A private conversation

(OOC: Quinn comes from In the hold)

Quinn climbed the ladder after the French officer and turned towards the wardroom, hoping that the British Army captain was in. He wasn't used to going into the wardroom, but Marines went to all sorts of places on duty that sailors didn't, and he merely squared his should and enquired of the wardroom steward which cabin the Army Captain - the English Army Captain - was currently occupying. He was nodded towards a particular door, and thanked the man before crossing to it and knocking.

In the short time after Westdale depositing him in his cabin and seating himself on the floor Padstowe had dosed off, which menat that he had unawares slept through the hands' dinner time and was now in the process of missing his own.

When there suddenly came a sharp rap on the door he jerked awake, slightly disoriented. It only seemed seconds ago he'd closed his eyes.

"Come in!" he called.

Quinn opened the door and came in.

It looked as though the officer had just woken up, and he belatedly remembered that he'd been injured or wounded or something. And if that was the case, he needed all the sleep he could get, didn't he.

"I didn't mean to wake you, sir," he said. "I can come back later if I'm disturbing you."

"No," Padstowe said, rubbing his face. "No, not at all. I must have dozed off. Do you know what time it is?"

"Ah, it's dinnertime, sir. They'll be eatin' shortly, I think." He hitched a shoulder in a half-shrug. "I can come back later, if you'd like me to, sir."

Dinner already? But he'd only closed his eyes for a second...]

"No, there is no need. What was it that your wanted, sergeant?"

"I've got a bit of a problem, sir," he said, and paused, wondering how best to put it. "I was on my rounds, sir, and I heard voices down in the hold. I went to see what was going on, and I found one of my Marines lying on the deck, with a nice bruise coming up on his cheek, here." He indicated his own scarred cheek. "An' standin' up was the French gentleman of your party, sir. Well, I asked what was going on and the French gentleman said that Private Shirver had been insultin' him, sir. So he hit him." He sighed. "I wouldn't put it past Private Shriver to have done it deliberate-like, but there weren't no mark on the French gentleman, or nothin' like that. And he's a big lad, Shriver is, sir."

Padstowe told himself that such a report should not come as such a surprise, but to a small extent it did.

"What did Private Shriver and the French gentleman say they were doing down in the hold?"

"Shriver says he followed the French gentleman down because he thought he was going to do somethin' to the General's horse, and the French gentleman says he just wanted to see how his own horse was. He was holdin' an apple, sir. Well, the remains of one; I think he was holdin' it when he hit my Marine. An' he did have another one in his pocket, which he shared between his horse and yours, sir."

"That sounds like the French gentleman," Padstowe said.

This was, however, serious. He knew which party he would rather believe, but had des Sablieres hit the Marine in any other circumstance save self-defence then it could be constitued as a breach of parole.

"Has Captain Bolitho been informed yet?" he asked the sergeant.

"I know it does, sir. Same as I know Shriver likely pushed him too far, bein' as he's like that." Saying that might be construed as disloyalty to his Marine, but it had to be said.

"I haven't spoken with the Captain yet, sir, no. I thought you should know, as you're holding his parole. I have to tell me own officer as well, sir."

Which probably helped explain the incident.

"Thank you, Sergeant, I'm glad you did. You may tell your officer of the incident, and the captain. Where is Capitaine des Sablieres now?"

"I advised him that he should stay in sight of one of our officers if he wanted to get some air, but I think he preferred to go to his cabin, sir." He sighed. "I'm sorry it had to be bad news, sir."

"I'm just happy you came to see me before anyone else," Padstowe said, levering himself up off the floor. "I will go and speak with the capitaine now."

And so saying he went to the door, out into the wardroom and round to des Sablieres' cabin.

Quinn nodded, saluted and stepped aside to let the officer leave, before heading back down to the Marines' messdeck.