Day Trip

He had the galley fairly well explored, after stuffing himself with that wonderful pie made in the outlandish stove. Now it was on to the rest of the tavern, which was sure to be filled with more curiosities. Evans wandered slowly out of the galley and looked around. Seemed like a drawing room, like a nobleman would have. Fancy chairs and furniture and things. Shaking his head, Evans padded across the floor to a little table heaped with colourful packets. They looked almost like pamphlets, except they weren't made out of paper and they were too bright.

"What the hell's all this?" He asked, flicking through the pile with a frown.

Thompson looked up from where he was trying to light his pipe, and swung his feet to the floor, getting up to see what Evans had found. "Them? Oh, them's all diff'rent places to go," he said, and rifled through them. "Here, this looks int'restin'," he said, holding up a dark blue one with a picture of a ship on the front of it.

There were a lot of marks that looked like writing, scattered amidst the pictures. What the hell did all these things say? Were they some sort of French news sheet or something?

"Places to go? Like on a liberty run?" Evans looked at the pamphlet Thompson held up. "Hey, that's ol' Victory. Know her lines anywhere, I would."

Curled on a blanket, with a pillow under his head, and another warm and fuzzy blanket tucked over his body up to his neck, De Guarde slept in the very same room. He'd dragged the two blankets over, not really remembering why and how, and probably must've been drunk to do it too. Now he was just asleep, and a pair of voices, would soon end that too. "...Wot' ye all on about?" He grumbled. "Them's jus' papers with pictures."

"Aye, like that." He squinted at the picture. "Small damn print, that'n is," he said. "Think you'm right though." He turned to look at de Guarde as the lad mumbled something. "Here, Mathew. Make yourself useful an' come an' tell us what this'n is, will you?"

De Guarde yawned, stretched, pulled the blanket around his shoulders and somehow managed to get to his feet. He dusted himself, and like a king wearing his royal cape, he walked with the large blanket around his shoulders. All that was seen was his head, and then.. a foot or the other, every so often in step.

"Mmm, what do you want me t' do?"He glanced at Tide. "Ey." And then took the leaflet from Thompson's hands. "Is about t' ship..or d' ye want me ter be readin' all this?"

"Aye, we knows it's a ship," Evans said. "What's all the markin's mean?"

As if the painting wasn't sign enough that it was about Victory. It was a damn good painting too.

"The writin'. We can see the paintin's for ourselves. What's it all about, then?" He took the leaflet back and unfolded it. "It ain't just a ship, though. There's other paintin's - other stuff."

"Well, it says here, when the opening times are..means, when you can go see her, and probably go 'board her." That was odd. Opening times for HMS Victory?.. What was it?.. trying to press men in a very twisted, and innovative way? Going about saying - come, come - and then just never allowing them to get off?

"Well.. that n' ..again invitin' you to come see Victory.. n' then some wierd.. other... uh Warrior .. ship? and.. so forth." He looked at Tide, shrugging. "Means we can go aboard her between.." And he read the hours shrugging again.

"Be nice to visit her, 'cept she's still in commission, ain't she? Dunno why she'd be receivin' visitors or nothin', 'less her admiral's holdin' court aboard or somethin'."

Evans frowned and looked at the other paintings. "Never seen a ship like that 'un before, neither. What's she s'posed to be?"

"Don't know.. says it's an.... a younger ship than ol' Victory. Much younger than our time so could be, that it means that's how ships evolved ?" He pointed at the picture. "We could see her, couldn't we? N' maybe go see if there's an admiral on this one! "

"Looks like she's 'longside," Thompson said, peering at the picture. "Dunno what the others are. Though this looks like a ship, too, though she ain't one I've ever seen." He pointed at Warrior's smoke-stack. "Never seen anythin' like that on any ship I bin in, neither."

"An excursion to see ships, when you all live in them?" A bemused voice asked mildly. Benjamin Blackwood pulled his hat off as he came out of the kitchen and brushed some of the dust off the black felt. "How interesting."

"See a ship?" Oxley asked, having just overheard the last part of the conversation as he came into the room. "It can be interestin' visitin' other ships. They ain't all the same, y'know." He noticed the man's uniform and abruptly fumbled a salute. "Sir."

"What t' marine there is sayin' is right. Jus' couse we live.. or lived on Terpsy, don't mean we've seen all of them ships there are. That, and we've been on land so long, stepping onto a ship might jus' be summat we really need." He grinned at the fumbled salute, done by the young marine, and gave his, in a neat manner. "Sir. ..N' here, as George is pointin' to. We can also see some of them later models. Now that'un we've never seen before. See?" He took the pamphlet and raised it for the arrival to see.

"Anyhow, if that is Vict'ry, like Tide says, sir, she'm the most famous ship in the Navy," Thompson said, after saluting the officer. "An' it's bin ages since I was last in Portsmouth. Well, since I was anywhere near an English dockyard at all, anyhow. Presumin' that isPortsmouth[/i]."

Blackwood glanced at the pamphlet being held up for his inspection. "Indeed. Your knowledge of ships is undoubtedly superior to mine, though I am certainly open to informal instruction. Portsmouth is not far from here, if I am not mistaken?"

"I wouldn't know.. Don't know where we are 'zactly.., n' don't think we sea lads are any good with t' landmarks anyway. Not, unless they are connected ter t' sea. " He grinned. "That's your sort o' field, isn't it, sir?" He asked, studying the little map, that was partially drawn on the leaflet.

"We goin' on a march?" Newbury asked, wandering down the stairs with his shirttails hanging out. He was still rubbing sleep from his eyes despite being awake for nearly ten minutes.

"So it is," Blackwood replied. "Though it would help know more precisely where we are, first."

He glanced at the unkempt rifleman with mild amusement. "A march. Indeed. Once a destination is decided on. Tuck in your shirt, Rifleman."

"We might be going the same way we did before. With this.. carriage without any horses. " He looked at Thompson. "Could we get it?.. marchin' isn't natural for a navy man! .."

"Think so. There's a whole sheet 'bout that - think it's bout that, anyhow. Here." There was a folder on the table with various information leaflets and letters in it, and the first piece of paper looked like it had something to do with the hiring of that strange sort of carriage. The small picture at the top of the sheet looked like that one that was on the side of the carriage they'd hired before, anyway.

Wasn't that interesting. Blackwood studied the paper with half-concealed curiosity. Those were the strangest carriages he'd ever seen.

"And these coachmen know where we are?"

Thompson nodded. "Oh, yes, sir. Just tell 'em the Crown, an' they'll know where we'm at right enough, sir."

Newbury's face flushed. "Yes sir," he muttered, hastily shoving his shirttails back into his trousers. There would have to be an officer around!

"So... where're we goin' to?"