Setting Sail - Berry

Not exactly the correct form of address - Paget might have taken offence at that - but polite enough for today.

"The doctor expressed satisfaction, and the ball seems to have been extracted whole. He seems a competent man -" Edrington glanced at Dwerry for confirmation, but continued "and we must hope that the wound is clean. No cloth or anything else in it. I am..." He returned the Captain's gaze "rather relieved, I have to admit."

Dwerry nodded absently, then nodded again with honest relief.

"Ah. That's good. Quite good..." He went to run a hand through his hair, but caught himself and instead commented with a wry smile, "Yes, MacKintosh is one of a kind. Far better surgeon than I ever expected to get. A bit blunt."

He cut himself off there, aware that he was beginning to ramble.

"You are fortunate to have a good man. And so are we." Edrington looked across at the other ship. "I trust you have no objection to Lord Paget remaining in your cabin. It is important that he should have the best conditions to aid his recovery, and that cabin is much the healthiest place. I believe that his lordship's man and your steward were - discussing the matter when I left. Perhaps you could ensure that the steward does not cause a disturbance." They might simply have been discussing the best way to transfer Paget's things to the cabin and the captain's gear to the cubbyhole, but the squabble of servants were not interesting enough to listen to. Dwerry must ensure that Paget's needs were met.

Dwerry's lips thinned in displeasure at Edrington's tone of voice. It was true that the man had rank - social and military - on him, but this was his ship. Stifling the urge to insult the man to Hell and back, he instead forced himself to speak with what he hoped resembled some measure of politeness.

"Of course not. On small ships the captain's cabin often doubles as a sick bay. And as for my steward..." He fought his facial muscles for a moment, the irritation flashing briefly across his face, before managing, "Mr. Smith is quite capable and more aware of the limitations of shipboard life than his lordship's man. But I expect they'll manage to work together well enough." And if they don't, he thought grimly, It'll be his lordship's man I'll likely end up warning.

He was looking off to his side, out across at the Sparrow, still, and something finally clicked in his brain. With a frown, he held out a hand and called out, "Mr. Taggert, your spyglass for a moment, if you would."

The master's mate trotted over with the glass and Dwerry immediately placed it to his eye, studying the other's quarterdeck. His eyebrows shot up in astonishment, then knit again in thought. Dwerry lowered the glass and handed it back to the mate, chewing his lip absently.

It had been an unnerving day in so many ways. Edrington had not expected to enjoy talking to the Captain, whose attitude throughout the voyage had bordered on the insolent, but he had to admit that the man had conceded the point about the cabin and Paget's treatment with commendable swiftness. But Dwerry had made no effort to disguise the irritation he felt, nor did Edrington feel inclined to overlook the discourtesy of his greater interest in the other ship than in his passengers. It was not for the Captain to terminate any conversation - well, strictly speaking, on his own quarterdeck it probably was, and Edrington had won his point without any argument, and there was no other topic that he wanted to discuss... Indeed there were topics he did not wish to discuss with this man.

There was nothing amiss on the Sparrow that he could see, nothing to warrant its attracting the Captain's attention. "Captain Dwerry," he said, with a note of anger, "I hope that your interest in that ship will not distract you from your responsibilities for Lord Paget's well-being?"

Dwerry forced himself to count to ten in his head before replying.

"His Lordship's health is of the utmost importance, but so is the welfare of my sloop and my fellow captain and his sloop," Lips thin, he turned on his heel to face Edrington. "I assure you, I will not forget or be too terribly distracted from the man in my cabin. Your Lordship."

He added the title after a tiny delay, with politeness that was almost a mockery. Almost. Aaren couldn't believe the impertinence of the man. True, he couldn't see that over on the Sparrow it appeared to be Mr. Yates, the midshipman, in charge, and neither could he know that it was Bolitho's habit to take this watch, but all the same! Dwerry was not pleased, in the least, and forced himself to count to ten in his head, again.

"Good." Edrington bit off the word. Dear God. Did the man want a quarrel here, in this very public place? "Then it appears that we have nothing more to say to each other. I bid you good day." He turned towards the steps down from the quarterdeck.

"Good day," he returned, matching Edrington's crisp tone. He watched the man go with his eyes narrowed in dislike, before realizing that Taggert was watching him with a worried expression. Clearing his face of any emotion (he hoped), he called over to Taggert:

"You didn't happen to notice anything odd aboard the Sparrow, did you?"

"No, sir," was Taggert's confused reply. Dwerry nodded, frowning, but didn't explain himself. He instead settled for watching the other ship, feet braced apart and hands clasped behind his back.

Conscious of the curious glances of the crew, who must have been aware of the tone of the conversation on the quarterdeck, Edrington walked briskly towards the Captain's cabin. Dagwood was going in, two of Paget's uniform coats hanging over his arm. In response to Edrington's mute question he whispered: "His lordship is still sleeping, my lord. I will come for you, if his lordship asks me to do so."

The pistol case had been left outside his cabin. He picked it up, and took it inside. EVerything in it was spotless, restored to its place. The situation was awkward, but there was nothing he could do about it for the moment. The cabin at least gave him a chance to think.

Thompson hoped that the cavalry officer would be all right, if only so that the other officer didn't feel guilty about killing or seriously injuring him.

He opened the case and removed one of the pistols. These were beautiful weapons, far too good for the likes of him, and he valued the trust the officer had shown him, to let him clean them for him.

He worked carefully, methodically laying the pieces out as he removed the lock to begin cleaning off the powder residue.

