7th June, Morning watch: Report of action taken

Russell was only slightly irritated but any chances of him becoming incredibly annoyed or even angered had subsided, particularly after he recognised the boy’s movements to be of possible nervousness. What a frightful mess, he thought as his hand slid to cradle the side of his own face. But he couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He was just a boy after all. He listened quietly to De Guarde and occasionally nodded.

Of course, his recommendation was brilliant. Russell’s first thoughts crossed the possibility of a concussion in which case Sewell, Lord help him, would likely need plenty of rest and laudanum for a few days. If he were more seriously injured, they would probably be able to tell later. Russell had no doubts at all that Maturin was taking care of matters properly on deck.

His eyes stopped onto De Guarde. “Well?” he raised an eyebrow, “If that’s all, don’t just stand there. Go get him some laudanum.” Russell had almost forgotten, he wasn’t sure whether the dispensary where it was stored was open so he fished his hands in his pockets, found the keys, and tossed them in the direction of the boy.

"Corporal Thompson is correct. Mister Sewell was bandaged when he came on deck. Apparently there was an incident involving a loose cannon, and I fear he took some of the brunt of it," Bush explained to Maturin, "He seemed to be of sound enough mind, though I only had a few words with him before he fell, so I cannot say for certain."

"I will, Mister Gallien!" The lad caught the keys with one hand, just on time. Had he missed a bit and the keys would have hit the ground instead. He hesitated and looked at the doctor again. "There's....." He could dare press the matter before he was told off and before they brought Mister Sewell there to be looked over and hopefully be found as perfectly alright.

"May I...some....too, well, couse of.. that." He studied the buttons on the surgeon's cuffs, then shifted uncomfortably."Oh...and Private Gunn's fever has gone down during the night!" He added already turning to head to the little cupboard of which a part had the medicine stored and where he could find that precious little bottle with its ever more precious contents.

"Ah."

With a cogitative nod, Stephen finally acknowledged this information and thanked the men for it. He would have stressed the importance of rest, but perhaps there had been no one else present when the cannon had broken loose, thus presenting Sewell with no choice but to act. Injury paled in light of duty to these men; this he understood. One man failing to pull his weight could send the whole system into disarray. Quite dangerous whilst at sea.

"Do excuse me Lieutenant, I must attend to my patient." Bush was given an apologetic, pale smile as Stephen slipped past of the gaggle carrying Sewell, climbing down below once somebody offered him a hand and returning to the sick bay. On his arrival he was surprised to see Russell awake. However, this did not show other than his matter-of-fact greeting; "I assume you learned of Mister Sewell's altercation with one of the cannons, Doctor."

Relaying what he knew he added in medic's tones, "I fear he may suffer some emesis upon waking; you know as well as I that such trauma to the head presents us with the possibility of a concussion."

Instead of rushing towards the dispensary, De Guarde still lingered, seemingly wishing to say something. Russell blinked as he tried to figure out what exactly the boy was asking for. When he mentioned Private Gunn, Russell was very pleased to hear about the subsidence of Private Gunn’s fever. “Ah! That’s good to hear,” he replied as he watched De Guarde turn to get the preparation, still wondering what he wanted. It was only after a bit of contemplation that he realised he wanted some of the laudanum as well. “De Guarde, if you’re asking about having some laudanum yourself,” he called from where he stood, “you may have some, but only if you are in pain.”

It was then that Stephen had entered the sickbay, Russell turned around to acknowledge his presence with a short nod and smile. Maturin had made no delay into an explanation about the patient. Despite having not known until now about the involvement of the cannon he said to the older doctor, “Yes, De Guarde has told me as much as he knows about it.” De Guarde’s story started to make a little more sense.

Russell sighed as his hands rested themselves on his waist; his voice faltered slightly, “A concussion, yes… I had suspected the same unfortunately. Right now, we’re preparing the laudanum and De Guarde has laid everything out.”

