The Morning After - day

Now, that was just uncalled for. A little of Chase's good humour slipped but he simply shrugged, as if the midshipman's action was nothing more than an unfortunate accident. The two seamen glanced down at the slowly-spreading puddle of water around their feet but didn't move. It felt slightly cooler than the planking of the deck, at least.

"Aye, sar," Chase said, a measure of careless cheer still in his voice. "We hadda holystone this here spot anyways, no better time'n now, now there's water all over!"

It was that, the good humour still present, that seemed to infuriate the young lad most. The damned cretin should have been sniveling at his feet asking for forgivance and not.. absolutely not be agreeing to it, like it was a thing most allright to do any ways. His head was pounding worse than if a ship of the line had fired it's broadsides in it. It felt right painful enough for him to cry at any moment. Bitting back the discomfort he fought to look harshly at the two men again.

" I don't like your tone, Chase." Well that one was an honest one for sure. "... But as you seem to delight this much in cleanin' our lady.."His voice again unnaturally sweet. It was sure that nothing good could come from it."..You could certainly land a hand.. or two, ter go n' clean the Heads. Wouldn't that delight you?.. Enough that you should volunteer ter do it, right this instant." His eyes darkened coldly, a twinge of pain seen in them.

"Certainly, sar," the topman replied. This was little more than a game, he realised. The middie wanted to annoy him into sharp words. So, of course, Chase would do the very opposite, while maintaining the necessary courtesy. "I a'ready got a mop here, an' won't be no trouble t'fetch another bucket a' water neither."

He glanced at Taylor. "Sure ya'll come an' bear a hand, Willie?"

Taylor nodded, a little jerkily. "Oh aye! Be easy, it will."

That was it, then. "If there's nuffin else, sar, we'll go an' swab the head straight'way," Chase said airily.

"..Very well."The youth spoke. It did not please him at all. No, quite on the contrary, he was angered by how aloof and unworried Chase was. How bright spirited! The blasted bastard.

"Once you are finished, you shall report back to me.. The both of you."He spoke with an edge to his tone. "We won't have you slack about.. will we. Wouldn't be proper.."

He pointed to the floor:".. N' don't forget ter finish that too.. before you come to me. Handsomely now. Ol' ladies would have more sprin' in their step! Are ye old ladies?... I shall hope NOT."

And so he dismissed them, feeling quite as miserable and unhappy as before. This ship was wrong.. in so many things it was just wrong! There was one thing he feared though more that he did not understand Terpsy and her crew.

What if, this night somebody would come again, and they would throw him over board for good? He clenched his fist, till his knuckles turned white to ease his nerves. The captain chose not to make an example, inflict terror into the men till they would be singing like little nightingales. This could encourage the men.

He gazed to the wide expanse of the water that surrounded them. He could not swim and he feared falling in there again. He almost drowned and the sensation was just so terrible, when air would not come, but water did. Not another time! Never again!

"Aye aye sar!" The two seamen chorused and hefted their mops. They made short work of cleaning up the spilled water before moving up forward. Chase found himself humming merrily to himself as he went, his spirits returning fully. Not even that middie and his snappish nature could truly dampen the topman's good humour.

Dr. Crozier was still casting about for places to put his plants, more plants, more and more, when he came to the foc'sle and happened to see two seamen rigging up the planking to sluice the head. Then he saw who they were.

"Jacob Chase! What are you doing?" he demanded. "What did I tell you about your back? And you're supposed to be on light duties today," he added in a reproving whisper.

Chase and Taylor were diligently preparing to clean the heads when another voice called out to them. Both men stopped at once and turned, saluting instinctively as they came around to face the sawbones. He was focused on Chase, which made the topman grin.

"Ain't this light duty, sar?" He asked. "Jus' doin' what we're told, sar. Be a quick job anyways."

Thompson came on deck to relieve the sentry by the quarterdeck ladder. He paused as he saw De Guarde addressing Chase, obviously not happy with the topman, for some reason.

The Marine felt sorry for the sailor, coming to the attention of the middy again, so soon after he'd been flogged, though he felt a stab of irritation with the boy for not leaving the seaman alone. If he was a ship's boy, Thompson would have been tempted to box his ears. He only hoped the Captain would learn of his character soon, and do something to put things to rights.

He didn't want Terpsy's happy mood spoilt by one uppity brat. He really didn't think he could handle being on a shot-rolling ship, and hoped things would be put a stop to before they got that far.

The young gentleman in question was in search of his next victim, annoyed more by Chase than he was before he had met him. He singled out a freshly joined lad whose face he remembered from the flogging. Such a tender little soul, unused to the cruelties of flogging yet.
It was the one who looked positively sickly and green 'round the ears. Jim Samuels. A good lad perhaps, though not as experienced. A small one though taller than the middie.

