Boys at Play, 2nd June

Hmm. "Indeed?" Farley lifted an eyebrow. It seemed unbecoming to him to treat a sailor before an officer. Or an almost-officer, as he had already learned to regard the midshipmen. "Pray, at least describe your ailment, sir, and I will consider if it is truly minor."

"Insomnia, for days in a row by now. No matter how tired I get I can't sleep."

Of course he didn't tell everything. One of his reasons to wait was because the problem's roots were rather private. So he was ready to wait rather. He felt a bit shy, there was the boy and there was the blonde lad... although the doctor seemed a kind man and he thought he could trust him.

De Guarde looked around, but with some disappointment he realised Button was no longer there. He understood the reason for his disappearance however and made himself appear more like a lad on duty, than one concerned about unofficial things. He peered at the surgeon. By all proper conduct he had to treat the midshipman before he did the sailor. He knew as much. But would he?

He studied the newly arrived midshipman and gave himself a very light shrug. That was an odd ailment that he had. Well, whatever Mister Farley demanded of him first, he would do.

Oh? How interesting.

"I see," Farley said. The solution to that was simple enough, but the cause of the problem might not be. Hmm. In truth, the midshipman was not bleeding or in obvious pain or distress, so his ailment could indeed wait.

"Sit you down, my boy," he went on. "I shall attend you presently."

"Thank you."

He sat down, a bit happier that he didn't have to talk before others. Although he found the blonde man sympathetic and the young boy seemed a nice fellow too, he didn't even knew their names yet.

Billy stepped aside so the young gentleman could have the chair he had been sitting on. He realized belatedly that it was probably Farley's own chair.

"I just come for the usual look, sir," Billy explained, "And a'cause it smarts a bit sore when I - when I lift me arms." He did not want to reveal that he had been climbing aloft yet. Best not upset the sawbones about that just now. Nor about those small amounts of heavy lifting. Nor about the cough when smoking.

Did it, now? "Off with your shirt, my lad," Farley directed. "And let's have a look."

Billy complied, pointing out the tender spot. "Gets sore there, even though the hole's over here. S'that normal?"

"It would seem to be some strain in the muscle," Farley mused, after carefully palpating the indicated area. It did not feel as though there was any rupture, which was a good thing. "You have not been exerting yourself unduly, I trust?"

Billy opened wide his innocent blue eyes. "Oh, no sir. Not unduly."

"I see." Well, he could not disprove that, for all he didn't fully believe it. "Well. We shall change the dressing now. You are to rest for at least a further week, my lad, and no straining yourself. Unduly or not."

Billy was unable to hide the guilt on his face for long, so he pretended to be examining the bandage. "Wha'bout... What about if the captain needs his boat takin' out, sir? Sittin' at the helm ain't a strain. Nor standin' at the wheel neither, less it's a storm. Don't want the lads gettin' used to doin' without me, nor the captain."

Oh really. Farley shook his head slightly. "I hardly think that likely," he assured the sailor. "They would have get used to being without you if you do yourself permanent injury, however. That would never do. Wouldn't you agree?"

While he spoke, he worked deftly, first to remove the old bandage, then to examine the healing wound. Once he was satisfied it was clean, he looked up for his loblolly boy. "Fresh bandage, my lad. If you please."

James sat quietly, watching the doctor in work. It was almost a wonder this young man survived the shot, he thought when seeing the wound. He smiled a bit when the blonde seemed so eager to go back to duty. Of course, it was understandable. He must have spent a long time in bed and surely he wanted to be back to normal soon...

"Aye, aye, sir." The blond former midshipman gave a quick nod and was about before the next blink of an eye. He scampered to the cupboard where the bandages were stored, took a good amount, and closed the cupboard door. He glanced at Billy, having been curious of his injury. It did appear still rather painful, but the wound was healing successfully. Which was a good bit of news. He wondered for a moment when his laudanum dose would come and realised that he knew the answer to that already. He received it at the same time every day now.

