10 June; Mess Duties

"Corp'ral." God, he hoped the men would be able to make the two stand aside before it was too late. Of all the times to have the marine come, this was the worst!

It dawned on Chase that someone was bawling at them to break it up. More than one someone at that. Damn it!

"Gerroff!" He snarled, resisting the efforts of whoever had gotten a hold of his shirt.

Damn it, he couldn't reach through to drag Seward off Chase, in case he got thumped accidentally.

"Get off him now!" he bawled, putting as much of his fledgling authority into his tone as possible.

Stupid. That's what it was. Chase kicked out at Seward, even as he was hauled bodily away from the other seaman. Why couldn't he be let to finish handling this bit of business, dammit?

"Piss off 'way f'n me," he spat, roughly shaking off the hands on his arms.

"What's the meanin' of all this?" Thompson demanded, looking around the gathered seamen. "Captain won't like hearin' about it."

"Bastard attacked me," Seward snarled, reaching up gingerly to touched his swollen eye.

Chase curled his lip. " 'Bout time somebody sorted you out, it is!"

Thompson folded his arms. "Now, do I need to fetch you up afore the captain, or are you goin' to behave like grown men an' stop fightin'?"

The Marine must be stupid. Chase swiped at the warm trickle of blood oozing down his chin. "How 'bout you turn 'round an' wander off, so's I can finish bashin' sense into this lubber's skull?"

Seward offered a couple choice words and tried to spring forward. It was only luck that Frank Butcher and Joe Riggan were quick to grab hold of him to stop him taking a swing. Chase's instinctive draw back to counter-punch was likewise swiftly stifled.

Thompson's face darkened. "A-cause I ain't goin' to walk off an' let you two beat the liver an' lights out o' each other. Wouldn't be doin' me job right if I did."

He didn't want to clap them in irons or drag them before the captain, but he would, if he had to.

"Might be better if you did," Tide Evans muttered, though he had his starter in hand, ready to use.

Chase sucked some blood off his upper lip and spat onto the deck. "Won't take more'n a minute to sort this bugger out, I swears it."

"It ain't goin' to happen," Thompson said. Seward was causing trouble again - why did things always seem to come back to him? He'd probably deserved the thumping, but why Chase couldn't have done it a little more... discreetly... Thompson didn't know.

"You can move along now or you can spend the night in irons, it's up to you," he added, which wasn't quite according to the letter of the Articles, which demanded that he clap them both in irons right away.

Bloody Marines, Tide thought sourly. "Soon's you sail off outta here, they'll be back at it," he remarked. "An' I sure ain't gonna stop 'em!"

Move along? The bullock was out of his mind. Chase shook his head. "I'll be finishin' me bus'ness with that'n, one way or 'nother. Shove off a'ready an' g'arn an' bother yer own lads."

"Then I'm goin' to have 'em both clapped in irons for not havin' the sense they was born with," Thompson returned. "You know fightin' ain't 'llowed aboard ship, Tide." He rounded on the combatants. "An' so do you an' all, the pair of you."

The quartermaster shrugged. "Only thing I seen's two lads settlin' a disagreement."

"Typical bleedin' bullock!" Chase shoved away from the men restraining him and chuckled harshly. "Can't ever keep t'yer own bus'ness."

Thompson rounded on him. "Marine I might be, Cob Chase, but I'm a corp'ral too, an' I'll thank you to 'member it. This is my business, seein' as I'm a corp'ral now, an' all. If I have to get Brannin' to come over an' knock your heads together, don't think I won't."

His temper at that moment was such that he hardly cared if Thompson was a corporal or a captain and he said as much - only in not such clean terms.

"All it needs is half a bloody minute," Seward snarled, still needing to be firmly held.

"Corp'ral. It ain't been nothin' wrong..wot' happened here,.. 'least don't think he's got any blame ter it." He meant Chase of course. If Thompson thought to clap Seward in irons, De Guarde would cheerily go for it, support that decision though he might not say it. A certain man had been certain to have him somewhat more subdued in what accusations were concerned, if nothing more.

"Which you ain't goin' to get. An' Chase, you oughta wash your bleedin' mouth out, usin' language like that. There's kids around." He turned to look aft, towards the Marines' messes. "Shriver, Brannin', Mallory an' McEwen!"

He turned back to de Guarde. "They was fightin', an' that ain't allowed," he said shortly.

Sod the kids, Chase thought. There was no hope of continuing now, though, with more damned Marines coming up.

"Least I ain't gonna be half's bad off after the gratin' as you is, Seward," he sneered.

"That was' no fightin', corporal." De Guarde looked at Thompson pleadingly. "Ain't nothin' Chase did, that was wrong." He added. He was told not to point fingers, but nobody ever threatened him, to need to defend men that he did not want to.

"Got' some words in'im... but.. but otherwise, he's as innocent as..as can be, corp'ral."

"Right. Brannin' an' Mallory, you can bring Chase down. Shriver an' McEwen, you bring Seward." And if the bad-tempered Marine wanted to add a couple of punches of his own, Thompson wasn't going to say anything; he'd seen young Button among the adult spectators, watching white-faced as events unfolded.

Innocent? With Chase's nose pouring blood, and Seward with the beginnings of a shiner? Thompson wasn't born yesterday, and he sighed. "I bin in the M'rines twelve years now, lad, an' if they wasn't fightin', I'll eat me hat."

The men keeping Seward held back released him, just for a second, so two of the Marines could take charge of him. That second was all the maintopman needed. He sprang forward, swinging as he went. The blow that landed was not a strong one. Chase swore, with feeling, and returned the favour.

Then something large and solid clouted him on the head, knocking him sideways. He hit the deck hard, feeling like he'd just been kicked by a horse.

"Sorry mate," Branning said, sounding genuinely apologetic.

"It's been.. a great deal o' trippin'." De Guarde was surprised at how violent Chase had gotten. Admittedly he had felt very pleased about seeing Seward get atleast some of the thumping. What he had not wanted to see was for Chase to get in any sort of a pickle for it. And if they were both flogged for this, they would certainly be both in sick berth. He already swore to himself to do his finest treatment for Chase,..Seward, not so much.

He observed the sudden struggle. "lots o' trippin'." He murmured helplessly.

"That's enough of that," Thompson said, and looked around. "The rest of you, get back to your duties." Or whatever it was they were supposed to be doing at this time of day.

"You lot, this way," he said. The way to the irons was a familiar one; Thompson would not have been surprised if he could do it blindfolded.