The Morning After - day

If looks could kill, if only they could, then there would be one corporal less in the world. The boy approached him, with his chin raised slightly as if to present himself superior in worth to this man.".. I'll have you hold your tongue!"He snapped. In no mood for politeness that he could barely still give to his captain. "Your men don't look quite fitting to the standard either." He smiled with a feel of taunt on his face.

"Well, pardon me. That was an understatement." His eyes narrowed defiantly onto that of the man."...I bet a group of drunkards would have done a mighty better job at turning out right." He gave the pleasant, pitying look to the man, as if regretting he had to suffer such incompetent men, or was it the one above them that was the one incapable?

Johnson scoffed. Him, hold his tongue? Then the rest of the boy's words sank in and his face went dark as a storm cloud. It was one thing to pick on sailors. It was completely another to talk ill of Marines, especially Johnson's.

The corporal drew himself up and tried very hard not to grab the impudent little brat and box his ears. "What would you know of standards? I'd take the worst Marine ever to turn out over a snotty, spoilt brat like you. You'd be very wise to hold your own bloody tongue, else I'll have you over and kissin' the gunner's daughter myself, never mind the captain's wishes!"

He turned red to the ears at that statement. An insult that rubbed salt into the already wide open wounds. He must have overheard the last, already thinking of a retort to give to the man.

"With your seen standards... it is clear that your judgement of quality is not up to par. So your words hardly surprise me. A mob you have, no men worthy of the title of marines!"

His shoulders this time were shaking at the rage that he was feeling, fighting the urge of a youngester who would have been delighted to strike an offending member. " Such as the father so are the children..."He smiled coldly:"..And it holds firm to be true in this case!"

It was very close to more than Johnson was prepared to take. However much he might gripe about and harangue his Marines, they were still his Marines. No snivelling excuse for a midshipman was going to discredit them within his hearing!

"The same can be said of you," Johnson said, his voice flat and cold. "You wear that blue coat, but I ain't seen any sign yet that you're worthy of it! Even the Tars have more use than you, they proved last night after Chase's flogging. Another foul word from your mouth about any man aboard and I'll heave you overboard myself, and do it proper!"

His eyes widened at the threat. He gaped, shocked that the man would suggest it. Uneasily he looked to the sea where a night before he was joining the fish in fear it would be his permenant home.

"You.. you speak of mutiny.."He stammered. "You dare complete that threat, and you would hang!" This man, what if he had been the ringleader? What if he suggested it to the others? But no, he wasn't quite capable at the time. And before he could not have been so sour about the fact he was not aknowledged for his efforts, could he?

"I well deserve to wear this coat!" He hissed, hurt very faintly noted. "Those men are of poor discipline, less tact, criminals in their own mind!.. I am not!"
He took a step forward, so that he crossed and entered the corporal's own personal space. How angry he was now, perhaps Johnson has just been able to bring him to a right new level.

"You do not deserve to be what you are,.. a corporal aboard this ship, dressed prettily in red!! "His voice was far from pleasant. "If you were on Confidence you would have not been well to deserve the title of Head's cleaner. But here it seems any blasted daft bloke may take upon their position!"

"Ain't mutiny at all, just gettin' rid of some rubbish," Johnson snapped. This midshipman was severely trying his patience. No man aboard was fool enough to talk so ill of the Marines, especially not in front of Johnson. Then again, De Guarde had thus far proved himself to be nothing but a fool.

"Are you sayin' Captain Bolitho don't know how to run his own ship?" Now his voice was low, as cold and hard as steel. The insults regarding his Marines was more than enough to cause Johnson to box the boy's ears, but this... this was an offence far beyond even that. "Those are dangerous words, they are. Boy. Any other bit like it, and I will have you by your neck and stood before the captain, that you could repeat it all, exactly!"

He bit his lip. "Rubbish?!"

His breath was halted, and there... for just a mere moment it almost looked as if he would strike the man. Strike angrily and without regret. He managed to hold that thought in the form of one and not in action. This man had just called him rubbish. The boy felt a stab of pain in his chest. If only he could have this man, this very man stripped of rank and turned to be flogged as he deserved. Flogged long and bitter around the fleet and it would not even begin to be enough for the boy. Flogged till death and he would still consider the man deserving worse.

