In the night on Terpsy

Peter reached past the Marine to pat de Guarde, as he had done before. "You're fine now," he said. "Barrow pulled you out of the water."

"I..din'g'up..."his teeth were chattering, making it harder to speak. He relaxed to the gentle patting, breathing soft, yet certain. Whatever happened, something went wrong. The dream was not a figment of his imagination, and there was someone who had wished him lost. Whether through a personal agenda or for the better of the ship, they were certainly either stupid or drunk. He hadn't expected Mr. Yates's offering comfort. The boy was a particularly strange creature.

Young and naive, yet his heart was certainly made of cotton candy. He wasn't best at evaluating the boy right now, nor in the condition for it. Even trying to figure out who had meant to drown him, was a topic for another time. He felt his head throbbing uncomfortably and lay it against the leg of the marine.

There was a pool of water surrounding them, and the Marine looked as if he would rather not have a very damp, and very unpopular Midshipman leaning against him. His trousers were wet already.

"Will you help me with him?" he asked quietly. "I think we should get him down to the sickbay."

[If anyone cares to help, before Thompson comes back, take it that the request was made generally. I think Dr Crozier would want to examine the boy, and not on deck. Or if Mathew is up to it, I'll support him on my own.]

Fletcher, ever eager to help, ran forward to support De Guarde's other side, and together the two boys levered their messmate up from the deck.

"Come on, old fellow. We'll let Dr Crozier take a look at you. You must have swallowed half the Bay. That's it, you'll have to help us on the stairs... the companionway." Half dragging and half carrying de Guarde, the boys made their way towards the sickbay.

"If you'd wanted anything," Peter grumbled, "I would have got it for you."

"...wasn'..."He did not protest when the two young boys helped him up. He was most cooperative, trying to aid them in moving across the deck, if only not to allow it to be as evident, that he could barely walk. He struggled to keep his head higher, and willed each foot to move, one at a time. He wasn't on deck of his own doing. He did not know how he came there, and wasn't sure how much he could trust what he thought was a dream.. now when he would be sober and strong, he would certainly have much to say about the crew's fault. Perhaps not pointing fingers.. but he would not regret to put all blame on them. Rightfully so.

At this moment though, he was solely willing to depart from above deck, and full effort was in making the pass easier for his two helpers. Yates and Fletcher.

"wasn'..."He bit his lip closing his eyes a moment, his left foot dragging ahead, muscles straining to replace it with his right. "..goin'..'bove...I wasn'..."Raspy voice showed the effects of having quite a few things coming up his throat that evening, that shouldn't.

"Sleeping, was he?" Crozier asked Peter, as if De Guarde himself were deaf. "I wonder if he's in the habit of sleep-walking when... indisposed. Set him here, please. No, sitting up. He may still have more of the sea to expel."

Peter helped de Guarde to a chair, and stood beside him, a steadying hand on one shoulder. "Sleepwalking?" he said doubtfully. "I don't know of course, but... One of my young sisters walked in her sleep, but she hadn't been drinking beforehand." He grinned, remembering four year old Amabelle being carried back to bed after she had gone downstairs long after being put to bed. "She wasn't drunk at any other time, either," he murmured.

Being set as the doctor had asked, De Guarde still felt quite disoriented, though more aware of the talk about him. Was he sleep walking?.. But the dream! .. No, he had never sleep walked before. He knew he would've been told, were he to wander aimlessly about the ship, when not permitted. He would certainly had known about that.

He breathed in sharply and coughed. There was not a muscle in his body, that did not feel on strain, tense and uncomfortable. His head was hurting and his coordination was terribly poor. The alcohol still in his blood, and now the salt water 'clearing' his lungs. He was lucky of the fact that the human body often shut the airways on it's own, to prevent too much water from entering the lungs. Mind, the water did head for the belly then, and the person could still not have breathed.

Silently he observed, or tried to observe, the doctor and the younger midshipman, feeling his breathing strained at times. He was wet, and shivering in the cold, with his lips turning a very faint colour of one freezing.

