7th June, Morning watch: Report of action taken

Thompson nodded and allowed himself to be ushered out. He had duties to attend to anyway, and there was no point protesting and trying to stay; he would only be in the way.

"Will an hour be too soon, sir?" he asked, wondering whether he could be free in an hour. He thought he could, but there would be no sense in rushing things.

"Well that's difficult to determine at this stage," he admitted with a sigh, tugging down his sleeves and redoing the buttons at the cuffs, "but waking so quickly is a promising sign. Sometimes it can take a lot longer."

"But," with a pensive weight to his words, he considered Sewell with his head inclined slightly on one side before he concluded, "if he takes well to his laudanum and remains alert without any slurring of speech or ataxia, I can't see any reason for Doctor Gallien to keep you from visiting. Though I'm afraid you will have to check with him first."

Thompson nodded. Of course he would check with the surgeon first - whichever of them was actually there when he came back, anyway. He hid a yawn behind his wrist and shrugged apologetically. "I'll come by later, then, sir."

Damn this whole mess - men were standing double tides and Thompson had no idea when he would next get the chance for some sleep. He hoped it would be soon, but there was no guarantee of it.

Sew remained sitting, his head dropped on his hands, until he had no longer the impression that his stomach was going to part company with him.

Then he swallowed, straightened up and said with careful pronunciation:

"Thank you, Doctor. I'm quite well again."

Russell smiled at the Marine Lieutenant; although, he wasn’t certain about what Sewell meant by well again. To him, he wasn’t; at least not until he was deemed well enough to leave the sickbay. Right now, it was too early to tell. He examined the man for a moment before his eyes stopped at De Guarde. “Do you mind bringing me a small glass of rum from the dispensary?” he asked as his hands dropped to his sides. The laudanum alone would likely induce any feelings of nausea, Russell thought. On its own, it would be too bitter to take. “Did you bring out salt as well, De Guarde?” Russell left the patient for a moment to bring the bucket filled with water closer.

Picking up the rag, Russell said, feeling rather calm, “if you don’t mind, I will start cleaning your wound, Mr. Sewell.” There was a pause as he remembered Maturin’s suggestion before he asked, “Do you remember anything before you had become unconscious?”

Sew frowned, trying to get the jumbling pictures in his head into some order.

"DeGuard and I dealt with a loose cannon, then he patched me up ... no, that was before ..."

His frown deepend. Usually his memory was more realiable! The thought distressed him enough so that he suffered the surgeons ministrations without any protest, barely realizing the slight sting of the cloth.

"No ... he did that twice! Went to the quarterdeck to report, spoke to Mr. Leads there ... can't remember what happend next, until I woke up here."

De Guarde had been quick to scamper for the glass of alcohol which was ordered to bring and for some salt, that the surgeon asked for. He had quickened his pace when the patient began to explain what had happened and unknowingly pointed his finger at the lad. He patched him up even without being a surgeon and he knew full well that treating the patients under orders was one thing, but to take matters in his own hands, he was lucky that Sewell was still alive. Had the officer died because he had not known better and things would have suddenly looked much, much grimmer.

He had thought though that it was nought but a little scrape, a bit of a bump. How could he have known that it would result in this man needing to be carried to the sickbay, unconscious at first, and not much better later.

He licked his lips nervously returning with salt and the glass of rum. "....Sir, ..these things." He spoke quietly. "Here."

Russell patiently listened to Sewell try to get his details in order; however, it seemed the man’s injury, or rather series of injuries, had temporarily impaired his memory. “That’s quite alright, Mr. Sewell, you may never remember what happened…” He paused to realise how distressing that might have sounded then added, “But it’s not something to worry over too much, it’s completely natural.” Russell simply forced a smile before it immediately dropped as he carefully cleaned the man’s wound, occasionally returning to the bucket filled with water to clean away the blood so that he could not only see it better but also ensure that it was spotless.

“Ah!” Russell turned to acknowledge De Guarde and took the salt from him, draping the cloth along his left arm. “Thank you, De Guarde, do you mind holding that for just a moment?” he gestured towards the glass with a nod before turning to Sewell. “This may sting a bit,” he spun the container open, dabbed his fingers into the contents and extended his hand to gently spread the salt along the wound; this would hopefully prevent any infection.

