June 7: Early morning care

Stew accepted the reprimand - he knew it was one, however politely worded - without giving any sign that he had heard. He knew that the boy thought he worried to much about him, but had he ever seen what damage a loose cannon could do? It didn't move fast and looked deceptively easy to stop, but once it was in motion, there was nothing short of a bull that could fight its impetus. Besides, it was his job to worry.

To stabilize the gun, Sew passed the sling over the rear axle and fixed it to the last quarter bolt. Taking the rope into both hands, he threw his own full weight back; the bolt didn't budge. Good. Sew had been worried that the cannon's stormy liaison with the ship's side might have damaged the planks.

Then he set to re-rigging the side-tackle. It would of course be no longer functional, because Sew had to splice together the frayed ends, but it would prevent the carriage from sliding backwards. When he heard de Guarde's report, he wasn't surprised. The lines on the other side had to take double the usual strain now whenever the ship heeled.

Setting tight the last knot on his side, he cast loose the sling araound the axle and passed rope through the eyes on the carriage and the loop at the end of the cascable to de Guarde's side. "Here! Double-rig the breeching rope."

He nodded to the frayed ends of the lines that connected the rear end of the carriage to the middle of the ship's deck. They would have to get the gun away from the hull again and fix her there before the stress did any additional damage to it.

"We have to splice the train tackle. Gunner can fix it properly later. I'll haul, you knot."

De Guarde obeyed without a second thought. Having taken the rope as it was passed to him, he went on to follow through with the given order. "Sir. Once this is secured, am I to report the damage to the rope and the state of the cannon, or shall you?" He did not know what the officer would want to do, or have done, since he was after all a marine and not a navy lieutenant.

He had moved a bit, to get a better access to the task at hand, and then began, his nimble fingers working as fast as he was able, paying though great attention not to do a half arsed job, that might have the rope come free again and have the cannon roll about the next time there was a greater lurch of the sea to cross their beam.

"You... you could'a been a Tar officer, sir." He commented, surprised that a marine would have known as much about knots and of ropes and of ways of securing anything shipwise.

The corners of Sew's mouth lifted a bit, as if he was amused by a private joke. "Tar perhaps, but no officer."

It was heavy work to haul the cannon back alone, but Sew managed. The situation at hand had helped to fight back his tiredness and given him new energy, but he knew that it wouldn't last long. But if they managed to get the gun stabilized for the moment, then their proper crew could see to it. Then perhaps he could get ... No, better not think about that now.

As soon as de Guarde was finished, Sew straightened, nearly banging his head on another beam. Giving the ropes a last, testing tug, he nodded.

"That will do for the moment. Who ordered you to keep watch in sickbay?"

If the boy had left it on his command, but contrary to the orders of a naval officer, he would have to straighten out things with said officer. It would also decide whether he could send the boy to report the incident or had to do it himself. It would be good for the boy's standing if he could report that he had taken successful measures to remedy the situation. He had certainly been not only helpful, but competent and quick.

Making a mental note to inform the captain of this nevertheless, he looked at de Guarde, his face once again impassive.

"Tar, sir?" Was this man a Tar once? The lad blinked and raised his gaze, studying him as thoroughly as he could, yet he could not imagine a marine officer ever serving as anything but.

He shook his head as he realised that due to his private musing he had missed what the other had said. With a frown and a rub at his temples he tried to recall what he had managed to hear.

Oh! "...I've been ordered ter keep 'wake by t' surgeon sir. Been under his orders fer as long as I'm on these duties... or.." He hesitated. "until he decides to let me off and have me return back ter normal duties."

"I.. I think I need to go there soon, just ter be sure nobody got worse while I was gone, couse I need ter wake up t' surgeon if that happens!" His voice did sound somewhat urgent at that thought. He shuffled his feet. "...um... sir... did yer hear ..stuff 'bout me..." Where was this going? At first he thought it would be a quiet question of whether he could move to the marines, yet now it sounded as if he was asking for all those bad rumours that he suspected were shared in the higher circles.

"I don't listen to rumours!"

Sew emphasized the last word slightly. He did of course know about the various incidents in connection with de Guarde, but he was of the firm opinion that once someone had served his sentence, no more words should be lost about it.

"Go back to your station, then. I will report to the officer on watch."

