The Morning After - day

"Any particular reason why you felt you had the right to strike him?"

[OOC: Am going to work now, and will not be back until about 10 o'clock tonight. Hopefully Johnson will not rip your ears off before then without asking the captain or Mr. Bush first.]

He looked fearfully at Johnson then back to the lieutenant. Ofcourse there was a reason. He wouldn't just strike him because he fancied doing so.

Nervously he nodded: "...He... it was because o..of what he said."He hesitated again before he added:".. He ..said some.. not very n-nice things about me..."He paused. Would he bring up what Johnson said about throwing him over board? Would that aid him, or harm him?

(OOC - ok see you!)

That was the sticky bit, but Johnson had not the sense to be appropriately concerned, not just then. His knuckles were white where he gripped the middie's collar, in part from an unconscious effort to gain a little bit of control over his own temper.

"I was honest in my thoughts of him, sir," he said bluntly. No point in dancing around it, really. De Guarde certainly wouldn't hesitate slinging excuses around now would he? "I was plenty charitable to him earlier, when I stopped him harassin' Samuels."

OOC - I'm goin' back to bed! Hopefully will be back tonight at work.

(OOC - sleep well!)

He felt the cloth around his neck tighten unpleasantly with how the corporal had held onto him. He knew that even if he had to fight for his life he would have been unable to escape that hold, not now, not no matter how much he would kick and twist and pull and turn.

"..I did not harrass Samuels!" The boy replied and lifted his gaze, still as white as chalk, with his voice trembling and afraid:"...I was just.....just.. being helpful."He couldn't find a proper word for it. He had found pleasure in being mean to that man, found it a right thing to do, but now that he tried to explain it, he felt neither of them would understand.

"..He suggested he would throw me over board, sir! And he called me rubbish!!.. he said he ..that he would do a proper throwing... not like the sailors did. He would have wanted me dead, sir! "He was defensive, trying to find any straw that would save him now.

Bolitho had been standing mere feet away when Leat had come up. Then Johnson had dragged De Guarde over, and he had remained there for a few moments, simply listening. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. De Guarde had struck Johnson? This was becoming intolerable. Was there anything to be done to curb the boy's temper? Yes, there was always the ever-present threat of the gunner's daughter, and the idea of punishing De Guarde was becoming an increasingly appealing one to Bolitho. But Johnson had gone to Leat, and he would wait and see what the lieutenant's decision would be before he stepped in himself.

He took a few steps closer to the group, not enough to join in the conversation, but near enough so that De Guarde could see him. Once having caught the boy's eye, Bolitho fixed him with yet another harsh stare, and continued to do so while waiting to hear what Leat's pronouncement would be.

"Sam. hisst Sam! get over here, will ye." John had an idea to pay his old mate back for that cut on hsi thumb. Carefully, he had climbed with Sam up so they could see the whole deck, then he had edged further away from Sam, trying not to be too obvious.
What he'd had in mind- a quick race right up to th'top, was scuppered for a listen into what was happening on deck.
"It's that Mr de Guarde again, the one you got me in trouble with." he added, mock angrily. "Come and see whats happening with him now."

The two of them crept closer, feet and hands moving almost automatically as they tried to get in a position where the light breeze would blow the words up to them without them having to move too close to the dragons fire. "Just watch out for anyone who'll get angry at ut, ay?" Sam whined, settling down to listen.

It was in a way pathetic to see De Guarde squirm so, but with it Leat felt a twisted sense of pity. They boy could not see his own error, was unable to, and was fast becoming a victim of his own actions more than the crew - which was not a good state of affairs.

"Corporal, I think you may leave hold of the young gentleman's scruff for the timebeing."

In all justice Bush should be dealing with this - De Guarde was in his division after all. Bolitho was not that far away though, and it may be best to refer it to him.

The captain had to come as well, did he not? He looked at the man and soon regretted he did so.

The captain's eyes bore into the poor boys with such intensity that he had to look away quite pained and feared to look at Bolitho again. He looked nervously at Lt. Leat instead. ".. Sir.. I was provoked..."Even that would be a poor excuse to smack a corporal as if he were an insolent child.


"N'.. I... I didn't harass Samuels. I really didn't. Please sir. It was his fault, not mine."

"Samuels does not come into this incident," Leat said bluntly. He turned around, taking the few brief steps between himself and Bolitho.

"Sir," he said calmly. "I fear there is a matter of discipline which requires your attention."

"Yes, Mr. Leat. I fear it does," Bolitho said.

He turned to De Guarde, still glaring most sternly at the boy.

"Mr. De Guarde, regardless of whatever interaction you may have had with Samuels, you struck Corporal Johnson, with or without provocation. And that truly is a punishable offence."

Bolitho looked from Leat to Johnson, then back to De Guarde.

"I think it's high time you were acquainted with the gunner's daughter, Mr. De Guarde," he said at last.

Which Leat was not surprised to hear. It had been inevitable the moment the boy's hand had struck the corporal's cheek.

..b-but sir.. *he began, and then turned silent. His left hand was clenched and unclenched before it dropped to his side and was forced to stay motionless. He looked at Lt. Leat, but expected no word to be said in his favour. Not even sparing a glance to the Corporal this time. The man would probably be sporting a grin or some other expression of delight.