Sew grimaced a little bit at the sharp sting and reached out to plug the glass of rum from DeGuarde's fingers. He kept his head perfectly still, however. He would get over with this as quickly and as dignified as possible!

He would have to speak to the surgeon about the young man later. After all, he had offered to wake the surgeon, but Sew himself had refused that.

Russell drew back when Sewell grabbed for the rum and as he did so, Russell’s expression contorted with the realisation that he was drinking it without the laudanum he intended to put into. No matter, he told himself as he slipped the salt container in his coat pocket and after retrieved the laudanum. He unscrewed it, extracted the necessary amount of laudanum and held it out, “Here, let me give you a couple drops of laudanum,” Russell said.

Sew had downed the brandy in one gulp, but eyed the laudanum now rather warily.

"I'd rather not, Doctor. Need a clear head with that many men ill."

He carefully touched the skin around the gash, slightly wincing when he found a rather tenter spot. Then he slowly scrambled to his feet again.

"Quite alright again. Need to see to the sentries."

As a concession to the doctors, he added:

"And a bite of something. Skipped breakfast."

De Guarde observed the two quietly, stealing a glance towards the bottle of laudanum and then towards the other surgeon. He lowered his gaze , looked thoughtful, then glanced at Maturin again.

"Excuse me." He began as heturned to approach him. It appeared that Sewell would no longer need the bucket and hopefully he would remain in sickbay for a short while longer. Although, perhaps his going to his own cot, would be just as adviseable, not to catch whatever their sick men were having.

Stephen would have left the sickbay entirely with Thompson and the other men, if not for the voice he heard behind him. He had meant to procure Dr. Gallien's notes on the men who currently lay wilting in their cots from the flux, but pulled from his thoughts and actions, he turned to regard Mathew with a slightly waspish, "yes, what is it?"

De Guarde pursed his lips, though reminded himself quickly that he was still not in the position in which he could react to the manner of address in any way but to ignore it. He looked at the surgeon, still busy with his patient. "Um."

He had wanted to ask something but now the question seemed to have decided it did not want to be asked and had quite escaped him. He frowned, then mostly in hurry not to bring the wrath of the man upon him for speaking out of turn, just to have nothing to say he asked. "..The laudanum, sir.. may I, that is to say, medicinal purposes.. that I, so as to say, I do need it because.. of things back and they've not yet quite... and I was allowed it before!" He hurried to add the last so as to confirm, that he was entitled to some, even if he was not of rank that could usually receive it.

He considered the boy for a moment or two as he spoke, before looking to Dr. Gallien in turn; he was occupied with Sewell. Mathew's words were a flurry of disorder and thus difficult to discern meaning from, but eventually he pieced together that he was after laudanum for himself.

He could hardly refuse a direct request from a patient seeking relief from pain, and as Russell was busy, Stephen's expression softened a touch apologetically as he asked, "in what dose?"

De Guarde blinked. He had not expected the question, let alone an agreement. He shifted and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. Of course he could ask for more than was his dose, and hope that Maturin would not inquire about it. Dr. Gallien was far too close for comfort and could overhear it, but it was questionable whether he was disagree with it or not.

"um....28 drops. "He said trying to keep a straight face, without looking as though he was overly eager to receive it. "Could be rounded to 30." He smiled, as if that was a completely reasonable request. "Or 35.. which would be just alright too. "

Stephen listened carefully to what the boy had to say for himself, though a sober physician's frown formed the longer he did. Excepting his own use of the drug, thirty drops was no small dose; he had administered thirty drops to men he'd performed amputations upon, and here Mathew stood requesting thirty-five wearing a smile. A smile for all love.

"Thirty-five drops for things behind that have not quite-?" He gave him a searching look, before enquiring further, "how long have you been on the laudanum?"

"Since the enactment of the.. physical reprimind, sir." That was one was one could call punishment, suffered for his misdemeanor. Of course, It could be that Maturin had asked him of the first time he had taken it, but he chose to misread the question in the way that it suited him.

