7th June, Morning watch: Report of action taken

Russell halted in his steps right when Maturin had said ‘doctor’ and looked expectantly at the other man. He pulled the bottle from his pocket and held it out. “Here you are,” he said simply and rather than tossing it to Maturin, he made his way over and handed it to the man, offering both he and De Guarde a smile before he turned and exited the sickbay in search of their drinks.

Mathew smiled, a great stone of worry having passed from his chest. The marine lieutenant would be alright, and he was in the hands of two fine men, two surgeons who would certainly make it their goal not to let him perish. That he was not told off in warning for the small overstepping of what he was permitted to do, made it so much better.

"Thank you , sir." He said, looking quite thrilled and waved to Russel, quite energetically, until he had caught himself and quickly dropped his hand. His gaze was back on Maturin, and then on the bottle the man held.

"So...my injuries emit no foul smell, correct?" He asked and then more subtly he added. "But you have looked at my eyes as well and touched my forehead? Is that another way the ailment makes itself known....in general? Since, the sick that we have. "He indicated the sich berth where men still suffered with the runs. "..they too have had fever, and terrible cramps." Which Maturin must have known. "..So for.. how many things does the fever go up? Injuries, sickness, poor bellies, hmmm...lots?"

Kock was, this time around (how clever he had grown since a few moments ago!), holding a tray of cups filled to the rim with tea – except for one. One was filled to the rim with hot chocolate. Kock had been so annoyed with Gallien. He liked the man but he could be so bossy! He couldn’t have tea like the rest of them? He had to have his tongue fed something sugary? And this was not the first time that he had ‘innocently’ asked either. Kock tried to walk hurriedly yet at a pace that would not have the drinks spill all over the place (God knew that happened before).

And finally he was approaching the door where he had just been – where that ill man, a boy, and another doctor (or so Wilfred assumed it was) and Gallien had been. He saw Doctor Gallien and with every step, the man became clearer. Wilfred bit his lips, what if his snapping had been rude? The angered Wilfred had put a bit too much sugar in hopes of making Gallien feel sick after drinking his hot chocolate. Luckily, everyone else’s teas were just fine.

“I’m s-so t…terribly sorry, Doctor, if I had been rude earlier,” Wilfred said nervously, slightly shaking and sweating like a fountain.

"Correct," he confirmed, thanking Dr. Gallien for the laudanum and measuring out Mathew's dose of twelve drops, "and yes, sometimes infection can drive up a fever. Many things present with fever, which is why it's so essential to break it in order to get to the root of the problem, you see?"

"But it was not for your injury's sake I checked your temperature and eyes." Stephen hesitated for a moment. He was pleased Mathew was taking an interest in medical matters, but at the same time, the way the conversation would inevitably veer troubled him. He didn't want to put too many ideas into the boy's head; it was clear that Mathew was bright. He cleared his throat.

"Laudanum is a powerful medicine. Sometimes people can become accustomed to its use; they need it all the more, and some end up even sicker as a result. Do you see what I'm saying?" He kept his focus entirely on the measuring, eventually giving Mathew the dose.

Upon passing through the doorway, Russell caught sight of Mr. Kock arriving with his tray and remained where he stood, a bright and happy grin on his tanned face. Though, it was quite clear that he was more pleased to see his cup of hot chocolate than he was to see the giant cook carrying it. When the man neared him, Russell’s gaze focused on his sugary beverage and the first words that left his mouth were “here, let me help you with that” as he rose his arms up to grab hold of both his drink and Mr. Sewell’s.

He laughed heartily at Kock’s apology, although he had no clear idea of what he was talking about as he did not even remember Kock being rude at all. Russell knew it was likely because he had not paid him much attention. “That’s alright, Mr. Kock,” he said stepping backwards in order to return to the sickbay before he whispered the comment over his shoulder, “Careful when you give Doctor Maturin his tea please, Mr. Kock.”

And without waiting for a response or to even sit down, he took a great sip from his hot chocolate once he got through the doorway. Pondering a moment on the taste of it with a wrinkled nose, he realised it was awfully sugary and then gave a slight nod in approval, licking any remainder of it from his lips. “This is splendid, Kock, simply amazing. I don’t know how you do it,” he said aloud as he walked off in the direction of the patient, briefly stopping to settle his drink down so that he was able to hold out Sewell’s tea with both hands. “Mr. Sewell, your tea.”

