6th July, midnight; Unhappy Discoveries

Crowd... Indeed there was a crowd. And that crowd included two -three - other officers, from the look of things. "May I see him?" he asked, as the nearest soldiers stepped aside to allow him closer - rank had its privileges, after all.

Within a surprising small amount of time, the woman had returned. With Captain Vickery. Fraser waited until he was noted, and then saluted.

"Captain Vickery, goodnight. I'm sorry we have to take you from your duty, of your bed, but we have quite a situation here, and you might be the one that can - partly - solve it", he said in a neutral tone of voice. At least he managed to hide his irritation.

"Good evening, Captain," Vickery replied, returning Fraser's salute. It looked as though there was a surgeon treating the man on the ground, which saved Vickery from having to send for someone.

"Do you know what's been going on, then?" he asked, still unable to see the face of the man being treated.

"It seems this man, this...uhm...corporal, has found a private of the 33rd in such a state that he called for help. I, and my men," Fraser threw a look into the men surrounding him, almost all of them bluecoated artillerymen," We were the first to respond. The surgeon was called, and this lady..." Fraser pointed to the brown-haired woman, who was helping the surgeon. It struck him he knew very little people by name here, which didn't help the explanation. "She knew who the man was, and she...we hoped you could identify this captain, so we can solve this...situation... the proper way."

A corporal, watching the situation with the typical interest of a bored soldier, couldn't help but smile at the explanation he overheard his captain giving. Sure, Mr. Fraser was a good officer and knew his business...but he ain't much of a talker!

Should he interject with what little he knew? Or should he leave the officers to get on with eventually figuring things out? It was a hard judgment call. Either way, Kerr reckoned he'd come out on the short end.

"Yon lass reckons this fella's name's McIntyre, sir," the Scotsman offered.

That was the second time that the name McIntyre had been mentioned, and Vickery suddenly had a memory of the man, spinning yarns about his days in the Marines, while Vickery was recuperating from a French sabre gash to his side.

"He's in the 33rd, soldier-servant to... to a Mister Cobb, I believe," Vickery said. "Would someone go and find him, please?" The man's officer should be made aware of what had taken place here, after all.

"How is he?" he enquired of the surgeon, a moment later.

Mister Cobb of the 33rd. He knew that name, even though he didn't know the poor bastard called McIntyre. Not that it mattered.

"I'll fetch 'im, sir," said Kerr. With a quick salute, the big Scotsman was off, his pace brisk. Even as important as this errand was, he knew better than to run.

The swift drumming of approaching footsteps signalled an impending arrival, but it was not the wounded redcoat's officer nor the big Pioneer corporal. Instead, it was a grim-faced Mister Todd.

"Clear a path," the surgeon said curtly, aware from the sketchy report he'd received that the situation was dire. He paused only a moment to survey the scene, the glow from his lantern adding more welcome light, then he was kneeling beside the surgeon's mate, who was already deftly at work.

"Bloody army," Todd muttered as he set the lantern on the ground where its light was of the most use. Sometimes he despaired of soldiers. Then the moment passed and he was all business.

"How long has he been down? Was he in this state when he was found?" The questions were directed at the officers standing over them.

As Fraser had been the first officer around, he coughed once, clearing his throat, and replied.

"We don't know how long, but at least an hour. It must have been dark already when he was dumped here - We used tools from this wagon all day, and we would certainly have seen a wounded man lying around."

A few of his rankers nodded in silent agreement. Fraser had a mind of sending him away, but who knows if there were more errands to be run?

"He was found like this, yes.
I do wonder what happened to him. A beat-up gone terribly wrong perhaps? It looks a bit 'much' for a simple robbery." He asked, more to the Captains Torrington and Vickery then to the surgeon.

Here at least an hour and found in this state. Neither were good things, though Todd had half-expected both to be described. He was not always happy to be right.

"I shall need a litter," he said. "At once."

He had no time to contemplate the possible explanations for the attack. He had little time for any thought at that moment except removing this unfortunate fellow to his wagon, where more proper work could be done.

Some sort of litter or something could possibly be contrived from a couple of muskets threaded through a couple of jackets. Not the best treatment for a musket, certainly, but it would only be for a very short while and they could hardly leave the poor man lying here.