From his position for'rad Leat could clearly hear the tone of the Captain and Edrington's conversation, though not the words, and turned just in time to see the army officer take his leave and go below decks. He frowned, a small spark of anger stabbing briefly at his chest. What was the matter with Dwerry? He had known his captain for nearly three months now and had a fairly good picture of his character and assumed, to some degree, a certain amount of intimacy - as much as a commander could do with with any subordinate. So far he had found Dwerry to be on the whole an agreeable fellow, open to conversation and slow to dislike without due cause. But he could not understand why he had taken such a set against Edrington. Fair enough, he was army, but as army went Edrington was a decent sort - and still keeping the feud going even such a terrible situation as this... it seemed out of character to the man he knew.

Now that Edrington had gone Dwerry stood alone, his gaze fixed out to sea and his hands grasped firmly behind his back, he face set in a grim expression. Leat made his way over, and as he did so the sailors about the captain looked askance at him, worry clearly etched on their faces, but he merely shook his head. He no more knew what was wrong than they did.

He touched his hat to the captain and then stood silently beside him, following the captain's gaze to the Sparrow sailing in close company to them. There was a long silence before Leat chose to speak. What he was about to say was verging on insubordination, but something had to be done about the state of affairs aboard this ship.

"I hope Lord Edrington is well, sir," he said softly, keeping his eyes fixed on the Sparrow. "He looked quite perturbed when he went below just now."

The bell sounded, reminding Thompson that he was supposed to be on sentry outside the Captain's cabin in half an hour. He had finished leaning the pistols by now, so he gathered everything together, putting the weapons carefully away in their case before hurrying below to put the cleaning kit away and sort himself out ready to go on sentry.

He left the pistol case outside Colonel Edrington's cabin and went to find his accoutrements, wondering why Edrington and the Captain seemed to dislike each other so much. Not that he'd seen much up in the top, of course, but there had been some stiffness between them when back on deck.

At least he'd only be on duty for two bells - an hour - and it wasn't like Paget was going to get many visitors if he was as out of it as he'd looked.

IS THERE A PROBLEM? CAN WE ASSIST?

"Sparrow is signalling, sir," said Leat, although the captain could undoubtedly see it and read it for himself. Which also meant that they would have to wait for the signal midshipman to decipher it, and then only could they answer back. Leat frowned. Why would the Sparrow think there was a problem over here?

Dwerry glanced off to the side briefly, nodding in acknowledgement of Leat's salute. He hesitated before answering the question, though, first because he was unsure of how appropriate it really was for him to be discussing this with his lieutenant. He decided that he may as well, propriety and all that be damned. He was frustrated and a little lonely. But then the Sparrow signalled them.

He frowned at Leat's question and then glanced behind him at the sudden buzz of activity as Winger noticed the message. Then he had to fight back the urge to smack his forehead.

"Ah. Of course. Someone must have noticed the affair up on the maintop," he shot Leat a rueful half-smile. "I'll admit it had passed my mind entirely that they should be let known."

Truthfully, he supposed they -or he, at least- had good reason. At the beginning of it all he hadn't thought the Sparrow close enough to notice. But still... if it wouldn't have looked rather ridiculous, and bothered the seamen more, he would have smacked himself.

"Eagle eyes aboard the Sparrow, sir," Leat said. It was a poor joke and he knew it.

Behind him Mister Winger was struggling with his the book to decipher the flags, receiving the odd hostile glare from Tadcock, as everybody else had read the signal twice over already.

"Signal reads; Is there... a... problem. Can... we offer... assistance."

Winger looked up at the captain.

"Is there a problem, sir?" The young boy's concern showed clearly in his voice and face.

Dwerry's face crinkled into a smile at Winger's innocent question. He shook his head, and ordered him to reply saying that 'no, everything is fine'. He then arched a warning eyebrow at Tadcock - the boy was only young and new after all, but didn't say anything to the man.

He turned back around, however, and muttered to Leat, "No, nothing wrong except the fact that we should be running patrol off Portugal, not playing ferryman to a pair of Army officers." There was a hint of disgruntlement in his voice, although it was largely hidden by the dry tone.

Leat frowned slightly, careful to keep his gaze upon the Sparrow.

"I hardly think Lord Edrington is totally keen on the idea of relying on the navy for his transport either, sir," he said delicately.

Carefully keeping his voice low so that none of the other members of the crew overheard them, Dwerry replied with a derisive snort.

"Of course he's not. Insufferably prig that he is," he was grumbling, and probably being rude, but Goddammit he needed to air his opinions with someone! Before he went insane, that was.

The lieutenant raised his eyebrows.

"Prig, sir?"

Dwerry shot a glance at his lieutenant and pulled a face.

"Well, whatever he is, he's insufferable," then he gave a quiet snort and said, in an amused tone, "Not that I've been helping any, I suppose. In any case..."

He straightened up and sighed. "Do keep an eye on whatever message Winger sends up. I'm going below to see how Lord Paget is doing."

With that he turned and headed for his quarters, face carefully neutral and secretly hoping Edrington had gone to his own quarters or something.

((OOC: one of us can log into the Berry account and send a message just like they did... doesn't really matter who. ^^ And I was thinking - do we want to skip ahead in time any? Change to a new thread? Anything?))

"Aye, sir," said the lieutenant. He watched as his superior left and shook his head, before turning to see if Winger had laid out the message correctly.

[OOC: Perhaps if we now skip ahead to the day of the dinner/French attack?]

((OOC: Yeah, that's what I was thinking. Should we roleplay out the sending of invitations to Bush and Bolitho, or just... hurrum. We'll need a new thread, won't we? Cause officers from two ships will be there/here.

Aha, we should probably be discussin this on the planning thread. xPP))