11th June: Returning with gifts

He turns to Cotton still with a smile "Aye... well lad didn't have tha' pleasure... was in Corunna at tha' time... But heard tha' it's not the best they serve there..." he said and pulled his shoulders before thinking to introduce himself "By the way names Cornelius" he said extending his right hand "and dont be fooled by my german i do come from england" he says with a polite chuckle

Cotton shook the offered hand. "Cotton, Gabriel Cotton. I'm batman to Captain Vickery, if you hadn't heard that already." He shrugged, grinning. "I think most folk pick up a bit of German, servin' in this battalion. It's only natural, ain't it, after all, when you hear it every day."

He nods at Cotton "well lad your right there... Although i do have the advantage tha' i speak fluent English, German and French... From before i joined the army" he said his smile fading a bit "Anyways how did a man such as yourself get to serve as a Batman? Doesn't sound like the best change for a fighting man... If you don't min my curiosity" he was curious by nature although he didn't want to pry if Cotton didn't want to speak about it.

"Lucky you." He chuckled. "Ain't much of a story - I was a farmhand afore I 'listed, something like five years ago. An' round about Christmas time, I get called into the Captain's room an' he tells me he'd asked Sergeant Fischer to recommend someone to be his batman, and the Sergeant gave him my name. I ought to stop back with the baggage, but the Captain don't make me. He says I'm too good a shot to be left back there."

"ah well your luck i suppose aye?" he then took another sip of his wine before noding to Cotton "I'm sure your a good shot... though not as good as me i'm certain" He said with a competative smile on his lip. Although he based that statement compared with the 81st where the most he had gone through was volley fire and bayonet battle against the french 42nd. "Always bin a rifle?" he then asked curiously

Cotton was a good shot himself with a rifle, firing in competition against the best the 95th had to offer, and he had certainly not disgraced himself there. "Bin a Rifleman for three years now. No, four, I think." He sipped his own wine. "How long have you been a Rifleman, then?" he asked in turn.

"well i'd prefer the question how long i bin shootin' but i only bin a rifle for half a year around now and served for four or so years... Ofcause im used to shooting birds and long distances with a smoothbarrel... Atleast before i became a soldier now its in a straight line with little chance to miss" He said with a sigh at his own mention of his past although he hadn't done it directly. although he was very satisfied with talking to Cotton he seemed like a nice guy

'Long distances' with a musket couldn't really compare to firing with a rifle; a musket was almost useless at a hundred yards and a rifle could be accurate at three times that distance.

Still, the other man had spirit, which was good. "You'll have to get some practice with a Baker now, though," he replied, absent-mindedly stroking the barrel of his rifle. "Easy to miss if the man you're aimin' at keeps movin' around though - an' them Frogs don't like stayin' still if they can help it."

he shook his head and smirked "oh i know how to shoot with a baker... It's easier to hit a moving target... And lad birds dont sit still in the air either do they?" He chukles politely at the man, thinking that cotton had the spirits, but he hadn't heard of the rumours and thought that the title was just self-proclaimed "And i do know that the french doesn't stand still, the first two battle i had they couldn't hurry enough to get away from us" He said again with a chukle atleast thinking himself amusing

"I don't know about it being easier to hit a moving target," Cotton replied, and chuckled himself. "You want to watch a hawk when it's out huntin' - they stay still for ages, them do, 'fore they see a rabbit or summat." He shrugged. "Takes a deal of firin' before the French do turn around an' find they've got better places to be, in my experience," he added. "Though I reckon there'll be battles a-plenty afore this war's over and done with."

