June 11th, Afternoon Watch: Mystery of the Missing Sugar Bag

Russell couldn’t remember where he had last set down his small bag of sugar and now that his small container labelled: ‘East India Sugar – not made by slaves!’ was completely empty, his sweet tooth begged him to refill. His cup of tea was abandoned in the sickbay and had likely grown cold by the time Russell had finished searching through his quarters. As a result, the doctor decided that he would go to the galley to see if the cook had taken it as Russell had once told him that he preferred not to have sugar in his tea or desserts even if it was likely produced by slaves. Knocking against the doorway leading into the galley, Russell asked aloud, still holding his little brown container, “Mr. Kock, are you there?”

(The date could be changed :-D if needed)

Wilfred was cooking, though because he was in a new environment and not feeling very well, he kept burning himself and spilling bits of food here and there (then having to clean it up his self). The heat of the stoves were simply too much for him when he was sweating profusely out of both nervousness and feeling ill, he wiped his forehead with a handkerchief as if that would do any bit of justice.

A voice came from the door and he literally jumped, dropping a pan or two as he did so. He began to fidget anxiously and use his only two hands to clean up the mess he had made causing loud clanking noises.

“Y-y-yes,” Wilfred called back unsure of what he was to say, “Mister, er, Gall-l-ien, if I do recall? I mean sir, yes – no, I mean Doctor. Yes, Doctor!”

He then began mumbling to himself about how stupid he was, forgetting how to exactly address the other man.

When Kock the Cook dropped some things from inside the kitchen, Russell decided to enter the galley and did so, immediately rushing over to help the giant man pick up one of the pans. “It is fine,” Russell said somewhat dismissively, paying little attention to the man’s shyness and busy wondering about his precious sugar. It was warm in there even more so with his brown tailcoat and Russell likened it to Jamaica. Russell settled the pan on the nearest surface, hoping that he put it in the right spot and that it wouldn’t burn anything. He rose up and stood back, allowing the cook to clean up the rest of the mess. “I was wondering,” Russell announced after a small period of silence, “you remember a while ago, I had made a request, asking you to watch over my sugar from India… well, have you seen it anywhere in here?”

The Doctor had been kind enough to help Wilfred clean everything up, putting everything away. Wilfred had only been looking for clean pans to re-cook what he had burned and messed up, losing spirit rather rapidly and blaming his ill cooking on his still adapting to a new place.

Kock hadn’t an idea of what Russell was talking about; however, he had remembered Russell having sent someone into the kitchens for warm water earlier on in the day but that was as far as he knew about tea. He had been so consumed in his own cooking that he couldn’t remember who the person was or their name or anything about them for that matter.

“I-I-I…I do remember, Doctor,” Wilfred said as calmly as he could worrying that he would get in trouble for he didn’t think that the doctor’s sugar was with him, Wilfred had last seen it days ago, “and no I have… not seen it anywhere, Doctor. Not in here. I do apologise.”

Next Wilfred had to force himself to ask this question, “Ah, are you sure you have not misplaced it?”

Russell watched the man struggle to remember and thought: well, that wouldn’t do. He crossed his arms and frowned. A hand was drawn towards his face and he bit the tip of his thumb as he stared ahead at the walls, eyes blank, but deep in thought. “Hm,” was all that came from Russell while he mulled over the possibility of having misplaced it. After what seemed like a good deal of time dedicated to wondering where on Earth his dear bag of sugar went, Russell’s arms dropped to his side. “No, I’m quite certain I have not misplaced it, Mr. Kock,” he said plainly, his eyes gluttonously travelled to the pan. “What’s in that?” his inquiry was asked rather quickly and there was a tone of possible accusation in it.

When Russell crossed his arms and bit his thumb, uttering a simple, “hm”, Wilfred began to worry. What if he had truly done something wrong? But he couldn’t have! He did not have the doctor’s sugar and he believed that he had given it to him days ago – or perhaps not at all. He sugar was definitely not with him at all.

Wilfred began to shift from one foot to the other, rubbing his hands together. Luckily as of then, everything was in its right spot and place. He put the extra pans away thus leaving the one that Russell had put onto a surface someplace.

“I am sorry, Doctor,” said Wilfred nervously, “I had assumed that possibly you have misplaced it. Perhaps I am wrong, we can search for it to-to-gether in here; however, I am rather confident that it is not with me at this moment in time.”

