Leaving Lisbon

Phil came up. "Heard a shout." he called, by way of greeting.

"Yer looking fer t'Doctor, or what?"
Abruptly he stopped, surveying the dripping mess in front of him. "Sure ye shouldn't be sitting down, sir?"

"Go on before he's back over board 'gain." The boy felt a temptation to nudge the marine forward, but held himself from it. He peered at Maturin and then turned himself just slightly to lean against the railing. He decided to let the private go ahead if he would choose so and himself observe for a short while, deciding what to do next.

"Y'r wig, sir? It's in the boat still, I think." He'd caught sight of something that looked suspiciously like Doctor Maturin's wig, anyway, left on the stern thwart.

Phil eyed him over. "Should be more worried about keeping ter his feet than his wig, I shoulda thought." he muttered.

"It is? Thank the Dear - thank you, Thompson - thank you," Stephen said to the unknown sailor who passed it to him. He settled it on his head, for he retained the illogical but deep-seated certainly that even if he was soaking wet and still coughing up harbour water, if he was wearing his wig, he might yet pass as respectable.

Raoul stripped off his coat and offered it to the doctor. "You are... My dear doctor, at least until they let us go below." He smiled suddenly. "And I have another - I can always put on my dolman and pelisse."

"DE GUARDE!" a loud voice behind him shouted - Watts, the bosun. "Stop leaning on that railing and get back to work. Preddie, Robbins, all of you, back to work now!" He glared at the crowd, looked askance at the visitors, nodded at Lieutenant Leat and returned to his own duties.

"C'mon, sir. M'Clure, is Crozier in the sickbay?"

The boy stiffened and pushed himself from the railing, turning his back to the star attraction of the moment, and with a rather sour look on his face, he left for whatever work he had been interrupting when he earlier looked for the splash. Slow and annoyed as he walked, he did leave. (Ooc - nighty night!)

Stephen smiled weakly at des Sablières. "No, no, it shall only get wet - these will dry shortly I am sure..." The boy started at the name de Guarde, the cruel smirk wiped off his face; Thompson was standing by, concerned; Barrow, urging him on with an avuncular smile; and a new man, muttering to himself and eying him suspiciously.

"You 'member me, sir?" Thompson was astonished. He hadn't thought that Doctor Maturin would remember him - he'd been part of Surprise's Marine detachment, sure, but he'd always been fairly anonymous, he'd thought.

"Still got that bullet you pulled out of me after we had that fight, sir," he said, for lack of anything better to say.

Philip shrugged. "He was when I left it, at least. Sent em up here, he did."
He eyed the newcomers, "If yer coming ter see the doctor yerd better go now. Else ye'll have ter shift yer clothes if ye want ter stay up here, wet like that."

Raoul narrowed his eyes, smiling. "But I quite want to change into my uniform, doctor. And what else will you wear? We cannot ..."

Stephen stared around, addressed by three people at once; he blinked in confusion, trying to sort out what was wanted of him by each locutor. "I remember," he said first, and he did, his memory naturally prodigious and Benedictine-trained into the bargain, "George Thompson; in the hip, was it not?" He turned to des Sablières. "We cannot...? They have your saddle-bag..."

Billy looked scandalized and alarmed. "But sir..." he protested, looking at the Frenchman. A French visitor was all very well, even a visitor who happened to be a captain of hussars, but to be pacing the deck in his uniform...! What would the men say? "I'm sure the purser has sommat dry for the doctor, sir. Come along below, sirs."

Phil was seriously considering just grabbing them and hussling them along to Crozier now, since that was apparently where they wanted to go. Apparently at least one of them was medico, so surely he realised standing dripping wet on deck was hardly a good thing? If he, M'Clure knew it, then so should everyone. He'd been told of his own lack of knowledge often enough.
"sir?" attention ,maybe, or answers to his questions, at least.

"Your clothes will not be dry before it is time for us to leave," Raoul said. Already, there was a real possibility that they would not be able to return to Santana's place before his curfew. He wondered whether it was possible to be an absconder if you were on a King's ship at the time, and how worried Padstowe would be if they did not return...

"Yes, to Doctor Crozier, if it is not inconvenient..." said Stephen, still holding onto Barrow and des Sablières, as he realised just how ridiculous the clause sounded. He looked even more shamed as he realised what an inconvenience he was being, as well as having humiliated himself in front of a new ship.

Phil nodded, reassured, setting off at a brisk pace. "Ye walk faster, it'll keep ye warmer, sir." he reminded them, over his shoulder.
He found himself at the head of what could almost be called a large party, working towards their eventual destination.

One of the sailors from the boat - Lakes, the one whom the doctor had greeted - handed Raoul his saddlebags. The Frenchman looked with concern at the doctor. He was shaking with cold, clinging to Raoul's arm, and his face was pale. "Come, sir, we will go down to Dr Crozier."

"We will be back on time," said Stephen quietly, patting des Sablières' arm. "We shall just present our compliments to Doctor Crozier and be on our way..."

He looked back, annoyed. Why didn't they hurry, though? There was no blood, no bones, nothing wrong that he could see.
Abruptly he held one hand out for the bags, to leave both hands free for the other man to help the doctor. "May I, sir?"

"What is it?" Crozier called from the dispensary, hearing his name mentioned by someone on the companionway. "I'm in here, M'Clure."

"Some men, sir. Dripping, but not bleeding or nothing. Cold, I'd say, though." He'd dropped his voice in calling back, not needing the whole ship to hear about them. "D'ye want them from here, sir? Or d'ye want me ter stow 'em some place else?"

(ooc- and just as well, too, because I have to go very soon. 5 min tops more, i'd say)

"Thank you," Raoul said, handing it over. "Now, careful, we have to go down these stairs..."