured towards the retreating woman, rather hoping that Deverel would take up the offer.

Turning to Cartwright, he said, "I suppose we could do with a fresh bottle, provided the lady who brings it will subsequently leave..."

Cartwright nodded, fishing some coins out of his pocket. "Quiero vino, por favor, he said to the woman who came over in response to Deverel's unsteady beckoning.

"I've got my sights set on... elsewhere," Deverel answered, leering at the barmaid who brought them a bottle.

"Do you," Cartwright remarked blandly, nodding his thanks to the barmaid. She accepted the coins with a smile and bustled away again.

"Not surprising," Bush muttered. Any port in a storm must have been Deverel's motto concerning women. At least this time the woman who brought the wine had left. Bush was grateful for that much.

Deverel was a stain, Cartwright thought, decidedly uncharitably. A waste of a commission. But that was one of the downsides of the Service, wasn't it? Not every officer was an honest gentleman, or even a gentleman at all.

"Another glass, sir?" He asked, offering the bottle to Mister Bush.

Bush contemplated the bottle as Cartwright held it out to him. He had already had several glasses; exactly how many he could not recall because the combined annoyance of Deverel and that woman had distracted him too much. Though it must have been a decent amount because he was beginning to feel ever so slightly out of sorts. In normal circumstances, Bush most likely would have refused another glass. But Deverel was still at the table--and still irritating him. More wine might dull his senses, but it would also help to distract him from Deverel.

"Yes, Mr. Cartwright, I shall have another glass. Thank you."

With that, he accepted the bottle and poured himself some more wine.

"And sho sall I. Sall sho. Shall so. So shall I." Deverel smiled slowly and slid his glass forward to be filled, but in the process of stretching out his arm he decided to rest his head upon it. And closed his eyes. And fell asleep.

"You're welcome, sir." Cartwright sipped at his wine and tried to ignore Deverel, who was by now slurring his words noticeably. What had they done to deserve being cursed with such company?

Then, abruptly, the man put his head down on his arm and was silent. Cartwright lifted an eyebrow. Was that it, then? "Thank God," he remarked, reaching out to turn Deverel's empty glass upside down.

"Thank God indeed," Bush concurred. "At least we may be able to properly enjoy our leisure time now."

After filling his glass, he set the bottle aside. The fact that Deverel was no longer prattling on almost seemed to be a cause for celebration. So Bush took another drink, despite the nagging thought that perhaps he should refrain. He did not want to be the next one to pass out on the table, after all.

Leat entered the tavern with his usual caution, scanning the room through the haze of guttering candles and tobacco smoke. He had been told that Mr. Bush and Mr. Cartwright were to meet here ashore tonight, and being himself at a loose end thought he might find them.

It was not hard to spot the Marine officer's uniform amongst the crowd, and saw that indeed Bush was sitting with him. There seemed to be another figure slumped at the table with them, but it was not one he recognised from this distance. Removing his hat, Leat crossed the room, appearing at Bush's right shoulder.

"Good evening. Might I join you, sirs?"

Looking up at the sound of the voice, Bush saw Leat standing beside him.

"By all means, Mr. Leat. Do join us." Glancing at Deverel's prone form, he added, "I suppose you will have to pull up another chair, despite that one being technically vacant at the moment."

Following Bush's gaze downwards Leat started slightly as he recognised Deverel, in an all too familiar position. Quickly he fetched a chair and sat down, giving the unsconcious lieutenant a sideways glance.

"I thought he had left for home?"

Another sea officer approached the table, but this one was more than welcome. Cartwright nodded at Mister Leat's request, then reached for Deverel's abandoned, up-ended glass. It would need a quick cleaning before being reused.

"Perhaps he is due to depart soon, and is merely wishing to celebrate his good fortune?" The Marine said, offering the clean and refilled glass.

"Hopefully he will depart very soon." Bush shook his head, then muttered, "Disgraceful."

He was quite glad Leat had joined them. His arrival more than made up for the stupidity they had been enduring for the last while. Surely they would be able to have some decent conversation now.

Leat took the glass from Cartwright, nodding his agreement.

"If he does not go soon I think he may end up not leaving at all," he said darkly, then smiled one of his customary small smiles and raised the glass to his companions.

"Your very good health, gentlemen."

A crooked grin came briefly onto Cartwright's face, but it was gone when he lifted his own glass in answer to the toast.

Bush smiled slightly and raised his own glass, nodding in agreement.

"Yes indeed."

Leat drank, draining half the glass in one go, only then looking at the remainder of the glass with surprise. It was good stuff - astonishingly good for such an establishment.

The wine felt good going down. Nodding slightly, Cartwright set his glass back down. "A far sight better than the swill served in Lisbon," he observed.

It was good wine--Bush had certainly noticed that. As he drank, once again he thought it would be better to not have any more. But this time, he found himself dismissing that thought much more quickly than he had before. The evening was looking to be much more enjoyable now, so whyever should he refrain?

Leat drained his glass in another gulp and refilled it.

"I agree with you there, Cartwright. It is such a change to find something decent for once."

He smiled across at Bush.

"You look thoughtful, sir."

"Thoughtful? Not really, no. I was merely reflecting that we should now be able to have an enjoyable evening at last," Bush said, returning Leat's smile. He was beginning to feel an urge to smile quite a lot. "I am very glad that you have joined us, Mr. Leat."

He finished off his wine and only hesitated a moment before pouring himself some more.

Leat flushed slightly.

"That is kind of you to say so, sir. And indeed, if I may be so bold, I would say that by far the mess on Terpsichore I have found to be one of the most pleasant I have served with."

Now that there was another guest at table, the slight young woman decided to return. Her Rubenesque counterpart had already brought a fresh bottle, but the young woman scoffed at it and pushed it aside, replacing it with one of her own superior choice.

"Aww, so sleep," she laughed gently at the sight of Deverel before turning her attentions to Leat. "Senhor have wine? Pah." She took the glass out of his hand and tipped its contents on the floor, filling it again from her new bottle. "My wine best. Senhor Terpsichore too? Tenente? Leff... tenente?"