5 June; Cat-scratch Fever

Chase had seen only part of the altercation that was the cause for the grating being rigged now, but he knew enough of those involved to consider it a needless occasion. Or at least one that could have easily been prevented. Was that not what petty officers were for?

Not that it mattered now. The ship's company were formed aft and the brainless idiot Seward was shortly to be brought on deck to face punishment. Chase folded his arms over his chest and was annoyed at the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

It was rather soon, but no matter. The 'cat's marks would keep the guilty away for a while at least. De Guarde hurried to take his place, reminding himself just in time not to take one that was no longer his - beside the other middies.

He settled for a spot beside Chase, but further to the front, so that he could see. It wasn't him there, and that in itself made the event better. He bit his lip. The man deserved it, he reminded himself. He deserved it for all the things he had done before and for all the bullying he had done to the boys, to Button. "..that fer Seward?"

"Aye," Chase answered. He wasn't sure how he felt about this, really. On the one hand, matters should have been stopped before they got to a fight. On the other, Seward should have had more sense than to grab hold of anyone.

Then again, it was Jonny Seward.

"...He's gettin' a dozen, don't he?" The boy paused the initial excitement already wearing off. He remembered how he had gotten Chase in trouble and how this man had to walk the same walk as the one they were witnessing now. He wondered what Chase's thoughts were on that. Did he feel that the boy had done wrong or agreed that Seward got what he deserved.

"..Um..." He saw the midshipmen take their place. The new one was among them as well. "..He deserves it....right?" He looked more ill at ease. While he would look forward to seeing Seward punished, he did not want to alienate himself from his only protection among the Tars.

"I'd think so," the topman replied. "S'pose he deserves it, if only 'cause he's a right fool."

"...'Cob." The lad paused and shifted on his spot. The Tars were joining their side, Marines a different one. Soon the accused would be brought on deck. The boys were all gathered there too. He could pick out some of the faces. "...You ain't upset with me, right?"

"Maybe," he admitted. "The hell was you thinkin', anyway?"

Mathew looked thoughtful. Maybe he was upset or maybe he was not? He looked questionably at Chase before answering. ".. I saw Button lookin' real upset when he came across an'..he's a bully so I wanted him t' well.. get caught, 'couse he was doin' it...just not gettin' in trouble for it." He chewed on his lip. "I....I might not have thought it through."

From what he had heard afterward, that was just about the size of it. Chase shook his head. "Best if you didn't cross jibs with that'un again. Never mind the reason."

"We're on a ship. I won't be able ter avoid him forever." He hesitated. "He ain't going to hold it against me, this. Will he? He brought it onto himself.. n' all that." He looked at grating and then across the deck. It was strange how the waiting felt much longer now, than it did usually. His posteriors ached a bit, but a nice doze of laudanum had taken away most of the problem. He knew that very soon he would be without it.

"...ugh.. I will need to take care of him when he comes out of it." He blinked. It had not occured to him till now.

At that, Chase grimaced. They had Seward up at the grating now and his shirt had just been stripped off. "That'un will. You keep clear of him. No takin' care of nothin'. Got it?"

"I work in the sick berth, did ya forget?" Mathew lifted his gaze and startled realised that he had missed the whole arrival of the man. No matter, he was there now and stripped to his waist. He hoped the man would get two dozen. That would give him enough time to take care of the man when in a weak state, and when Seward was strong enough he would probably have finished his service to the surgeon.

"I can't pick m' patients.. but with that back.. he won't be hopping about." He murmured.

Thompson had no complaints for how Mallory had treated the prisoner, even if the prisoner himself did.

He fell in in his new place as a Corporal, still feeling a little out of place and half-expecting someone to tell him to stand in the ranks with the other Privates.

he glanced towards the sailors, and noticed a worried look on young Button's face. Why the boy should be looking so worried, he couldn't say.

"Ya don't know 'im," Boyles observed. "T'at 'un won't ferget. Even if 'e is hurtin'."

