The Middies' Berth

Branning grinned broadly. "Oh aye, he'll be gettin' mine fer today an' tomorrer."

He took another swallow of water and looked down at the midshipman, who had ventured out of the berth to join them. Thompson's answer to the boy's question was dead on. "That's so. He's earned it, sure!"

"..yer know it's not permitted that yer be storin' yer rations away.. or like, havin' someone ter drink more than his share?" Obviously the very same thing wouldn't have bothered him if it were offered to him, but he was a hypocrite in that aspect anyway.

"You'm perfickly happy to take mine, sir," Thompson said, speaking quietly. "And Higgins done for the man that was tryin' to do for our Sarn't. He deserves a bit extra for that."

"Mebbe not, sar. But we won, an' that begs fer celebration," Branning said. " 'Sides, we kep' our sarn't 'cause of Higgins. Ain't a better thing than that!"


OOC - Off again, to another meeting. Hopefully back by this afternoon!

"...Fine. 'll pretend I've not heard it..n' ye give him that, but be sure he ain' drunk, if any officer sees. N'.. 've not said this either." He looked seriously at Thompson, his voice also softer, though he did expect that Branning would have heard him.

Thompson struck a note which the boy was ready to listen to. And then Branning spoke, but he had already decided he would be quiet.

"..of course. That calls for celebration." he said more pleasantly, almost felt. The Sergeant was Quinn, perhaps his loss would have actually been bad if it happened.

"We'll take care of him right enough, sir. Allus watch out f'r each other, we do."

He wasn't sure why the boy would take it from him but not from Branning, but it was better than not at all, of course. And even if Higgins got drunk, they could keep him out of the way easily enough - even stand his duty for him.

The lad was getting there, slowly maybe, but definitely improving. There was hope for him yet, Thompson felt and nodded to himself, smiling a little.

One of the reasons he took it from Thompson was that little mention of what ration he was getting and thought it was allright. There may have been other reasons too and perhaps a few words that Branning spoke added to it, but he did not dwell upon it.

Instead he nodded and wondered if these men were true when they sad that they'd have looked out for oneanother.

"'s summat warm." He commented on the water. Not a critisism, just a fact.

"Aye, it is. Y'get used to it, though, sir." Thompson himself was so used to it, he never even thought about it. Of course, part of that came from his childhood, even before he'd first gone to sea, when their drinking water had mostly come from the brook that gave its name to the street. And that had never been fresh.

The water was warm, true. And a little brackish. Branning hardly noticed either of those aspects until Mister De Guarde mentioned it, and he summarily dismissed them both with another swallow from the mug.

"Jus' 'nuff to wet yer throat," he said approvingly.

"Aye,.. but not fer long.. by t' taste of it.. n' soon judgin' by ter colour either." He looked between the two marines and then slowly lifted his gaze up as if trying to see through the deck.

"Did their cannons do lots of damage on our own?..n' when we rammed into 'er...t' side's fair allright, aye?"

"Best you don't look at it too much, sir. Water never looks good when it's bin the barrel a few months," Thompson said. "Didn't see any real damage to Terpsy's side when I went for'rard, but like enough Chips'll have a proper look-see an' be able to see for sure. She don't feel dead in the water, anyways, which means she'm prob'ly all right, sir." At least, he hoped she was.

Thompson's assessment was mostly right.

"We took a couple knocks, sar, but we're arrigh'. That Frog's worse off!"

Well, atleast the marines knew their job well and had a sense of perception of what went on , what the damage was and similar. He could almost find a reason to compliment them. Almost.

He glanced at the mug and regretted it. Instead of trying to think further on what he was drinking he gulped it up and pretended it was good ol' grog.

"So yer off duty now, Branning?" He asked turning to the first man. "Or am I to expect that you have come to offer Thompson here, some company?"

"Guess y'could say that, sar."

Branning hadn't really considered himself off duty, but maybe he was. He brightened up a bit and added, "More like, relievin' ol' Thompson here, sar."

Thompson blinked at that. He wouldn't mind being relieved, but he'd also been enjoying his chat with the lad.

He looked at Branning, slightly puzzled.

"But, he can stay.. can't he?" He tone actually wasn't that of a question but a statement, almost like an order. And then looked at Thompson and felt he didn't right wish him to go yet either.

" Two would be.. safer ter keep an eye on a midshipman, than just one. ..fer any Frogs that might've hidden n' will be coming out now...or..any sailors for that matter." He looked knowingly at Branning even if the man was as big as a bear.

The middy wanted him to stay? Well, that was a surprise.

"I don't mind stayin' a bit longer, sir... till we know what's happenin'." If Branning wanted to stay as well, that was fine, otherwise... "You don't have to, Brannin', mate. Not if you don't want to."

Shrugging slightly, Branning said "S'arrigh' by me, sar, if he wants t'stay."

" 'Sides," he added with a crooked grin, for he thought of Corporal Johnson bellowing at the bewildered French prisoners. "It's a fair bit quieter down here, sure."

"Don't have any middies 'ere at ter moment, aye. N' mos' of t' sailors are up above still. " It was almost like his own little kingdom which now had a pair of guards to protect it. It was quite a deal more quiet here, and probably if one compared it to where Johnson was shouting his lungs out, this was heaven.

"Yer both stay then. N' if we need ter have sommat checked, one of you shall go and return to report." Well, it did pay to have a pair. Always could send one to inspect, while the other kept his duty like a proper watch man.

Well, Thompson didn't mind one way or the other, though it seemed silly having two sentries where one would do. He merely shrugged and leaned on his musket, wondering when the lad would be sent for, and what would happen then.

"Fair 'nuff, sar," Branning replied. He fell silent then, having run out of thoughts as to what to say. What could you possibly say to a midshipman?

It did turn rather queit now that they were two. A sort of tension that remained in the air which was mixed with duty rather than familiar feeling. He looked at thompson as if expecting the marine to say something, then averted his gaze similarly to Branning.

There was little he wanted to ask, or say to show himself as ignorant. There were quite a few questions he had had answered, especially about the state of the ship and its repairs. The marines could only know so far, neither being officers nor sailors.

"..Have the men to be appointed for the other ship been decided yet?" If Branning knew at all, he could tell for the marines. He uttered a deep sigh of frustration. Where were they. They could've relieved him from this forced 'imprisonment' and allowed him normal movement already. It was pleasant here, but he wanted to do more than just hang around.

[George comes from here]

Lieutenant George came down the companionway and walked aft to the midshipmen's berth. Branning and Thompson were both standing at the door: they could be better employed guarding the French prisoners, but they might as well see this duty through first.

"Escort Mr de Guarde to the Captain's cabin, will you? De Guarde, the Captain will see you, to consider your future in view of what Mr Bush recommended."

Thompson came to attention as Mister George approached. This probably wouldn't go too well for the lad. He'd tried to to tell him, but he wouldn't be told. At least this way, he would be close to hand when the lad found out, whatever the Captain's decision. He only hoped the lad wouldn't take it out on him if the Captain decided against him.

"Aye, aye, sir," he said in reply to the lieutenant. There was nothing else he could say, after all.

"Then come along, de Guarde," George said impatiently. The Captain would not like doing this, not so soon after losing young Dunnock. A promising young man, dead before he could start to fulfil that promise. Was there any hope for this one?