Wilfred wiped his hands on his trousers, “Ah, Doctor, that’s, ah, that’s… that is… ah, gravy. Gravy for the officer’s meat.”

Terry had pretty much got used to servanting for Mr Leat, as much as he could get used to it in a week, anyway. It was funny how nice the Second Luff was, in comparison to the purser.

And he'd come to the galley to see if he could get a bit of hot water so that Mr Leat could have a mug of tea; the officer looked as though he could use one. The sound of raised voices made him nearly reconsider his decision, but he wasn't going to go back to his officer empty-handed, and cleared his throat nervously.

"Um, 'scuse me?" he said, his boyish treble sounding thin and a little shrill in his ears.

"Sorry my dear, this will be over with quite soon-"

The nanny goat who stood chewing her cud in the manger regarded the approaching doctor with her sharp little eyes. She sniffed his leg, and craned to nibble at the cup in his hand, but quickly grew bored when she realised it was empty and settled instead for the shirt-tail dangling within reach. Stephen took advantage of this moment to warm his hands and reach for her udder, pinching half a mug of milk before he wrestled his shirt corner free of her mouth, "and as far as I'm aware, madam, linen does not make for good eating."

The goat snuffed.

He thanked her anyway, swirling the lukewarm liquid around a little and picking out a hair. There was only one more thing he needed. Then, he could attend to the somewhat pressing matter at hand. But Stephen's preoccupation with his troubles meant the disagreement in the galley could just as well have been a conversation about ship's rigging for all the notice he took of it. "Mr. Kock-" he began, lifting the mug and looking at the cook, "may I trouble you for a little more of that sugar, please?"

When Kock the Cook explained the contents of the pan, Russell simply nodded and when he thought the other man was not looking in his direction, he speedily dipped a finger into it and tasted it. Clearing his throat and shifting his weight casually to one leg, he shoved his free hand into his coat pocket; while, the other was still gripping his small and empty sugar container with Abolitionist propaganda written across it.

Before he could so much as open his mouth, someone else had appeared in the galley. Russell turned around to see who it was and moved slightly out of the way, deciding to wait after the child left before interrogating the cook some more about his sugar.

It was only when Stephen appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and asked about sugar, Russell’s plain expression dropped and his eyes widened in the sudden realisation that it might have been his expensive sugar. “Sugar…” Russell repeated letting the word sink in as his eyes studied Stephen’s face and mug before snapping back at the poor cook. “I hope that isn’t my expensive sugar from the East Indies, Mr. Kock! Explain yourself!”

Out of the blue, or at least what seemed so to Wilfred, came to new individuals – a man and a boy. The boy had spoken and then the doctor, then Russell himself. Damn the devil, too many were talking to and regarding him, and coming into the galley… this he was not comfortable with, and yet he would not say a thing. He was beginning to sweat profusely, wiping his plump face with his handkerchief. Wilfred was shaking, especially thanks to Gallien’s snapping, “No, Doctor – sir, it is not! I swear! Oh bother, I would never do such a thing!”

He turned to the other doctor, who was now also asking for sugar, and said rather tensely, “S-s-s-sugar, you say, sir? Most certainly, I s-shall search for it… and I, perhaps, may find Doctor Gallien’s sugar as well.” Oh bother… he thought as he quickly glanced at all the cupboards, he had forgotten where he put everything but he was convinced that he did not have Gallien’s sugar.

Wilfred then finally turned to the young boy (liking him the best out of them all), bending down as if to reach eye level, “And, young man, what brings you here?”

"Me?" Terry blinked as the cook stooped down to his eye-level - something he didn't recall anyone doing before. "I'm only 'ere for some 'ot - hot - water for Mister Leat's cuppa tea. Sir." He gave the man a shy smile, and held out the officer's mug, showing the tea-leaves in the bottom of it.

Now what was the surgeon and the other one, the wardroom guest, doing in here, of all places, rather than the surgery or the dispensary?

Resolute in his actions, Stephen picked his way past the arguing men so that he could reach the stove, continuing his conversation though it was obvious nobody would hear his muttering over the din. Only when Russell snapped at the cook did the other physician attend with a series of owlish blinks, taking his mug from the heat of the fire and readjusting his glasses. His gaze flicked from Dr. Gallien, to his mug. He frowned.

