Light duties and men

"Shooting is probably best," Peter suggested. "A big enough target at any event. Or use a boarding axe and fell him that way." He smiled up to take the sting from his words. "Do midshipmen ever have target practice - with pistols or muskets, I mean, rather than exercising the big guns."

"I think they do, sir. Leastaways with the pistols. Though most fighting's up so close and fast that there's not much need of target practice - not like fighting a duel, or being a sharpshooter in the tops. That's for the marines to do. The sharpshooting, that is, not the duels. One of the lieutenants would be the one to ask, or Mister Chandos. He'd know."

Mathew De Guarde wrote:"Aye, perhaps 'tis better. We will do more that way. Sorry, sergeant." He looked apologetic that he was tiring at such a speed, even if many excuses could've been given for that. He placed the one he had checked to the properly taken care of. It wasn't that hard at all, and with practice you could spot a thing out of place much easier and faster. You knew where you had to look for them, and you knew what was what and how it needed to work.

"Jus' help me hold them a bit." He felt his belly sound it's protest of hunger and he went to ignore it. Middies were always hungry, as it was. And always hoping for the opportunity of more food.

"Have you gotten what you came 'ere for? T' Adventure, the prize money n' the like?" He also felt thirsty but unlike with Fletcher, who could be bullied into giving him a drink, it could be near offense to ask a marine.

"I've had plenty of adventures an' the like, aye. And I've got a bit of prize money put by safe." He pulled the next musket out and held it so the boy could check it. He seemed to be a conscientious worker, once given a task, and shown how to perform it, and Quinn wondered whether he should talk to Mister Leat to inform him that there was something good in the lad.

"That ain't what you wanted to ask though, was it?" he said, watching the boy's nimble fingers check over the firelock.

"Yes it was." Well one question perhaps, though not the one that troubled him and he had earlier considered. He asked another question then, uncertain as before:".. Do you have a lady, sergeant? A lady of your heart that is?"

nods to the musket:" 's fine n' clean sergeant. The spark's right good too, and so is the lock itself. There's a nick on the butt of it though.. " Points to the musket." Bu' that's allright, aye?"

"There's a woman in Portsmouth that I like. We have... an understandin', as you might say." He looked at the musket he was holding.

"A nick on the butt ain't anything to worry about. I think that one's McEwen's." He wasn't expecting any major problems with the muskets, though there were one or two Marines who didn't take care of them as they should.

It was unexpectedly pleasant, sharing this chore with the young gentleman, and Quinn was reminded somewhat of when he had to settle recruits in to their first ship.

"Right, lad. Fair's fair. You've asked me a question, so now I get to ask one. Did you leave any friends behind on Confidence?" he said, putting the musket with the other good ones and taking another one from the rack. He hoped that the fact he wasn't looking at the boy might help him open up a little.

Fair was indeed fair. Quinn had been patient in answering all of the questions that the boy gave and offered to answer more as he wished. He was reminded of his earlier session with the doctor though. The man had asked questions too and then neglected to give him something that would relieve his pain. Would Quinn do the same? Use his trust and then neglect to reward him in some way?

He looked down at the musket as it was held to him and made his way into inspecting it for rust. He was quick on the job, finding not a speck of it, nor was the lock in any poor order. Just as the spark clearly confirmed his evaluation he finally decided that the silence could no longer drag on.

"....No." It was a curt answer to the question of friends. "This musket's fine too." He added and dared lift his gaze to meet Quinn's. He was judging him for the first moment and then he seemed to loosen his stiff composure somewhat. He released the breath he hadn't known to be holding as well. "..You can ask me..more if you'd like..sergeant." He relented.

"Must have been hard on a young lad like you, not to have any friends," Quinn said, non-judgementally, placing the musket with the others and reaching for another one. "Do you want to talk about it at all? To tell me? Because I won't ask if you don't want me to, but you might find it easier to tell me. Bein' as I'm a Marine, not a sailor or an officer."

"It's fine." He paused and pointed to the musket." It's fine, nothing wrong with it." He followed Quinn's movements to fetch another of the weapons.

"What is there to tell?" He murmured and touched the musket. He slid his hand across the surface, leaned closer again and checked it for rust. He pulled the trigger. A bit harshly this time. Almost as if he had had a face in mind when he placed his finger on the musket.

"..You are a Marine.."He acknowledged absentmindedly.

"You would talk to others.

"Only if I thought it would help you, and them. Because otherwise you'll end up getting punishment after punishment, when maybe there would be somethin' they could do to help you settle in and figure out how we do things here. Because, you've been hurt bad, and you're takin' it out on men who ain't done anything wrong."