He didn't dare ask how many, he wanted to ask if he were spared, but the glare made a clear point that no, he could beg on his knees and the decision would stand. So instead of all thoughts of speech, he remained quiet, looking stubbornly at the floor.

Bolitho heard De Guarde start to sputter a retort, and was quite glad when he mercifully fell silent. He, the captain, had spoken. There was nothing the boy could say to spare himself now.

"Now then Mr. Leat," he said, "Have Mr. De Guarde taken down to receive his punishment. A dozen strokes should be sufficient."

An even dozen, just as poor Chase had received, Bolitho thought. It was only fair that De Guarde should have his actions repaid in the same amount.

[OOC: I think that's a reasonable amount, but I'm not sure how many strokes a middie would have received for such an offence. And I always forget who would dole out the punishment to middies. The master?]

(12 seems about right to me... and i think it was usually the bosun, though I think the Marine corporal could as well, which would maybe work better here...)

Thompson was watching the proceedings with interest. Whatever was going on had involved first Mister Leat and now the Captain. From the reactions of the officers, Corporal Johnson and now Mister De Guarde, it looked as though the boy was going to get a taste of his own medicine, and not before time.

There. Johnson's expression was still like he'd swallowed sour milk, but he'd released the boy's collar and now stood with his fists bunched up at his sides. A dozen strokes with the boy's cane... not as many as Johnson would like, but it was better than nothing. That stupid middie ought to be careful what he did in future, now he'd earned Johnson's complete despisal.


OOC - Work time, or something...

"Aye, sir."

The lieutenant turned back to Johnson.

"Corporal, if you and one of your men would escort Mister De Guarde below. A dozen it is to be, and I shall stand as witness to the punishment."

He turned back to Bolitho, his face betraying none of the regret he felt inside, though he was still was somewhat pale.

"Permission to carry out punishment, sir?"

A dozen. The youth looked uncomfortable at his prospects. Any given number was too much in his opinion, for something he did not deserve. Though to be fair.. a dozen was right and the captain was not cruel in suggesting them. It was Johnson who should have been given a good lashing or some form of punishment, which in the boy's eyes, could be anything at all. As long as he was given what he rightfully deserved, the boy would be fully satisfied.

He straightened his back and lifted his chin. He would not go down with his shoulders hunched and looking like a whimpering pup. His eyes were set firmly ahead. He dreaded thelick of the cane, he loathed the fact that he would be the one punished, but he showed neither of those emotions. Even the fear that he held clear on his face before had now subsided.

"Permission granted, Mr. Leat," Bolitho said, dismissing him with a nod.

Now, perhaps, De Guarde would think twice before reacting so rashly towards Johnson or anyone else.

Leat gave Johnson an infinitesimal nod of affirmation.

"To your duty, corporal."

Was it going to be the Corporal that would deliever punishment? He wasn't sure if he understood it right, but he followed below without protest. There halting to await further orders.

He exhaled deeply to ease his nerves, reluctant perhaps to do this, but never willing to protest against it. It could make it worse, never better.

(think the middies would be called to witness punishment, but no other in this case, oh well the doctor too!)

John turned to his mate. "Well then. I guess that wasn't uncalled for. Does he ever learn anything, d'ye think?"
the two men looked at each other, then at the scene below them. This was going to get round the decks faster'n you could say 'fire'. John didn't feel any sympathy for de Guardes pain, it was what he had earned, after all.
"Like an honest man" he sniggered, remembering the words from earlier.
The two men waited until everyone else was busy, then dropped to the decks, going their seperate ways. Wait until the lads heard about this one!

"Aye sir," Johnson said, his voice flat. He turned toward the companion ladder and bawled out, "Higgins!" He knew precisely which of his lads would be best suited to this duty, of course. Higgins was on deck in a moment and standing near Johnson's elbow with a carefully-blank expression on his face.

"We're to take him below," the corporal added with a careless wave toward De Guarde. The two Marines fell in on either side of the stricken-looking midshipman and took him below. It was up to Mister Leat how the actual punishment went but it was almost enough for Johnson that it was happening at all.

Thompson watched Johnson and Higgins take the youngster below. He'd have to try to get the details of what was about to happen out of one of them later, even if it meant giving up his grog ration to do it.

He shifted his feet, and sighed a little. It was another half-glass before he would be relieved, and it'd all be over by then.

He didn't consider himself to be bloodthirsty, at all, but it was about time the middy got his comeuppance. To think, he'd only been aboard a day, and it had come down to this already.

John had been movign towards a group of his mates when he saw Thompson shift his feet. Holding himself carfeully, he approached the man, wondering what he thought of the whole thing. He took a look at the glass. Still a while before Thompson would be going down, but maybe if John could talk to him now, he'd be able to hear the gruesome details later.
Not that he was vindictive or anything, but insulting another mans honour, then not havign any yourself, well, that would cheer him next time de Guarde attacked him.
He moved closer, fingering his thumb a little. thankfully it seemed to not be going to bleed again, but you could never be too careful.

"You know you can't go up there," Thompson said, indicating the quarterdeck ladder, then, his duty discharged, he relaxed a little - though still standing to attention in case of getting yelled at for slacking.

"What d'you want, then?" he asked curiously.