Stephen nodded curtly and in approval, "very well." Russell was a capable physician and for this reason he thought it prudent to avoid patronising the younger man. Doctors were particular creatures; egos easily bruised when outshone by their contemporaries and moreover this sick bay was Gallien's station, not his. Plus with De Guarde on hand to offer assistance Stephen imagined his continued presence here to be somewhat redundant.

"I should also point out he is running a fever, though no doubt you will notice this for yourself in due course. He is very warm." He said, noting that Matthew had done everything he'd asked of him and more; increasing the light in the sick bay and even going so far as to lay out Russell's tools. "But you can see to him yourself, I'm sure. I only stepped in to help in your absence."

But Stephen didn't leave the bay immediately. The falter in the other doctor's voice had made him pause in turn; studying the younger man with intent - his expression both deeply contemplating and private.

Brilliant. He could take some of the laudanum and he was certainly feeling the discomfort which would offer the excuse for it. He tugged his shirt down a bit. He had brought laudanum back with him. He was still the little professional, meaning to have the patient treated first and see to a dose, once this was done.

He glanced at Maturin and listened to him and then to the two surgeons, standing there rather quietly. He held the bottle in one hand and then held it forward. He felt reluctant to let it go, though at the same, he knew it would be returned and it was for a good cause. Mister Sewell, an officer that he liked!

"Laudanum , sir. The dressings are on the table there, clean and folded, the water, if needed is to their left, I can get more, should that be desired. There's also a rag that's been drenched in it, so as... it'll be easier ter use it wet.. for t'...t'.. well fever too, if needed. I can get more .." He hesitated again and turned quiet. His eagerness had been a bit too much, bot it might only have been because he had been offered the laudanum nearly as reward.

Russell nodded as Maturin informed him about Sewell’s fever. He was very grateful for his help, but he hoped he would stay longer as he did not mind sharing the sickbay. It was not only great to have as many hands helping as possible, especially with something such as a concussion, but he felt that there was still much to learn from the older, more practiced doctor. Perhaps if he had a little more sleep, he might have been more confident. He often over-worried himself about these matters, taking them incredibly seriously. As a result, he sometimes over-diagnosed. From the sounds of it, it appeared that the concussion was not too severe. However, Russell knew that he would likely have to watch over the Marine lieutenant for the next few days. And despite it being morning, Russell couldn’t see himself sleeping tonight.

“Thank you, De Guarde, you are very helpful,” Russell responded as he took the bottle from the boy. He raised it out briefly to read the label before dipping it into the pocket of his coat. “Hopefully our patient arrives soon; I’m frightened they may have dropped him.”

The men did manage to avoid that, but by the time they had him safely in sickbay, more than one was secretly cursing the size of their officer. The ship simply wasn't build for carrying something that large around - at least not if it wasn't supposed to go down the main hatch. And of course banging his head and feet against every beam available wasn't an option either, although they couldn't completely avoid that.

Once they had cleared the final corner, one (the accent identified him as MacTavish) grunted:

"Whereto, Sir?"

[OOC: Hope it's okay to move myself a bit forward - will edit if somebody wants to do something on the way.]

Interrupted, his attention fell on the men heaving Sewell through to the sick bay. A question died there on his lips as he saw them struggling and without hesitation he guided them to a cot nearby, pointing; "here will do, thank you." And then to the boy, his gaze instructive over the rims of his glasses, "Matthew, fetch Mister Sewell a bucket directly."

It took a bit of manoeuvring to get Mister Sewell into a cot, but they managed it eventually and stood aside to let the surgeon do his job. Their jobs, Thompson realised, because Mister Gallien was there as well.

He winked at de Guarde, though it was anyone's guess whether it could be seen in the dimness of the sickbay, and turned to MacTavish and Vining. "All right, let's leave the surgeons to look at him. An' thank you for your help."

De Guarde nodded, then glanced over his shoulder as the big man by the name of Sewell had been brought in. He moved out of the way just in case and waited until he was secure. He grinned as he saw Thompson there and thought that he had seen him wink. He could be mistaken, while there was some light he had provided earlier so that the surgeons would be able to operate with whichever in something that was not complete darkness, it was still not as light as outside. The light itself did not cover every corner of the room either.