[OOC - why is everyone cold and/or wet today?]

Peter helped Dr Crozier remove de Guarde's clothes, and wrap him in a blanket. The youngster was shivering, his face and fingers pale with cold. The doctor moved around, watching him and occasionally feeling his face.

However drunk de Guarde had been, the water - the shock and the cold - should have sobered him up, but he was clearly still muzzy headed, and Peter, who felt half asleep himself, thought that he would be better off being allowed to sleep, rather than made to sit, with bare damp feet and tangled hair dribbling down his face and neck.

(.. I blame it on the weather outside. It rained, and it's bloody cold. x.X.. I actually had trouble speaking through the cold *nod*.. oh, and we have t' dark mist.. hidin' t' castle all eerily )

The boy was not protesting when his coat, vest and shirt were removed, to wrap a dry cloth about him, but when faced with the prospect of removing the other garments, he bodily and soundly protested.

He was tired, and it showed. But at the same time he looked mighty determined to not let Mr. Yates continue. 'cept for the stockings, mind you. Those he allowed taken off, so that he could pull his legs up and close together.

"N-n-no..!"

[Not ze castle on ze hill, with ze bats...]

"It's all right," said Peter, stepping back. If anyone was going to drag the midshipman's trousers from him, it should be the doctor.

"Can't you remember anything?" he asked. "How did you get on deck?"

(actually just t' one.. though I'm not sure on the bats!)

"..wasum....."He clutched on the wet fabric, keeping the blanket wrapped tight about his shoulders."......'wasn' walkin'.."He studied Yates as if aware that anything he could say now could influence his future stories. "....don't remember goin' up there...Didn't go on me own."He leaned back just slightly, feeling still dizzy, but better. "I.. would'a.. known..n' I don't sleep walk!"

Now that De Guarde had been taken down to the sickbay, Bolitho noticed that the men had started to disperse. He however remained by the rail, his shirt billowing in the breeze as he stared out at the sea. This was not a promising turn of events. When the midshipman had finally been brought back aboard, Bolitho was shocked to see that it was De Guarde. If it had been any of the other boys, he could have easily seen the mishap as an accident. But the fact that De Guarde had already instigated some resentment from the crew certainly made one wonder...

"No-o," Peter was worried. He had heard the Lieutenant, but could not accept that any of the men would throw a 14 year-old over the side of the ship in the middle of the night. That would have been murder as well as mutiny, if Thompson had not seen him, and if Barrow had not jumped in. Which might mean that Barrow, Chase's friend, was innocent of any attempt on de Guarde's life - or that he was cleverer than most.

"But you might have done it, and forgotten," he offered. "People can do that - get out of bed, properly I mean, not sleep-walking, and then go back to bed and forget all about it. Or just remember it as a dream."

"...no... n-no I don't think so."It was hard to think, when broadsides were continuously shot right in the confines of his brain. He touched his hand to his temple and rubbed tenderly against the cold skin. His hand felt numb enough that he could barely feel the action.

"...h..how could I've.. "He spoke somewhat annoyed. "... I'm no daft boy.. Mr. Yates.."He whispered, for all effort to speak louder, only proved too uncomfortable for the boy. "...I would've been mad t' jump.. in' there."

Thompson shivered a little. It was cold at night anyway and now he had wet trousers. And Heaven knew how he'd be able to get them dry before he wanted to wear them next.

How had Mr De Guarde managed to get himself into the water? It must've been some of the sailors, but Thompson didn't think anyone could resent a youngster that much, that soon after he'd come aboard. Surely it'd take more than one flogging to raise that level of resentment. He shrugged, and turned to head below to find his other trousers.

Peter spoke quietly. "I don't think you'd have jumped either. But the alternative is - " He felt scared suddenly, the realization that the ship no longer seemed a pleasant if somewhat rough community, but a dangerous place, with men who would kill, not in battle but out of spite and revenge and ... what? Fear? But they would be more afraid now, of being found out.