It didn't take long for poor Samuels to look like a deer caught in the headlights and he had dropped what he was holding, so that he was made to pick it again. And to repeat what he was ordered. Again, and again and always he was told that it was not at all close to being fair, let alone to say it was done well.

With the reaction he got from the poor lad, he looked delighted, though his head still did not ease the pressure from his brain. Have them fear him, when he could afford it. Perhaps then nobody would dare again to chug him over the railing and perhaps they would fear him enough to point fingers at who has done it before. A flawed logic of a child, who has been taught that fear was the essence of everything else.

More than any other day, Corporal Johnson was feeling irritable. His mood had been poor since the flogging the day before and the new midshipman's fall overboard had not helped. So it was that the Marine corporal was as close to actively looking for trouble as he tended to get when he came on deck after turning the off-watch sentries below. And it was inevitable for him to spot young Midshipman De Guarde having a go at one of the seamen - one of the newly-pressed men, in fact.

Johnson's hackles were up at once. If there was one thing he despised above all else, it was a bully. Especially a bully who was an officer, or close to it. "Here, Samuels," the corporal snapped as he got closer, offering only a brief salute to De Guarde. "Didn't I hear the bos'un call for you from below? Move along there, off with you."

None of the seamen could stand up to the midshipman, but Johnson wasn't one of the seamen. Blessedly.

The boy whirled on his heels to face Johnson. He had opened his mouth before he learnt whom he was seeing and was about to snap at the man in question. But once the coat materialized before him and higher up, the man's face he halted his breath. Thinking it better his irritation showed but the rest was kept in check.

"...A fine day....is it not..."He spoke with forced politeness. The middie looked almost like a cat whose toy has been whisked away by her owner and was now sulking at the loss and looking cross.

Thompson saw the exchange and hid a grin. Johnson might have the sourest temper known to man, at times, but he did have a sense of fair play. 'Specially when someone was getting picked on, like that. And it wasn't really like De Guarde could say anything against him either. Johnson had a proper rank, even if it wasn't a commission. And he wasn't in the same chain of command as the Marines, either.

Thompson was never quite so glad he'd chosen to join the Marines than he was at that moment.

Johnson returned the midshipman's gaze evenly, even though he would've liked nothing better than to see the lad dragged straight to the captain's cabin by his ears. "It was a fine day, sir," the corporal said flatly, once Samuels had disappeared below.

OOC - Off to work now!

(OOC - adieu, have fun!.. err well as much as there can be at work :/ )

".. " Has noted the change of a tense, deliberate certainly, and it's inclination to what reason may the - past - refer to. "I do agree." A pleasant smile, but not heart felt.

"... 'there be clouds now.. n' perhaps a storm may yet greet us soon." He spoke of the weather as if it was that, that Johnson has meant. Too bad that the good sailor's prey had gone. The exchange for the cross man was not favourable. But atleast it hadn't been one of the lieutenants. Now that would have him curse bitterly under his breath.

The lieutenant had come up from below barely stifling a yawn. He saluted the quarterdeck and exchanged greetings with Bush, before taking a turn forward, pacing along the length of the deck, half-acknowledging the men as they made their obediance when he passed. He stopped in surprise however as he heard the doctor call to a sailor, and turned in astonishment to see Chase and Taylor, mops in hand, seemingly about to clear out the heads.

"Chase! What are you doing up here? You're supposed to be on light duties."

Clouds. Johnson scoffed and didn't even bother to glance skyward to verify the midshipman's statement. He didn't care what the weather was like. His statement hadn't been concerning the weather.

"Maybe so," he said curtly. His purpose for even speaking to the boy was over and with it his interest. At least until he spotted another poor seaman getting jumped all over by this snotty little beast. Johnson turned on his heel and made his way to the opposite rail, gruffly pleased that he had interrupted the midshipman's game.

God but here came someone else asking why he was busily working, or trying to. Chase and Taylor saluted the lieutenant, the movement far more natural than it had been for Mister De Guarde.

"Mebbe, sar. Me'n'Taylor was swabbing amidships 'til Mister De Guarde saw us. He sent us up here, sar." Chase shrugged, reaching for his mop. "Reckon he were offended, 'cause I din't object t'workin'."

If it weren't for the fact that Westdale prided himself on keeping his knives sharp, he would have thought you could cut the atmosphere on deck with a knife. All he'd wanted to do was have a breather, not get embroiled in a discussion over whether Chase should be working or not.
automatically he squized his shoulders. His opinion on that was clear for anyone who asked.

