The Morning After - day

John sensed a slight change in the air, as if everyone but him could see something coming. He ahd a feeling it was headed for them two somehow. But he couldn't turn around, had to keep listenign to Mr de Guarde, who was looking at him as if he were a, well in truth, John didn't think he'd ever looked at anything like that before. Gave him an itch it did.
He squitched his shoulders again.

Thompson heard the cabin door open from where he was standing by the ladder, and glanced over to see the Captain. Now, if he'd either come up here so Thompson could let him know what was happening, or walk for'ard a bit to see it for himself, maybe he could stop de Guarde getting someone else in trouble for o reason.

"And now you dare mock me as well?!" He hissed, for he seemed offended by the mere manner in which Westdale spoke. "You look quite eager to join Chase in flogging!!" He hadn't even found the moment to explain the punishment in detail, just as he believed he spotted another punishment worthy act being commited.

He hadn't noticed that the captain has left his cabin and probably even if the man had paraded right before his eyes, he would still not see him, so immersed he was with Westdale's supposed crime.

What a silly comment that was, thought John. Who wanted to be flogged, apart from the very... special?
"I'm sorry sir, really I am." He said, trying desperately now to calm down this angry face in front of him. "I didn't mean no offense sir." He refused to beg though. No, he hadna done wrong, so there was no need to beg forgiveness.

As he walked further along, Bolitho made his way to the quarterdeck steps. Coming nearer, he caught a glimpse of one of the marines standing nearby. Ascending the steps himself, he saw that it was Private Thompson.

"Good day Thompson," said Bolitho as he neared the marine. Then he noticed the look of concern on Thompson's face and added, "Is something wrong?"

"Morning, sir," Thompson replied, straightening to attention. "Yes, sir, just for'ard, there. I think... well, sir, it don't look right to me, sir. It's that new young gentleman, y'see." He hesitated for a split second. "Beg pardon, sir, but I think you ought to check it out, sir."

"Are you now? Your insincerity reeks!" He snapped at the sailor again. "Be an honest man, not a sniveling bastard!"

He growled, his eyes set coldly on Westdale:" For once you may do what should keep your honour.. even if your back may be flayed for it!" And then he smirked:" But then... you have no honour, do you.."

John pressed his lips tightly together and barely suppressed a complete roll of his shoulders. All this talking about flogging and such caused his back scars to rare up in an uncomfortable itchiness. It was almost pain, but he held tight to his kercheif and took it on the chin.
Mr de Guarde may have thought he had no honour, but he would at least have his dignity for a little longer. Bastard, was he?
Firmly, John rolled his shoulders once and stood up straight. If playing along with de Guarde wasn't going to appease him, taking it like a man would make John feel much better.

Bolitho's heart sank upon hearing Thompson's words. De Guarde had just left the cabin and already he was up to no good. As much as he did not want to involve himself, he knew he had to do it.

"Thank you for informing me, Thompson," he said with a nod, "I appreciate your concern. I shall look into it at once."

With that, he made his way forward to where Thompson had indicated. Sure enough, there was De Guarde, apparently chastizing one of the crew. Westdale, that was his name.

"Mr. De Guarde, will you care to tell me what is going on here?" Bolitho said, in the sternest possible voice.

Immediatley John stopped fidgeting and stood as still as humanly possible, trying to appear a part of the woodwork. He wasn't going to be blamed for this in any way. no sirree.

"Answer me, you blaggard!" His voice was harsh and filled with hate and anger all for this innocent man. He despised silence, when he was to delight in drawing out flaws with the answers of men. If Westdale would have remained silent, so would the young boy's temper rise, his headache throbbing painfully, helped none with it either.

It was the feeling of a man behind him, and the stern voice that chilled the boy's blood and had his face turn pale, his voice lost. He turned around to face the captain and took a step back hurriedly saluting him, his hand jerkily touching against his temple.

"Sir!"He tried to sound most pleasant, most timid:"..This man.. I have ..caught while he attempted to.."He hesitated his whole demanour changed, from a tyrant to a submissive servant." maim himself so that he would be unfit for duty! I caught him right on time.. before he did some worse damage.. sir. And... and I was just lecturing him on the wrongness of his crime."

Bolitho looked from De Guarde to Westdale. The man appeared to have been making a wood carving, and now held a handkerchief to cover his injured hand. Obviously he would never know if De Guarde's assumption was true or false, but it seemed the latter option was the more likely. Surely this was the most ridiculous, trumped-up charge the midshipman had leveled against a crewman thus far.

"Well, how fortunate that you were here to intervene then," Bolitho said to De Guarde, desperately trying to keep any trace of sarcasm from his voice, "But, it seems that Westdale is not going to be doing any further harm to himself, so I would ask that you let him be."

John, who had stood stock still throughout the whole thing, now allowed himself a slight relaxation, letting his shoulders squitch to their own content. He was lucky, he knew, to have been saved from Mr de Guarde's eyes, and had a nasty feeling this wasn't going to be the last time he would be found in this position. Carfeully, now the danger has gone, he peeled his kercheif off the thumb. It had stopped bleeding and the flap of skin wan't so big that it would catch on anything, so long as he was carefull. He began to plan hsi next moves. Below decks, along to his gear, find the cleaner handkercheif he knew was there, replace it into his pocket and then back up for a spot of relaxation before lunch.
He waited for the expected dismissal.

To let him be? Let him be?! The youth could not hide his emotions this time. He was appalled at the suggestion and it mirrored itself clearly on his face. He gaped at Bolitho as if he had just grown a new set of horns and a tail to swish about with.