"Even if it was your expensive East Indian sugar I've had, Doctor, it was no more than a pinch. A medicinal pinch nonetheless; certainly not enough to have you missing the lot."

Russell moved himself completely out of the way, so it was easier for the others to pass, and leaned himself against a counter, pouting and all the while, staring daggers in the direction of the cook. He brought a palm to his face and decided that he would try and not get angry. Instead it would be best to wait and see if Kock did find his sugar while retrieving sugar for the others. When Stephen addressed him, Russell was not sure whether he should be annoyed about the use of his sugar or not but seeing as he had no proof yet despite his suspicions.

Biting his lips, Russell paused for a few moments before nodding, taking a deep breath to appear calm. Russell turned to Mr. Kock and said in a tone that still held its accusatory nature, “I’ll wait here while you look for my sugar then, Mr. Kock. I hope you are able to find it.”

Wilfred smiled at the boy, he looked around his son’s age but if only his own son (a gentleman!) were this well-behaved! The boy only wanted hot water and with that Wilfred sighed. He didn’t need the whole ship coming into the galley for sugar – his mind would have exploded and he would have been much more uncomfortable.

“What a good lad, you are! There’s some hot water brewing on the stove, you are most welcome to pour some into that, er, cup of yours – I mean, Mister Leaf’s cup; although, try not to burn yourself,” Wilfred warned as he let one of the doctor’s speak to the other (and hopefully Gallien would stop accusing the poor doctor of taking his sugar).

After Doctor Gallien spoke, Wilfred sighed. The other doctor seemed a lot more polite and the boy was, well, just a boy. Wilfred made his way towards the cupboards; he began searching high and low for the sugar – any sugar. He felt uneasy as he explored the cupboards, he didn’t want the others watching him while doing so, and he was feeling rather faint… the heat was unbearable, the noise, the amount of body in the room. A rather painful headache was forming in his head...

Now, why couldn't the surgeon and his doctor friend go argufying in the sickbay or the dispensary or somewhere instead of pokinf around here?

Terry put the cup down where it wouldn't get knocked and carefully lifted the kettle down from the stove. He had to use both hands because it was full.

Something occurred to the boy and he paused once he'd put the kettle back. "Why would 'e 'ave your sugar, Mister?" he wanted to know, looking up at Mister Gallien. "I mean, it don't... it don't make sense. Sir," he added, a little startled at his own temerity.

With the cook's frantic searching for Russell's sugar, Stephen was eventually forced to move to one side to let him past. He guarded his milk from spilling by holding it high in the air and almost came a cropper with Terry and the kettle in the process. But he salvaged himself, commenting -

"Unless Dr. Gallien has taken to keeping sacks of the stuff with the intention of becoming a tradesman, and wished for Mr. Kock to - are you quite all right?" His joke was curtailed as he noticed the cook in passing; pale and sickly looking despite the heat of the kitchen, "let me assist you -"

Turning his attentions to the cupboards that had not as yet been searched, Stephen opened one with his free hand and peered into it, "I may well have played an unwitting part in its disappearance. What did your sugar look like, doctor?" He asked over his shoulder, "apart from its nature as a saccharine powder, that is."

Russell looked down at the young boy; although his expression softened, it still clearly revealed the fact that he thought the answer to his question was perfectly obvious. He responded shortly, “I asked him to take care of it for a while.” He whipped away the sweat that was building along the bridge of his nose and his cheeks as he watched Stephen and Mr. Kock search for his sugar, completely oblivious to the fact that Mr. Kock was suffering one of his headaches. Now that Stephen had graciously started helping the cook out, Russell felt rather guilty now. “It’s just a regular-sized brown sack with a label stating that it was produced in India, not unlike this,” answered the younger doctor, lifting up the small brown container he was holding, displaying the label.

“However, I cannot remember the last I’ve seen it,” Russell sighed, he would have kept it in his private quarters but being rather clean, he didn’t like the idea of leaving around food as it would be better off in the galley.

"If you don't 'member when you last seen it, how d'you know the cook's got it?" Terry wanted to know. It was not, as far as he was aware, an unreasonable question to ask, though why it was him that was asking, he couldn't say.

