26th May afternoon - sick berth

Billy had been sorely disappointed to see the captain's boat being rowed away with someone else sitting in his rightful spot at the helm. But fortunately, he had found unexpected comfort in the sick bay. One of his friends had given him a bottle of brandy, and now he was full of loving smiles. "God bless the captain," he muttered, lolling his head to the side with a grin.

"...I wouldn't bless 'im." He grunted disapprovingly, staring at his mug. A few moments ago it had been full. A third time it had been filled, alas, but now it was empty again. Where there was brandy or any sort of drink, there was always also the number of takers, which snuck into sickbay with the innocent intention of visiting their fellow Tar, Billy. Now, he as the several others, were drunk of the shared gift.

"He ain't done nothin' worth bleshin'. Bless 'im who got t' drink 'boards ship!"

"Bless him too," Billy answered with his continued grin. "And bless the boat he come in, 'specially if it be mine, God bless it."

"If you need to go somewhere to give the appearance of being occupied, you may always come down here for a bit," Mister Fitzgerald had said, and Oxley had pretty much done everything he could do without hurting his wrist any more.

And someone had said something about wondering how Billy Barrow was doing, only none of the adult Marines could get down there, really - and they probably wouldn't be admitted by the surgeon or the surgeon's mate. And if he needed an excuse, he could always show them his wrist - though he'd run the risk of being put on light duties and getting reported to Mister Cartwright, or even to Captain Bolitho.

It was a risk, and one he was fairly willing to take, though. He peered round the sickbay doorway. "Anyone in?"

"And God bless you too, Peck!" Billy cried, "And all your noble... sharing. Sss." And he took another swallow of the welcome bottle. How long had it been since he tasted it? "Come in, come in! We're all in here."

"Shut it n' pour." Another of the newly arrived guests said, though not at all in a mean tone. He laughed merrily and thrust his mug towards the bottle. "Bless'em officers 'couse they're lettin' us stay in this port!"

"T' get robb'd o' all wot' we have n' no pay got back?.. N' ter let us be starin' at it , couse we ain't got no shore leave?" Peck asked gloomily, while beside him a pair of mildly drunk Tars needed to be hushed before ears of the company would bleed at their rather poorly voiced singing.

Billy found his comments highly amusing, and he grinned to show his appreciation of the joke. "Aye," he said, with a voice like honey. Everything was warm, sweet and golden now. And thick. And pleasantly heavy. "But don't let the surgeon hear, aye? We'll get in trouble, ha ha ha. God help me." He opened his eyes wide at the sudden lurch in his stomach.

"Our lips are sealed." Which was not really all that funny, but brought on a chorus of laughter by the men already drunk. "Yours are sealed a'right." Lester spoke through bouts of laughter. "With honey an' tar!" Again, it was not the sober mind that would understand the sense in that, but the men grinned.

Peck had his mug refilled, and drank a few gulps from it. "Screw t' surgeon. He's got no right to run his mouth!" Several men got up, thumping their heads on the low beam or against each other. "Nasty." One spoke, there was silence for a moment, and then all burst out laughing. ".. feedin' t' fishes .. you're not doin' it right!"

Oh. Oh, boy. "You's goin' to get in so much trouble, y'know," Oxley said, and came in anyway, blending in almost effortlessly in his shirt and trousers, unless anyone noticed the black gaiters buttoned up over his white trousers. "Hey - is that rum?" he asked, noticing the bottle one of the sailors was holding. "Do I get any?"

"Do you get any? You bring some , n' then you earn y' right'o' gettin' it too, pipsqueak." It was said by Lester, and readily agreed by the rest. For the moment men seemed to have missed the gaiters, buttoned up on the lad's legs. Perhaps they were just in a swell mood enough not to care.

Peck however looked suspiciously at the lad. Drunk he was, but not as drunk as not to be alert that something wasn't as generally 'Jack Tar' as with the other men. " ...What d'yeh want?"

Oxley shrugged. "Jus' wanted to see what was goin' on in here, that's all." They seemed to think he was one of the ship's boys, which suited him just fine, though he was a little put out to find that they wouldn't let him have any drink. It wasn't as though he got a full ration of rum anyway; boys were only entitled to half the ration the men got.

