6 June; Unwell

"Aye, sir," Chase told him, impatient to get on with this. "Lead the way, sir."

"Alright." Without further ado the boy lead the small group of men. He did quicken his pace, knowing that it could be quite urgent for the men.

Once they had arrived at the officer's heads he stepped aside and said rather cheerfully. "Whoever's turn it is to be first.. go ahead now."

As if the men's illness was not misery enough for them, their arrival at the officers' heads was greeted by the surprised and angry voice of the first lieutenant, who was confused and irritated as to why there was suddenly a small queue of anxious-looking sailors there.

"Mr. Bailey, what in God's name is going on here?" Bush bellowed, "What are all these men doing?"

Deverel too had come to investigate the commotion, nearly colliding with the loblolly boy who was carrying two noxious buckets.

"Beg pardon sir, sirs!" Bridgens exclaimed, jerking an elbow by way of salute. "Whole crew's gone wi' the bloody flux! I'm takin' this bloody sh** topside 'n over!"

"Mind your tongue, man!" Deverel snapped.

"Beg paron, sir - but it is bloody sh**!" And he held up the buckets for them to see.

Terry felt miserable, and ill. And he wasn't the only one, either. The queue for the heads looked horribly long.

How could everyone have got sick at the same time?

"We can clearly see what it is, Bridgens. There is no need to describe it in such coarse terms. Now get those foul buckets out of here at once!" Bush demanded.

Dear God, an outbreak of the bloody flux. Just what they needed. At least that explained why the men were queuing up at the officers' heads. However, even an outbreak of the bloody flux did not give Bailey--or any midshipman for that matter--the right to take sailors to the officer's heads.

"Did you give permission for these men to come here, Mr. Bailey?" Bush inquired of the midshipman.

Despite himself, Chase cringed. He should have stayed topside. There, at least, it would not have been a mortal sin if he fouled his trousers.

"We'll shove off agin, sir," he said, anxious to get back into the queue for the heads. Maybe man-ropes could be rigged for lads to get into the water to relieve themselves safely. Certainly the sea wouldn't mind!

"This is bollocks," the sour-tempered Marine corporal said, perhaps a little too loudly. Not, Boyles thought, that Johnson ever cared over-much about discretion.

The mast captain glanced longingly toward the heads, toward which they seemed, finally, to be inching closer. "Ain't long now," he said hopefully. Or else! Some of the lads were really beginning to dance about in impatient helplessness.

"This is no time to stand on ceremony, surely," Deverel said to Bush. "The men are obviously in need. You there,Thwaite is it? Bring some buckets, as many as you can find. Take someone to help you."

"I.. did sir. Am sorry sir." If only he should have looked like he was. He did look quite earnestly worried about their well being rather." May they use the Heads here sir? They are the valiant men of our ship, the finest of them. I'll make certain that they leave everything orderly as they had got to it."

He averted his gaze to look at Deverel briefly. Buckets would do too. Though he had hoped for no officer until the deed was done and the men ushered away. So much for luck.

"Perhaps not, Mr. Deverel, but this is still a King's ship and bloody flux or not, there is no need to throw propriety to the wind," Bush shot back.

To Bailey he said, "Yes, they may use the heads, Mr. Bailey. But I would ask that in the future you let another officer know what's going on first before you decide to take such a matter into your own hands."

"Most kind of you, sir. Thank you, sir." The boy smiled and gave a quick nod to the men indicating that they were now permitted - by someone much higher - to use the heads at their leisure. "I will mark your words sir.." He said addressing the lieutenant again: ".. and promise that I shall come to you first before I endevour to do such a thing." He spoke in an easy, yet respectful manner, showing appreciation and gratefulness as it was due.

He knew to hold his tongue then, better than to proceed in explaining his deeds. Those were clear. He had wanted to help atleast some of the Tars and prevent them from the indecent soiling of their slops. This mission now completed in some success - the men could use the heads - he decided to ask a different thing rather, concerning those who have yet not. "Sir, should I be permitted to bring other men here, when these will be done?"

Or maybe they weren't being sent off. Officers! Chase and the others knuckled their brows. " 'Bliged, sir," the topman said, a little surprised by Mister Bush's charity. He nodded at Preddie, who had been first in the queue topside.

"Make it fast, mate," he advised. Not that Preddie needed any urging. It was a miracle he hadn't fouled himself standing here!

Tobias stood there looking at first proud then simply disinterested. His job was done but that is all it was. He needed nothing for it. A happier crew, stinking less and certainly more clothed would just do. He did not cherish the idea of seeing half the men walking about with their bare bottocks fully exposed to the elements. It would just not do. They might catch something, or a fish might jump over the railing, a bird mistake things for what they were not and that would ache just terribly! And the injury itself! Dreadful to see. Hw shook his head at the mere thought of it and glanced at ghe waiting men. He knew of no other place that was not occupied that the remaining would use.