It might of course be that whoever had the watch - Sew cursed inwardly when he realized that the tiredness had come back and he now couldn't even remember that elementary fact - decided to either have the boy called up to him or even come down himself. But he didn't think that he would have to warn the boy to keep ready.

So he simply turned to ascend to the weather deck.

"Yes , sir." De Guarde stood at the bottom of the steps, gazing at the officer. "..." He wanted to say something more, but biting his lip he turned and then with as quiet a step as possible, his bare feet patted back down to the sick berth.

He yawned first, then had a round for the sick, making sure that they were asleep and that their buckets - as many as he was able to save for them, were empty. The stench could cause someone to be ill just as much as their illness.

He helped one of the Tars back into his hammock as a caughing fit had made him tip over and he had thought to lie there since. He was as unfortunate as to land in his own vomit as well. This called for a good deal of cleaning of the said man, before he was let back to sleep.

Another big yawn later he looked around again, listening to the semi peaceful snoring concert. With a hark and a grunt, that followed in succession, every so often. It would not be long till morning and then the surgeon was going to be up again. If an officer would not come sooner. He pinched his nose and then some skin on his wrist. He could not doze off just before an officer came in!

With a groan one of the men shifted in his hammock. He curled up and clutched at his belly. Another, a marine by the looks of it, had equally grunted in pain. They both looked as though they needed assistance at getting from their hammocks and to the Heads or if they failed to go so far, atleast to the nearest bucket.

Another groan, from the first man, who was a Tar was enough to signal that it was going south rather quickly.

Gunn woke up, with his skin clammy, sticky and feeling hot. His hair stuck to the back of his neck, his queue had come loose so that the black ribbon now hung of it in all strange angles. His belly had decided to cause him discomfort again and from a relatively mild number of symptoms, it had grown up to feeling quite wretched.

His forehead was quite hot, and the cramps intense. "Ugh....loblybo'" he uttered, calling for the one in attendance. He struggled to get up, when a cramp forced him to curl up again and he tipped off his hammock, face first into the floorboards. Sprawled like that, the man breathed in shallow and harsh for a few moments before at last, attempting to get up to his feet.

"Gunn!" Mathew had gotten acquainted with the large marine sometime when he had entered the sickbay with his ailment. He rushed to his side, bringing one of his arms over his shoulders. There was no way that he could lift him up on his own, but he put his best efforts in his first attempt.

It did help that Gunn was willing to try getting up as well, and so, shakily and with a great amount of struggling the marine with a glaring large bump on his forehead, got back to his feet. "Bucket or..." He began to ask, glancing at the nearest one. Not dignified, but for those who could go no further, much better than having to clean the floor.

"...Heads.." He could do it. Surely. Not so far, the ones that were in specific use for the patients of the sick berth, so he could do it. He leaned a bit on the small boy, though he tried to keep most of his weight of his shoulders. He knew that the kid was not strong enough and that he was tired too. "Thank you...uh..Buckles." He remembered, hazily, what the lad was called. He was the one that had been flogged with the puss not a long while ago. The one who had been caned before.

Here he was though, trying his best, and Gunn wondered if it was the same boy or if someone had dressed up as him and was somehow, by some strange luck or bad luck, very similar in the face to that former midshipman. It mattered more to get over to the Heads now, though. He could feel grateful when he felt better, if he felt better and did not just die from this terrible disease!

"Jus' get better, Gunn." The lad smiled and helped the marine along until he could get the small bit of privacy and perhaps an easier, more dignified release.

The lad waited by the door, glancing back where the Tar was groaning. It had been Cattling. He arrived quite late in the evening. He thought nothing could make that man sick, as he was too mean to be so. But perhaps he should have looked to Shriver or his like for the healthy. He rubbed his eyes again and yawned.

The boys must have been fast asleep by now. Curled up in their own hammocks, snoring away till morning. He shook his head when his mind began to present him with images which were no longer of this world. That the boards would twist and come to life, could only be a figment of his imagination, near dream. When he pinched himself again he saw that he was right as everything cleared into its normal, motionless state.

His bottom had begun to ache again, but he could not go and take the laudanum without the permission of the surgeon. He knew where the amount was. He knew which cupboard it was held in because he had taken it from there frequently enough, but each time because he was told so. He made a tug at his trousers and winced. Another tug dislodged the fabric from the cut it had attached to.

