Beating to quarters

"You ain't falling at all if''n I can help, sir. And I'll catch you if you do slip."

Grasping the rail with one hand, and with his other arm firmly clasping the young middy, he began to make his way down to the berthdeck. At least down here they didn't have all the water slopping around.

Passing to his station at the captain's side, the boy had near slipped twice, and had to catch and steady himself and hope the next wave would not come too soon. He was soaked yet his spirits were high. He'd heard mention of the enemy, and he was proud that he had spotted it before even if his accounts on its wherabouts were rather poor. He looked up to the captain and had saluted him earlier. This was much better than to reside below with little to do, and suffer the smell of sweat and of rankness that often remained no matter how well it was kept. It did sting when the salt water made his breeches cling to his posteriors, but so one could not have everything.

Peter rested his hand on the rail, trusting that the Marine would support them both. He drew a deep breath as they reached the berth deck, but Dr Crozier would be below this, down another companionway. Out of the wind and rain, he began to shiver, as cold water ran from his hair down his face and the back of his neck. "It's cold," he said, realizing that that was silly, but he didn't want the Marine to think that he had been frightened.

"Aye, it is, ain't it, sir? Warmer down here, though." It was easier to get to the second companionway, not having to struggle across a wet, slippery deck.

More stairs to go down. He hadn't noticed how strangely steep they were before - and they weren't straight at all, but oddly slanting, so a foot slid sideways on the steps. But Thompson still had him in a tight grip, and would not let him fall.

"Come on, sir nearly there now," the Marine said. Despite his care, another wave buffeted Terpsy, making her skip a little more and he took the last two steps rather quicker than intended. "Woops! Still, we'm down now." He turned towards the gun-room, Crozier's station at quarters.

"Doctor Crozier, sir," he called. "Got a patient for ye, sir!"

Kinsella had gone to inform Bolitho of Yates' injury, and to pass on as much of the information that Peter had been trying to tell him as he could. To the boy's great relief, Bolitho knew what he was speaking about.

"Thank you, Mr. Kinsella," he said, "Now you may go and return to your station."

The midshipman saluted him and hurried off. Bolitho turned to gaze out at the approaching ship again. It had gotten closer, and could be seen from the deck now. He was thankful that the crew were all prepared and at their stations. They would surely be in for a fight very soon.

De Guarde had come on deck a few moments earlier, and was now standing nearby. Bolitho knew they would need everyone to pitch in, and that included the midshipman. Thus he had had no qualms about allowing De Guarde to leave his confinement. He was still none too pleased with the boy for his actions earlier, but perhaps the impending battle would give De Guarde a chance to show a better side of his character. Perhaps he could show himself to be a decent officer after all...

"Thank you," Peter said again. "I'll be all right now." He had bitten the inside of his lip when the Terpsichore had skipped just now, and he wanted to sit down where it wouldn't do it again.

"Are you... are you sure, sir?" He really didn't want to leave the youngster before he had to - the lad was cradling what looked suspiciously like a broken arm, after all.

He looked to the captain expectant of orders or a message that he needed to relay onwards, but saw that Bolitho had not yet the wishes nor did he have a need for such action. He'd seen Kinsella pass earlier yet payed little attention to the elder midshipman.

Observing the ship now, he was sure it wasnt one of their own, and raised his glass, steading himself carefully before he pulled the ship closer to his vision. Though he thought it was a sole sail, he scanned the horizon and had to steady himself again and still his belly, when the ship's movement made the lookout near impossible.

Yes, so far it had been just one. He looked to the captain, observing the man for a moment. He knew he was fortunate that he was allowed above and that the ship before him was to blame that all hands were needed, and that the storm around them, was to thank that Yates had offered him a place here on deck.

Peter nodded to Thompson, feeling sick now that he had reached the surgeon's station. "Dr Crozier will look after me," he said, looking up at the approach of the Terpsichore's surgeon.

"Well what have we here? You're our first. Come along, sir," the surgeon said as he relieved Thompson of his charge. "Thank you, Thompson."

"I slipped on the gun deck, Sir," said Peter, "and ended up in the scuppers on the lee side." He held out his right hand with the skin torn off by the wet rope, and then pointed to the left arm. "I think it's broken."

"All right, let's get that jacket and shirt off," he said, easing the young man into a sitting position on the table and undoing the buttons on his coat. "What's happening up there?"

"It's blowing a hoolie as Dan - I mean Mr Kinsella would say. But we have the chase in sight, and ..." Peter suddenly started to panic. "I was to present the Captain's compliments to Mr Adams - the carpenter - and would he say when they would have fished the... " His voice rose "the something. I can't remember, Dr Crozier."

"Don't worry about that," Crozier replied abstractedly. "I'm sure someone else will take care of it. Now this will hurt." He pulled the coat off as gently as he could.

Peter bit back a scream as the doctor eased the coat over his broken arm. Crozier had been right - it had hurt like anything, and the sense of the jagged ends of the bones grating and driving into flesh ... The scream turned into a whimper and Peter watched as the swaying glow from the lantern turned into a single bright light and then, abruptly, went out and took the pain with it.

Thompson handed his charge over to Doctor Crozier and turned to head back topside. He was grateful to have both hands now, and needed them, as the strength of the wind had increased 'sommat terr'ble' as his mother would have put it. He had done the sensible thing earlier and left his hat in his seachest, out of the way, where it wouldn't get lost. He was bareheaded and would have appreciated the warmth of his undress, forage hat, but the risk of losing it was too great. He fought his way back on deck to where the others were huddled, taking his musket back from Mallory with a grateful nod.

An unconscious patient was usually better than a screaming, writhing patient. Crozier slid the boy out of his jacket and lowered him to lie on the table before cutting the sleeve of his shirt to assess the damage to his arm. By the time the midshipman was opening his eyes again, his arm had been stabilized between splints and immobilized in bandages. "All right there, Mister Yates?" Crozier was asking him. "No no, don't sit up yet."

Peter felt tears spring to his eyes as he came back to consciousness. Until now, he had been in too much pain to consider the consequences, but now, with the arm aching but not screaming at him, he realized what a terrible thing it was. What would the Captain say, that one of his midshipmen had fallen over, and broken an arm? He tried to sit up, but Dr Crozier and his own giddiness made him lie down again quickly.

"You have a broken arm, Mister Yates. It hurts a lot now, but it will heal up just fine. Don't you worry. You can't move it, but it will be fine." He was cleaning the young man's hand where the flesh had been lacerated by his grip on the lifeline.

"I slipped," Peter murmured, soothed by the attention being paid to his other hand, leaving the broken arm to settle down. "I tried to stop myself but it was ... Does the Captain know? Someone was going to ask the carpenter about the damage. Dan said he would..."

"Kinsella? He's a trustworthy young man. I'm sure he told the captain and the carpenter. And there's Thompson too, in case anyone's looking for you. He'll tell them. Now what about the rest of you? Head all right?"

Peter tried to raise his left arm, but the bandages and splint made it impossible, and the doctor was still holding his other hand. "I hit it on something. When I fell." He turned his head to present the place above his left ear for the doctor's attention. The movement made his head swim, and the movement of the ship seemed to increase enormously. He gasped and closed his eyes tightly.

"So I see," the doctor murmured quietly. "It must be very rough out there in the storm. M'Clure, mix up a sugar of lead wash with laudanum, will you?" He looked at the midshipman, trying to assess how useful he would be if there were to be a battle in the midst of this storm. The poor lad would be unable even to grip the lifelines, much less lead a gun crew or make decisive orders. And yet, it would probably be his first action. "Mister Yates. Mister Yates, are you still with me?"