7th day, dawn. Surgeons

he woke early, as was his want, and splashed cold river water over his face, taking a healthy swig to wake himself up while he was down there. He took a look for any fish, hoping for a repeat performance of yesterday, but it was not to be.
ah well, they'd eaten alright last night, that was what mattered. He had food for breakfast, too, so no hurry.

Carefully, not wanting to wake Willoughby, he fired up a pot of tea, and peered hopefully into the pot he intended to use for porridge. The grains looked distended from prolonged soaking, but they were from around here, and you couldn't expect everyone to get them right, he supposed. Carefully sprinkling salt on the top of the water he took a good look around and wondered when that pesky horse bite would turn up again, what time 'early' was for him. the stamping of a hoof nearby was a reminder he had to deal with Bella as well...unless he wanted fresh sausage tonight. Though that might upset the balance between surgeon and patients, he supposed. He missed those sorts of meals, though.

Private Howard heard the commotion at the picquets during the night but was someone startled to find the 27th Foot Major, semi-conscious and bleeding, not far from his area of the camp. He woke up a mate of his and together they carried the man to the surgeon. On the way there they passed by a young man in ADC uniform, who seemed to know the Major. When they reached the surgeon's place, ADC called:
'Doctor?'

Rob sighed. Just when he was getting to the good bit, to. nothing like a cup of tea, no matter it would have been drunk in a hurry, and only warm. Quickly he replaced the billy with the pot of porridge and came round to a gaggle of men. "Aye? what have we here, then?"

He stepped forwards, looking at the body. High ranking, bloody and hardly the most witty fo men at the moment. "Bring him inter the wagon, lads, and lets hear how and when, then." he lead the way, effeciantly stripping down a bunk and indicating for the mans boots and jacket to be taken off.

It was early in the day, and he could've spent a short while more sleeping. And it wasn't even only because he would not need to have much preparation for the march that day, and that Bella would be tied to the waggon so that she could follow and not be left behind. The near silent movement of the doctor left the lad still sleeping, and not even the soft stomp of his mare's hoof did more but have the lad turn around and cover his head with his arm. Light wouldn't have disturbed him, if there was even any.

And he would have slept for much longer too if not for a loud call from outside. He grunted and pulled at the blanket that covered half of his body, rolled and bunched to one side where it had slipped for the most part. He wasn't a doctor, go away.. The surgeon was in his wagon, go find that..

Too sleepy to even realise that , the wagon, the surgeon and the tent were all .. actually here. And then he was hurriedly moving, because there was another man to come and be placed in. Oh curse all that was not completely sacred.. why so early in the morning?!

Hunter followed the men into the wagon. The privates laid the Major down. One of them fidgeted then said:
'Well, it's like this, sir. I woke up to take a p..., sorry, went to relieve myself and saw the Major just lying there. I heard there was some excitement at the picquets but I dunno how he got to where I found him'. Hunter frowned. What the hell was Winwood thinking walking around like that? He'd heard earlier that the Major got shot and went missing during the picquet mess.

Rob nodded, "So he's been out there since afore light, worse fer wear and bleedin? tis a wonder some beatie didna do fer him."

Carefully he bent down to his pateint, examining his eyes, "where does it hurt, sir?" nothing like getting straight to the point, though he doubted a useful answer, and continued working anyway. First the head- nothing really wrong there a good sleep and some food wouldn't fix- then the legs. "shot, ye say?" well, he could hope that it wasn't anything too bad- though given how long he'd been out laready a heavy fever would be setting in soon enough.

(where was he shot? ribs or thigh?)

With mild curiosity he observed the new arrivals. Hunter, Winwood and the men that brought their bleeding keep inside. A Major shot? How so? And by whom? No questions to ask now, till the patient was treated and perhaps even later he'll rather keep silent in the presence of the officers.

He did salute to Hunter though, and made his fair move to keep out of the way of both men and the surgeon.

Hunter watched the surgeon: the man had a competent manner which was a relief. Hunter wasn't so much worried for Henry, - it was his own damn fault for getting shot, - as for his sister, Lady Helen Winwood: she loved her brother dearly. There was another man, who looked like a hussar, in the wagon but having nodded in his direction, Hunter ignored him for the time being.
Winwwood mumbled something in response to the surgeon's question, but George could not make the words out.

OOC: shot in his left shoulder from the back. Also he probably smells of stale alcohol.