Carefully avoiding the 'chat' going on by the head- a place he had been half thinking of visiting, before- he instead went to lean against the rail, near enough to johnson to start a conversation, if it weren't enough to listen intently to the one still raging behind him.
His back ached to watch Chase, so he turned more resolutley to the sea, letting the words wash over him.

Crozier had been about to give the topman a scolding, especially because he had heard that Chase had been in the boat crew last night. Such recklessness! Surely somebody else could have pulled an oar. And to hear that it was Mister De Guarde who had ordered this task, who was himself enjoying the benefit of light duties thanks to the doctor's request to the captain... Little ingrate. But with the arrival of Lieutenant Leat, Crozier thought it best to content himself with scowling at Chase.

"Thank you, sir. That's just what I was asking him."

Disengaging from the corporal he fumed in annoyance and anger again. He knew why that man came forth. It was clear as day. He wanted to interupt him, to usurp his authority by sending a man away right before him! Atleast Chase was doing what he had been ordered. He crossed some of the distance between himself and where Chase had been preparing, before he froze.

There was the doctor and with him a lieutenant questioning the sailor, or talking to him atleast. Were they talking about him? While on his other ship this event could not have ever been imaginable now it felt as wrong and as unpleasant as they could get.

He bit his lip, for from the distance he could already see the expressions of the men. It did not bode well. As if he had purpose elsewhere, he turned. It was foolish to want to avoid the meeting when the ship was small and a single order to call him up, would have him scamper before the lieutenant willingly. Curse Chase! ..

But no, could it have been just standard conversation. Perhaps Chase was just commenting on the weather, tough chance, or Lt. Leat would not be offended by his order anyhow? If only he understood the ship better and if that seaman could keep his mouth shut, damn him!

Johnson's movement toward the rail seemed to have brought him uncomfortably close to the scene on the foc's'le, which he wanted no part of. It would take only either Lieutenant Leat or the sawbones to turn round and spot him learning on the rail, and then he'd be for it. The corporal scowled to himself when he realised that Chase was standing close to the head, mop in hand. The devil...?

With a quick, jerky shake of his head, Johnson looked away. He could quite easily guess why Chase was there. If he'd come on deck just a few minutes sooner, he was sure he'd have caught that sneaky brat needling Chase instead of Samuels. Maybe another time, since there was sure to be one.

"This is rubbish," Johnson grumbled, mostly to himself, after glancing over his shoulder at De Guarde. Who, it seemed, had taken notice of the small group on the foc's'le as well and was watching it intently. Johnson found himself hoping the boy would get a good and proper blowing up for his conduct. It was certainly more than due.

Leat's eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed again in displeasure - to send Chase, a topman, to clean the heads when there were idlers enough to do so was fair insult, not to mention to do so when themid has so unjustly flogged him only the day before.

"Well, Chase," he said softly. "Since you are so eager to get back to work you may this instant run up the mast and relieve Sankie of look-out. You will stay there until the change of the watch."

Chase would not mind such an order - though on the face of it it appeared as a punishment - and silently dared Crozier to make any objections.

For a moment, Chase was afraid he was in for a proper telling off. Mister De Guarde was a child and from him Chase had little regard. But Lieutenant Leat... the topman straightened his back just a little and waited for the rebuke to come.

The order to go aloft left him blinking in surprise. Mister Leat wanted him to relieve the masthead lookout? Despite himself, Chase grinned eagerly. "Aye aye sar," he burst out, dropping his mop in his haste to salute. His bare feet slapped noisily over the deck as he scampered toward the shrouds, to all outward appearances hurrying because of the order. In reality, of course, he was only too happy to dash up the shrouds. Better than swabbing the heads any day!

The lieutenant winced inwardly at Chase's eagerness, but what was done was done, and it would serve.

He then turned, gave Crozier a polite nod of his head and made his way aft towards were De Guarde was being pinned down by a seemingly very cross Johnson.

"Mister De Guarde," he said pleasantly enough. "I would like to speak to you in my cabin, if I may. Immediately."

Mathew bit his lip, and felt his heart race uncomfortably at the call:"Aye sir!"He said, trying to sound eager and convinced. Though inside he was dreading what the lieutenant would say. Perhaps he would just give him duties though. The man sounded pleasant enough! He braved up a smile and turned heading to the said cabin (luckily knowing it's wherabouts by now) as fast as he could walk and seem not hurried. He surely remembered that young gentlemen did not run, and so he could not either.

Once present, he looked back awaiting the lieutenant, unsure. What did Leat need him for?