Beating to quarters

"Nonsense, man," Crozier replied shortly. "We're all of us mortal. Raise your arm now." He pulled the captain's coat away and then his shirt, not even noticing that he had dispensed with the respectful "sir" and "captain". In the sickbay, Crozier was king. "Thank you. Arms down. Let me see." He pushed and prodded, working efficiently and ignoring any sounds of pain or protest for the moment. He wanted to work quickly to stop the bleeding or else his patient would go into shock. "There. That's you stitched for the moment. I'll take another look at it later, but at least now you can move across to the Terpsy without dropping any vital organs along the way. Sit up please. Barrow? Come in here!"

Billy Barrow poked his head into the sickbay, looking wide-eyed at the captain and the doctor. He wondered how the doctor had known he was waiting outside.

"Billy, hold the captain while I wrap this bandage. That's right... That should hold. Shirt now. There you are, sir. Can you manage your jacket? And then we'll see if you can walk."

"Yes...I think I can...can manage," Bolitho said, accepting his coat.

Crozier's quick work had not completely eliminated his pain, but it had lessened it somewhat. Bolitho was grateful to the doctor for that, and more importantly, for saving his life. Slowly, gingerly, he began to pull his coat back on.

"You...you saved my life, doctor. I cannot even...begin to..to thank you."

Crozier frowned. "Yes very well. Hush now. Billy, can you take his arm? Up we come. Preddie! You can come in now! Preddie, help the captain back to the ship - to the sickbay. I will follow presently." He watched them go and rubbed his forehead with the back of his wrist, the only part of his hand that was still clean. But there was still an enormous amount of work to do, and so he gathered his tools and hurried back across to the Terpsichore.

Excitment over, John trailed after the captain, then turned away to finish any tidying up that needed to be done. the Dr had spoken the truth- no one ever got better by more people watching them.

Though he had to admit that the less vital wounds were somewhat less alarming, and therefore somewhat less exciting to look at. Still, it was probably better that way, and a ship was always work.

As Preddie helped him out of the sickbay, the doctor's parting words finally sank into Bolitho's still dazed mind. He had been so disoriented that he thought they had taken him back to the Terpsichore, when in fact they were still on the Victorieuse. Obviously Crozier had wanted to tend to him as quickly as possible, so he had taken him down to the closest sickbay. A wise move indeed, he thought. But now he needed to return and assume command of his own ship.

Once back up on the French ship's deck, Bolitho dismissed Preddie, determined to not appear weak in front of the men. The crew of the Victorieuse had all been rounded up by now and had been taken down to the hold. Bolitho took a few cautious steps forward, unconsciously clutching his side as he did. Quite a few heads turned upon seeing the captain again, notably Lieutenant Bush, who looked quite pleased to see Bolitho again.

"Sir," Bush said, with a quick nod towards the captain.

"Mr. Bush," Bolitho said as he approached, "I see that...you have things well...well in hand. I shall be...returning to the Terpsichore, and so...so I shall leave you in charge here."

He paused for a moment to catch his breath. It pained him even to speak, but he did not want to let Bush know that.

"See to it that...all of our wounded are brought back to our sickbay...so Dr. Crozier may care for them. Carry on, Mr. Bush."

With that, Bolitho turned and began to cross the short distance to his own ship, though it felt like a much longer trek to him at the moment.

"C'mon Sarn't," Branning grunted and he and Hardy hefted Quinn up. They'd get him safely back to Terpsichore right quick, and see he stayed there.

Crozier watched the captain's progress and nodded to Preddie and Barrow to stay with their captain. Then he swept his eyes across the deck of the French ship. There were many wounded, both French and English, and he could not in all good conscience leave those among the French unattended. And yet he was only one surgeon, with only one assistant and a loblolly boy. He ventured to approach Lt. Bush.

"Mister Bush. I wonder if it might be possible to let the French surgeon attend to his wounded, in his sick bay. Perhaps a couple of marines can stand guard to make sure they don't try anything, but I think he'll be too busy for anything like that. Some of these men need immediate attention, but I'm needed on the Terpsichore."

Bush considered it for a moment, and then nodded. He looked around for the most senior marine present. "Sergeant! Sergeant Quinn! Where is the man? Where is Lieutenant Brandeson?" He grumbled under his breath and went to seek out a marine, any marine that could be spared.

Crozier himself spotted Quinn being aided by Branning and Hardy. That blasted head wound... "Bring him to the sickbay," he called, hurrying ahead to the Terpsichore.


[Continued here]

With resolute yet shaky steps, Bolitho at last came back onto the deck of the Terpischore. Almost as soon as he did, he was approached by Fletcher, who looked to be uninjured but had a terribly worried expression on his face.

"Captain! Sir!" he cried, quickly saluting, "It's...it's Mr. Dunnock sir! He's been bad hurt, and...and he..."

The boy broke off, swallowing hard and fighting back the urge to weep. But Bolitho did not need him to finish his sentence. He understood.

"Where is he, Mr. Fletcher?" he said softly.

"In...in the sickbay, sir," Fletcher said.

Bolitho nodded to the boy and made his way down to the sickbay as fast as his injured state would allow.