"I did not say that!" He hissed.".. I did not!" And then he added angrily, his voice trembling:" On Confidence there has nought been a case in which a middie was thrown over board...though.."In defiance, though uncomfortably. He then muttered more under his breath, but dared not voice it loudly. Not before Johnson. It was clear enough though what the words could have been. The boy as distressed as he was, was continuing on his poor mannered escapade.

Johnson's lip curled back in plain disgust. "Ain't gotta say it directly in order to mean it. I've not seen you set one foot right since you came aboard, and the way you're goin', I'd be surprised if you ever did."

The corporal glanced aft, where the officer of the watch was pacing the quarterdeck. Oh just let this middie even take another step forward...

"That's 'cause, on this ship, the crew's treated fair. Like they're men, not apes." Johnson lifted a fist, wishing very much that he could lay hold of the middie's collar and give him a mighty shake. "I'll tell you this, boy. Bullies ain't tolerated on this ship, whether they're an officer or otherwise."

Insult after insult, and most have struck deep down, where the boy's heart must have been. The kettle was almost full, another drop and the water would come over the edge. And once that dam broke, who knows what the boy would have comitted.

Not much aboard his new ship went as he planned. Even Chase's punishment had a bitter taste to it, thanks to Lieutenant Leat. A disconcerning notion, knowing that that man went to celebrate it instead of pitying himself. Speaking with Mr. Yates gave him little to be glad for. Atleast he agreed on that ration of grog that the boy should have been getting, but that was all. He could not learn of little tidbits that would mar the reputation or bring forth grounds of negotiation. Be helpful at last if he wanted to get something.

It was now, the point where a lot had become too much. He had not even realised that he was so much closer to the corporal, his body moving of it's own accord to the man. His hand was raised, his thoughts scrambled, lost inbetween his desire to strike the man and knowledge that that was the worst that he could consider.

When his ears registered the sound, it was too late for regrets. His hand had come across the corporal's cheek in such manner that a most spoiled a child would be fearful to make it. It felt as if the sound continued to echo in his ears, even if in truth it was rather quiet. He felt the burning sensation on the palm of his hand, for the strike had all it's strength and all the rage, mixed with frustration and hate, joined in it to form the force with which the man was touched.

He held his hand in mid air, uncertain, shocked himself that he had done it.

Johnson stood quite still, completely dumbfounded. The arrogant snot had struck him. The act was so rash and unexpected, and so very very stupid, that his mind didn't believe for several moments that it had actually happened.

Then, naturally, his temper flared brilliantly hot. That smug little brat had hit him. Johnson's hand flicked out and seized hold of the boy's collar, preventing him from fleeing in case such a notion should have come to him. "Mister Leat!" He bellowed, his face flushing dark with fierce anger. Now the middie was in for it.

Johnson dropped his voice to a low growl. "So quick to see a man flogged, you are. Now you'll know what it's like yourself, you little brat!"

He felt hot in the face, too stunned to move when his collar was siezed. He should have moved, his instinct of self perservation was screaming at him to squirm out of the hold and run. Nobody ever considered the instinct to have logic, but even as loud as it was, the boy just stood unmoving. Like a deer caught in the headlights to use a more modern an expression.

The call had shaken him, his heart sinking. He.. struck .. the corporal..

"..I..."He squeeked hand lifting to his collar trying to ease the iron grip that Johnson had on it."..I.." He hadn't meant to! It just happened. He was pushed into doing it! Not lieutenant Leat. "...Cor...corporal..no.."A plea was weak.

The little fair-haired midshipman had learned nothing, from the look of it - bullying one seaman after another until first the Marine Corporal and then the Captain intervened. Then the boy, foolish beyond measure, had turned on the Corporal, his high-pitched outrage against the Corporal's harsh angry voice. Edrington had been trying to igonre it - it was none of his business, after all, and he not even turned from his careful study of the line of water against the ship's side - but the raised voices brought his head round in time to see the midshipman strike the corporal.

Now the balance of power had changed. The corporal, thunderstruck as he was, calling for the lieutenant to come to deal with the boy.

Johnson felt a rush of grim pleasure at the sudden change of expression and demeanor. Of course the boy would be afraid now, when his conduct landed him in a tight spot that he couldn't weasel out of. The boy would get what was coming to him now, sure.

"You'll hush," Johnson snapped, not caring to hear the boy whimper like a frightened puppy. Time enough for that when the lad was caned.


OOC - Have to bail now, they're messing about with the emergency generators or some such thing. Back in a few hours!

