Evening, 24 May; on deck

Form demanded that he report the action of locking a Marine in the irons. Temper suggested that he forget it. Disgust at the whole affair ultimately drove him to present himself at the wardroom to see Lieutenant Cartwright. The sooner he was absolved of all responsibility by virtue of passing it to his officer, the better.

Corporal Johnson still did not think much of Mister Cartwright, despite what Cartwright had done during the battle for the fort. Any officer that preferred to avoid field punishments in favour of some soft-hearted work details lost points in Johnson's view by default. But Cartwright was still an officer and Johnson was obliged to report to him.

"Mister Cartwright. Got a lad down in the irons," the corporal said without preamble. "Cap'n Bolitho's order."

"Who is it?" Cartwright didn't waste time with stupid questions, fortunately.

"Thompson, sir."

"Very well. Where is Captain Bolitho now?"

Johnson tried not to shrug. "On deck, sir."

"Thank you, Corporal." Cartwright seemed too calm by Johnson's reckoning, especially not having attempted to ask after the reason for a Marine being in irons. It was odd, but Johnson was in no mood to bother contemplating his officer's quirks. He saluted and returned to the messdeck, leaving Cartwright to make his own way topside to find the ship's captain.

The particulars of why there was a Marine confined below were, as yet, unknown, but it was enough for Cartwright to possess that initial bit of knowledge. He waited until Corporal Johnson had departed, then closed his journal and tucked it carefully away in its usual place. Now that he'd been informed, he had to go on deck and find out the full set of details.

True to Johnson's report, Captain Bolitho was indeed on deck. Cartwright trotted easily up the quarterdeck stairs and then hesitated, briefly unsure that he honestly wanted to know what Thompson might have done to warrant his being confined.

"Sir?" Cartwright asked, taking care to keep to the leeward side of the deck. He would wait a moment to gain the captain's notice, before launching directly into business.

Turning at the sound of the voice, Bolitho saw Cartwright approaching him. His presence was most likely due to what had just occurred with the men that had been taken below--particularly Thompson. Yet Bolitho did not want to assume wrongly, and so he inquired anyway.

"Yes Mr. Cartwright?"

That was invitation enough for Cartwright. He approached and touched his hat.

"I have heard, sir, that there is a Marine confined below," he began. "I must confess ignorance as to the cause for it, but as the man was meant to be standing sentry for this watch..."

Cartwright let the rest of the sentence dangling, but thought his meaning was sufficiently expressed. What could possibly have happened to merit removing a Marine from his duties to send him to the irons?

Obviously Cartwright had not been informed of the cause of the men having been taken below. Though Bolitho did not relish reliving the whole aggravating affair again, he needed to give an explanation.

"We recently had a visit from some provosts," he said, unable to keep from frowning upon mentioning those infernal men, "They claimed some of our men had been involved in a tavern brawl ashore, and they charged Private Thompson as being one of the troublemakers. Ordinarily, I would not condone taking a Marine away from his duty, but the provosts were adamant that the 'culprits' needed to be punished. So, in order to appease them, I had the men they accused sent below for now. Thankfully that seemed to satisfy the provosts. I was concerned they were going to call for the men to be flogged at once right then and there."

Cartwright lifted an eyebrow, but that was the only change in his expression. "I see," he said. He was well aware that Marines were as fond of a fight as any seaman, but from what he knew of Thompson, the news that the man had been part of a brawl was somewhat surprising.

"It is fortunate they were so easily placated," the Marine officer went on. "What do you intend to do with the men, sir?"

"Very fortunate indeed." Bolitho nodded. He was glad that the provosts had been content enough to have the men put in irons.

He paused a moment before answering Cartwright's question. That inquiry had been inevitable, really, though the truth was he still was not sure what to do.

"At the moment Mr. Cartwright, I cannot say what I intend to do. I need to give the matter some thought."

"Understood, sir," Cartwright said. Even if Bolitho did not wish to punish the men, Cartwright himself would. Only not in the conventional sense, of course.

"If I may, sir," he added after a moment's thought. "Perhaps as it was soldiers on the opposite side of this unpleasant affair, those of the crew who are guilty might be sent ashore on a special work-detail?"

Chances were that he had overstepped his bounds with that suggestion, but he had no interest in seeing anyone flogged for something that was only to be expected when sailors and soldiers were in close quarters.

Being that this was such a difficult situation he was dealing with, Bolitho was certainly willing to hear some suggestions. He was loathe to have the men flogged since he still doubted how truly guilty they all had been. In light of the cirumstances, Cartwright's suggestion was quite reasonable.

"I appreciate your input, Mr. Cartwright," he said, "That could be arranged, I suppose, and it might even teach the men a better lesson than would a flogging."

Cartwright nodded. "One may hope it will, sir."

As long as it spared them the indignity of a flogging. That was one ceremony that he had never liked.

"Who can tell, sir," he went on innocently. "Our counterparts in the army may just be able to find some use for those men."

"Perhaps, perhaps."

The more Bolitho thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him. Sending the accused men ashore on a work-detail would surely be punishment enough in their eyes, and it seemed perfectly sufficient to him. The provosts most likely would not have agreed, but it really was none of their concern as to how he chose to punish his crew.

It seemed that Bolitho was going to seriously consider the idea. Knowing that was as far as he cared to press the matter, Cartwright did not offer any more thoughts on the topic.

"I do hope Misters Leat and - Dwerry, was it? - are more able to avoid trouble," he commented.

"I should think they can be trusted to stay out of trouble," Bolitho said, "I know I can trust Mr. Leat, and though I don't know Mr. Dwerry well-enough yet, he does not seem the sort to go and raise a ruckus."

He expected nothing less than good behavior from his officers on ship, much less on shore. As disappointed as he was to learn that the crew had run into mischief, Bolitho would be infintely more upset if the lieutenants did likewise.

"Indeed." Cartwright knew little enough of either one and so could not make an informed judgement. He did, however, know of other officers, notably Marine officers, who could never be trusted to avoid trouble.

He thought of the private Marines who had been granted liberty that evening and tried not to shudder. Perhaps he should have reconsidered who he sent ashore. "I'm sure every man who's gone on liberty tonight will behave properly," Cartwright said and hoped he would not be proved a liar.

"One can only hope, Mr. Cartwright." Bolitho definitely did not want anything to happen which might send the provosts out to the ship again. Once had been bad enough; twice would be unbearable.

"Just so, sir," Cartwright agreed. There was little else left worth pursuing, at least for the present. He'd have to make his own quiet enquiries about this whole affair.

"Thank you for considering the matter, sir." The Marine touched his hat and waited a moment before moving away to the quarterdeck stairs.

"I appreciate your having suggested it to me," Bolitho replied. Noticing Cartwright was lingering a moment, he inquired, "Was there something else, Mr. Cartwright?"

"No sir." Cartwright shook his head, pushing away the temptation to ask why the provosts had singled out just one Marine, when four had been ashore in total.

Without another word or delay, he trotted down from the quarterdeck.