And something about the cook's hunted expression reminded Terry strongly - too strongly - of his own treatment at the hands of the purser. He gave a shiver at the memory.

Russell blinked at Terry’s forward inquiry as if the thought had never occurred to him. “Because if I do not have it, who does?” Russell responded, his mind wandering once again to the possibility that someone might have stolen it. Sugar was addicting after all, he thought to himself as he bit his lip, a little frightened at the notion that someone might have taken the time to steal his precious sugar. Crossing his arms, Russell addressed the cook, “I apologise for my anger earlier, Mr. Kock.” Although there was no guarantee that he was not going to yell again.

Stephen turned from his scavenge of the cupboards to scrutinise the label on the box Russell presented to him; a twitch of a smile forming at the corner of his mouth as he read the slogan approvingly and concluded, "I see."

But as he went on to explain, resuming his hunt and pausing to peer into the base of a large copper pan, "that was certainly not the bag from which I've been dipping. I'd recall a stamp like that anywhere. Could it be possible-" he hesitated, but met the man's eye with a raised brow, "you misplaced it yourself?"

The other doctor has asked if Wilfred was alright, he gave the man a quick nod as if to tell him that he was alright – which he was as he wasn’t dying an agonising death – but it was basically a lie nonetheless, he was not alright. The amount of people in the room, who he was not close with, was irking him and the fact that Doctor Gallien kept raising his voice was making his brain want to pop.

The other three were conversing with one another; Kock was busy searching the cupboards, though he did mentally cheer when Terry brought up a good point! He was becoming frantic by the minute, not seeing Gallien’s sugar; although he had found some other sugar. And then Gallien apologised, Wilfred stood up from where he had been kneeling down – his head just missing the upper cupboard’s sharp corner.

When the other doctor asked Gallien if he had misplaced it, Wilfred's mouth worked faster than his brain, “That’s what I said!”

Then he cursed himself.

Although calmer than he had been previously, Russell was admittedly a little annoyed that everyone thought that he must have misplaced it. He was quite certain that he hadn’t as it had not been in his quarters, nor was it in the galley. “Why would I have misplaced my sugar?” Russell asked loudly and seemingly exasperated. His inquiry was asked in a manner that made it evident that he did not find himself guilty with the disappearance of the sugar. “Where would it be, if not here?” He demanded impatiently, “I’ve searched my quarters, it wasn’t there… and I do not want any suggestions about using a different kind of sugar as I will not have any!”

Terry very nearly ducked out of the galley without saying anything else, but something about the look on Mr Kock's face stopped him. He looked up at the surgeon.

"Well, if it ain't in 'ere, an' nor it ain't in your quarters neither... Didja lock it away somewhere else where it'd be safe? 'Cause you c'n see it ain't in 'ere, an' it's no fair to... to frit folks." He chewed his lip, hoping he hadn't talked himself into trouble - and he probably had, too. "Sir," he added belatedly, remembering that this wasn't one of the sailors.

Stephen's bright eyes fixed on the sugar that Mr. Kock produced after a much laboured search, and excusing himself, he took a pinch for his milk and thanked the man in turn. Only after he'd procured a teaspoon and stood stirring the warm, translucent drink did he give comment, eyebrows raised as he answered Russell's rhetorical question;

"-because, my friend, you have shackled yourself to that sick bay these past few days and your fuse has quite burnt out. In fact I would hazard a guess that the boy is half-way right and your sugar might still be there. Mr. Kock -"

Interrupting himself while he sucked on the teaspoon, he waved the implement in the direction of the cook, "sit. Please sit down, you are as pale as a sheet."

Russell could not think of any sort of response to say to Terry’s reasonable, though he did not want to admit it, comment. Instead he stared down at him with what might have been considered a very annoyed expression. As much as he had trouble saying no to children, he very much wanted the boy to stop talking. His glare was distracted when Stephen spoke to him and before Russell could so much as deny any involvement with the disappearance of the sugar bag; the older surgeon had told Kock to sit down. Russell looked over at the cook and for the first time, he suddenly realised that he was unwell.

“It seems like he may be having one of his common migraines,” Russell said to Stephen, instinctively putting down his small box of sugar on the nearest surface. Scratching his head, he addressed Kock the cook, “Perhaps a bit of cannabis for your head, Mr. Kock?”