3 June; Promotions

"Mebbe so, Bertie," Thompson said, and raised an eyebrow at Shepherd. "Hands off, you," he said, and picked the stripes up. "Still, what's done is done. An' if he hates it, well, he can allus take 'em back off me, can't he?"

And it still hadn't properly sunk in that he wasn't a Private any more. He sighed a little and began gathering his kit together. "I'm goin' on duty, so if anyone's got anythin' else to say, best say it now."

Ware chuckled at the crestfallen expression on the drummer's face. "Sure that's somethin' you oughta be doin'? Considerin' things is changed and all."

"Won't hurt, doin' one last sentry-go, will it?" Thompson said lightly. "'Sides, I need time to think. Ain't likely I'm goin' to get much chance any time soon if I don't, is there? Not with the way you lot are." He pulled his jacket on, shoving the chevrons into his pocket, and reached for his crossbelts and hat.

The nearest Marines smirked. "Would we really be like that, Georgie?" Vining asked innocently.

"Oh, you'm the worst, Jack," Thompson replied with a grin, and looked around at the rest of them. "An' you know you do your best to run Corp'ral Johnson ragged, all of you."

The grins broadened and were supplemented here and there with chuckles.

Ware said, "That's 'cause he's a prime target. Takes it all in good humour, though!"

Good humour, Johnson? Thompson had to choke back a snort of laughter at that description.

"All right, lads. Don't wreck the place while I'm away, will you?" he said, pulling his crossbelts over his head and settling bayonet and cartridge box into their proper places.

It was a strange feeling to know that he outranked them all now and would be responsible for half of them once the sections were sorted out properly - and that would probably mean a meeting between Sergeant Quinn and Lieutenant Cartwright - it might even involve Johnson and himself.

He only hoped he would measure up to the Lieutenant's expectations.

Ware and Vining exchanged meaningful glances.

"Us?" Higgins asked, unable to keep the smirk from his boyish face.

Everett elbowed him. "No worries. Corporal!"

"No, your fairy godmothers," Thompson said with exaggerated sarcasm. "Yes, you!"

Everett's calling him 'Corporal' made him grin all over again, and he had to struggle to adopt a more neutral expression as he left the Marines to their own devices. Walking through the ship while grinning like a fool would set everyone to wondering, and probably not in a good way, either.

There. That was the appropriate notations made in the muster book. It was down in ink and official. Satisfied, Cartwrtight sat back in his chair and permitted himself a broad smile. Not a bad day's work, though of course poor Thompson would need some time to adjust to his new role.

All that remained was to appraise the ship's captain of the changes, as much as a courtesy as in practicality. Cartwright collected the formal letter from Admiral Croker and folded it carefully, then rose from the chair. He had not troubled to shed his jacket or sash, so it was simply a matter of picking up the heavy paper and the muster book before departing the tiny cabin.

The Marines nearest the wardroom made to rise upon seeing him, but he waved them down before hurrying up the ladder. This was an errand that would not take long. Hopefully. The chances that he would be able to contain his persistent feeling of giddiness would decrease the longer he remained away from the notional safety of the wardroom.

"For the captain, if you please," he said to the sentry outside the great cabin. Damn it but yet again that pleased, disbelieving smirk wanted to show through again!

Bolitho looked up from his charts when he heard the Marine sentry announce Cartwright's presence outside the door.

"Enter," he called out. What had the Marine lieutenant come to speak to him about?

His face was set in its usual calm expression and he even managed to keep the spring from showing in his step as he crossed into the cabin. It was important that he at least try to conduct himself with dignity here. Mostly.

"My apologies for the intrusion, sir," Cartwright said, coming to a halt two steps removed from the desk. "I had thought it appropriate to inform you of a promotion within the detachment. Private Thompson has been put forward for corporal."

That was why he had brought the muster book, just in case written evidence of the Marine's steadiness was called for.

"Oh?" Bolitho raised an eyebrow. That was surprising news, but not unpleasant. Bolitho felt that Thompson was a capable Marine. He would be an excellent choice for corporal. "I see. Well, I would say that Thompson is quite deserving of the promotion."

That was good. Agreement, however surprised, could not be anything but good.

"Indeed, sir," Cartwright said. Now came the more sticky part. He tugged the folded letter out from under his arm, where it had been held between his arm and the closed muster book. "There is also this admittedly peculiar order from Admiral Croker, sir. I confess I hardly know what to make of it."

Bolitho took the letter Cartwright was offering and read it over. It was from Admiral Croker, commending Cartwright on his efforts during the attack on the fort...and promoting him to captain. That explained not only why he had decided to promote Thompson but also why he had come to the Great Cabin in the first place.

"A peculiar order? It seems quite plain to me, Mr. Cartwright, that I must offer you my congratulations. You are every bit as deserving of your new rank as Thompson is of his. Do you not agree? I should think you would be pleased to hear praise from the admiral, being as he does not give it freely. Hearing a good word from him is a rare occurrence indeed."

"I do, sir," Cartwright replied carefully. "It merely seems... odd, I suppose. Certainly my role in all of that was not very useful."

After all, he'd nearly gotten himself shot on that foolish venture to the battlements. Twice.

"Well, you certainly put yourself to good use by impersonating a Frenchman. You had me so fooled that I nearly killed you." Bolitho remembered that incident vividly, how he had come drastically close to running Cartwright through with his sword. "Not to mention that you did excellent work in sabotaging their guns. I believe men who take such risks should be rewarded, and amazingly it seems that Admiral Croker thinks the same."

A smirk very nearly broke through his controlled expression. "Ah, yes. I'd almost forgotten that part, sir," Cartwright hedged. It was not wholly true, but it would do. "I am indebted to the admiral for his patronage, indeed. It hardly seems believable even now."

"If I had moved a little bit faster during that incident, we might not be having this conversation at all." Bolitho shook his head slightly. He was thankful that Cartwright had managed to identify himself just in time. "But as to the admiral, I am similarly incredulous. Not because you have received a justly-deserved promotion, but to learn that he has finally rewarded a deserving officer for his efforts. You have certainly earned this promotion, Mr. Cartwright. Do not doubt that."

Cartwright nodded. "I don't, sir. Any positive favour from the admiral is worth treasuring." He paused, then added, "With your permission, sir, I will retreat to the wardroom again. It cannot do to remain out of uniform too long, so to speak."

There was that annoying smirk, threatening to break through his composure. Lord but this was something to write home about!

"Yes, of course." Bolitho nodded. "You may be dismissed." Smiling slightly, he added, "Congratulations once again, Mr. Cartwright."

Cartwright straightened and saluted. "Yes sir. Thank you sir."

He was able to contain himself until he had quit the cabin. Once the door had clicked shut behind him, he grinned broadly and nodded amiably at the sentry. Without a doubt every man aboard would know this news before the watches changed, but now he hardly cared. He went down the ladder with a clatter and was in the wardroom proper only a few seconds after leaving the gundeck.

"Markham," Cartwright called out, as he stowed the muster book and letter back in his cabin. "Some wine, man. The best you've got!"