He turned sharply though for he had been asked to bring the bucket and so he had moved to where beside the bowl there was also the larger container of water. He snatched a rag from the bowl, turned and hobbled over to Maturin. "Where to,..sir?" He asked then and looked at both surgeons, not quite sure whom he was to obey and follow instructions of and hoping that the pair would not come to a disagreement.

He knew that if they did, there would be a lot of back and forth, hot blood and confusion, which would neither help the patient, nor the loblollyboy serving the pair. He adjusted his grip on the bucket, careful not to spill any of its contents. It was quite heavy.

Thankfully, they hadn’t dropped Sewell. Russell had feared that might’ve happened because of the man’s size. “Thank you, gentlemen,” he said to the men that had carried Sewell and brought him to the cot that Stephen had directed them to. Russell’s blue eyes watched the other patients who were sleeping in their cots, hoping that they wouldn’t be woken up. When De Guarde returned by their side, Russell responded to the boy’s inquiry as calmly as possible, “You heard him. He said directly, Mathew.” And as he hoped to check the man’s pupils, the younger doctor added, “Also once you do that, could you bring me a lit candle, please?”

Russell moved towards the patient and immediately checked Sewell’s pulse before pressing his nails to check the delivery of his blood. He sighed with relief. “His blood perfusion appears to be fine,” Russell stated, glancing momentarily at Stephen.

Stephen stared at the bucket Mathew brought; his only reaction being a hand to cover his mouth. It took him a moment amidst all the jostling and after Russell had answered the question, to muster his tact, "ah - Mathew? That bucket will need to be emptied. Mister Sewell will almost certainly need it when he wakes." The boy was only trying to help, after all.

His next words fell to Russell who, as he noticed, was checking their patient's vitals. "- Good, yes; his pulse and breathing were regular, and there was no leaking fluids," his fingers grazed his own nose and ears to indicate where he meant, "so I believe we can rule out significant trauma. Though he has had a rather nasty knock."

Thompson dismissed the two other Marines back to their duties, or their leisure (he wasn't entirely sure, off the top of his head, which of the two they had interrupted in order to bring Mister Sewell below), and hesitated, looking between the two surgeons.

He eventually addressed the sickbay in general. "I got to see to me duties now... Only, will it be all right if I come by later, see how he'm doin', sir?"

De Guarde looked startled. What exactly did the surgeon want now. An empty bucket for Sewell to do something in? Surely not the sort of thing that the other buckets had been used, where vomit had actually ended in them. He glanced at Gallien inquiringly and then at Stephen. He placed the bucket on the floor.

"Sirs?" He had heard Thompson announce his departure and glanced at him smiling faintly. He was near tempted to say that if Thompson needed any news on Sewell he would certainly be told. Rather than that he looked back at the two surgeons hoping one of them would make enough sense as to what they desired.

Thompson sighed at the look of confusion on de Guarde's face, and stepped across to him. "He's had a bang on the head, reckon they think he might throw up when he comes round - I've seen it afore," he said quietly. Really, was the lad expected to be able to read their minds or something?

“Yes,” Russell replied to Maturin with a nod, “I suppose, we can begin dressing the wound then. I don’t think it requires any stitching.” The tanned man leaned forwards to examine Sewell’s head very closely after he rolled back his sleeves. He would have to remove the blood in order to see the gash more clearly, but thankfully it wasn’t as bad as he worried it would be.

He raised his head to hear Thompson answer De Guarde’s inquiry. “He’s right,” Russell said, “just bring that bucket and rag over here, please. You can bring an empty one and my lit candle after.”

So, that's what they wanted. An empty bucket into which Sewell might empty the contents of his belly when he comes to. He nodded gratefully at Thompson and turned. "...A'right." It helped when Russell suggested that the bucket full of water could still be laid there, so that he needn't carry it all the way back. "Thank you,..corporal." He whispered to Thompson and hobbled over to the side he was pointed to, to place the bucket down.

