Sailors with shackles

He threw his sea-chest open, rooting through it for his spare trousers, a clean shirt and his drill jacket. He laid his still-wet clothes out over the top of the chest before turning to find the master-at-arms. The man really should have left the keys with Ware - it was usual practice to leave the keys with the guard when there were men in irons, just in case anything happened to the ship.

He returned to Ware and de Guarde ten minutes or so after he had left them, hoping he was in time. The lad wasn't known for being the most patient of Terpsy's crew.

De Guarde looked up when he heard footsteps. He smiled as he saw it was Thompson that returned. Did he have the keys? He hoped he did. He looked questionably at him, dropped his gaze briefly, then moved to look at his hands again as if expecting a key to pop out, there. "Hey. Did yer get?"

Thompson grinned and passed the keys to Ware. "Need to get me hair sorted out an' all," he said, combing his fingers through the rough pony-tail that was dripping down the back of his clean shirt.

"I can help." The lad looked at Thompson. "s' if you need it tied... I know how it's done ..." He glanced at the key, at the shackles and then up at Thompson. "...but, if you don't want to, I'll go t' ter heads...'stead."

Ware took the keys with a nod. "Can wait, boy. Up you get now." It was a minor trick to kneel down and unlock the iron bar, without giving up his grip on his musket, but he managed. The seaman was free now. Ware stood up quickly and tucked the keys safely into his pocket.

Mathew waited for Ware, once he was straightened and ready to follow him, or was it lead him, he began towards the heads. He glanced at Thompson. "I'll return.. promptly." He said, grinned, and looked ahead. He made no indication that he would try to run, and he would not have.

He walked at a steady pace, neither slow, nor too fast but mostly just right. If Ware wanted him to go faster of course, he would have adjusted it to his. Whichever would have suited him better.

The boy set off briskly enough. Ware followed him and hoped nobody came looking for either of them while they were gone.

"Thank you." De Guarde murmured making still sure he would not worry Ware by taking and picking bad steps. He glanced sideways, then continued on, ignoring any men that might have been in their way. They knew he was in irons, and thus the reason for the lobster's company. It was good to have one's bladder completely empty, if a chance of an early presentation before the captain would arise.

"There." He looked relieved as they neared their destination. It wouldn't take too long.

Right. "Aye," Ware said curtly. "Be quick." The longer they dallied here, the more chance there was of somebody spotting them. Somebody like an officer.

De Guarde nodded quickly and moved forward. He had taken what little privacy he could and had really done his best to be quick at finishing, yet thorough so that he would not need to do more again, very soon. He reappeared, with a quick grin and a nod. "Can be goin' back now!"

"You'll be going nowhere," a silky voice said.

Ware turned sharply, fighting back his dismay. Dammit. Damn it. "Have to, Mister Leaford," he told the master's mate. "Needin' him back in irons."

Which he shouldn't have been out of in the first place.

De Guarde gulped looking up at the man in question who had appeared out of nowhere, or so it felt. He nodded quickly. "Needin' ter go back in irons. I do." He said abruptly, and felt inclined to stand closer to Ware, even if the man had been at times unfriendly to him, earlier. "s' officer's orders." He hastened to add, though he had no doubt that Mister Leaford would know that.

Of course.

"You should hardly need to go back to them," Leaford said casually. "If you had not left them improperly in the first place."

"..I've only gone to t' heads, Mister Leaford." The youth replied rather quietly. "An'.. now I need ter go there. Any minute counts." He hoped the man would be sensible in at least that. He knew they could not wait here, else an officer might come, and Ware would be in trouble, and so would he.

"A bucket should have been provided. For, as I understand it, being confined in irons is meant as a punishment. Is it not?"

"...Yes. An'...why it is best I am returned to continue my punishment there,.. presently." The boy may have sounded cheeky, but Leaford might as well have had it coming. "May I go now?"

The master's mate nearly smiled - but had he done so, the gesture would have been anything but mirthful.

"No, you may not." Leaford folded his arms and looked pointedly at the sailor's escort, who was now standing stiffly to attention. "It interests me greatly that it is considered punishment to lock a seaman in the irons, then to free him that he may use the heads like any other man aboard."

His gaze passed back to the seaman. "Does that not strike you as unfair?"

"...A man in irons... is still a man and thus depends of what natural reactions he is given to act with. Whether this means, they need to go, so they do." Even the way he talked improved as he tried to argue his case. "...I did not go there like any other man 'aboard.. Else, does every other man have an escort watching his every move?"

Another glance at the Marine, who, naturally, showed no trace of expression.

"Clearly you have little idea what it is to be confined. Certainly you have little idea how to properly behave at all. And you, Marine, are hardly helping matters!"

"...Mister. May... may we please return to the irons?" What was supposed to be a fast and easy trip to the heads and back, was proving to be an effort now. Leaford being the main culprit for their delay. De Guarde worried what the man meant to do, and worried to if they would not be found in irons. It was not only his head that might be at stake, but so as well, Ware's.

Leaford glanced casually around the weather deck and affected a shrug. "Oh I suppose," he drawled.

De Guarde studied the man uncertainly then turned around to Ware, giving him a curt nod. He made a forward step in the direction from which they came, hoping that Leaford would not change his mind, or that he might as well forget that he had ever seen them.

"Next time you're gettin' a bucket!" Ware hissed, once he'd judged they were far enough away from the master's mate.

"Let's hope there won't be a next time." He glanced over his shoulder and then smiled with relief. "He's not following us." He quickened his pace never the less. The sooner they were back, the better. He still did not want to run as that would be very much noted, noticed and could be misinterpreted as well.

He waited until the pair had gone before setting off himself, in search of a particular man. There was a problem needing setting to rights and he knew just who could see it sorted.

~



No next time. Right. Ware curled his lip. "Just get down there. I've had 'nuff trouble this watch!"