"Are ye a'right?" He inquired softly.

"'right." Gunn took a bit longer, before he was ready to be collected again and returned to his cot. Of course, as the pain subsided a little, he was willing not to show himself as weak, and struggled to get back all on his own. When De Guarde moved to help him he shook his head slowly, avoiding the wave of dizzyness which would have come, if he had done it any faster.

"...Aren't you goin' ter have the other lob....the other lad take over?" He was sure there was more than one before. He leaned against the hammock at last and breathed in sharply.

"..Everybody's sleepin'." De Guarde answered and smiled. "Which you're suppose ter do too." He kept a hold of the hammock while the marine climbed in. He reached out to test Gunn's forehead to see if it was still hot.

It was. "...Jus' a mo'." He returned with a wet cold bit of cloth. This he placed on the man's forehead. "Now rest, I will be back." He turned towards the next patient, still awake. He sighed. Cattling. "...Bucket or the heads?" He whispered, trying to look indifferent.

"The heads." The answer was quiet, a mere whisper. Cattling glared at the boy and slowly struggled out of his hammock. Once out, he had taken the offer for support quite liberally, leaning much of his weight on the small shoulders. "...hurry up, won't you." He muttered into his ear. "I don't feel well."

The man was heavy, though he was much smaller than Gunn. De Guarde bit his lip and wished he could have just gone to sleep now, or go back to his usual service. While he had enjoyed taking care of the sick and wounded up till now, the present situation just... it was tiresome.

"...Here you are.."He murmured as they neared the Heads.

"Here we are." The arm, which moments ago had been relaxed over the lad's shoulder, now bent over the lad's neck. His free hand covered the boy's mouth as he could have called out before the good threat was made.

"You will keep your mouth shut and you will not tell anyone of this. There's others who hate you and if anything happens to me,.. your life here will really get miserable." There was a short pause. "..if you live long enough after you snitch."

De Guarde froze. Not a peep came out of his mouth, and those words only enforced that silence. He had dropped his guard down since working in the sick berth, thinking that only the sick would come there, and that they were sick enough they would think only of getting better and no mischief.

He may have thought things were going better too and that Button's claims would soon have somebody in shackles and then with a noose around their neck.

But now, it seemed that things could get so much worse. He gasped though as the pressure on his neck was somewhat tight and his hands reached up to try and ease it up.

"Good boy. Now...you'll do me a little favour.." It was about time he demanded this, for the others as well as for himself. Only the boy would not know it was for himself as well. "...If there's any single one of the crew taken up and accused of havin' chugged you, deservedly, over board.. you will say..." He tightened the hold a bit more, cutting the supply of air. He only let up when the boy had become frantic about the fact.

"that you are certain it wasn't them. You hear. You will remember that it was not them." He smirked coldly. "You will claim it must have been one of t' killed ones. Understood? ...Nod if you do."

So this was it. The people who had nearly killed him wanted to get away with it. Only now Button knew who they were. But if they were called, he could not accuse them. Did they know of their conversation or of whom Button spoke to? Did that person tell them there was a danger somebody would get caught for it?

He nodded after the hand began to tighten again. Quickly, sharply. He was frightened and though he tried to show some confidence and courage, he felt neither. Just a sharp snap and his neck would be broken and he would be dead. Or... or something worse.

"Good boy." Cattling whispered quietly. "Now...just so you don't have a change of heart when I'm gone....I'll give you a taste of what might happen,.. if you break your promise. Be quiet now or .."He left the form of the threat take shape in the boy's mind. He would probably imagine a fate much worse than he could promise for today. And it was right so. He shoved the boy back, out of view, into the dark.

He stifled a yelp as his back and bottom struck the wooden wall. He knew he felt panic grasp at his mind, and wished to distance himself from it. From all of it. If he could just close his eyes and this would become all a mere bad dream and then he could pinch himself and he would be free. If only.

++

He was shaking when he helped Cattling back into his hammock. Quietly holding the fabric so that it did not shift out of the way making the other fall flat on the ground. It would be so nice if it happened and if he broke his neck but...while thoughts produced such a situation in his mind, Cattling managed to get safely in and with a much more relaxed sigh, fall asleep.