Instead he moved closer to Chase ,whom he considered to be a respected figure among the tars. " lets hope we don't have the whole ship come down with this. The numbers already now are not looking at all promising." which was an uncomfortable truth. The boys alone could not man a ship and to have men with this problem sent aloft would require.... Not only the officers to stay under cover from flying.. Projectiles but also the strength the men bothered by the problem would probably not posses.

Edward Leat lay staring over the side of his cot at the puddle of vomit that had just deposited itself on the cabin floor. The urgent need to relieve himself had struck shortly after dinner and the lieutenant had made it to the roundhouse, which he had occupied for a full quarter of an hour. Once feeling confident enough to move again he had staggered his way back to his cabin, discarding coat and shoes and taking to his cot. He had figured a rest might settle him, seeing as he had then not been due on watch for a while.

Instead of getting better things were now worse, and having just emptied his stomach of his dinner Leat also found he did not feel at all able or inclined to leave his cot, despite the fact that it would soon be his watch. Someone was bound to come looking for him, though; hopefully someone who could get a message to Bolitho or Bush that he was presently unfit for duty.

Thinking of things and quite so talking about them a thought struck Bailey. He would be best to inform another of the officers of their sick tars and their present place of occupation so that if he was to leave they would not exactly be dragged off on a charge. He was close enough too. Now, Bush knew, Deverel knew. Who did this left him? Mister Leat!

"'scuse me, will you. I shall not be long." Though unlike a Tar ,as a young midshipman he could leave without much said. He smiled , turned on his heel at leisure and headed straight for the cabin of mister Leat. It was the closest place he could find him at. If he was not there then the search could proove harder and perhaps better not to commit to it too much. He would see. First things first. A knock on the door would just answer!

A knock on the door made Leat raise his head in hope. At last!

"Come in!" he called.

"Good day, sir." The boy began before the scent of vomit invaded his nostrils and he nearly took a step back before forcing himself forward. The merry look was quickly replaced by that of worry. "Sir! .." He shuffled on the spot right behind the door, waiting for permission to come closer. It would be stupid to ask the officer whether he was alright when he so obviously was not. "How can I be of service, sir?" A much more useful thing to ask.

Leat gazed at the boy groggily. Well, he seemed to have been fortunate enough to get a midshipman with a touch of common sense.

"You can inform Mr. Bush of my indispostion," he croaked. "Then convey my compliments to Mr. Farley, as I do not believe it will be possible for me to see him in person."

Not without doing himself a further injury at any rate.

"Yes, sir. Right away sir." The boy paused for a moment and looked at the mess that made a sorrowful display on the floor, and had the air itself worse for a sick man. "May I send a boy to clean this up and.. Would you like me to bring something else?" He knew he would stop by the surgeon and ask him to see to the lieutent immediately. Not before doing as told however, but right after. He tried to remember who was the lad that assisted mister Leat. The name did not come easily to mind, but he hoped the lietuenant might help refresh his memory.

Yes. Cleaning up the cabin would be a good idea as well.

"Pass the word for my servant, Button. He'll attend to it."

Thopugh Leat felt somewhat ashamed and guilty for making Button clean up his vomit; but theoretically it would be Button's responsibility. There was no real reason he should make an exception for this.

It was only a matter of minutes before Terry peered anxiously around Mister Leat's cabin door. He had never seen an officer not on his feet before, and the realisation that Mister Leat was in his cot was rather unnerving.

He pressed his wrist to his mouth at the smell. The deck needed scrubbing clean, it seemed, but he couldn't just go and fetch water and a scrubbing brush, not if he'd been sent for - you didn't not report to an officer who wanted to see you, after all.

"Sir... what... what d'you want, sir?" he managed, steeling himself to come inside and close the door.

Leat turned his head and gave Button an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry Button," he said wretchedly. "Would you mind cleaning the deck?"

He'd apologised. Mister Leat - an officer! - had just apologised. To him, Terry Button. For no real reason, either - he couldn't help throwing up if he was sick.

He closed his mouth and knuckled his forehead. "Aye, aye, sir," he said, and backed hastily out, gulping a big breath of clean air from the wardroom before he stopped to think what to do next.

Cleaning the deck was one thing, but Mister Leat needed more than that - and quickly. He hastily located a tin basin and hesitantly pushed Mister Leat's cabin door open again. He put the basin within the officer's reach, careful not to step in the foul mess on the deck, and retreated again to go and find a bucket and scrubbing brush.

"Sir."Tobias retreated from the cabin, nearly bumping into Button the second time. He looked at him and smiled. "..you are Button, then? Mister Leat's servant?"