Rob moved his attention to the mans torso, stripping of damp shirt and getting a strong whiff of old alcohol. Well, maybe here was one accident he wouldn't be blaming the Frogs for.
"yessir- I can see there, ye ken." just getting any response from the man would be good, injured and drunk, although proably now hungover, he'd make a fine patient.
"Willoughby lad, can ye pass me them bandages near ye? Dinna strain yer ankle, mind." he accepted them carefully, and peered into the mans shoulder. No exit wound- of course a simple hole to plug would be too easy. He looked up at the two Privates, huddled out of the way. "Could ye lads go and see ter me breakfast? Tis the pot on yon fire- stir till hot and bring in here."
No sense operating when distracted by hunger, and maybe he could force some into this man, though proably not until after the probing. At least he wouldn't be needing much restraining.

Winwwood groaned again then said, a bit more audibly:
'My bloody head hurts like hell. Back too...', he glanced around, eyes bleary and saw Hunter.
'I'm an idiot, George...Should have stayed away from the drink...', his eyes widened a little, as if he remembered something. 'How's your chest?'
'Smarts a little', answered Hunter glad that Winwood didn't seem too far gone.

"Yes, sir." Once the bandages were passed he cought scent of the man and made a slight grimace. He must've been as drunk as a bat, and stank just like a alcohol soaked ragged that rolled in fair dirt before it was picked. He made way again, once the bandages were in the posession of the surgeon, and held no mind to look at the other officer present.

He took a seat and waited, if the doctor would need any more help. The blood didn't make him queasy, not by much at least, and the sight had still battled to have him miss breakfast, but for now he was winning.

"Aye, well, ye've a bullet in one, and drink in t'other, so's no wonder." He eyed the cot he'd cleared, thankfull it was on the correct side for a quick probe or two into the shoulder, "Now, afore ye get much more awake, I'll get rid of that bullet, then ye can deal with t'drink."

He laid out his instruments and eyed the others present, again settling on the hapless Privates, "If ye lads would lend a hand?" he heaved the man upright alone, but getting him lying down would need another set of hands. Time enough later to explore that mention of a sore chest. So much for a quiet morning.

Winwood groaned softly at being manhandled, then as he was settled down again, mumbled. 'I'm sorry, you know'. Hunter wished Winwood would keep quiet about the scuffle.
'No need, my mare's well-placed kicks are not your fault'.

Tactfully, Rob placed one lad to hold the mans ankles, and another to try and hold him still at the top as much as possible, before adjusting his glasses and a lamp and peering into the bloody depths. "tis a bit messy in here, sir, but we'll sort ye out, don't worry." it was supposed to be cheerful, but he guessed it could be morbid instead, depending on who you were.

he carefully probed until he found something hard and slippery, small enough to get a clamp around. Not a bone, he could tell from the size. "Well, there tis sir, now all we mun do is get it out. Here, bite on this." In his concern, he almost passed over the flute he'd been whittling, before finding the bitten wood ready for another set of teeth marks on it.

Winwood moaned a little as the surgeon probed his wound, but before the man stuck a piece of wood in his mouth, he smiled ruefully and said:
'Is that what you told the General? Well, thank you', then the surgeon finally got him to bite on the wood and he was silent for which Hunter was immensely grateful. 'Well, you seem to have everything well in hand. I'm afraid I have to leave: I've promised someone a breakfast. You'll send someone to let me know if he... if his condition changes. The name's Hunter. Captain Hunter. I will be most likely found somewhere close to the General. Thank you and good day, Doctor...?'

Rob looked up from selecting his next instrument, "Captain hunter...he mentioned yer chest being sore?" it was an invitation to consult him, but Rob wouldn't actually ask him about it yet.

Quickly he grasped the peice of metal, turned, inserted it and came out bearing one batered looking bullet. "He should be fine, sir, but no doubt I shall come and visit ye. Doctor Sinclair."
He didn't shake the man's hand, didn't offer to shake it, instead grimacing ruefully at the blood on it as explanation. No doubt there was a story in there somewhere, but if he wasn't asked to know...

(ooc- I'm going to have to go soon sorry)

'My chest is quite alright, thank you', Hunter smiled at the man 'Thank you Dr. Sinclair, and good day to you'. Hunter nodded at the other men in the wagon and left.

