On Sentry Duty

"Very good," Bolitho said, glancing at De Guarde again. His initial impression of the new midshipman was not of a good sort at the moment. He could only hope that time would change that impression, provided the lad did something to improve his opinion.

Then he gave both midshipmen a lingering glare before adding, "Dismissed."

They were no sooner out of the cabin before Peter realized that de Guarde had every reason to blame him. But no one had said what they meant by 'settling the new Mid in' and he had not taken 'the Captain will see him after that' as meaning anything other than that - well, that the Captain would send for him when he wanted him.

He glanced up at the other boy's face and grimaced. "He knows it's my fault, not yours, but I am sorry, de Guarde."

"Is allright.." The truth was far from it. The midshipman ought not to have spent his time conversing below as if they were but on a market selling their groceries, but ought to have been knowledgeable of what was to be done when. Surely it should've been the same for one who had not been with his first few days at sea, but such a blame was not easily accepted by Mathew. In his mind's eye there were things for which mr. Yates ought to make amends.

"..You've the res' o' the ship to show me..."A thought to the sailors who in ships could often feel the wrath of young officers, and could not hope for much, even if in the right, crossed his mind. He smiled pleasantly to Yates, though more keen on spotting a flaw, as minute as it may be, among any of the present. He could decide to see the boy scamper to whatever he may have been needed for and see in peace of his own solitude what he could get himself to. For now the choice was mixed. As was the opinion on their captain. He seemed to not fall under the description of tyrants who ruled their ships with an iron fist and instilled fear in all and everyone. On the contrary, he seemed to be more fair, though unjust in Mathew's opinion.

"And tell me of the goings..As the table of time may transpire differently than me former. Do not omit anything this time, if you please." An emphasis was given to the last word just to remind the boy, he did not wish for any further of the unpleasant surprises, be blamed who will. It was at that time his mind wondered to grog, and a moment transpired in which he had even sought sight of such drink, even though knowing it would not come to stand in full view like the sails up above.

The sailors then? They were aplenty and ready for pickings... or another meaning and use of the word.

(OOC: Chase n' Barrow as a first *rubs hands together Hehehe... *and thus Mathew is pulled from the ooc corner, kicking and the like* I need to depart now, so looking forward to seeing ye all tomorrow!)

[Don't blame Peter - and don't expect him to tell you lots about people. He doesn't even know about half-a-dozen of the people on this ship. Goodnight until later today]

"Oh aye, 'course."

Chase leaned against one of the lashed-down cannon and tried not to yawn. Waiting on midshipmen could make any man tired. The three sailors fell into drifting idle chatter, until Taylor happened to look up and spot the two middies clattering over the deck close enough by.

"Jes' from the cap'n's cabin, I reckon!" The topman grinned widely. "Poor ol' Mister Yates!"

"Poor Mister Yates nothin'!" Chase retorted. He pointed toward the two boys carelessly. "Lookit that new lad, sure he's the one that'll be the tyrant sort. Ya oughta know the stock, both o' ya.. The bleedin' world better spin 'round him or there's Devil to pay. I ain't gonna like him none an' that's God's truth!"

Then he spat on the deck and lifted one hand toward his brow, as if he was fitting a hat carefully on. "Oh lookit, boys, I got me a proper officer's hat now, better tug your forelocks an' call me sir!"

"Cob Chase!" Billy whispered in half-mocking reproach as he stifled a laugh. "Careful, man! Don't let 'em hear you. Anyway, I reckon he's all right. Probably just nervous on his first day and all, wanting to look good. I shouldn'a made fun." He grinned. "It were more the Confidencethat made me laugh, and them dandies in the boat."

"Oh, aye," George replied, hiding the sting occasioned by the tease by passing the cloth once more over his face. "It takes more practice than you think to run about in all directions after breaking the enemy line." One corner of the Scotsman's mouth turned up in a wry smile and he tossed the rag aside and peered over the edge of his cot, as if gauging the motion of the deck.

