Beating to quarters

The men in the gundeck below gave a cheer when they realized that the captain meant to chase her.

"Silence, gun crews! Silence fore and aft!" Kinsella yelled, but he too could barely suppress a grin.

Johnson grinned fiercely as Terpsy shifted her course to follow the Frog. His Marines were cheering and offering insults a little too loudly, and he should be silencing them, but he too had been yelling at the fleeing French ship. The promise of a fight had renewed itself and he was eager for it.

The shouted order from the gundeck reminded him, belatedly, that order was required on deck. Pity, that. A little bit of cheering before a fight didn't hurt. But if he didn't, Sergeant Quinn would and later would probably reprimand him for being slack.

"Silence now, my lads, wait 'til we're on that Frog's weather deck!"

Thompson couldn't help grinning at Johnson's order. It was unlike him to sound so pleased; usually he was a lot more brusque. It seemed the promise of action had put him into an unusually good mood, which Thompson wasn't about to risk dispelling by saying anything. Even so, he couldn't resist giving Terpsy's timbers a pat, and saying in a low voice, "C'm on, girl, we can catch her yet!"

John grinned to himself, and probably to a few more people as well, pleased with the turn of events. "whats the betting this time tomorrow we're rich men, huh?" He asked, to no one in particular, excited by the chase.

Relaying orders to whom it may have concerned, the boy was harsh with the sailors, but wasted no time to pick on one or the other. He was doing his duty and at present, time was not to be wasted. Especially if they wished to keep their enemy atleast in sight.

He wondered briefly if their guest would demand that they continue on their designated path, or if he would wait patiently that thhey engage the Frenchman, hopefully defeat it and then continue along with a prize ship. At that he wondered which of the crew would be picked to take the ship home. Which of the lieutenants. Bush?.. or would they spare mr. George? Lt. Leat? Whichever the decision, there would be middies going too and some of the crew.

Chase smirked as he came stumbling back to the gundeck, having just come down from the tops. "No bettin' on that, mate. It's too sure we'll all get a share!"

Quinn was about to berate the Marines when Johnson got there first. It wasn't that he begrudged them the opportunity to shout insults at the French, but rather that Marines should show discipline in front of the sailors. He allowed himself a small, satisfied smile as Terpsy began to swing in pursuit of the French ship. It appeared the Marines would get their fight after all.

He shivered a little; the rain was beginning to soak right though his jacket by now, but at least the wool retained his body-heat. Up for'rard, he saw Vining stalk forward to ring the bell, holding the lifeline as he went. The storm still hadn't passed, and the deck underfoot was treacherous for the Marine's shod feet.

The storm was definitely subsiding. The rain was lesser, the waves not as perilious to the small shell of wood riding them. Sailors were sent up, there was organised chaos on deck though to a spectator it might've looked like nothing but the men gone mad.

The midshipmen were leading their men under the orders of their lieutenants. Tasks passed down, orders shouted. The ship had taken a course and kept to it, with as much precision as it could master. Up ahead the Frenchman was intent on escaping, and unfurled more sail now, that the storm wasn't as much a danger to tearing at them.

Mathew had earlier stood sides with Fletcher, was met with Kinsella and later sent below. The cannons were still secured there, though some attempts would soon be made to prepare them for action. If only the weather would hold, once it turned for the better.

"What d' ye think yer doing , ere??" He found a pair of sailors. Not quite as sober as he would have liked it:" Didn' ye hear t' orders?!" He snapped and was about to continue past them. Things had to be done.

What? Chase frowned. "We're at quarters, sar," he replied, saluting the midshipman as he spoke. "Jus' where we's s'posed t'be, sar."

He stopped and turned, looking at Chase, and he recognised the lad, his eyes narrowing darkly at the man.".. You." He started and looked at the man's shoulder as if straining to see his back.

" Yer suppose ter be makin ' yeself useful. Ain't you a topman?" Sure, and a topman on easy duty, let him forget.

"Aye sar, so I is. An' I'm just down from the tops too. Mast cap'n's orders." Chase looked annoyed as he mentioned the last, for it never sat well with a topman to be sent down from the yards before he was finished working.

"Should I go up agin, sar?" He tried not to sound too hopeful at the question, as a midshipman's order could overrule that of a mast captain.

"...Aye, go there n' make yeself useful." He didn't notice the hopeful tone in the lad's voice, else he would probably have condemned him to remaining below come doom's day, if he could. " N' don't ye fall! Or cause yeself injury , I know ye'd want ter." He winced, as the roll of the ship had him taking a side step and pulling the fabric across his aching rump.

Injured , wasn't the sailor too? Not that he cared, but if he were to be blamed if anything happened. His eyes narrowed on Chase.".. Ye'll be goin'.. after ye be tellin' me. ..Who was it. In the night. Come, tell! I know you know. Who was it that threw me." He took a step towards Chase, and ignored the rest.

"Aye aye, sar!" Chase burst out, not bothering to hide his happiness. His back ached of course, but not enough to stop him actively working.

His eager movement toward the shrouds was checked by the midshipman's next words. The topman frowned. How was he supposed to know who'd tossed the boy overboard?

"I dunno, sar. Sure weren't me, though. No sense in it, y'know."

"You've got friends aroun' 'ere. Sailors. Don't ye. Why else would they want ter throw me than because of you.. n' ye bein' flogged." His eyes narrowed darkly on the man, and he placed a hand to his side. He saw how happy he was about permitting him to go up tops. Perhaps he would change his mind on that now. Couldn't have him know about his decision just yet. Not untill he got what he wanted from the sailor.