That was supposing that there were a couple of men here who had muskets with them. He looked around.

Henry was on his feet and on the point of sprinting off before he had actually thought through what he was doing. He knew where he could find a litter, but that would necessitate finding his (or whomever's was nearest) surgeon's wagon, getting the litter and hauling it back, all of which would take time. If there was something closer... The soldiers in this area belonged to some sort of artillery regiment, didn't they? He glanced among the officers present, unsure whom to address, "Are those... poles you stick in the cannons readily accessible? And a blanket?" he asked quickly, blushing at his own ignorance.

Fraser's men looked from one to another, considering the suggestion, and eventually at their captain. While it was a good suggestion, and the men know that the ramrods were thick enough to hold a man, taking orders from a civilian, even a surgeon, was somewhat...odd.

Fraser himself sighed. "Well, what are you waiting for, men? There should be spare ramrods in the wagon, or the other one. And I'm sure one of you could lend a greatcoat for this poor fellow."

One trooper quickly scaled the wagon, took a few moments to see properly in the darkness, and passed on two ramrods. Combined with two greatcoats, a makeshift litter á la horse artillery was made in the matter of a few minutes.

"Well then," Fraser said, feeling some pride at the fastness of his men,"Let's get the man on it."

That would do nicely. Todd nodded. "Gently now!" He instructed crisply, stifling his irritation at the artillerymen's apparent tendency to obey orders only when they came from their officer.

"There they is, sir," Corporal Kerr said as he reappeared on the scene, leading a redcoat officer who looked as though he'd dressed on the run.

"What in the name of God is going on here?" The redcoat demanded without preamble.

Vickery turned, and winced. "Ah. I regret to inform you that your man has met with somewhat if a mishap, to put it mildly. It seems there was a milling of some description. He is under the care of the surgeon, who will do his best for him."

That was only completely apparent. "So I see," Cobb said icily, his gaze taking in his batman's state. "A milling, was it?"

"It was very likely an involuntary milling on McIntyre's part," Vickery added. "Unfortunately, I do not know at this present point in time who the culprits may be."

A muscle in Cobb's cheek twitched. "I'm sure," was his clipped response.

Vickery spread his hands a little, feeling helpless. "I am sorry. If there is anything I can do..."

There was nothing polite he could say to that so Cobb elected to say nothing. Instead, he turned pointedly away to have a quiet word with the surgeon - who, he realised with silent dismay, was the 60th's own. Jesus.

He could not be surprised that the Lieutenant had 'cut' him, as Lady Saltash would put it, and did not care to mention it in front of such men as were still hanging around gawping.

"Right. Anybody not on duty, or helping Mr Todd, can clear off, or I will begin taking names," he said, looking around at the spectators.

With two troopers and a bombardier carrying the stretcher, and Vickery talking to the light company officer, Fraser decided the situation had been dealt with properly, as far as he was concerned.

Vickery words needed no additions , and Fraser gave a small nod in agreement, and the mixed group of Rifles and artillery troopers dispersed, but not before he ordered the soldiers responsible for the wagon to make an item-count first thing in the morning.

Then, he turned to Vickery, who appeared to be lost in thoughts. "I think we best return to our duties now, Captain. Nothing more to be done, for now. If Mister...Cobb, was it, yes? If he, or you, need me, I can always be found here. Goodnight."
He gave a friendly salute, and followed his men into the silence of the camp.

"Sir!" Todd's voice in indignant protest. "This man is under my care! Who are you to - "

"This man is of the Thirty-third," answered Cobb with equal heat. "The Thirty-third's surgeon shall attend him. Stand aside. Sir."

"Gentlemen!" Vickery would brook no interruption. "Mister Cobb may have as surgeon whom he chooses. Mister Todd will care for him until such time as he can be brought to another surgeon." He looked between the two men. "If you do not lay aside your quarrel, this man will die. I should think that the least desired outcome, for both of you."

It was not a complete victory for either of them, but there was no room for argument. Mollified, for the moment, Todd directed his litter-bearers to follow the sturdy redcoat lieutenant, who was already moving briskly off.

"Devil of a thing, this'n," Corporal Kerr muttered, mostly to himself, as he watched the spectacle play itself out. Officers.