Reporting Suspicious Bumps in the Night

Tide grinned. "No worries, lad. C'mon. Let's be off aft an' get this done with."

"Awrigh'." He swallowed, and wiped suddenly-damp palm on his grubby trousers, trailing nervously after the petty officer.

With a companionable nod, Tide set off toward the quarterdeck. He noted that it was Mister Bush as officer of the watch as he got closer, however, and that dampened his resolve a little.

He quailed a little when he saw that it was Mister Bush who was on the quarterdeck as the officer of the watch. His mouth was dry all of a sudden, and he glanced at the quartermaster, reassuring himself that he wasn't doing this on his own.

It was a good thing he'd gotten rid of his snuff, Tide thought wryly. If there was one thing guaranteed to catch Mister Bush's ire, it was being addressed with a cheekful of tobacco.

"Mister Bush, sir," the quartermaster called out, coming to a stop at the base of the quarterdeck stairs. "P'mission to come up, sir. Got some 'portant news for sharin'."

Not so loud! "He'll hear you!" Terry muttered, uncaring that that was the point of the exercise. Oh, why had he told Mister Evans? Telling Mister Bush was going to be ten million times worse...

It was Deverel who motioned them up. He recognized the young man but not the boy. "What is it, quartermaster? Evans, isn't it?"

Bush had heard his name being called, but before he could respond, Deverel stuck his nose in and called Evans up instead.

"Mr. Deverel, is your name Mr. Bush?" he snapped, giving the third lieutenant a glare, "Then I don't think the quartermaster was asking for you."

Turning to Evans, he said, "Yes Evans? What is this all about?"

Deverel rolled his eyes and went back to scanning the empty horizon.

Tide saluted. "Yes sir. That's me." He ignored the snappish retort from the first luff. It wasn't directed at him. "Gotta lad with sommat interestin' to report, sir."

Bush glanced at the boy behind Evans. Button, he believed the boy's name was.

"Well Button, what do you have to say?"

Terry swallowed. This was just about the most terrifying thing he thought he'd ever done. "S... sir, the... the night that B... Mister de Guarde, as was, went overboard, I... I was woke up an'... an' there was two sailors carryin' summat 'tween 'em, sir. They was... they was headed topside, sir."

Bush frowned. If the boy was implying what it sounded like he was implying, this was a very serious accusation indeed.

"Did you see who these sailors were, Button?"

He swallowed, his throat dry. Mister Bush was frowning, and that couldn't mean anything good. He was probably going to be told to run along and mind his duties. "I don't know 'em, sir." Though with 200 men and boys aboard, that was hardly surprising. "But I... I seen enough of 'em to... to know 'em if I'd see 'em agen, sir."

"Would you?" Bush contemplated this for a moment. This was a tense subject. If Button was telling the truth--and there was really no reason why he would not be--then he could most likely identify the men who had tossed De Guarde overboard.

"This is a serious matter, Button. If you are telling the truth, I want you to be certain of it. Do you swear that you would recognize the men if you saw them again?"

He was looking at the deck rather than at the officer, as if that would make it anyone other than Mister Bush who was talking to him. He found himself rubbing the back of one leg with his other foot, a nervous habit, and bit his lip as he made himself put his foot down on the deck. He closed his eyes, thinking whether he really could remember what they looked like, if he'd seen their faces at all even in the darkness and with his confused state of mind, and nodded, a little uncertainly.

"Y... yes sir. The taller of 'em was wearin' a striped waistcoat... an' I fink 'e 'ad a stockin' cap on, too. T'other one was shorter, an' 'ad his queue tucked in 'is belt." He felt his own belt, for his knife, reassuring himself that he had remembered this bit right. "'E... 'e 'ad 'is knife on t'other side, too - lef' side, I mean, sir."

He looked up hopefully, and ducked his head again when he was faced with the dark blue of an officer's coat. Mister Bush really was quite the most scary man he'd ever spoken to in his life.

Well it was something, Bush thought, though perhaps it was not enough to truly convict any of the sailors. The descriptions of clothing could apply to several of the men.

"But did you see their faces? Would you still recognize them even if they were dressed differently?"

It had been dark, but they had passed quite close to his hammock, and he had been intrigued by what they were doing... although he hadn't been so openly curious as all that, because who wanted to invite trouble? And of course, the ship's boys were easy pickings for the sailors.

And he'd spent the last couple of days or so thinking about it and trying to remember. "Yes, sir." He glanced up, and one glimpse of Mister Bush's face, as unsmiling and stern as ever, made him falter. "I... I fink so, sir." He looked back down and again found himself rubbing the top of one bare foot against the calf of his other leg.

"Hmm," Bush murmured, then was silent as he thought about it for a moment. Button was saying that he did know the identities of De Guarde's attackers, which meant that charges could be brought against them. Charges of attempted murder. However, the quarterdeck was not the place for such specific accusations to be made.

"Button," he said at last, "I hope you know that I am going to have to inform the captain of this. So you are going to have to tell him everything you told me, as well as the things you have not yet said. Do you think you will be able to do that?"

The... the captain? He hadn't even considered that, not really. If he'd thought about it at all, he'd thought that once he'd told Mister Bush, then the Lieutenant would tell the captain.

He sent Mister Evans a mute glance of appeal, and then looked down at his own bare feet, biting his lip as he nodded. "Yes, sir." It was barely more than a whisper.

What did the lad think he could do? This was indeed a matter for the captain to hear. Tide said nothing but made no move to shift off, either. The least he could do was stay with the boy.

Mister Evans didn't say anything, but he didn't shift off, either. Terry hoped that the quartermaster would be allowed to go with him; facing the Captain as well as Mister Bush was an even more terrifying idea. He desperately wanted Mister Evans to be there. Even a petty officer was much better than facing the Captain and Mister Bush on his own.

Bush could tell that Button had been scared enough to talk to him, and the look on the lad's face now showed that he was positively terrified at the prospect of seeing the captain. But there was nothing for it. Bolitho had to hear this from Button himself. It would do no good if Bush merely relayed the information.

It was also apparent that Evans wanted to accompany the boy, which was fine. It meant that Button would not have to face the captain alone, and Evans' presence hopefully would make the experience a little more bearable for the lad.

"Come along then, Button," Bush said. He glanced at the quartermaster and added, "I would be obliged if you would come too, Evans."

After yielding the quarterdeck to Deverel, he turned and started down the stairs.

Why had he ever thought he ought to tell someone?

"Come along then, Button," Mister Bush said and his heart sank like a stone at the order. There was nothing else for it; an order was an order, after all. He was relieved to hear the Lieutenant tell Mister Evans to come as well, though, and he moved a little closer to the quartermaster, needing the reassurance, even as he turned to follow Mister Bush down to the gundeck... and the Great Cabin.

"Sir." Tide knuckled his forehead and waited for the first luff to lead the way toward the ladder. He spared a glance and quick grin for Button. It was nearly over. Or this part of it was, anyway.