"Perhaps you are right, though. Sea air is supposed to be fortifying; I will be a scientist and test its reputation." Gingerly he climbed out of the hanging contraption that served as his bed and reached for the nearest bulkhead, lest he lose his balance. When he didn't topple over, he allowed himself a delighted grin and reached for his boots. A jerky motion of the ship - perhaps the quartermaster had steered off course, or else an unhappy gust of wind - sent the major's stomach rolling yet again, but his body was simply too exhausted to attempt another futile attempt at retching.

"De'il take the sea," George muttered acerbically under his breath as he steadied himself against the moveable wall to thump into his boots. A moment later he had cautiously eased his aching form into his waistcoat and coat while he adjusted to the familiar constriction of the cravat around his throat. Sandy hair was smoothed beneath a stiff black bicorne and he looked almost alive and surprisingly presentable.

"Were you going up when I interrupted you, or coming down?"

(OOC, Oh he's blaming and would have been, no matter how innocent on the matter poor Yates is. I'm not ofcourse ^.^. And he is very unhappy with Peter for not giving him what he wants. )

Like a hawk spots its prey from high above so had the young middie noticed what he judged had run afoul. Two sailors idling in hushed conversation stealing glances towards them two. A gesture which could have been as much a wipe of brow when sweat causes the discomfort, looked to mr. De Guarde like much more a dreadful thing. He looked to Yates, whom he should have waited for to answer. The boy innocent perhaps of the crime of forgetfulness but in Mathew's mind as much to blame as if he had planned it all in turn. "I'll have you excuse me for a short moment."He spoke to the boy , reaching up to adjust his hat firmly in its place. The gesture amusingly was much like that of Chase, when he had his own, imaginary, pulled up.
He stalked, like one who had just seen the seed of mutiny be planted, to the two sailors in question. A laugh was hard to miss, surely even if stiffled.

"I wonder what makes a pair'o' hands.. such as yeselves.. so merry at this time of day."His eyes narrowed first on Chase. "..be it that I find ye drunk stiff and idling as if ye had no purpose?!"He knew the first untrue, but too that an officer ought not to be questioned.

His cold blue eyes as pale as the sky bleached by the sun, yet as unkind and unforgiving as the sea itself stared down on Billy Barrow then. Well to be more sure, he did have to arch his neck slightly and look upwards to each of the men, but the way he held himself did not leave any doubt who carried himself highest.

"Fine specimen ye are."But it was a tone of mock compliment. "If we wished for the wors'!"He finished and lifted his chin, his voice carrying clearly to the two. "We've no place for idlers 'ere! None at all. Lazy sods, the lot of ye! And have I seen ye proper earlier? Mockin' t' fine officers o' this ship?" He wasn't finished, was he?

"Have ye? That will earn you somethin' allright! Yer names, if ye please!"

Edrington nodded approval at the Major's determination and speed of preparation. "Coming down - but that was because one can look at the sea for only so long before becoming tired of it. But the same applies to the cabin, so I should be more than happy to accompany you back up."

That wiped the smiles off their faces. Billy gazed with innocent eyes at the young new midshipman and saluted. "Billy Barrow, sir. Captain's coxswain," he answered pleasantly.

"Very kind of you, my lord," George replied as he shuffled his way towards the door. "Shall we, then?"

Leading the way up the hatch with a slow and cautious step, he blinked and shaded his eyes, temporarily blinded by the unfamiliar glare of sunlight. He looked even paler and more ghost-like up here, the ill color of his skin contrasting sharply with the scarlet wool of his tunic.

George turned and touched his hat to the quarterdeck before glancing back to Edrington. "Whereabouts are we, do you know? I think I have been out for longer than I realized."

Edrington had been ready to support Findlay on the companionway, if necessary, but he had made it without help, and stood, looking even more ill than he had downstairs. But that, Edrington told himself, was just the effect of the sunlight, draining colour from his face, and the white glare from the sails. Although their red coats, and those of the marine sentries, stood out like signal fires.

"A relatively calm day, as you see," he said encouragingly. "It's a week since we left England, and we are now in the Bay of Biscay - which is being kind to us." He sighted on the sun, and calculated. You could not rely on a ship to point in the direction it wished to travel. "As I understand it," he continued, "we are past Brittany. France is that way." He pointed eastward. We should be in Lisbon within a week."