He sighed. Maybe it was time to tack and try another course. "I was bullied somethin' awful in my first ship, too," he said.

He didn't believe a word the man said about sorting things out nor about avoiding the punishments by telling him of his past experience. He disagreed fervently that he had been taking anything out on men undeserving. All of them to whom he was mean would do something bad later, or have done so before. It was only right to set them straight because 'twas either so or more middies would fly over board. He was by now convinced fully that he had not done it by accident. Not fallen in due to restless sleep, but that there were two men atleast who did so and thus they were to be found.

The captain did not look interested in finding the culprits so be damned when he (the middie) would!
Still as he listened on, he was shaken from his thoughts by the last words the marine said. He blinked and looked at the man in a different light. He looked to the new musket, silently scolding himself for falling to the bait.

"You were bullied?" He asked as nonchalantly as he could. "What happened?" He showed a small amount of curiosity, but most of his emotion was hidden away behind the attentive, laborious gaze.

"Sly trips in the dark, equipment going missing or getting damaged, getting woken up every bell for no reason, having to give up the best part of our dinner - and all the grog ration. I'm sure you know the sort of thing. It went on for three years, until the bullies got posted to another ship."

It hadn't escaped Quinn what it was that had caught the middy's attention, even as he got another musket out for him to check.

" It must've been an awful ordeal.." He tries to make himself sound as neutral as he could.

He takes more time with his next musket, checking it once and actually testing it again as if he had forgotten he'd done it. "You rejoiced when they left, didn't you?" He motions for the musket to be placed with the good ones. No damage on it, no rust quite the same though it could use a bit more of the shine.

"Why do you think I've seen the sort of things on my previous ship? She was a good one, you know. Just right, n'..." Turns quiet studying Quinn as if to offer him the time to answer his questions.

"It was horrible. And for weeks after they went, I was terrified they might come back."

And just why had he thought De Guarde might have experienced that sort of thing?

"You remind me a bit of meself, back then," he said. "Not quite sure what to do or say that won't get you in trouble. Like when I asked you about that very first musket."

He smiled. "And look at me now. You wouldn't say I was the same man."

He kept his gaze sharp on the musket.The man didn't look at all the kind that had suffered under an iron fist of a bully. He was kind but more so he was not afraid.

"..Why did they leave your ship?" He asked uneasily. Quinn could understand, if his experience was true,but at the same could he have only made it up to get under his skin and..

..he did not want to think of that.
"My.. actions were justified. ..all of em." He spoked to reassure himself and to show the sergeant that he did not commit his own out of malice even if he had really felt entertained by their suffering. He felt that he had the power in his hands, the control and the command, which felt so pleasing.

"That's what they thought, and all. And they liked hurting others because they could. They only went because we took a prize and they were picked to be part of the prize crew."

He hadn't thought about that period for many years, and he was surprised to find that the memory still hurt, though nothing like it had used to. He was silent, letting De Guarde think. He didn't want to hurt the boy, who seemed to him to already be hurting. But sometimes you had to hurt more to help a wound heal. He wasn't willing to push the lad though; he'd talk when he was ready, and not before.

Edrington wrote:Edrington turned back towards Thompson, as things settled down. "Air," he confirmed and then shrugged. "Like a pea-shooter, I suppose. Only with greater pressure than a human mouth can manage. I don't know if I believe it either, but it must work, or the Austrians would not have equipped a regiment with them. I must hope that it works, or it will be a very short demonstration."

"They let the soldiers have them then, sir? Or is it summat that the officers get?" It sounded very different from any gun Thompson had ever seen - or heard about. "If they give it to anyone in the army, it must work, though, sir. Ain't any point wastin' the money, else."

"You would think so, wouldn't you?" said Edrington in an amused tone, "but it doesn't seem to work like that. Once the idea of a new, battle-winning weapon is accepted, the people who decide these things will press ahead, even if it isn't quite as good as promised. But you're right, of course. It must work - to some extent. But they haven't equipped every soldier with it, and we haven't set up factories in Birmingham to make our own. So I am not sure how good it will be. I at least am interested to see how it works," he said with a slight laugh.

"Like the volley-gun," Thompson said, remembering seeing one of the fearsome-looking things once. "It fired seven balls at once, but it was like havin' a cannon in your shoulder. Too many men broke their shoulders, trying to use it, so they decided not to issue any more." He grinned, leaning on his musket. "Not that I could ever use one. I ain't big enough built."

He looked at the officer, hopefully. "Be nice to see your gun fired, sir. Even if it's just the once."

