1 June, Patching Up Greencoats

(continues, I guess, from the men going to find a surgeon in Evening in camp)

It had been a relief for the Rifles to find themselves back with the rest of the army. It felt as though they had simply been running from one disaster headlong into the next with nary a time for breath.

For Burke, the time following the French overrunning the baggage train had faded into the repetition of movement and the overwhelming throbbing pain in his left arm. During the fight it had not seemed a great hurt, dulled by adrenaline. Now he was tired and sore and very aware of the blood seeping into the arm of his jacket. That would be quite difficult to wash out, he was sure.

At least he was still walking under his own power, Burke acknowledged. He winced at the sight of the more seriously wounded men that the surgeons were working on. It almost seemed not worth bothering the surgeons when there were so many hurt worse. But, then, he would not be much use with his arm hurting the way it did.

Burke dropped to sit nearby, resolving to wait and maybe rest a bit.

Maggie had cried herself out after her encounter with the officers. Captain Vickery was most likely going to kill her for interrupting their conversation the way that she had. But it hardly mattered now. She had lost her husband and had no idea if or when she would get him back. And all those friends who might have comforted her - most of them were gone as well. She had never felt so alone.

But there was kind Roper, and she thought she had heard Jacklin's voice somewhere nearby. At least she could go and be near them - if she could find them. And she had left her blankets by the fire as well. But which fire? It was dark and her vision was blurred with tears as she picked her way past the Guards to look for the men in green. She very nearly kicked a man who was sitting on the ground.

"Oh." Feeling dull with exhaustion and spent emotions, she simply asked him, "Where's the 60th?"

Henry got stiffly to his feet, wiping bloody hands on the front of his shirt. The light, he noticed, was almost entirely gone which didn't seem quite right. A short distance away a rifleman was seated on the ground; he did not appear to be seeking any attention, but from the way he held his arm, he certainly seemed in need of it. Shaking his head, Henry picked up the bag of supplies he'd managed to grab from the wagon and approached.

"Your pardon, miss," he said, interrupting the woman there, then gesturing to the rifleman's arm, "May I see?"

"Oh," she said, moving out of the way in obedient confusion. And then, "Oh! You're a surgeon?"

"Not quite," he admitted ruefully, kneeling to get a better look at the man's arm. He might have been, if things had worked out differently, but they had not and he was not. "I work for one of the surgeons as an assistant."

Burke pulled back sharply as the surgeon's assistant reached for his arm. He'd been in the half-aware state brought on by exhaustion and blood loss, and the seemingly sudden appearance of the two people was startling. Forcing himself to relax, Burke offered a small smile.

"Much obliged," he said.

Then, blinked as he registered the woman's question, and looked up at her. "The 60th?" he asked. "Ain't rightly sure - some's us just got 'ere, with Lieutenant Sharpe."

He paused, trying to place why the woman looked familiar. "Ye alright, miss? Who're ye lookin' for?"

"It doesn't matter," Maggie said, feeling rather sorry that she had disturbed an injured man. "I were just lookin' for anyone I know. Was the fighting bad, then?" she asked tentatively, watching as the surgeon examined the man's injury.

"Aye," Burke replied. He winced and sucked air in sharply between clenched teeth as the surgeon prodded his wounded arm. "Th' line was over-run wi' cavalry."

He smiled tightly at her, and added, "Some 60th lads was wi' us then, though. If ye don't mind waitin', mayhaps I can help ye find folks?"

"My husband was there," she answered in a dull tone. "He was taken, and the baggage was taken, and I'm just looking for my friends." She simply needed a place to sleep, wherever it was she had left those blankets, though she realized she could very easily fall asleep here and now. Perhaps this good fellow could go and find Roper, and get him to bring her a blanket - and then she realized how incredibly selfish the thought was. The poor man had had his arm cut open. She wasn't thinking properly. It must be exhaustion.

"Sorry," she said, not knowing why exactly she was apologizing.

Roper was tired; both physically and emotionally, but he had a duty of care to find Missis Cotton. He'd spoken to her earlier, but what with one thing and another they had got separated from each other. Cotton would never forgive him if he go back and found that the Rifles had neglected to look after his wife for him.

Trouble was, he didn't have a clear idea of where she might be. And nor did he know if she would be willing to come and kip down with the 60th, though he thought she might prefer that to kipping on her own.

"Well," Burke said to Maggie, "wouldn't be right t' leave ye stranded by yer lonesome, so it wouldn't. We'll look for 'em, aye?"

Maggie simply nodded, to tired to argue.