"..that's wot' I've been telling you..."He whispered just as quietly as before, their conversation more hushed than anything, from his side."..t' world is not such a pleasan' place as you think 'tis..., t-them men.... t' moment t-they....they find a chanc'.. i-if they don' f-fear t' capn'... t-they'll kill his officers.. w-without... a moment's thought... "He was so convinced that he was right. But for a boy that was shivering in but his breeches still on, and a blanket wrapped around his trembling body, there was no doubt he would believe so.

He was a living , luckily, proof that his theory was correct. And he took not into account the effects of alcohol nor any other attributes that could lead to the action. It was just strange to expect any man to dare harm an officer. If he was not found, for that was probably what the culprit was hoping, perhaps they'd get away with murder. But would they dare take such a risk? And why not first wrench his neck and be sure he was dead, when he hit the water.

Such a far fetched story that somebody would wish to claim his life, and yet he was more certain now, that he was right. "..they,.. Mr. Yates.. 'r t' beasts t-that need t' t-t-taming."

Peter listened to de Guarde. It was what he had argued from the start, and the view that Peter had resisted. But de Guarde had been saved, and that, not the attempt to kill him, had been the work of the whole ship.

"One of those men jumped into the water to save you," he said, in a forceful whisper. "You were seen, and he jumped in, while everyone else worked to slow the ship, to launch a boat. To save you. Beasts wouldn't do that, not the sort you mean. You can only flog that kindness out of them, not into them."

De Guarde loathed to admit that the young gentleman had a point. A man saved his life. The other men had come to heft them both to safety. He didn't remember all of what happened, for in part he was unconscious and in another, too terrified to see further than a few feet before him. But he was safe, and that was an undisputed fact.

"....'s.."He began and glared past Mr. Yates. The boy was causing his headache to grow worse. "..bu' why was In' t' water in the first place then?......."He managed angrily, his whisper harsh and unpleasant.

Returning from the dispensary with a glass of something ominous, Dr. Crozier heard the last part of De Guard's protest. "Yes, why were you in the water, De Guarde - or on deck at all? Did you pay visit to the head and lose your balance in your, ah, sleepy state? Drink this now. Breeches off. Mister Yates, jump down to Mister De Guarde's chest for another pair and some dry clothes."

Peter looked from the doctor to de Guarde. "Shall I? I won't pry, but you do need dry clothes, or you'll catch a chill."

"..I... I didn't... go on d-deck!"He winced at the sound, gritting his teeth.

"..n' i'm n-not takin' t-them off.."Though his protests were said in harsh whisper, he still felt affected by the sound of his own voice and squinted his eyes together, a grimace revealing ever how badly he felt. He eyed the drink suspiciously and took the glass carefully into his hands. If he had much space for thought , he would've wondered of the drink that he was offered.

With a small jerk of his hand he waved to the young middie:"...go ahead...bu'.. don't you be prying into me belongings.. fer more.."He added softer and gave a small key to the boy, glad he had not lost it in the swim. (think there'd be a kind of lock on it, wouldn't it? if not, don't mind the last!)

[I think they will have a lock. Though he's lucky not to have lost the key. Perhaps he wears it round his neck on a chain, rather than in a pocket. After all, he's scrambling about rigging, pulling handkerchiefs out of his pockets (for damsels in distress) and a small key would have been lost months ago.]

"I won't," said Peter. And sped away, wonderng, for all he had really meant that he wouldn't pry, just what de Guarde treasured. Books? Something valuable? Or something with only sentimental value. Somehow, he could not imagine de Guarde keeping an old toy as a reminder of home: he would think it a weakness. But fortunately the boy's clothes were at the top of his box and he found the required items - breeches, a shirt and undershirt, and a pair of neatly rolled stockings. Under-breeches as well. He could manage without the neckcloth, but there was a cold-weather coat, which would do well in his chilled state.