Sew accepted the tea gratefully, although as per usual his gratefulness was expressed in nothing more as a curt 'Thank you!'. Really, after breakfast and a cup of tea (and that sip of brandy), he was perfectly alright again. No need for any laudanum. He had to admit that he had been at fault: He certainly should have eaten something sooner. Collapsing on the quarterdeck was really most ridiculous, and neglecting necessities was not a good example at all. But now he was perfectly fine again - well, apart from a rather uncomfortable headache, but he supposed his head had some right to protest against being knocked about on a nearly regular basis.

So instead of sitting around here, he should better get back to work. Which in this instance meant talking. With a sigh, he drained his cup in one swill and waved his hand at Dr. Gallien to indicate that he wanted to talk to him for a moment. Scraping together his own rusty Latin, he asked:

"The boy's posterior. How bad?"

After the Marine lieutenant received his tea, Russell returned to where he had set his drink down and with thoughts of checking on each of the sleeping patients, he started to sip his hot chocolate as he eyed them curiously. His attention was drawn from movement in the corner of his eye and turning to gaze in the direction of Mr. Sewell; he recognised the man’s motion as a signal that he possibly wanted something. Without hesitation he drew his cup from his face and wiping any trace of hot chocolate lingering on his upper lip with his sleeve, he wandered over.

When Sewell asked him about De Guarde’s posterior, Russell struggled to suppress himself from snorting and disguised this attempt with a somewhat awkward and childish grin. He had not expected Sewell to address him in Latin and was rather amused by it, despite the fact that Sewell might have come from an educated background. Glancing up momentarily towards Maturin and Mathew, he responded quietly in Latin, “He will be fine, it is nothing life-threatening. It should heal given that he keeps it sanitary.” He sipped his chocolate thoughtfully.

"...it can cause fever as well, should they... but is this not medicine, that ought to help rather than harm?" It was an innocent question. Even De Guarde knew that medicine could harm, just as alcohol could. Have too much of it, and one's head would threaten to burst. Have it too often, and the lack of it might make you want to get it, somewhere, somehow, that very moment, now!

He touched his forehead as if testing that it was of normal temperature, but then he had nothing to compare with and he did not dare compare with the Doctor. He might have had a little bit of a higher temperature due to his actual injury and the body not too happy about having to heal it yet again. The old scars had been alright, thinner now, and paler, but the never ones had been disturbed and had become sensitive again.

He looked hopeful when he saw that the dose was measured for him. "Sir.. may I ask you.." And he thought to ask Mister Russell as well, he had only not had time nor had his thoughts come to that whenever he had approached him. "..that is..do you have books .. about all this,.. ah, nevermind." He smiled timidly. If Maturin had been witness to that unbecoming bathing of the boys, he would perhaps not wish to let him borrow more than the thoughts he was now sharing. "Your tea is here, sir."

"It is indeed," Stephen was nodding sagely now, "and under medicinal circumstances quite safe. But if you ever have the chance to see a man stricken by his want for opium then I'm sure you would agree such a medicine would only exacerbate the symptoms it - ah, caused." He chewed the inside of his lip, aware of the hypocrisy in what he was saying, but went on to say quite plainly as though promising the boy a whale's tooth or other zoological find; "perhaps next time we are ashore I will find you an opium-eater so you may see it with your own eyes."

He accepted the cup from the cook with great care and his thanks, pressing one palm close against its warmth. "I'm am terribly sorry for having strewn your last offerings all over the floor Mr. Kock; I assure you it was not due to the food itself," he said this as his eyes trailed wistfully to what remained on his plate; it was thanks to Sewell there remained anything at all. He hesitated for a moment, before asking the man, "might I trouble you for a small glass of milk later?" He measured the amount he was asking for with his forefinger and thumb, "I only need a mouthful, warm - with sugar if you have it."

