Reporting Suspicious Bumps in the Night

And he'd forgotten to salute, he was so flustered. And nervous. He hastily knuckled his own forehead, trying to ignore the slightly sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Get it over with, please, he thought, silently, chewing on his lip as he watch Mister Bush head down the ladder. He wondered if this was what it felt like for defaulters, a bit, knowing you couldn't stop what had been started.

Bush proceeded down to the Great Cabin, checking to make sure that Button and Evans were following him. He could only imagine what Bolitho would say about this whole affair, and what would happen when Button finally revealed the identities of the sailors he had seen.

Once outside the cabin, he stopped in front of the Marine sentry and told him to announce their presence.

Terry eyed the Marine, smart in his red coat and round hat, as he knocked at the door to the Captain's cabin. He'd never dared to get this close to one of them, specially not one on duty. And now he was going to have to see the captain, and possibly even talk to him - from what Mister Bush had said, he'd have to say everything, all over again.

He clasped his hands together to stop them from shaking and sent Mister Evans a glance, needing the reassurance of his presence.

This was unusual, Branning thought. The first luff, a quartermaster, and a ship's boy, all come to see the captain.

"First 'Tenant, sir," Branning called, rapping smartly at the cabin's door. Now what might this be about? He recognised the boy as the one he'd stopped from sneaking off when all the boys had been made to wash on deck. Perhaps the poor lad was in trouble for swearing at the surgeon, however belatedly?

Branning hoped not.

It was the big Marine on sentry, the one who'd stopped him sneaking away to get out of having to be scrubbed the other day. He was all right, him. Well, he seemed to be all right, going by what little experience Terry had of the Marines. He shuffled his feet a bit, hoping that the captain hadn't heard the knock, or didn't want to be disturbed or... or anything, rather than summon Mister Bush - and therefore Mister Evans and himself - inside.

The whole prospect of having to talk to the Captain was making his insides feel strange, and his knees felt like spun-yarn.

Why couldn't Mister Bush have sent him away with a flea in his ear? Even having his ears boxed would be preferable to this - the Captain was practically God, for all the authority he had here. Terry had never dared get as close to him as he was about to - he'd always taken care to keep well out of range and attract as little attention as possible from any of the officers and midshipmen.

And at that thought, his heart missed another beat. What if Mister Leat had reported him the other day, for being up in the rigging with Mister Fletcher when the midshipman had taken his tumble and only just missed falling from aloft? Had the Second Lieutenant realised he'd been shirking his work - and if he had, what was the Captain going to say about that?

That'd be the gunner's daughter for sure, whether the captain believed his information about the two sailors who'd thrown de Guarde over the side. Well, he was almost sure it was de Guarde they'd been carrying between them...

Bolitho looked up from his charts upon hearing the knock and Branning's announcement that Bush wished to see him.

"Enter," he said.

Having received permission, Bush opened the door and entered the cabin, crossing the room to where Bolitho was seated at his desk.

"Forgive the intrusion, sir, but I have been given some information that you will need to hear." He glanced over his shoulder, waiting for Evans and Button to join him. After all, it was the boy who needed to speak, not he.

This was it. Tide put his hand lightly against the boy's back, lest he suddenly try to back out of this, and gently nudged him forward. "Hats off," he muttered, having already pulled off his own headscarf.

Oh, shitshitshit...

He took a half-step backwards, only to find Mister Evans' hand on his back. He looked up at the quartermaster, swallowed and stepped past the big Marine, feeling very grubby and out-of-place. He was suddenly obscurely glad for the scrubbing of the other day, though his bare feet looked nearly as bad as they had before that.

He gaped, looking around the cabin - he'd never been in here before, of course, and had only ever seen it when the bulkheads were down when Terpsy was cleared for action - and of course then it was just another part of the gundeck.

The deck was covered in canvas painted with a pattern of black-and-white squares, and the whole stern seemed to be made of glass, which made the space far brighter than anything Terry had experienced aboard ship apart from when he was on deck.

And the Captain was sitting at his desk, and Terry gulped, wishing he could be anywhere else. He blinked at Mister Evans' whispered instruction, snatched his headgear off, and stared at his bare feet, fiddling with the shapeless woollen hat nervously with both hands.

Bolitho raised an eyebrow upon seeing the group assembled in front of him. He assumed Evans and the boy had something to do with the information Bush wanted to impart to him, otherwise they would not be there.

"Yes Mr. Bush, what do you wish to tell me?"

"I'm afraid I have nothing to tell you, sir. It is Button who has something to say."

Bush gestured to the lad, who looked as though he would rather be anywhere else right now. But it was too late. He had come forth with the information, and now Bolitho needed to hear it.

Bolitho turned his gaze to Button. The boy was staring resolutely at the floor, not looking at all happy. What was so important that he had to say it himself?

"Button?" Bolitho said, trying to sound as pleasant as he could while still being authoritative, "What would you like to say?"

Terry squeezed his eyes closed as Mister Bush and the Captain spoke, and then gulped as the Captain said his name, shuffling a little closer to Mister Evans for reassurance. He wasn't in trouble... but standing here like this, it felt horribly as though he was.

"Oh, p... please sir..." he mumbled and took a shaky breath. "P... please sir... the two m... men as frew Mister de Guarde over-side, sir." He clasped his hands together, nearly dropping his hat as he did so. "I... I seen 'em, sir. That night, sir."

