Preparing to Leave Lisbon

"In what? If you mean that run-in with that puffed-up jack-pudding of an officer, don't be. It would've happened sooner or later, believe me." He smiled. "I walk round wi' a rifle on me shoulder, o' course he thinks I'm a private sldier."

Stephen returned the smile, though his own was far more sheepish than Sharpe's. "Still, if you had not been accompanying me, you may have been able to avoid a confrontation for a time."

"Nah, wouldn't've worked. And he might've hit you before you could tell him who you are."

Stephen doubted in his pride that, if he had been asked in the same way Sharpe had been, he would have replied at all. "I am still most concerned that this might mean trouble for you in your regiment in the future."

"Nothin' I can't cope with. Stand to attention, stare over their left ear and just keep sayin' 'Yes, sir' till they get sick of hearin' you agree with them. Works every time." He grinned. "You learn a lot in the ranks, y'see."

"Yes, one must - my friend Jack was disrated as a boy, and he says that the time he spent working before the mast was the most beneficial six months of his life, in terms of preparation for life behind it." He smiled. "I doubt I would have the self-discipline to maintain the stance, however - I am sometimes a spirit of contradiction."

"I reckon we all are, a bit. Bein' as how we're human, an' all. But it's how we cope wi' things that make us who we are."

It was very unlike Sharpe to do this much philo... - talking about stuff, but he rather liked the way the Doctor made him think, even if he didn't always have the words to explain what he meant.

"I will give what you have said much thought," Stephen said, bowing. "Richard Sharpe, it has been an honour to make your acquaintance. I apologise for the inconvenience I have caused, and thank you for your words and for your company. No doubt we will see each other again before long."

"Been nice to meet you, too. And it weren't no inconvenience, honest. Are you sure can get back to your billet on your own, now?"

"I am sure - the Dear would be mocking me indeed if I had any more excitement tonight."

"Well, if you're sure. And if you meet any other ignorant officers, salute with your sword, properly. Like another officer would. Should."

"Ah, so that is the symbol?" Even now that he was in the navy, Stephen was used to making a leg like a civilian. "I will keep it in mind. Good night, Richard." With a final smile, he began to walk in the direction of the cathedral.

"No but it'd show them you're a gentleman, which they ain't," Sharpe said, and smiled as he watched the Doctor limp off towards the Cathedral. It had been interesting to talk with Doctor Maturin, and he hoped the other man would be all right.

Crossing over to the other side of the road whenever he encountered another human soul, taking particular care to look as insignificant as possible if that soul was a drunken soldier, Stephen made it back to his lodgings without incident. Again, he was forced to wake his landlord, who in turn woke the neighbours on either side of the house with his roars of anger at being woken, again, in the early hours of the morning. Having realised that he would get none of the heavy Admiralty gold that Maturin had hidden in a stocking, his earlier sycophantic mood had gone, and he harangued Stephen for close to five minutes before letting him enter the threshold, swaying with weariness.

He was told in no uncertain terms that even if he had not been leaving with the army tomorrow, he would not be welcome another night in the house, especially with the hours he kept - probably out getting drunk, if his shabby, ragamuffin appearance had anything to do with it. Stephen ignored him, tramping up the stairs. He stripped, not caring that the man had followed him into his room and was now shrieking in indignation, and pulled on his nightshirt, made infinitely soft by such long use. He beamed at the landlord, made an obscene gesture, and collapsed onto the bed.