Blowing on his tea before he sipped it, Stephen swallowed comments regarding his preference for coffee and looked back towards Mathew, "I have books." He didn't care to admit he still carried the old surgeon's text around with him and still referred to it occasionally, (especially not when he was within ear shot of both Dr. Gallien and the sick bay's residents) but he regarded the boy thoughtfully, "not many, but if you are interested-"

Mathew smiled at the promise. He wondered if they would be able to find such a man and in which way one could call it want of something for was it want of opium if one had requested it because he could? Or was it called want, when the person could not live without it at all and would squirm and twitch on the floor as if stricken by an ailment, when not having it for more than an hour.

He observed as the others had taken on food and drink, breathing against the hot baverage to cool it down. When Maturin however made the offer or rather began to make one, his attention was right back on him, in its fullest. "I would.. I am, sir. If it would not be.. too forward!" he had strangely lost his way of talk, that reminded of the one below the decks, but only as such when in the polite company. "It would be quite the honour and... well..I do promise that they are returned in the state that they were received!" He did not need to elaborate that he could read. It was clear from his former status as a midshipman and of course his family's background, that he could do more than merely read and write.

Wilfred frowned when Doctor Gallien had said that he liked the hot chocolate Wilfred had given him. Of course, how could Kock be so dull-minded? The damned doctor liked his sugar! How could the old fool forget? Wilfred inwardly began beating himself with a metal rod in the most violent way possible. Wilfred did not quite know how to reply… The doctor had said that he thought his hot chocolate splendid. Wilfred had merely smiled at that moment, but that moment passed and everything seemed to be zipping by. He stood there awkwardly, fidgeting and sweating.

Damn… he thought, Next time I will be sure to make it COOKING OIL or something revolting…

Wilfred’s frown soon turned upside down into a grin, clearing his voice he said loudly but nervously, “I b-beg your pardon, sirs, would you like me to get anything else for you?”

When Kock had asked if anything else was needed, Russell quickly downed the rest of his hot chocolate in one moment and then asked innocently with a child-like greediness shimmering in his eyes, “Do you mind bringing me another hot chocolate, Mr. Kock, my good man?”

Sew inwardly rolled his eyes - that doctor really was a sweet-tooth. He briefly contemplated another cup of tea, but decided he had lazed around long enough. With a bow of the head, he handed back his cup and plate.

"No. Was excellent."

Only one more thing to take care of. He adressed the medical comittee again (fortunately the subjects of pain and suffering were well within his theologically influenced vocabulary):

"Why is he still in pain?"

And the damned doctor wanted some more hot chocolate. Well, things were beginning to brighten up. He felt the sides of his mouth twitch into a rather wicked smile. And he said to the doctor with a slight bow, “Certainly.”

A man, who Kock knew not to be a doctor, handed Kock his plate and cup, telling him that he had given him was delicious. Kock felt himself revel with pride and joy – it was excellent! Inwardly he was rejoicing.

Kock stood there, waiting once again for more plates to be given to him. Perhaps the two doctors wished to given him theirs’ as well. Once everything finished with was given to him then he would return to bringing Doctor Gallien his beloved hot chocolate – this time Kock would be adding something other than too much chocolate.

To be perfectly honest, he had not actually seen De Guarde’s posterior from where he stood due to Stephen standing in the way and given his eye-sight, he probably would not have been able to make out much of the details anyways. Instead the man deduced from his own preconceptions of children and what he heard that De Guarde hadn’t cared for his injury properly and thus got an infection. Originally, when he first recognised the boy’s movements, he had thought him suffering from costiveness.

“Because…” Russell started as he stared sideways at Kock and wondered why he hadn’t taken the plate he left or retrieved the empty cup he was holding as the surgeon had no intention of moving. Continuing he said plainly, “the boy has been busy helping me care for our patients and may have not had the time to look after himself.” Despite jumping to slightly biased conclusions, Russell did think the fact that De Guarde helped out quite a bit even while in pain was worth praise.

Whether genuine or not, Mathew had an enthusiasm that was wholly infectious; it rubbed off on Stephen such that a small sliver of a smile was brought forth to his gaunt face and he nodded. "I'm sure you would take care of my books," he agreed. The doctor was not naive; he'd heard rumour of Mathew being an ill tempered young man and that it often got him into trouble. But surely this would not extend to him tearing pages out of books, for all love? Not when they had been leant through kindness.

