An Officer's Room in Belem

Stephen leant down to pick up a spare blanket from underneath the bed, rolled it up, and put it under Padstowe's head, against the wall. "Lie back."

The captain found himself obeying the doctor's instructions without having consciously registered them.

"No, you can't kill him," he murmured. "It must be done properly..."

Stephen said nothing, but pursed his lips. He felt Padstowe's forehead; no fever, thank the Dear. "Do not agitate yourself."

Padstowe felt Stephen's hand on his forehead, and his blue eyes snapped round to look up at him.

"What are you doing?"

"I was checking that you do not have a fever. Will you be all right, now? Was it just the shock?"

"Yes." All Padstowe felt now, apart from the faint remains of the anger, was an overwhelming sense of cold and exhaustion. He shivered. "Yes, I will be fine."

He stared down at the watch again, swallowing. He did not know whether he could bear to wear it again; not now, knowing that...

"I just worry, about all those people... I shall stay another few minutes. Just rest yourself, my dear. It will all be sorted out, all be all right."

Will it?

"Yes. You must go."

What was it that had made Padstowe react in this way? Was it the memory of his attack? The fact that he was a pawn in an innocent man's flogging? Anger at Hakeswill? His reaction was an extreme one, and Stephen wondered then how he would have reacted to Carneiro's body, and her baby's, and Pereira's, and whether hey had been discovered yet, or whether they were still lying there, now cold and stiff-

Stephen took Padstowe's hand. "It is difficult, but this was not your fault. You were an innocent victim in all this. Hakeswill will be dealt with."

"He used me," Padstowe glared fiercely up at the doctor, a flicker of his anger returning. "He tried to kill me then used my own property to condemn a man I'd sworn to help protect - and there was nothing I could do to stop him."

"There was something I could have done, and I allowed myself to be dissuaded. How certain are you that this was Hakeswill's doing?"

"It could not be otherwise. I am attacked, and then my stolen watch is found witrh the army in a place where Cotton will find it. What sort of commonplace thief would put their loot in a strange officer's baggage?"

"There are always possibilities, but lex parsimoniae applies. If you are sure, write to Wellesley."

He had considered it, but Wellesley would want more proof; something a little more solid than suspicion before he took action - whether official or unofficial.

"I believe that I am sure, but it is more than likely he will not."

"Perhaps write the letter in any case. It is better that he should have suspicions of the man, and thus watch him more closely."

Yes. Perhaps that was so, even though Padstowe doubted how much good it would do.

"Might I have two sheets of fine paper, then?"

"Of course. How are you feeling now? Still faint at all?"

"No, just..." The Captain considered for a moment. "Cold and a little unsteady."

"You will be well if I leave you now? Take a drink of water."

"Yes. Yes, I shall." Padstowe looked back to the doctor again. "You should go, if you are to accomplish what you need to today. I will still be here when you get back."

Stephen nodded, still looking concerned. "Very well, Jonathan. I shall speak to Mister Whiting, and then by on my way; I will be back tonight." He picked up his leather satchel and went to the door.

"I shall see you then. Good luck today."

Stephen smiled tightly. "Thank you. Rest, Jonathan, and eat. I shall see you again tonight." With that he left, leaving the door ajar behind him, as he went to speak to Mister Whiting.

[Stephen's story continues here.]

[From here.]

It was late, very late, by the time Stephen returned to Belem, his face cold and closed, and it was even later after he had checked on Thierry, Corbeille, Broussard and Aucoin. He silently opened the door to Padstowe's room, hoping the captain was already asleep.

Padstowe was indeed sound asleep, so much so that he did not even stir when Maturin opened the door and entered the room.

Again, he had fallen asleep whilst sitting up, his skin still deathly pale - but there was evidence that he had tried to keep his promise to the doctor regarding his eating; an almost empty bowl of some sort of stew resting on the bedside table onto top of Mr. Dawson's books, the spoon clearly having been used.

On closer inspection it could be seen that the captain had another book on his lap, a piece of rough paper on top with characters scrawled across it. The pencil was still clutched in Padstowe's right hand, it's point quite blunt.