"I can promise you that, at least. Although it may explode - the gas cylinders can develop leaks and weak seams... On the other hand, I did read that there is no appeciable recoil - no powder explosion, you see."

He leaned back again. "The Marines, and the midshipmen. They need something curious to take their minds off their own concerns."

Thompson sighed. "Us Marines're all right. It's the sailors who need distractin' most, I reckon, sir. Though there ain't much round here to distract 'em with. We'm lucky we don't have that much to do with the middies."

No recoil? This gun was sounding stranger by the second.

"I'm sure we'd all like to watch you, though, sir," he said. It would be the talk of the Marines' mess-deck for months.

"I reckon that if you told one of the sailors you had a gun that could kill at over a hundred yards usin' nothin' but air, he'd say to tell it the Marines. It's a sort of joke the sailors have, that we'll believe anythin', no matter how outlandish." He grinned at the joke.

Twice he checked the next musket before he realised that a third time was not necessary. Again the judgement was the same. The musket was alright, which was starting to be a sort of surprise to the boy. Only two had so far not passed inspection properly and with men whose discipline was not as harsh, he had expected there to be more. Could be the rust hadn't had time yet to take over the rest of those muskets though and..well this man checked them often enough to be sure all was in proper order.

He could trust him to be telling the truth if he would be able to supply an example, an event in which he had suffered the bullying. He didn't know what to make of the information that he would gain with that. Would it matter that the man was indeed a victim as well, a feat any would be struggling to admit?

He felt tormented by the thought. Missing things and accusations, wakeup calls when one barely shut their eye, last picks of the food and other experiences of one's daily life that Quinn mentioned. They were vivid in memory, not as trying to imagine the sergeant there.

"If I may ask." For it was personal,by far more than anything that they've spoken before. " Can you elaborate.. on your experience that is." He placed a hand on the next musket, not checking it yet. His bum throbbed with the pain, reminding him that of all things, sitting would not be his chosen position. "And, .. I am sorry that you had to go through something of the sort." As if he hadn't. He thought it had been normal up till now, but he felt that Quinn didn't. So thus the reason for those words.

It hadn't escaped Quinn that the lad had checked the last musket twice over, as if unaware of what he was doing.

"I was a new recruit, not much older than you are now," he said. "And like you, I was aboard my first ship, Athena, frigate. There was a group of us just come from training in the Portsmouth division. And it was hell. Not being able to do anything right - if you spoke, you were being insolent and if you didn't, it was 'dumb insolence'. And things would go missing - the plume from the hat was a favourite, and then you'd get punished for that. Have to stand a double guard, maybe. And then when you could turn in, you'd get woken up every bell until you had to be on duty again. Things like that."

He shook his head. "Not pleasant at all."

His gaze was wandering. From the musket to the sergeant, to the lines of checked guns and to those still in the line to be checked and back again. He forced himself to concetrate on the musket at hand, but he looked more uncertain than before. His mind was a tornado of thoughts, some battling each other and some urging those fights on. He licked his lower lip subconsciously, and found himself staring, when his mind wandered. His cheeks, quite pale, coloured a faint tint of red.

"You knew exactly who hid your things?" It was a question that eased the feeling of Quinn's full attention to him. If the silence had prevailed then The sergeant would certainly have by far more time to observe him. Now he gave him something to think about. To answer. His own confidence was shattered though. Memories were there and with Quinn's own they were made so much more real and present. The waking, something that would drive you mad, tired with exhaustion and worse for the day which was already bad.

"N' ye had to be the one waking else you'd be far worse.. or they woke you and woke you again, till you did not know when it was for your duty and when it was out of spite..just because you did...."He then hesitated, for he found himself saying all of that out loud. "I .. I mean. 's like that that you had it? This waking..by t' bell? You could not complain to anyone?" A mild an innocent question.

"It was our Corporal and his cronies, but it was just as bad among the sailors, and the officers didn't care. Oh, maybe they'd say to let someone get a full night's sleep, sometimes, but they didn't care." He sighed. "And then if you were the one who was supposed to be doing the waking, but you didn't, because maybe you'd been woken yourself all the night before, they'd hold you down over a seachest and thrash you. Back of the legs was the favourite, unless they could get you without your jacket on."

The man was not lying, for he could not phantom why Quinn would've made such an elaborate story solely to amuse a young lad, a middie whom was not most liked aboard that ship. He listened attentively, with his lips slightly parted as are with many children when listening with out-most care.

"The Corporal here... he's cruel too." He murmured and caught himself saying so, he flushed.".. Do you still dream of it, sergeant?" He asked. "Did you? When they left?"