[OOC - should we?]

Following Edrington's finger, George nodded. This voyage had hit him especially hard if he had been out for a week without realizing the passage of time. He breathed in a slow lungful of salt air and moved gingerly towards the side to glance at the greyish blue of the sea, as if staring at the waves would convince his body to quit its own foolish lurching.

George touched a finger to the worn oak and smiled; "Let us hope the kind weather takes us all the way to Lisbon. I am only now just beginning to feel human again."

The dancing shadows on his face dissolved as he tilted his head up to glance at the spread of canvas above, sweeping the appearance of the ship with an impartial eye and admiring the neat orderliness of coiled falls and well-scrubbed wood. "Perhaps I had better go pay my respects to the other officers before they take me for a heathen. Do you know them well?"

"I do not think I shall ever claim to know Captain Bolitho well," Edrington responded. There was a distance in the Captain's attitude that had not thawed over the last week, and which puzzled Edrington, who felt that he had, for once, done nothing to warrant it. It was not that it bothered him: the Captain's ill-will (if he had not imagined it) was a matter of indifference, and would be forgotten as soon as they reached Lisbon.

"As for the others - a decent set of men, on the whole. I have had most contact with Mr Leat, the second lieutenant." Findlay would have to make up his own mind about the others, as he met them. He looked up at the quarterdeck and recognized the man there as Tadcock, the master. "The Captain's below at the moment," he guessed.

Taylor spotted the new middie's approach first and hissed the warning, just in time for the three seamen to straighten up as much as they could without whacking their heads on the low deck beams. Both Chase and Taylor followed Barrow's example and saluted, though Chase was hard put to keep a sneer off his face.

"Chase, foretopman. Cap'n's boat," he grunted.

"Taylor. Carpenter's mate."

"Sir," the two of them added in chorus, after half a heartbeat's pause.

Another pause, then Chase added, "Ain't no idlin' here, sar. Jes' lads discussin' swaggerin' dandies what live ashore like. Sure ya knows the sorts, sar?"

Barrow, Chase and Taylor. A pleasant reply did not phase the young mid, though it did earn Borrow some reprieve for the moment. Taylor's fault was only his lateness in addressing him as sir. Ofcourse to any, half a beat was enough to take some breath and hardly a long time.

But it was still enough to keep Taylor of the list of unpleasantries for now. A part the reason he had not been found with gestures unbecoming nor with stiffles of laughter unexplained. Now It was Chase's turn to be passed judgement on. And here the youth's eyes narrowed sharply on the fairhaired man. "Pray tell in what way does your discussion better the progress of our ship? What is indeed the order, that oblieged you upon such a petty a discussion?" His voice got an edge, temper flaring at the poor man who's blame was none.

He noted the sneer which brought the boy's hands into fists tight at his side. For a short young one, he sure carried a lot of voice. "The nerve! Slackin' on ye post, believing it yer right to negate an officer's word, to mock one even, and your boldness .. I'll have ye flogged for that!"

Now his lip did curl back, but just as quickly his expression settled into a blank mask that showed nothing of his feelings. So this was the measure of the boy. Chase regarded the midshipman for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Aye sar."

Then, to Taylor's unabashed shock, Chase drew in a breath and called out "Mister Watts! Yer needed up 'midships, on the gun deck!"

Might as well get it over with now, before that smug bastard of a midshipman could waste any more time with angry, pointless outbursts. Chase turned partially away at the rumble of swiftly-approaching feet. It was Watts the boatswain.

(OOC: And Here I'll be greatful to anyone if there's anything to correct, or add, to tell so. I hope I haven't let something out or added something too great an offence to warrant worse or added a thing a midshipman ought not to do. Again greatest apologies for any mistake if done! I've been reading but haven't come across it yet as luck has it, and my memory is faint on when in long ago, I had -.-;. I've tried to find more of it, but again luck had decided no!)

