Light duties and men

Blow it. He wasn't staying here the whole time. There were voices coming from the midshipmen's berth. One of them sounded like Everett's. Curious as to what a fellow Marine was doing in the young gentlemen's living area, he headed to find out.

Well, that was odd. Branning was standing outside, apparently on duty. He grinned at the man. "What's goin' on there, mate?"

“All right, sir.” Everett gathered up the dice again. Hazard was a little bit more complicated than tossing for seven, and he hadn’t lied when he said he was a poor teacher.

Branning frowned at the mention of drink. He was willing enough to help amuse the midshipman, but providing him with drink was something different. “Ain’t time fer Up Spirits yet, sar,” he rumbled. “Even us lads don’t get a tot outside of that.”

His frown disappeared when he heard Thompson approach. Another friendly face, however unexpected. “Stannin’ sentry, special-like. Everett’s teachin’ the young gennelman how t’play Hazard too.”

He looked displeased. He wasn't daft not to know that there were always men storing a bit on the side as forbidden as that was. How else could they get drunk, when their ration was not enough for it. Middies could get tipsy with their ration, but they were after all young boys and not adult men.

"..certainly.." He began to say when a new face appeared, first hearing only the voice that belonged to it. Since he was not seated it didn't take much of his effort to lean to the side to see who had arrived. It wasn't any of the midshipmen, he's learnt their voices well, nor the captain or the lieutenants. Ah, another marine? It might've been the first time that there were so many in here, and two of which had little duty to do in the midshipman's berth also.

It was hard actually. He wanted the drink as he'd been so used to taking but in the days on the new ship, he had a feeling that he'd been drinking almost fully only water. Mind, he did recieve his rations when he had, and the wine was certainly not lacking in alcohol, but the feeling stayed.

"..Who's he?" He asked leaning closer to Everett. Distracting himself from the small yerning for a drink. He did not mind another marine. As long as he was sure that these were not the men that threw him over board, they could stay and more so, were invited to stay. Safety meant, the more the safer, and less boring too.

Standing sentry on the middy's berth when there was only the new young gentleman in it? And in a storm too? There was a story behind that...

"Hazard, huh?" That could be interesting. He grinned at the big Londoner. "Will you let me in, or will you tell me to shove off elsewhere?"

Though the only middy at all likely to be in there was the new lad, and Thompson hadn't heard - or seen - much good about him. Still, you never knew, and everyone needed a chance, in his opinion.

"That's Thompson," Everett replied, lifting a hand to wave at the other Marine. "Aye, Hazard. Care to help teach the lad?"

Branning said, "G'on, mate. Better havin' three playin' Hazard than two."

Thompson, Everett, Branning, Quinn, Johnson. He was slowly learning which names went with which faces. A thing he was rather pleased about. The more he knew, the easier it may turn out to be for him to identify whomever needed identifying.

That and getting to talk to them, might reveal their strengths and weaknesses too. Before he could continue pondering on why he wished Thompson to enter as well, he nodded curtly:".. Come in." Branning permitting as the man on sentry duty, the room had become rather red like. Lobster infestation at it's very best.

"Cheers, mate," Thompson said to Branning, and slipped inside.

"Funny sort of place to be seein' you in" he said to Everett, grinning.

He turned to the lad. "Hello, young sir. Private Thompson, at your service." He slid onto the bench next to Everett. "Goin' to learn Hazard, then?"

He nodded while his eyes evaluated the private critically. A fair friendly face towards his own men, a lively disposition, clean n' clearly well tended to clothes, his face for some strange reason looked innocent to him as if no ill will could pass through it. Though first looks could be deceiving.

"Aye. " He was aware that the private knew who he was and that he were of duty, though he'd have liked a salute no less even from the marine. "Midshipman De Guarde." He introduced himself with a light shrug. He was a tad bit envious of the two men now sitting. Standing in one place you got tired sooner, he had to be crouched a little if he were to participate at best to the game. At most times he had to balance himself with the sway of the ship.

"So then, how do you play it?" He'd been civil only because it now served him right. If he was civil he could be entertained, if he was of an ill heart, they would leave and Branning would be as silent and stiff as a board. There were atleast two other reasons as well. First being, he's been in trouble and he did not feel to elevate it further. Second being that one learnt more of them men, with a fairer word. For now. And.. third, he was still a child, and he wanted some peace as well as the next boy.