"well i just hope to see you proove that 'title' of yours one day" Smirks at Cotton "I am although a bit surprised tha' you know somethin' about hawks... And i do know how to fight do not question tha' a reason i'm here in the 60th" His voice changing a bit cause of Cotton sounding, to Cornelius at least, like he thinks he knows better "Ya might be older then me, but i know what im doing, Blödian" At his own last comment he changes foot still looking at Cotton

Cotton looked shrewdly at him. "Oh, I will. Be pleased to thrash you in a straight target shootin' competition." He kept his tone light. "I told you, I used to be a farm worker. I'm used to bein' out o' doors an' seeing what goes on around me." He shrugged. "Wasn't questionin' you bein' in the 60th. Don't get so jumpy for no reason, all right? We'm supposed to be friends here."

He looks at Cotton for a moment in silence obviously thinking before he shifts foot again and nods at Cotton, and looks like he is about to say something for a short moment before he actually seems to know what to say "Sorry lad..." He said with a calm tone. "So how this straight target shootin competition work? want ta know the rules if imma beat you in it" now sounding more like before a smile appearing on his face again "I'm sure you and i'll get along just fine aye?" He said knowing no matter who won such a competition Cornelius would still claim it luck if he lost.

'Lad'. Cotton was easily older than Cornelius.

"It's usually the best of five shots, each Rifleman firing at his own target. The one who's closest to the center wins each round, and the one who wins most rounds wins overall. O' course, if there's more'n two men firin', the winners go on to shoot against each other." He shrugged. "We gen'rally shoot from fifty yards... easy, with a Baker, when you know what you'm doin'."

Though it was harder to win a competition at that distance, with the pressure of knowing you were being watched and judged.

he nodded listening "well tha' sounds easy enough. And aye with a baker it'll just be easier" he smirked and thought for a moment "How do we get permittion for a thing like tha'?" he asked not thinking that Cotton was after all the Batman most likely knowing some people

"I can get permission. Though likely the Captain'll want to hold another one of his trainin' days, give everyone a chance, 'cause there's some other folks haven't ever done that sort of thing, too." And even if the Captain wasn't going to hold one of his days soon, Cotton could likely get permission for a target-shooting competition.

Pye glanced between the two men. He had listened for the time being and then spoke out just a bit when he thought it was finally time. "Mus' warn you..'him there." He indicated Cotton. "'s won wot' both times we've had t' competition' going, even 'gainst the 95th there." He was one of those who had not competed at all, but truth be told, he did not expect to do any much good. Try yes, but keep it at that.

He had stayed silent for a long time as he worked out their English, still having to work hard to fully understand it.

"Ja dis is goud vine, but not frog, but better then don, ja? like vinegar and piss ja?"

he looked from cotton to Falkenbeck and grinned.

"ve vager ja? and then I show how we shoot in Hanover and take both your coins."

There was a smirk on Klepper's face. "He vill take your coin instead! There is few that shoot better than him."

"S' the wine alright?" Pye had been thinking half of the time the men were talking a different language when their accents appeared quite thick at times. He would have hoped that they would have more. For the sake of all of them. Two bottles could not get far among the number of men.

"Aye, the wine's fine, Pye." He grinned. "When we get into Spain, though, you don't want to buy the red wine if you can help it. I heared rumours they don't get out the vat when they need a piss, when they'm treadin' the grapes."

"Didn't need ter know that'un." Pye made a face. He may have had almost no idea how wine was made, but he decided it did not sound delicious at all. "..we oughta save some for Newbury too, him not bein' 'ere." He suggested, knowing at least Cotton could be of the same mind.

Cotton nodded. "Newb'ry'll want some, sure 'nough." Whether the surgeon would let him have some was a different thing of course... but they could always sneak it in for him. Maybe in a canteen - surgeons didn't usually check canteens, not that Cotton was aware of, anyway.

The spotlessly dressed 2nd Lieutenant made his way through the camp, looking despite his sun burn, rather pale. He returned salutes here and there drawing ever closer to the group with the wine.

Afternoons, he swore to him self, must be the worst time of the day, too bloody hot and too much time between lunch and dinner that forced one to sober up.

He nodded to cotton as he hears his warning about the red.

"Ja, its true i have seen it...though white vine is not much better, ja?"