"Oh come in, brat." One of the men said reaching to the lad any if he had managed to get a hold of his shirt, he would well have bodily yanked the lad into their midst. It was a friendly gesture anyway and one of the men would've shoved, a mug half filled, into Tom's hands, because a friendly face of a Terpsy could always celebrate with them! Billy Barrow was soon going to get better, and the fact he had survived was a reason for celebration!

Peck gulped his drink down and eyed Oxley: "Weren't you in party that got leave to shore?"

Brat?! Oxley drew himself up to his full height, which was still shorter than the sailor. He grinned, though, as he saw the man reach for him as though to drag him physically into the group. A mug was shoved into his hand, despite the sailor's earlier words. He nearly took it in his right hand, making the switch to his unbandaged left hand at the last minute.

He nodded in reply to one of the other sailors. "Aye, I was. Why?"

"There, men.. you could witness.. lo and behold, the officers..but in what state? Drunken sots that's what! They dishonour our ship!" He was drunk himself, so he should have kept his mouth shut. "But what has been done today for it?... Nothing!" He finished his drink, while some of the others seemed to mumble in approval, others just kept themselves from this conversation, appearing more interested in seeing that Billy Barrow did not slip of his cot and hurt himself.

He appeared to have forgotten the few men, who had been drunk with them, private marines or Tars. "That's what I call unfair. They risk half as much.. no.. a quarter as much..by god.. and they get a pay we all can ever just dream o'! We's mildly besotted ..and up ter a flogging, they say. "

"Knock it off, Peck. . We did not come here for that." It was the same Tar that had yanked the injured boy into their midst. "We came to see Barrow's taken good care to be joinin' us soon. An' celebratin' his livin'!"

Oxley frowned. "You'll get in trouble, anyone hears you talkin' like that, y'know," he said, despite the fact he was the youngest one there and really shouldn't offer his opinion unasked in that fashion.

"What,... you wouldn't be that sort of a snitch, would you?" Peck half stood. He shoved his mug into the hands of the closest Tar and turned on Oxley. " You're not one of us, brat." He said haughtily, two of the other Tars exchanging looks, and one of them ready to stand, the other saying more easily. "Peck, sit down. The lad's only looking out for you."

"Is he?.. I bet he's just waiting for the chance to up and tell it to someone!"

"Don't be stupid. ..an' he's right. Somebody could hear you, who ain't one of us. You'd be wise to heed that!"

Oxley shrank back a little. "Warn't goin' to say anythin'. So there ain't no need to go threatenin' me like that." He sounded defensive and knew it but didn't care. He scowled, though he was grateful as one of the other Tars stepped into the fray.

"Tommy!" Billy said with a slow smile, taking notice of the lad for the first time, now that his stomach had settled again. "Tom, young old Tom." He had nothing more to say but simply smiled to show everyone his happiness. He had the best mates in the world.

Oxley grinned as Mister Barrow noticed him. "Aye, it's me," he said. "How you doin'? I heared as they was goin' to let you out later." Though whether that was true or not, he had no idea.

"Aye," Billy said with a beatific smile. It was not an answer to a question, for he could not understand questions at this point. But he was agreeable to whatever anyone wanted to say. "Good old young old Tom, come to see me."

Oxley couldn't help chuckling at Billy's strange use of his nickname of 'Old Tom'. "'Course I come to see you, mate. Ain't bin the same without you. You heard 'bout the joke we pulled with that young Buckles?"

Billy shook his head, still grinning.

The quarrelsome Tar was sat down, another mug pushed into his hands. It seemed to satisfy him enough as he nodded and began to sip at his drink. "Don't trust that pipsqueak. That's all." He muttered into his drink. " He's got gaiters.. ain't even a Tar. A bloody marine boy." Because marines stood guard on prisoners and stores, and surely did other things that were more privileged in his opinion.

Samuels spoke up defensively. "Leave him alone. He's Billy's mate like the rest of us." And then he fell quiet, surprised at his own outburst.

"All you lads oughta keep it quiet," Chase cut in, passing the bottle to the man next to him. "Or the sawbones'll have us all in irons."