Once this was done, he wrenched the rag of water and had it rest on the edge of the bucket. Quickly then had he scampered for an empty one and a candle, as ordered. He winced as the abrupt motion and tug of cloth made certain sore areas feel worse. But he had not halted, nor had he slowed until both objects, this time the candle and an empty bucket - one of the clean ones - had been carried back and placed on the floor, out of the way enough that neither of the surgeons would trip over it, but close so that Sewell could receive it, should he need it.

The lit candle was handled with great care. And while he had it there ready to be given away, he looked at Thompson again and smiled.

“Thank you, De Guarde,” he said as took hold of the candle from the boy, checking the wax to make sure it wasn’t melting or dripping. Russell then turned to Sewell, gently opened his eyes with his fingers and brought the candle closer to examine the size of his pupils and their movements. They were equal in size. Yet another sigh of relief came from Russell and he shot a happy and excited smile at the other men in the room.

Trust a marine to put delicate matters in plain terms so that everyone could understand. Stephen lifted his hand to his mouth, trying to hide the tiny smile that formed, "quite so. I couldn't have put it better myself, Corporal." It wasn't De Guard's fault; the boy had been very helpful and Stephen knew the fault lay entirely with him. He should have been more specific.

While Russell cast his eye over Sewell, Stephen folded his arms. "You were of my thinking entirely, doctor. Though when he wakes I would hasten to ask what caused the syncope; was it exhaustion-" here, he acknowledged Thompson, "the knock to the head or that deplorable flux taking hold." His eyes wandered finally to Sewell himself as he commented, "at any rate he'll be in want of the laudanum when he does come around, to be sure."

Stephen would have preferred to say what he did next with fewer men present, but what had been nagging at the back of his mind since he'd been summoned had troubled him ever more having picked up a certain reticence in the younger doctor. He was sure that dressing Sewell would present no problem to him, but he met his smile with a pressing look and said, "might I trouble you for your notes, later?"

MacTavish grinned. "Pleasure, Corporal. You'll let us know, won't you? How he does?"

He mumbled some Gaelic phrase in the direction of the lieutenant, ending it rather incongruously with 'Sir', and with another 'Sirs!' and a touch of his forelock in the direction of the two surgeons left.

---

Sew came around rather suddenly and with a loud groan a few minutes later. The groan transmuted in a half-yelp as his hand hit something solid and his colour suddenly dropped to a rather greenish pallor. He lay very, very still for a few seconds, his eyes squeezed shut and his breathing laboured, then he slowly relaxed, opened his eyes and tried to sit up in a very dignified fashion.

De Guarde was about to move out of the way again, when he heard Sewell come about. "He's awake!" He had stated the obvious, as if Sewell's groan had not been loud enough, or his shifting obvious, especially with one surgeon already so close.

He shuffled closer to the fallen officer. "Sir!" He need not say more because he was certain the surgeons were going to be on it with wise suggestions much faster than he. He regretted not having sent him to a surgeon when he first came. Of course he should have known that any bump that draws blood, would need a skilled man to take a look at it. He adjusted his shirt carefully. There, better.

"Easy, sir. You're in safe hands!"

“No trouble at all,” Russell replied to Maturin, only half wondering why he wanted to look at them. But at the moment, he didn’t seem all that concerned about it. He licked the tips of his forefinger and thumb to extinguish the flame at the end of the candlestick. After he slipped it into his pocket in order to have it moved out of his way quickly. A groan emitted from the patient, Russell’s eyes widened in surprise and his attention returned to Sewell, watching him try to bring himself up.

Russell’s immediate reaction was to put a hand on the man’s upper back and another of his shoulder to give him support. “You might want to be careful, Mr. Sewell,” Russell said calmly, not wanting to be loud. He noted the change of colour in the man’s expression. If he needed to vomit, both Russell and De Guarde were close to the empty bucket now.

As both De Guarde and Doctor Gallien were now crowding around Sewell to attend to him, Stephen nodded his thanks to the latter and turned to leave, ushering Thompson with him. The Corporal had announced he was returning to his duties anyway, but it seemed old habits died hard with the physician as he made good the man's request with a promise of; "I'm sure it will be perfectly fine for you to see him, but later - it's close enough in here without us crowding him."