OOC: it's ok, Hunter is leaving too

Sinclair nodded, having not expected more, especially without breakfast, and dismissed the two privates. "Get ye something ter eat, lads, and thankee."

Finally he returned to the Major under his care. "Well, now. That's one problem sorted. just let me bandage it, then ye can sit up and eat, if ye like. Ye'll be riding in here with me, of course." Calmly he bandaged the shoulder, prodded the porrdige and sat next to the man. "Ye'll have ter let me feed ye, sir, yer not ter move that arm at all."

Thoughtfully he gave the man a spoonfull, then placed the last bowlfull in front of Willoughby. "Come on lad, can't face yer day on an empty stomach."
And if that didn't sound like his ma, then he didn't know what did.

Henry swallowed the food automatically. He was feeling miserable: his wholde body ached like hell and he has acted like an absolute idiot last night, getting drunk, fighting with George and in the end behaving like a buffoon in front of his men. He hoped that at least Wellesley would not cause problems to George over the scuffle last night.
'Doctor? Would you be so kind and do me a big favour? Captain Hunter was kicked rather hard last night, maybe you could check up on him when you have a moment? But please, if you do, be insistent, he's rather stubborn'.

"Thank you, sir." He took the bowl and a spoon and helped himself to the food he'd been offered. A content look kept on his face as he fed, his stomach not protesting any longer to the emptyness it felt earlier. IT wasn't the best kind of porridge, but he couldn't quite blame it on the man's preparation, and it didn't matter either. It was food, he was hungry, they had a long day before them and it wasn't half bad. If he'd been served leather soles, then he might've been starting to complain and to worry about what would come next.

He kept his face blank, though the thought of The Major being spoonfed was too much to be able to hold in for long. And he was able to watch too. Being a patient, had its perks.

rob pushed another mouthfull of mush into the mans mouth, "I asked him once, and he ran off, sir. I'll have ter stay here a bit longer, he's visitng fer breakfast. But when he's done that, and we're moving, I'll go and search him out again- wild horses wouldna keep me away". However, he had a feeling that another horse would, one with teeth, if he wasn't careful.

Pleased with the man's consumption, he warned him, "Ye'll nay be eatin more now, sir. I'll be wanting ter see ye keep that down- ye understand I dinna have all day tidying up after ye two. finish that last one, then I'll be getting ye ter sleep if ye can." And while he slept, Rob would be able to get started on his own half eaten bowl.

Winwood swallowed the mush and settled down. 'Thank you, Doctor, and when you do find him, please don't attract the General's attention, if you can?' With that Winwood started to drift off.

OOC: Do you mean Hercules? XD

(ooc- I do. blasted horse).

Rob cast round for the light blanket he'd used yesterday and settled it over the man. It was always a deeper sleep with a covering, he'd found. "I'll do me best, ye ken."

Then he was all business again, turning to his other patient. "Now lad, remember those dishes I mentioned? I'll get ye some water, and yer coat, too, though tis damp still." He was starting out the door, when he thought to add, "And if that man comes back with his bite, pray make him wait fer me- I've been thinking on't last night."

"Yes sir. Certainly sir." The dishes he'd not mind to wait, but with a light shrug he just waited for water to be delievered so that he could head to work in scrubbing those clean and then see what he could do with his pelisse. The dolman safe on Bella's saddle, rolled up and away (You're right. The pelisse was it!!)

He looked to the Major and wondered if he'd need to salute him or not, since he had been present for a while here and was not quite meeting him anew. But then the man began to look as if he were to sleep unconscious and that was mighty fine for the Hussar. And hope he'd stay that way for the rest of the march too. Silent and motionless.

(yer pelisse was in a shocking state I thought...but oh well. I think you're in one of my shirts, as well. Or you were at one stage?)

Rob grinned at the servile attitude. That was unlikely to last long.
Carefully, as always wary of a slippery bank, he colected some water. Yes, a minion would be handy. He wondered if anyone would think to come looking here for the Major in three weeks time, or if they'd conviniently let him keep him- he seemed docile enough at the moment.

he added a touch more water for Bella and sloshed some into a bowl for the lad, leaving him to it, offering the water to Bella. "There ye are, lass. Drink up, ye never ken when I'll be getting ye more."Of course, it would be next time he was able to, and thought it needed, but that wasn't the point.

He looked up at a cough. "is it safe to go on?" he smiled in welcome to his worrying patient. "Sir! how's the arm?"