OOC - See you! And make sure they don't o.o do anything bad to those!

A ships' boy had come below to say that his presence was required on the quarterdeck, and Leat had outwardly groaned. No rest for the wicked at all... He'd left the cabin to go back above, saluting the captain as he came up, assuming it was him who wanted to see him... but then he'd heard Johnson's hollar, and turned to see De Guarde caught in the corporal's grasp like a frightened puppy, Johnson's face - somwhat red across one cheek as if he'd been struck - was alight with a malicious glee.

Leat felt all the blood drain from his cheeks in an instant. Oh no. No, please don't tell him that De Guarde had... Of all the stupid, foolhardy things to do! Did the boy have a deathwish?

He caught sight of the lieutenant with the corner of his eyes, craning his neck as much as it went, with the snug fit of a hand on his collar. He was quiet. Why did he have to strike the man? Of all the things he could have done and said, the slap was the worst. As would any other form of physical contact.

He felt his throat dry, and his head seemed to throb worse now, as if panic made the blood rush fast to his brain, and do worse things when in there. He prayed that the lieutenant would not come and that the corporal would have a change of heart. But neither was plausible, and he felt himself feeling awful and terrified. He didn't try to beg again, for reasons of pride but more so, because he knew that the Corporal was hell bent to see this through. Whatever he would try to say, the man would ignore or take greater pleasure in denying.

There was nothing else for it. With an apologetic glance at the captain he made his was forward to where Johnson held the miserable looking midshipman.

"Yes, corporal?" he asked quietly, perhaps a little wearily. He was getting fed up of hearing De Guarde's name, or seeing his sneering little face...

He had to speak before the corporal got the chance. Perhaps there were a few things solvable.. were they?

"S- sir..." Not the greatest start, but being held by a furious corporal with revenge on his mind because of a slap that you gave them was enough pressure to have your mind blank of anything to say.

" I.. I... did nothing..."He wanted to add wrong, but it was lost somewhere on the way to his mouth. And so did his courage to speak before the other man He had gone too far and judging by the redness on the Corporal's face, also done a strong slap in the process. Fair enough that the imprint was nearly recognisable. A small hand matching his own delicately.

Leat looked from the now very pale midshipman to the clear mark on Johnson's face and back again. He frowned.

"It hardly looks like 'nothing', Mister De Guarde."

"I...d..didn't..." Mean it. But he could not finish his sentence. He clutched at the hand that held onto his collar, knowing it wouldn't let go.. or perhaps it might now, that the lieutenant was here. After all, only a fool would run with his officer present. The lieutenant looked weary and since he had just preached to him before he didn't have reason to be understanding. he felt his heart race, and he looked much like a rabbit freshly caught, which would now be served for dinner.

"The boy struck me," Johnson spat, too furious to bother even attempting to be diplomatic. Not like he ever truly bothered with that anyway.

The boy in question gulped, casting his gaze downwards. He had nothing to say yet and the cruel tone in which his captor spoke, had the boy bite down the fear gnawing at his very bones. The boy wanted to look at Lieutenant Leat, to see his reaction, but he was also unsure if he wished to see, what was there to be shown.

Thompson couldn't hear the words clearly from where he was standing, but it was clear that both De Guarde and Corporal Johnson were getting more and more angry. And then... and then the boy raised his hand and hit the Corporal a solid slap on the cheek. Thompson heard the blow fall from his post, and gasped.

He was for it now. He hadn't done a single thing right, nor shown an ounce of good since coming aboard, and now the Corporal was standing there, looking slightly stunned before grabbing hold of De Guarde's collar and calling for Mister Leat, who was already coming on deck thanks to the message Thompson had passed on earlier.

The Marine private couldn't believe it. Yes, there was always a rivalry between the Marines and the sailors, but it was a friendly thing, and they did skylark together, as they had yesterday. But whatever De Guarde had said must have crossed the bounds of that; Johnson had a temper, all right, but never had Thompson seen him pushed so far.

"Is this true, Mister De Guarde?" Leat asked the midshipman. It was obvious to the most obtuse landlubber that he had, but duty demanded that he ask anyway.

"Sir I didn't.. it wasnt.. I did.. but.. not like.. sir... it's.."He hung his head as much as the other man's hold allowed him."......yes sir....I..struck him." He whispered barely loud enough to be heard.