"Who's the kind of man that would do it Chase. Yer bitter friend ter the end perhaps? I suspect 'twasn't you directly. ..couldn't do it even if ye wanted. But who else. Tell, and ye might be goin' up tops yet..n' not ter hang from them either!"

Where the hell was this going?

"Course I does, sar. But I'd not have 'em do anythin' so stupid. A floggin's a floggin', an' that's it." Chase shrugged. He honestly didn't know who was responsible, but he wouldn't tell Mister De Guarde about it if he did!

"Mebbe this is summat ya oughta talk t'the cap'n about, sar. I don't know anythin'."

"Do you suppose the captain had anything to do with it?" He raised an eyebrow:".. For what would our captain know.. that you do not? Certainly you are not accusing captain Bolitho of giving a suggestion that I am to be thrown.."

A small smirk appeared on his face:".. Now Chase. If you want a favour from me, namely.. I see you are eager to go up there, .. You shall have to give me something in return. Wouldn't do that I'd be grantin' wishes like that. "A less pleasant smile.

"Who ,.. give me a name, Chase. Who of the sailors would be capable of such a thing?"

"Not a bit, sar. I means, if yer gonna talk 'bout hanging from the yards, that's summat to 'dress t'the cap'n." He'd had almost enough of this ridiculous game.

"I dunno who did, sar, but I ain't gonna drop nobody innit jes' 'cause it'll get me back inta the yards. Think I'm happier on me gun crew jes' now, sar."

"You WILL tell me, Chase!" The boy's patience was wearing thin. He would have dropped it, if it were some other midshipman that got to swim, but it was too personal to forget. His hands shook, as did his shoulders, and colour was on his cheeks, anger evident in his eyes.

"Tell me!" He said it rather loud this time." Tell me, now! They are out there, free still!" And for a moment fear was clear in the boy's eyes too. He wanted to know, because he was afraid to go to sleep, knowing that perhaps he might not wake again. He was afraid to go below alone, because he was sure that at one time, he might not be going up again, but perhaps be knocked and bleeding, and die because nobody would go below enough to find him.

"It is your duty!"

"My duty's t'this ship, sar," Chase said firmly. "An' the cap'n."

Maybe the boy was scared, maybe he was just unhinged. Either way, he wasn't giving Chase any reason to be interested in helping him. Therefore... he wouldn't try.

"Leave." He turned to those of Jacob's crew: "...You are to wait aft. ..don't disobey my orders." His voice was angry, and yet also cold. The sailors were reluctant perhaps, but another harsh threat, and they were indeed going.

He turned towards Chase: "...The captain... , the ship.. the lieutenants and the midshipmen. Do you not know the hierarchy, Chase?... " He snapped: "Your duty is to tell, who commited the crime! It is your duty to the ship and its officers!" His voice raised and his small hands pushed raughly against Chase, as if trying to dislodge him and sent him backwards on his back. His injured back. He was not just afraid, but terrified and he did not want to admit that.

Chase set his jaw angrily, ignoring the others of his gun crew as they reluctantly dispersed.

"I know the peckin' order, sar. But I can't tell summat I don't know." Besides which, shoving at him like that was no way to get him to tell De Guarde even the time of day. Enough was enough.

"Mister Kinsella! Number Four gun, sar, if y'please!" He could not turn this boy away, but another midshipman could.

He pulled away before the other midshipman was even close. He was breathing harshly, and felt the sting of tears at the corners of his eyes. It wasn't fair, how easily the sailor could have saved himself the trouble. Another midshipman that would support the sailor surely. It was wrong and unnatural, but he knew it would happen and he took a step back.

Kinsella arrived and looked from the sailor to the red faced De Guarde and he must've known that something went on, yet still he asked calmly:" What is it, Chase?"

Mathew looked at the sailor as if trying to order him to be silent and dare not say a thing, while his voice to Kinsella was pleasant, near kind:"... He's having trouble with the.. cannon."

Chase frowned, just slightly, thinking sure he'd just seen the faint glimmer of dampness in the midshipman's eyes. But it had to be just sea-water.

"On'y a bit of trouble, sar. One of the wheels is stickin' some." Chase glanced quickly at De Guarde, wondering if the middie knew just what sort of trouble he could end up causing if he kept this up.

"An' I think Mister De Guarde ain't too well neither, sar," he added quietly. "Mebbe a bit soon fer him t'be about on deck, sar."

Kinsella nodded:" Will you need any help or can your crew deal with it? Best call them now, eh? " He wondered where the others were, yet he had a inkling, looking at the younger middie to his side. He wouldn't ask, and make Chase know that he understood and wanted him only to call them back and to remain at station till they were needed.

Mathew shook his head:"...I'm well.." He murumured quietly.

The elder midshipman observed the younger lad and had to hold his thoughts to himself, for it would not do that he lost his temper infront of a sailor, even if the young De Guarde deserved it.

"Mr. De Guarde, I believe Chase will be able to deal with the problem on his own now. Your services here are no longer needed. Go and bring me my spy glass. Must've left it in the middie's berth."

Mathew opened his mouth to protest, but Kinsella fixed him a hard look and the boy nodded slowly."..aye.., Mr. Kinsella." He answered with a heavy heart and turned on his heel, slowly and stiffly walking away.

Kinsella looked at Chase and sighed:"...Before you call the others...what really happened?"

(Move Kinsella around as you want. Of course!)

Chase waited until Mister De Guarde had gone before calling his gun crew back. Then he turned to Mister Kinsella. "He's jes' wantin' t'know who tried t'do fer him, sar." The topman shrugged. "Almost feel bad fer him, I does."