"Nice to meet you, Mister De Guarde," Thompson said. The middy looked slightly awkward standing, and Thompson remembered he'd been caned, so it wasn't as if sitting would be exactly comfortable for him.

"Don't suppose there's a pillow or summat you could put on the bench, to sit on," he said. Standing all the time was not his idea of a relaxing time, after all.

He wasn't convinced that a pillow would to enough good to be worth it, but his legs were tiring and his back was also beginning to complain about it's own position. "Don't suppose."

He did take thought into it. Usually he's not had a chance to remain below doing nothing, even after such a caning and any attempts to make it easier for him would result in taunts and his softener slid right from under him when he was to sit. So he didn't make much thought that he would be able to use one here. Even if he'd attempt it would hurt, a mere touch did. But he couldn't stand either, both as it might've been a sign that he was a very sensitive young boy, touchy and feely about a little trashing.

He looked crossly at Thompson, but with a slight shove from the table he turned. He could retrieve something from his chest, though for that he'd have needed to do a small bit of untying, just to be able to unlock it.
He did return with something that may have been just softer than the bench, yet still looked awkward thinking that he ought to sit on it. Not backing down before the marines though he began to lower his rump to the softer ground.

The fabric pulled at it and with a faint frown , cheeks red in embarrassement he was reminded again why he did not sit, when caned. Instead he found himself kneeling on the bench and sparing a glare to the men present if any dared comment on it. The fabric still pulled, but atleast he was not seated on it.

He'd have to shift later again, for legs never did good to sit on them for long. A slight lean to the side would do. Not much contact with his posteriors to the bench or the pillow, but less pressure also to his legs. He supposed it was worse to be caned on the bottom than flogged on the back. After all, sure you couldn't lie down on your back and sure you could not lean back, but atleast you could sit!

"...You were offering to teach me Hazard." He spoke meaningfully. Let's drop the subject, for he already hated the doctor for not giving him laudanum. He wasn't Chase, so he deserved some pampering too!

There was a certain kind of commotion going on outside, and it happened just now, noticing the sailor running past as if he were having a good reason to. He turned from the table and pushed himself back onto his two feet. What was going on? He heard yelling and could make out a few choice words. Then what he had sighted was truly there. There was a ship, he hadn't been mistaken! It made the thought that he wasted time with the Corporal instead of reporting straight away to the captain even more grave.

The captain was probably not even informed of the earlier sightings. He looked at the gathered collection of marines in the middie's berth. The fun time was over. He looked to the door. He couldn't be made to stay here, now!

Thompson jumped as the Appleby began to beat the urgent drumroll, summoning men to quarters. That was more like it - though they couldn't fight during a storm, with Terpsy half-seas over, surely!

He sent an apologetic look at the young middy and saluted. "Gotta go, sir! Comin', Everett?" Without waiting for a reply from his fellow Marine, he was out of the door and heading up to the berthdeck where he rapidly pulled on his crossbelts before heading back down to claim his musket from the arms locker.

The midshipman watched jealously at Thompson as he left. It was a nobrainer that Everett would be following suit. He looked at Branning and was sure that the man would remain only if he was still required to stand watch, but the moment Johnson would come and call for him, he'd be left in the berth alone.

Not knowing how fierce the storm was up above was one thing, but not being able to take part, if there was any sort of action, had the boy seething with rage. "We are going too, aren't we Branning." He spoke matter of factly.

Lieutenant George heard the message about Yates and offered a prayer for the boy. But the captain needed his messenger. Logically, one of the sailors would do as well, but George made up his mind and dropped down the companionway to the midshipman's berth. The big marine was still at the door, and he nodded to him. "Mr de Guarde," he said. "Report to the Captain, and he will tell you what he need - basically, he needs a messenger, and Mr Yates has been injured. So get up there, lad, and show what you can do."

"Aye, aye sir!" De Guarde was startled at first to see the lieutenant at the door, but when the message was relayed to him he could not have been more glad. Forgetting for a moment that he'd been flogged he'd gotten up so hastly that a startled yelp escaped him. With a blush on his cheeks he hastened to the door and past the lieutenant , saluting him as he went. He didn't run, for he knew that young gentlemen as he, were not meant to run. But he had made his steps as fast as he could make in walk, and ignored all of his discomfort fully.