11 June; Strangers

"I can bring ye summat I caught. Can't ask t' rest ter give away their kill fer me." Pye reasoned. " But t' latter I sure can bring you. Aye. Would be a rabbit mos' probably. S' what we usually are to hunt fer." And hopefully not a French rabbit like the one Newbury once caught.

McIntyre nodded. "That'll be lovely. Be nice to have somethin' decent in the mess kid."

"An' not have to get it ourselves," one of the others chimed in.

"S' not like you catch yerselves rabbits much." Pye countered with a grin. "Need us ter fill yer bellies steady!" Wilton threw a half hearted swing at the boy, more a tease than meaning it.

Pye ducked anyway and smiled. "So t' deal is.. I bring yeself fabric ter render and yer mend an' make me coat. In return, I get you one first pick of animal that's got through huntin'. Is that right then?"

"Aye, that's so. A fair trade." McIntyre chuckled. "There ain't a lad better at sewin' than a Marine, anyway!"

"Who's a marine?" McIntyre's coat was that of the 33rd. He was a batman to the 33rd. Surprisingly he had not heard of his past and what he served as before donning on this coat. " You was a marine 'fore?" He studied the man. He thought that marines were very bad at marching long distances. They were more bound to the ship, with the help of which they made those long distances without much walking. If this man was a marine he was very well at keeping up with the army, even against his old age.

His grin broadened. "Aye. Best way to be servin', that. Only for the nimble and fit. S'why I ain't away to sea now. Only good for marchin' about everywhere now!"

There was a glimmer of cheerfulness in his eye at that.

"That makes no sense. You're not goin' walkin' much on a ship, as you do 'ere. Yer needin' ter be fit fer marching, not standin'. Well not as much as standin'." He was curious about this marine life however, which he let show. "Why'd you change? Wanted ter see how it goes on land?"

"You try goin' up and down riggin', and ship's sides every day," McIntyre told him. "Marines go ashore too, so we does our share of marchin'. I shifted over 'cause the Corps wouldn't have me back. Servin' is servin' when you gets down to it."

The man had a point and Pye felt humbled for not thinking a marine's duty to be quite hard in itself. He had not known that marines would go into the tops, remembering very little from his journey away from England.

"'tis all good pay." He agreed. "Well.. better'n' no pay and they got food fer you." Which he cherished every day. Food for the belly to be merrily full. "You like it 'ere then?"

Wilton had gone into a conversation with some of the other lads, leaving the two men some privacy to their conversation. He glanced briefly at them and shook his head chuckling. "Better the brat don't adopt our Macky as dad. He's here often enough." That was said quietly enough and was a simple joke.

The food at sea was better than that ashore and there was no day when the crew went without either, McIntyre thought, but he wasn't about to say so aloud. "Aye, that's so," he agreed.

"Hoi," one of the lads said, offering a crooked grin at the joke. "Whyn't we send the young'n off with a bit of prize, eh?"

"Prize?" Pye looked sceptically at the man that came with the offer. "What's the catch?" He was a quick learner. Moments ago he agreed to pay with rabbit, he would not agree too quickly this time around without knowing what was at stake.

Wilton tapped his chin: "Well, that ain't half bad an idea."

There was a short bark of a laugh from Corporal Foxcroft. "Aye, that sounds fair. I got just the thing, too." The corporal vanished promptly, leaving the others grinning and not a little curious as to what he was about.

McIntyre said, "Catch oughta be simple, I reckon. S'up to the corporal to decide though!"

"A'right. I will wait." He looked around. While the Corporal was away his chick decided to make itself known. She chirped and scuffled about in his inner pocket till he adjusted his coat to accommodate her better. Wilton knew of her existence and only commented something along the lines of: "And...she still lives?" The corporal was taking his time. Wilton grinned. But the wait would be worth it for the lad.

It didn't take all that long for the corporal to return, but in the interim McIntyre found it interesting that there was a light snippet of noise from the Rifleman's jacket.

"Who's 'she'?"

"Here then," Foxcroft announced, coming back with a bottle in either hand.

"She's Peggie, m' chick. Still little now." Pye answered and then distracted by the arrival of the corporal. "Who's that for then? N' wot's t' return?" He asked. The two bottles were certainly not filled with water. He only wondered what the reason for their deliverance was.

Ah. A chick. McIntyre smiled. A chick meant eggs, if it turned out to be a hen. "She'll not be for long, I think," he said.

"These is for you," Foxcroft told the lad. " 'Cause no lads who've got away from the Frogs oughta go without somethin' to celebrate with. Even if they is grasshoppers!"

"No, she won't. An' then she'll lay eggs." Pye said proudly and then his grin got wider as Foxcroft's offer. "Thank you corp'ral." He looked at both of the bottles. "T' lads will appreciate it greatly. Even if they is grasshoppers." He added with a chuckle.

"Sure they will," the corporal answered. "I ain't known a soldier yet who'd turn down a fine bit of wine."

McIntyre reached out to slap the boy on the shoulder. "Shove off then, 'fore that other lot get any more thirsty. That'll not do!"

Pye tensed then let his back be slapped and smiled. "M' going, M' going! You lot are welcome t' come around to our fire too. Anytime." He took both bottles and looked very excited to deliver these to his own. He might have been less eager to do so for the Palmers, but since they were a part of their group, they'd get it too. Just as long as the two did not complain.

"Thank yer 'gain, corp'ral." This proved that his old regiment was with good men too. There were just the cruel exceptions, that made parts of it, not so well.

"You get outta here an' make them bottles disappear," Foxcroft told him with a grin. Like as not, he and the others wouldn't venture near the Rifles' fires, but it was a generous offer all the same.

"On me way, corp'ral!" And true to his word, with the pair of bottles held so that they might not raise too much attention he half ran half walked towards his own campfire.

He would pay a visit to Newbury too. The man deserved a gulp of this wine, then first the ones he knew best - also Burke - and then those others could have their turn.