[ooc] Has Burke got a ball in his arm or is it a gash? Lemme know if I need to fix the post.[/ooc]

The gash in the man's arm looked as though it would heal neatly enough with a few stitches. After cleaning it as best he could, Henry began rummaging through his bag after the necessary materials, hoping what was left of the light would hold long enough for him to finish. "If you've got something stronger than water to drink, now'd be the time."

It was dark now, which wasn't going to help matters much. Hopefully Missis Cotton would be wearing an apron and cap, which would show up a little better in the dark than his own uniform would.

He found himself near what appeared to be a surgeon looking after a wounded soldier. Well, that was possibly good, though any wounded man would have been caught up in the mess earlier along with the 60th, and might not have a clue who he was looking for, or where she could be.

Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. He adjusted the rifle sling on his shoulder before approaching.

"'Scuse me, sir," he began, hoping he wasn't interrupting anything vital - it was very hard to see what was going on in the dark, after all - "I'm from the 60th, lookin' for a woman of ours. Don't s'pose you've seen her at all, please?"

"Tom." Maggie leaned forward so he could see her, and she gave him a relieved and weary smile. "You got any strong drink to give this'un a sip? He's gettin' his arm stitched up."

"Missis Cotton? That you?" He didn't know who else it could be, though. "Summat strong-like?" He offered his own canteen. "Got a bit o' brandy in that, if he wants. Welcome to it."

He peered at her anxiously in the darkness. "You all right there, Miss?"

Burke accepted the canteen gratefully.

"Much obliged," he said, "right fair spot o' luck, ye turnin' up." He nodded towards Maggie. "For a couple o' reasons."

He took a large swallow of the brandy, coughing slightly at the harsh taste, and gave the surgeon's assistant another tight smile. "Best have at it, aye?"

Roper opened his mouth to say something as the other man coughed a little on the brandy, but subsided as he recovered.

"Was a bit o' luck, aye. 'Specially with it bein' dark an' all." He peered a little closer at the other man - he thought it was a Rifleman; he couldn't see the paler white of a redcoat's crossbelts. "I s'pose you was up on the road 'long of us?" he said. He thought that Mister Sharpe and his men had been up there, but hadn't been too sure, what with the confusion, and the Captain going down.

He looked toward Maggie. "Hope you're all right, Miss," he said. "Got a fire goin' back yonder, and I daresay you'll be wantin' a spot of tea."

She probably wanted rather more than just a spot of tea, but Roper couldn't perform miracles, or conjure people up, so she would have to make do, as would the rest of them.

"I'll be all right if I can get some sleep," she sighed, rising to her feet. She stared stupidly at the surgeon before remembering what she had wanted to say. "Tom, how's the captain? Should he be checked over, you reckon?" Not that she herself would dare approach Vickery any time soon.

Roper looked at Maggie anxiously. She seemed nearly dead on her feet, the poor woman. "Think the captain needs to be looked at prop'ly. Was knocked out by one of the Frenchy horses and he ain't bin quite right since - he don't seem to be thinkin' straight an' when he looks at me, well, I ain't sure which one of me he thinks is the real one."

Having the captain checked over properly would ease a lot of his worries - and the worries of the Sergeants too, Roper thought.

"I know," Maggie answered vaguely. "Maybe this man, this surgeon... can... take a look." It was becoming more and more difficult to form sentences, or to think at all. "I don't mind waiting," she added.

"Waitin' for what?" Roper asked succinctly. "Practically dead on your feet you are, Missis, if you don't mind me sayin' so. Got the kettle on the boil, and space for you to kip down - reckon they won't mind if you get your head down. Ain't anythin' you can do hereabouts, anyhow." That he was aware of, anyway.

"Waiting for..." She frowned and could not remember what it was she was waiting for. It sounded as if Roper had it all in hand, and she felt that she could trust him to do whatever it was that needed doing. So she nodded and let him lead her away, turning once to nod farewell to the injured rifleman and the man tending to his wound.

Roper sighed, and took Maggie's arm to lead her towards the 60th and the fire that he and Jacklin had got going. He could go back for a surgeon to tend the Captain after Missis Cotton had been seen to.

"You sit down there," he said, gently pushing her to a clear space. "I'll get you a cup of tea. Be just a moment."

There were the blankets she had fetched from the commissary. She had almost forgotten them, but she was relieved to see them now and know that they had not been lost. She smiled at Jacklin, poor Jacklin, and wrapped herself in one of the blankets on the ground. She was asleep before Roper returned with her tea.