He shook his head to wipe that thought from his minid and was next standing to Farley's right. "Bandages, sir." He said with a tone of confidence and a funny sort of 'professional' feel to it.

"Good boy," Farley said appreciatively. He took the offered bandages and went to work dressing Barrow's wound. "It is well on its way to being whole again, my lad," he told the sailor. "But any undue exercise will harm it."

Billy peered down at the wound with curiosity. "Which I wouldn't do no undoin' excercise on purpose," he assured the surgeon. "But how'll I know what'll undo and what won't? Can I steer me boat yet? It's the captain's barge," he added, in case it would sway the surgeon's decision.

De Guarde attempted to hide his smile at the surgeon's words, but the tug at the corner of his mouth was just too insistent and some of the smile was visible there for a moment. He certainly appeared to have grown a few inches with pride though and awaited eagerly for instructions from the man. Anything, whether to retrieve something else, or whether solely to stand there, assist with holding something, with keeping the bandages from the ground or the table, anything.

He thought Billy should not yet do anything too physical. The wound was healing indeed, but it could still tear and kill him if he was not careful. He was not out of the danger until he was fully healed. He shook his head at the Tar's words. No, of course he could not! He said nothing though. Mister Farley could voice his expert opinion on the matter. He knew much more than the young brat anyway.

Farley had to give the fellow credit, for he was persistent. All the same, normal work was as yet beyond him.

"I'm afraid not," the surgeon told him. "But I see little harm in your supervising the maintenance of said barge, and perhaps its crew, from the safety of the deck."

How, precisely, he as the surgeon could enforce that could be difficult to find out. He wasn't fully sure of how far his authority went, or what weight it carried. "There now," he added as he tied off the trailing ends of the dressing. "That will hold quite well. How does it feel to breathe normally? Not too tight?"

De Guarde hid a grin. Billy Barrow was eager to return to his place in the barge, but he would, which was only logical concerning his injuries, still have to wait. He observed Farley attentively as he applied the dressing. He was mentally making notes as to what had to be done, what had to be watched out for, it wasn't really something so complicated that he could not repeat it but he just wanted to make sure.

The question too, asked at the end, was something he did not let pass. How tight was just right? Well, he looked at Farley, it was obviously a question to be asked. Briefly he snuck a glimpse at the new midshipman. Places were filling up fast. He sighed and looked back. He could still chose the career of a marine. Or...well he could hope for it. "Do yer always have t' ask?" He indicated Barrow. "Even if you'm know?"

Billy gave an experimental deep breath and opened his mouth to answer, but then he frowned and looked at the boy in confusion. "What?"

De Guarde looked at Barrow. "Wosn' askin' you. .." He looked sheepish. "..Is yer breathing alright?" Barrow might have thought he was giving a complaint about things that he was not. He wanted to make it clear very quickly. He looked at the remaining bandages and had them arranged in a neat pile.

"Aye. Every man has his own preference for comfort. It is merely a matter of striking a balance between that comfort and proper support with bandages." Farley nodded slightly. "In the matter of a wound such as his, he must be able to breathe deeply, as he has, without feeling constricted by the bandage about his chest."

Meanwhile James was looking with a bit dreamy gaze, as if lost in thought, but his attention didn't wander in fact. He listened to the doctor with interest and blessed his luck that he came at a good time. He didn't mind the wait. It was always good to see a formerly unknown doctor at work before being treated himself.

Generally he had been a shy person. He knew a lot of people feared him for his dark looks, so he did everything to prevent that. Odd, he thought, he never had been cruel or anything. Why then?

Billy looked at the boy suspiciously, but nodded to the surgeon. "Aye, s'all right. So, if I'm allowed to do some light duties at least, does that mean I'm off the sick list, sir?" Being on the sick list meant stopping one's grog. Naturally his friends had been willing to share, but Billy was eager to return to his own usual ration.