"I shall be needing to return to my cabin shortly," he explained, "so if you wish to borrow a book or two, then you are more than welcome to accompany me. I have an excellent text on common sailor's afflictions - with diagrams." Stephen paused to sip his tea, "if that takes your fancy."

Though despite how pleased Mathew's interest made him, the fact the cook had completely ignored his request over Dr. Gallien's insatiable thirst for sugary drinks vexed him. It seemed sometimes as though one man existed purely to please the other; Kock running after Gallien like a fraught nursemaid appeasing a spoilt child. His lips pressed together. He could quite easily retrieve the milk for himself and warm it - he had done so countless times. But he still needed to go over Russell's medical notes to bring himself up to speed with the sick bay, and as the cook had asked, he felt it wasn't out of place to make a request.

"Milk, Mr. Kock; I asked for some milk?" He said, "Please, if that is not too much to ask."

"I will ask Mister Gallien for permission , and if he gives me one, I shall be thrilled to accompany you , sir." De Guarde answered glancing at Sewell and at the surgeon and cook. He did enjoy the scent of food delivered to officers because it usually tended to be better than that of the common folk. The drinks looked inviting even when they had not been alcohol, the more sweet ones even more. He had reminded himself however that he had no right to either of the options. Not untill he was promoted or ..well only in the case that he was promoted back into the middie could he hope for something slightly better , and if his parents had sent him another parcel. The last he would hope to see when they were to meet the next package ship.

He waited after the request had been made then piped up again. "Sir, if you would want to busy yourself now, I can take you to see the ill and the indisposed." He indicated the sick further down from them. "Most of them suffer from the runs really, as I've said. Some fever, and.. cramps in the belly." He glanced up. "When they do not need to run for the heads, they might vomit as well." He nodded softly.

Kock’s face flushed to the colour of Valentine roses. He had ignored the poor other doctor whose name he could never remember. He had realised that the doctor’s words had gone into one ear and out the other. He had been too much involved and wrapped up with his own thoughts of poisoning Gallien with revolting tasting hot chocolate. He had ignored the other doctor and had asked if they all wanted something else… how stupid he had been. Now the tall and tubby man was greatly embarrassed.

“I do apologise, d-doc-doctor,” Kock responded, feeling the need to express regret and then said, “I will get your milk, sir… as well as the other doctor’s, er, h-hot chocolate.”

With a clumsy bow, Kock left the room. He took Sewell’s plates with him and the mental stabbing note that he had to bring milk for the short doctor and hot chocolate (with an added flavour of cooking oil) for the bossy doctor. This would take a while…

Mathew glanced at the cook. He had known him for he had done his duties as any of his mess had done before him. Being the one that would have taken food and brought it to his mess for the day or the given time. All that talk of milk, of chocolate and of good tea, had made him quite thoughtful of the days long past and of the time when he was privy to the spoils as well as wine at the captain's table.

He busied himself instead if placing the things, no longer needed, away and at cleaning those tools that had been used, while rechecking those that had not, before they were put exactly where he had earlier taken them.

He looked forward to some laudanum though he had not considered himself an addict to it, nor had he done so towards alcohol. Both he used because he needed them and when he did. That was absolutely clear!

Stephen tugged his glasses free from his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes for a moment. He gave the cook a nod in answer, along with his thanks. The man clearly had a head full of things he needed to get done; perhaps too much.

"That would be very helpful Mathew," he murmured to the boy after a while, replacing his glasses and adjusting them, "much quicker than reading notes, at any rate."

"Then, sir, when you desire, I'll take you to see them." He smiled brightly. "So.. jus' tell me when you want to.." He nodded and glanced towards the other surgeon. " And if he no longer needs me. Though... " He did think he was no longer needed. Certainly according to what he had seen and according to Sewell's well being. He was glad to know that the man had now been in good, expert hands of not only one but two of the Doctor's profession.

If anything was terribly wrong with him, he was certain, that atleast one of them would have noticed and acted accordingly. Of course, if Sewell was to later stay either in the sickbay or need attendance, he would be glad to volunteer.