"But, sir! Is he to go unpunished for his obvious attempt at transgression?!" He looked at Westdale, a glare laced with loathing. Somehow it was this man's fault that the captain did not side with the middie. It had to be!

Again, John felt a sigh, but swallowed it manfully. Seemed that clean kercheif and spot of rest would be longer in coming. Who was responsilbe for de Guarde's personality, he should like to know? Why couldn't he leave a man be?

"Stop staring at me so!" Bolitho snapped, further enraged by De Guarde's continued gawping at him.

Then he fell silent for a moment, allowing himself to calm down.

"Yes Mr. De Guarde. He is to go unpunished," he said at last, in a softer but no less commanding voice, "And that is my final word on the subject," Bolitho said.

Looking behind the midshipman, he addressed the sailor still present.

"You may be dismissed, Westdale," he said.

The boy dropped his gaze, his shoulders faintly shaking. Damn the man! Damn the captain who has ruled so unjustly, usurped his own authority. Now men would know and he, this was propostreous (as is my spelling of that word). He wanted to respond, to make the captain see the wrong of his decision, but to do so now.. to do so.

Under his breath he muttered a barely audible:"..You are making a mistake.."And then pursed his lips together in silence. It took enough effort to keep himself in check at yet another injustice made in his name. Against him. What would the captain say when a midshipman drowned because of his decisions? the feel of the cold embrace of the water still haunted him. Even now. He glared at Westdale from the corner of his eye, unable to tell him different.

Bolitho heard De Guarde mutter something under his breath, but he was in no mood to yell at him further. The boy was fairly seething with anger; it was plain in the way he was standing. However, the anger of a midshipman was nothing to the fury of a crew. Bolitho would much rather have De Guarde bearing him a grudge than an entire ship of men rebelling due to an excess of punishments being doled out. He had to do what was best for the ship at large, and the best thing right now was to keep De Guarde at bay as much as he could.

"And you may be dismissed as well, Mr. De Guarde," he added flatly.

"Aye aye, sir." Twice dismissed, twice in the sourest of moods that he could muster. He was setting a record for himself, but at the same should have felt damn lucky that the captain had left him to depart with nought but a dismissal. He saluted less eagerly to the captain, his resentment showing.

He has just seen how far he could push and perhaps how much further. Once his back to the captain was turned his face was turned into a least pleasing a grimace of one seething , burning aflame with anger, and now yet again with frustration. He was disappointed. The man should have been punished, another example set for the crew. And instead, what would the men think now?

Atleast the young Fletcher would be meeting him in the mid's berth with something of delight to ease his mind, and then there was young Yates who had to keep his promise, and ofcourse his own ration was as good as any. Drink, he needed it for the world has just gone mad. It was comfort, he needed that.

Thankfully John had bobbed his head and walked off to find his new kercheif. That knife was going to need a wash too, he mused.

After watching both De Guarde and Westdale walk off, Bolitho finally turned and walked away himself. He was still quite mad, but thankfully his anger had simmered down to a slight irritation. Yet his thoughts were no calmer than before. If anything, his mind was even more troubled now. Each new incident involving the midshipman only served to make Bolitho wonder what was going to happen next, and to wonder whether or not De Guarde was going to completely upset the balance aboard the ship...

Shaking his head, he walked back across to the quarterdeck, then proceeded to commence pacing back and forth.

John quickly changed his kercheif round his thumb for the clean one, which he placed in his pocket against further spouts of blood.
he was greeted with a grin, "So, managed to get out of it, or are we gonna be saying bye to ye tomorra?" Sam asked.
John grinned back, "Well, I was rescued, thankfully. But not till I felt a right idiot. Like a damsel in distress, but with a two legged dragon!"
They all laughed, but quietly. they didn't need a pile of damsels, did they now.

How he'd managed to hold his silence while that damned midshipman had laid into Westdale, Johnson wasn't quite sure. Of course, the chances were he'd have given the boy a good thrashing if he had spoken, so perhaps it was just as well. Especially so after Captain Bolitho arrived on the scene.

The boy had been put off from his intended target yet again, but Johnson had no doubt that the little terror would find another and it would start over anew. That alone was enough to keep Johnson on deck, even though there were plenty of other things he should be doing just then. The corporal turned to look over the weather deck, half-expecting to see De Guarde trying to blow up another unlucky seaman. Heaven help that stupid boy if he tried to lay into one of the Marines.

He was humbled somewhat by that recent event. He had trully expected that there would be another punishment just around the corner, yet instead he was told that though he might have been guilty, he would certainly not be punished. The boy clutched his hand in a fist angrily. First it was the talking to, captain Bolitho, Lieutenant Leat. He well felt as if they both wished to tell him that he was unfit to be a midshipman, that he wasn't good at all, an embarrassement to the service. Neither has used those words, yet the youth imagined them to be just that. Then it was this leniancy towards the men. It no longer surprised him that he was thrown over board, even if he could not remember any details.

He walked fiercly, angrily from the captain crossing the distance again that he was more at peace. He noticed The coropral again, and a look of deep loathing was mirrored on his face at that man. He had robbed him of a lad's discomfort earlier. He too was in on this to pamper the sailors 'stead of making them work!

A slight, fleeting sneer crossed Johnson's face. The snot-nosed brat had spotted him and was favouring him with a particularly hateful look. Resenting that Johnson had intervened on Samuels' behalf, no doubt. Well let him!

"Run outta helpless Tars to torment have you?" Johnson said curtly, not caring a bit if he annoyed the boy. It'd serve the midshipman right to be on the receiving end of poor treatment for once!