A Summons

The Marines' conversation stopped as Bush's bellow rent the damp air. They paused, waiting for the first one to shift towards the companionway. Thompson got there first. Never volunteer for owt, he heard Thwaite's voice saying in his mind as he clattered down the ladder, shedding water everywhere. He headed for the First Luff's cabin at a run, skidding to a halt as he got there and came to abrupt attention. The memory of Thwaite, who'd taken him under his wing aboard his first ship, vanished as he took in the scene before him.

"Sent for, sir," he said, saluting, and flushed as he realised his hat was still stowed in his chest and he was bareheaded.

"Private," Bush was too angry to bother using the man's name. "Mister De Guarde is to be taken below and confined. There he is to remain until he is sent for by either the captain, myself, Mister Leat or Mister George."

Bush then turned his gaze back to the midshipmen.

"You are from thismoment relieved of your duties. You shall remain confined below until after our engagement, at which point I shall strongly recommend to the captain that you be disrated midshipman and be turned a'fore the mast - as doubtless Mister Leat shall as well."

He nodded to the Marine.

"Take him away."

It was all Thompson could do not to gape at either Lieutenant.

"Aye, aye, sir. Will..." he nearly quailed at the look on Bush's face. "Will that be in the young gentlemen's berth, sir?"

'Confined' generally mean 'in irons' and he could not imagine any circumstance that would lead to a midshipman being clapped in irons.

"The Midshipman's berth will do," Leat said flatly. "Though he is to have a guard placed on him; lest he be tempted to go where his presence is no longer required."

"Aye, aye, sir." Thompson saluted again,and turned to De Guarde. "Come on then, young sir. We've got our orders."

Though quite why it had come to this, he couldn't say.

(Mister De Guarde and Private Thompson head down to The middies' berth.)

The lieutenants waited until the door was shut before they even thought of talking.

"Thank you," Leat said.

"Don't thank me," grumbled Bush. "'t needed to be done. He's pushed it too far and needs smacking down - else he'll be over the side again."

It was hard to believe tha one small midshipman could cause so much upset and ill-feeling in so short a timeframe. Yet De Guarde had been warned - repeatedly - and given several chances; and now the officers' patience had run out.

"Do you suppose the captain will go through with it?" Leat questioned.

"He doesn't have much choice; not with both of us behind the move, as doubtless George and Taggart will be as well. He'd have the lower deck up in arms."

Leat nodded, pushing his sodden hair back from his face.

"Pray to God that he does, then."

He then exited the cabin to go back on deck, a slight feeling of relief as he did so. De Guarde, for now, he no longer had to worry about.

[The lieutenant shall now return to Beating to Quarters.]

[Midshipman De Guarde and Private Thompson have now gone to The middies' Berth   . There! ]