It was also quite the truth, as it was the first punishment that he had received that caused him to take the first drop of laudanum. It just did not matter how far back this was. He studied Maturin. "..It does ache, a lot." He murmured softly.

"As I'm sure it does," he commented absently; not wishing to sound as though he thought Mathew's situation of little importance, but at the same time concerned the boy was not being fully candid. It was often the way between doctors and their patients, however, Stephen wasn't yet satisfied.

"but how long ago was the reprimand?" Stephen was not a supporter of the corporal punishment the Navy employed, that was true, but he had learned to keep his mouth closed on the matter as well as his hands from intervening. "Is the area swollen? Infected?"

Russell stared at Sewell with some amazement before saying emotionlessly with a sigh, “very well.” It was his head after all. There was a pause as the surgeon busied himself with fastening the lid back onto the bottle. He heard movement from the cot and it appeared that he was trying to get to his feet. Russell immediately shoved the bottle into his pocket and quickly placed his arms on Sewell’s shoulders, “It would be best if you get some rest, Mr. Sewell.” His voice was more like a stern command than a gentle request. Even if he seemed well enough to go, Russell was not entirely keen about him returning to work so soon especially after having rendered himself unconscious.

“At least let me dress your wound and perhaps we can see about getting you breakfast if you want,” Russell remained where he stood, staring at Sewell with an expression clearly expecting him to listen. The mention of food caused his stomach to growl but he ignored it. “Then we can see if you’re well enough to return; although, I’d highly recommend some sleep.”

He frowned. "..About a week ago, sir." If he said that it was swollen, or infected, would it mean that he was permitted more than if he had said it healed fairly well considering the injury? De Guarde was contemplating the outcome of each of his replies. Of course, even if it was not true and the Doctor requested to see, he could claim that it felt as if it hurt badly enough to be infected, but that he had neither the chance nor the ability to look at it better.

He turned to Maturin and then spoke. "I think it might be sir. But I am not a surgeon.. just a loblolly boy,.. and at that, quite temporary. So.....i can only say how it feels. Very tender, very painful. It certainly feels like it had bled again..or it might be something else coming out..I wouldn't know." He only wished to keep his shirt down.

"A week ago." His forefinger tapped a rhythm on his lips as he thought on this; unhappy that the boy should think the wounds were still weeping after a week's time. Plus if they were as painful as he reported, then it did not bode well.

"Of course not, but your thoughts on the matter are still of some importance; can I take a look?" He asked, "I need to be certain it is not simply the pain that needs to be dealt with."

Mathew nodded. Of course the Surgeon and Doctor could have a look. Even if he had not wanted it, a professional's opinion was the only thing getting him some of the laudanum. He glanced around and then towards Sewell and then back at Maturin.

"But.. should we need to do it here, we are to wait for the officer..else.." He glanced across towards where some of the sick men were still lying in their hammocks. He did not want to go further to where Cattling was. The last thing he wanted was to have him thing that he was snitching on certain things.

"Where at,.. sir?" He did want laudanum, and it was not just for the hurt on his bum.

Sew's head was slightly swimming - not good. Perhaps a few moments of sleep were indeed in order. He needed his brain in working order again before he made some kind of mistake. And a fresh cool bandage around that lump on his head was probably not the worst idea either. He had to admit that Dr. Gallien behaved rather sensibly for a medical man. Since he had woken up, Sew hadn't heard a single word of Latin.

Sitting down on the cot again, he pushed the locks that had escaped his pigtail out of the way and bend his head so that the doctor could dress it.

"Here. You haven't had breakfast either, have you?"

Russell grinned victoriously; he liked it when people listened to him. And as Sewell sat himself down on to the cot, Russell took the rag that had been hanging on his arm and drenching his coat and settled it back against the bucket that De Guarde had brought earlier and made his way to where the boy had left the bandages. Grabbing what he thought was a sufficient amount Russell turned around and returned back to where Sewell was, only glancing briefly at Maturin and Mathew. “No, I haven’t,” Russell answered, frowning at the thought of his empty stomach and tried not to think of it as he started to wrap the dressings. He ensured to fasten it in a fashion that it would stay out of the man’s sight.