The young lad made a curt turn, feeling pleased of his evident success. The black guard shall be punished and he would mind to do better next time. Though doubtfully an old habit of poor conduct would be changed so easily, he reasoned with himself. No less it was a start to whip this crew into shape. Set a standard that others ought to aspire. It was a thrill to have power as any young boy could say. An officer's control and right in the hands of a near child. He smiled to himself and lifted his chin in arrogant manner.

"Ah, good."He spoke sparing a studious glance at the boatswain, a confident look on his face. "I've found this man.."He glanced briefly to the other two as if daring them to say a word so that they too would join their friend in punishment:"... in poor conduct of his station. Idly frolicking about the board with little intent of doing other.. His cleanness is questionable.."With this he indicated but the specks he thought were of such great offense:"... His manner towards an officer, insubordination at the very least!" And with few words more he had concluded the complaint. His eyes flashed at Cob Chase.

Finally he said simply:"Set everything needed in motion to have him flogged. A dozen, I'd suggest." He would have wanted more.

"Hmm," George murmured, shooting a glance at the officer of the watch. He had just replaced a gold pocketwatch into an interior pocket, congratulating himself for not having gotten sick for a half an hour at once. "I believe we take dinner at two? Perhaps I'll wait until then, so I can meet most of them at once."

Leaning against the rounded edge of a great gun lashed tightly to the side, he offered his companion a curious glance, his fingers twisting idly through some frayed strands of the rough hemp. "How long have you been away?" George asked, meaning of course, how long had it been since Edrington had set foot on the Peninsula. He, himself had splurged for the transfer after discovering that the army had no intention of sending the 15th back with any speed, for the idea of being kept in reserve had made him too restless. Though, after the severity of his affliction on the Terpsichore he was beginning to wonder if he shouldn't have just stayed home after all.

"Aye aye sir," Watts replied curtly, eyeing Chase with an expression bordering on disbelief. The topman had called for the boatswain himself, only for it to be revealed that this young midshipman wanted him flogged. Had Chase gone mad?

"Get below with you, Chase. It's the irons until four bells."

Chase only shrugged and tramped toward the ladder, his stride just slow enough to hint at impudence. He knew very well what he was doing, even though it was going to cost his back a bit. But the new midshipman's nature was shortly going to be discussed thoroughly by the ship's Company and the seamen would be careful to avoid prolonged contact with the boy after the flogging was over. A dozen lashes wasn't a bad sentence anyway.

Billy stared after Chase as he was led below. It had all happened so quickly that he could barely believe it. He had never been flogged himself and had only witnessed the punishment a few times, having been pressed into the navy from a merchantman not very long ago. Floggings were generally rare on the Terpsy, and only for serious offense. This didn't make sense at all. Why did the midshipman want to flog Cob?

"Is there something you would like to add. Mr. Barrow?" With Chase now safely below he could look to the second of the trio. The third he did dismiss as his behavour did not warrant much worthy of punishment. He studied the man with a small smile. The benefit of being present when a punishment was awarded was that more could be inflicted with the fear of it without the need of much added effort.

Billy looked down at the smaller, younger man with undisguised dismay. He wanted to speak up for his friend, but this lad seemed firm in his decision. Perhaps he could have a word with Lieutenant Leat, or even the captain.

"No sir," he answered.

"Very well. You may go."Satisfied he waved his hand as if to usher mr. Barrow to get a move on already. "And.. mr. Barrow. Wipe that look of your face 'less I change my mind." He nodded calmly.

"Get it all over in one go," Edrington agreed, "although the Captain will no doubt invite us to dine with him once he knows you're back on strength again. Embarrassing otherwise."

The question about his service in the Peninsula caused him to stare out to sea for a moment. When had he left? "Since the seventeenth of January - or so I'm told. I'd stopped keeping a note of my appointments some time earlier. And on the way back we were shut up down below for God knows how long. But the story seems to be that we embarked from Vigo on 17th January." He added: "I was with Alten and the German Legion, not my battalion. They're going out fresh, which is how I managed such a quick return. The men who came with us to Vigo - or Corunna - won't be going straight back."