De Guarde looked up. What could an injured man do but lie and be good unless the surgeon might decide to treat him to a way of healing that might be far from pleasant. He did threaten enough to do so.

He glanced towards Seward again. He would be flogged for what he had done and for all the times he had not been caught doing it. Then he would be taken down from the grating and taken to the sick berth. Then his lash wounds would be treated and he would be told to rest. He wondered if any of the Tars would come to visit him, or if he would remain on his belly alone until he was healed.

With some worry he realised that it could be wise for him to find a way to keep his distance from this man, but seeing Button's expression he decided he did not regret what was done. The poor boy was still afraid and worried. Even with this man in irons, it seemed he still held some power over him.

This bullock manhandling him like a sack of grain was lucky Seward wasn't in a position to set him straight. Damned Marines!

He didn't trouble himself to listen to the recitation of the relevant Article of War, or to the condemnation of his conduct. As far as he was concerned, it should be that snot De Guarde up here instead of him. If that little jumped-up lump of pig droppings had kept well clear, Seward would not have had to grab hold of him.

It did not surprise him to see Rutland, the iron-armed boatswain's mate, handling the baize bag, though. Of course they would have decided who would be the lucky fellow to lay it on. They'd probably have taken wagers on how long he could hold out too. Well. They'd not get a groan out of him!

His wrists were shortly bound up and for a moment Seward smirked into the grating. This was far from his first time being seized up. When it came down to it, another dozen hardly mattered.

"That aint right." It was Cattling that said it. He looked darkly at the scene playing out before him. "That just ain't right." Unlike last time, he appeared rather in disagreement with this time's accusations. He sure heard them, listened to them but disagreed quietly. More quietly after his previous two outbursts.

Chase scoffed. "Jus' think," he said curtly. "It maybe oughta been you up there too."

"...Not me, not him, not you ..them there however.." He indicated the boys and the lad who was clearly the reason for the event. He looked up. Was Seward having his back flogged? The man kept quiet and it made Cattling wonder if he decided not to make a sound if at all possible.

Stupid bastard. "Sure you'd deserve it just like him," Chase added pointedly.

"..or rather. Neither of us would." Cattling glared ahead. It just was not right. The boy had been clearly in provocation and now this man had to suffer for it. Nothing unexpected that the brat made it so. The sniveling little monster. " ..disgustin'." He spoke in a rather hushed tone. There, it started, but he was sure their man would make them proud - by being quiet. The sound of flesh being hit by the cat was unpleasant, and all to familiar to the men.

Chase curled his lip. "Don't make me box your ears, mate," he warned. "Mebbe you best shove off some'rs else."

De Guarde watched at Cattling grudgingly turned about. The man was not happy. He was smart enough however to know when it was better not to press matters even if in pressing them Jacob Chase might attract attention of the officers. Still, who would keep company at the grating was not wholly certain, if that happened. It could have been both of them or either of them.

After a few long moments he moved off a bit further up and settled there, a grim expression on his face. De Guarde glanced at Chase and smiled. He had the influence without the need of violence, it seemed. "..He's..one of them bad folk, isn' he?" He whispered, but more a question than an accusation. Chase would know and he was learning to accept that. Chase had the experience that he did not, and the captain had wanted that experience to be learned. Well, he would do that when he was not helping in the sick berth.

It was just as well Cattling shut his gob up, Chase thought. Another word from him and Chase would have boxed his ears.

"Aye, an' best you stay clear of both of 'em," he told the lad. Or there would be more trouble for sure.

De Guarde glanced up as he heard the cat strike flesh again. He watched for a few moments, inwardly counting the strikes. The sound was distinct to the means that were used on the man's back. Nine tails that struck against the flesh, curled, wrapped, and at a time tangled so that they needed to be shaken free.

"..'Cob. ..I'm workin' in the sick berth. Would it be askin' yer a favour if I asked yer to come there sometime. I'um.. not afraid though. Really ain't." Only perhaps, just a little, he was. Both of the men were big , strong and could be cruel. He did not regret seeing one being flogged, but he did know that it could lead to other things, now.