Bolitho sat back in his chair, surprised and dismayed at what he had just heard--if he had heard Button right. The boy was saying that he had seen the men who had thrown De Guarde overboard the night after that fiasco of a dinner. Dear Lord...

Slowly he got to his feet and came around the desk.

"You saw the men who did that?" he said, looking incredulously down at Button, "And you know who they are?"

"I..." He swallowed again as the Captain stood up, and backed away into Mister Evans as he approached. He didn't even realise he'd dropped his hat.

"I... I dunno their names, sir," he said, practically in a whisper now. "But I s... seen 'em, s... sir."

One of them he'd seen for sure, and he'd seen the other's profile. He was shaking like a leaf now, and wanted nothing more than to run and hide somewhere and never come out again.

Even if Button did not know their names, it was enough if he could recognise their faces.

"So you would know them if you saw them again, Button?"

He closed his eyes and nodded miserably. "Y... yes, sir." It was a whisper now. He sent a side-long, fearful glance at Mister Bush. He'd told the lieutenant what he'd seen. Why couldn't the officer tell the captain, why did it have to be him?

"I see." Bolitho nodded. Though he admired Button's courage in coming forward, there was little he could do with the boy's information at the moment. Having seen the sailors was evidence, but being as Button did not really know who they were, Bolitho unfortunately could not take the case any farther right now.

He looked down at Button, who looked even more terrified now than he had a moment ago, if that was possible. As he did, Bolitho noticed that the lad had dropped his hat on the floor. Bending down, he picked up the hat and held it out to Button.

"You seem to have dropped this, Button," Bolitho said, smiling slightly, "I would not want you to be without your hat if a squall should come up."

"I..." He stopped, biting his lip as the Captain stepped towards him before bending down for a moment. He held something out towards Terry, and it was a moment before he realised the Captain was holding his hat. He swallowed and looked up before taking it.

The Captain was... smiling at him? He wasn't angry?

Terry took his hat. "Fank you, sir," he said. He was too used to people being angry with him, and to see that the Captain wasn't was a huge relief. He was still scared of him - who wouldn't be - but he dared to say, "I... I could tell you what they... what they looked like, sir. If you wanted, sir."

Though maybe he wouldn't want? He looked down again, unsure whether he'd said the right thing or not.

"You're welcome, Button." Bolitho paused, debating if it would be prudent for the boy to give him a description of the men. But seeing as Button had made the effort to come forward, he might as well hear what the boy had to say, even though it most likely would not be anything he could truly use to convict anyone. "Yes, you may tell me what they looked like, if you wish."

The captain had swept Button's hat off the deck and held it out the boy. Tide felt distinctly embarrassed. The captain shouldn't have to pick up after any of the crew. It wasn't... normal.

At the same time, Tide hadn't dared stoop down to retrieve the fallen hat himself. Not in this august company!

He took a breath. Maybe one of them would recognise them from his words. He wasn't sure if that would be a good thing or not.

"I... I was in me hammick, sir - me watch below," he added, in case any of them thought he was slacking off. "An' I got bumped. I... I thought it was eight bells, sir, an' started to get up, only nobody else was movin', sir. And a bit later, two men come past, holdin' summat 'tween 'em, sir." He dared a glance up. "I slings me 'ammick near the forehatch, see, sir. Any'ow, whatever it was looked 'eavy. I dunno what I thought it was then, sir."

He swallowed. "Th'taller one was wearin' a striped waistcoat over 'is shirt, an' 'ad a stockin' cap on, sir. 'E 'ad a round sort of face an' 'is 'air was frizzy where 'is 'at didn't 'ide it, sir. T'other'n... 'e was shorter, but older. Din't see 'is face so good, sir, sorry, sir. Fink 'e 'ad a 'eadscarf on." He looked up again, just for a moment.

"'E 'ad 'is knife on t'other side to me - the lef' side, I mean, sir." There weren't all that many men who had their knives on the left, not to Terry's knowledge. Maybe that would help?

"An' they went on up topside, sir. Didn't see me watchin' 'em, sir." He hoped. "An' then there was someone yellin' Man Overboard an' a hel... a... a terrible hullabaloo what wiv everyone wakin' up an' tryin' to ask what was goin' on, sir."

Bolitho nodded as Button spoke. Obviously the boy had gotten a decent enough look at the men. The descriptions did not immediately sound familiar, but perhaps eventually the information could be used to identify the culprits. But it simply was not enough to convict any of the men of attempted murder right now.

"Thank you for telling me, Button. I appreciate the effort you took in coming forward with this information." He really did, especially seeing how frightened the boy was. It must have been a huge effort for him to work up the courage to speak to the officers. "However, I am going to have to ask you to say nothing further about it for now. Do I make myself clear?"

The lad's descriptions didn't seem to strike an immediate chord with the captain, but Tide felt his brow wrinkle, just a little. He might know the second man Button mentioned. Maybe. Shorter, older, with his knife on the left. Maybe indeed.

He said nothing. Like Button, he couldn't be sure.

Appreciated... the Captain appreciated him telling him? That was good, he thought.

Say nothing? He didn't want to say anything about it, to anyone, ever again, if he could help. He gulped. "Aye, aye, sir," he mumbled, and nodded. "Y... yes, sir."

But what if he found out who the men were? How was he supposed to let someone know then? The Captain could solve that problem - he was the Captain after all. It wasn't Terry's puzzle to answer.