The boy adjusted his shirt tenderly over the forming bruises tucking it in where it had gotten loose. He walked to Gunn, changed the cloth on his forehead with a new one, colder one and then leaned beside his hammock. He clutched the redcoat, that was folded beside the man, and tugged at his own shirt sleeve. "Sorry I woke you." He whispered and wiped some of the excess water from the man's brow. "Think your fever is going down...s' good news." He smiled. He turned away and pressed the used cloth to his lip, wiped at it and then dropped it into the bucket of water again. It would cool it down again.

Sew ducked his head painstakingly under the timber and came into sickbay again. A quick glance around made him aware of Gunn's open eyes and he nodded encouragingly to the man.

Then he turned his eyes to De Guarde. The boy didn't seem as happy as he had been when he had left. Was he afraid because he had left sick-bay or had something else happend? Well, the first thing was settled now, and as long as the ship as a whole was not involved, the second wasn't exactly his buissness. If the lad wanted to talk, he would, but if he wanted to keep things private, it was his right.

"Officer will talk to you later." As he didn't want the lad to suffer from any unnecessary apprehensions, he even added: "Nothing to worry."

Sitting heavily down on the chair he had previously occupied, he pointed to the bandage still on the table.

"Fix that cut again, please."

And then he would need to get a fresh shirt, and a status report, and see whether he had still enough men for the watches today.

De Guarde tensed at the sound, his smile becoming much broader when he saw that it was a marine officer. relief was clear on his face, though the reason for it was unknown.

"Careful sir." The chair could buckle and break under the big man if he thought to drop in it so quickly. He crossed the distance between them, and then as if remembering he had forgotten something he rushed back to his sick marine. He adjusted the cold, wet bandage on his forehead. The marine had come to as good an attention as one, sick and lying in their hammock could and struggled to get up to do a better show of it. "Easy there, Gunn.. no gettin' up.." He hesitated and looked at the officer. "With permission, sir?"

He washed his hands, took more of the clean linen and a bucket of clean water rather than that, soiled and spoiled by blood earlier, and sweat and any possible filth from Gunn, at present.

"..I will right away." He bumped against the edge of the table, in his rush to make it quickly to the officer. What should have been a mere indication of a thump, when striking a bruise had the boy flinch, then stifle any sound that was meant to come from the sensation, straightening up just a bit more. "There we go. Sir. I will need to clean it again. T' blood's made a right mess."

Sew's brow furrowed; if not during a battle, it was a very rare for people to look relieved when he suddenly appeared. Deciding to deal with problems on a one-after-the-other-basis, he levelled his gaze at his marine again. Overtaxing himself while sick would put him off the duty-roaster for longer than necessary.

"At ease, Gunn!" Comendable attention to form, though.

Now for the boy: His barely suppressed flinch just now was probably still a reaction to the barely healed bruises on his backside. So was it just the pain? But why would his appearance then have been a relieve?

Running his hand over his hair to get all strands out of his face, he surrendered quietly to De Guarde's ministrations. He would keep his eyes open, but as long as De Guarde didn't indicate that he would appreciate a question, he would not meddle in the affairs of the seamen. Nothing good ever came of it.

Gunn slowly relaxed at the order and slumped back into his hammock. He still felt ill, but also quite willing to sleep now, if he was not needed.

"Sir, tell me if it hurts. A'right?" De Guarde spoke softly, tending the injury with outmost care. He wiped the skin clean of blood, made sure that no more bleeding would follow it. He reached forward then and dabbed at the cut. Tenderly, careful not to cause pain. He reached up and his breath hitched for a moment, then he was quiet again, steadily working to cover the cut, bandage it, but make a good job of it.

"I'd say... you come here, sir, when t' surgeon's awake 'gain. Jus' ter see that t' cut is a'right. An' there's nothin' wrong with it. Couse I don' know about medicine. I jus' assist." He moved the hand, that had a healed, old scar visible on both sides, to the back of the man's head, tucked the strip of cloth around it again, untill he was certain the whole thing was secure.

The small portion of his shirt that had remained untucked, revealed some of the dark marking as the boy reached toward the man's head, but was just as quickly concealed as the lad shifted back, smiling, satisfied. "You'um done for now sir. But I really urge yer ter come in when t' surgeon's up."