Leaving Lisbon

Raoul too raised his voice. "I have a spare shirt - a dry shirt, Dr Maturin. The guernsey will be rough, I fear. I may even have a neckcloth, which you told me I should wear. You would be more comfortable with good linen next to your skin."

[OOC, but as you can see, I often don't...]

Stephen poked his head around the door, flashing a smile at Crozier, his hair standing on end from the vigorous rubbing he had given it. "That is very kind of you, Capitaine - I will be but a moment..."

Crozier visibly jumped, suddenly coming to his senses. "But sir, I have a spare shirt, I have a whole chest full of clothes, what am I thinking?" and immediately regretted it, remembering the discreet stains and careless mends and thin spots that had never bothered him since they were usually hidden under a jacket and waistcoat. Doctor Maturin wearing one of my shirts? What am I thinking? he asked himself. "I shall fetch one for you, sir, and some stockings and... perhaps some breeches, and shoes!" Stockings too, and breeches? Which ones? Crozier you bloody fool!

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, I beg you, Mister Crozier..." said Stephen, flushing bright pink. "I will be eminently comfortable - pray go to absolutely no more trouble on my account - I already shudder to think of the inconvenience I have been to your shipmates and yourself." He ducked back into the dispensary for a moment, and stepped out again, hurriedly shrugging himself into the guernsey, which hung almost to his knees. "Eminently comfortable, as I said, see?"

Raoul pulled out his last remaining clean shirt, and a neckcloth that he had barely worn. "Here, doctor, " he offered them through the half-open door, only to find them rejected. Borrowing his garments were no trouble. But it might seem so to someone aware of his nationality and allegience. He stepped back, his sadness turning the corners of his mouth in...

Crozier looked up at the doctor and blinked and smiled, feeling like a child who has caught an elusive insect in his hands and now doesn't know what to do with it. "Well, sir, I-- Gentlemen. Would you like some coffee? Or tea? Bridgens, jump to the ward room and see what there is, quick now! Something hot? Or some brandy?" His tone became quiet and serious. "Doctor Maturin, I cannot express how very sorry I am that you should have had such a-- a mishap, and I am deeply-- I apologize most-- I'm very sorry. Mortified. Please let me lend you some slippers at least," he added, looking at the doctor's feet.

Stephen flashed an apologetic smile at des Sablières, so embarrassed by Crozier offering him half his dunnage that he had wished to present himself as fully dressed as soon as possible. He wished that Crozier's offer had come later - the guernsey itched quite terribly on bare skin.

"Mister Crozier, please - it was naught but my own clumsiness, and your shipmates saved my life. I must beg you to forgive me for causing such a inconvenience, for being such an imposition - the capitaine and I merely wished to present our compliments and thank you for your kindness to him..." An idea came to him; he smiled bashfully. "But if I might be an imposition yet again take you up on the offer of slippers just while I am here...?"

Crozier almost ran away, and Stephen turned to des Sablières immediately, pulling the guernsey off. "Oh, Capitaine, for the love of God lend me that shirt - this is hellish itchy-"

Raoul grinned, and passed him the shirt and neckcloth. "Here, sir. At least there is no doubt that it will fit you!" The doctor's thin body was marked with scars, a particularly cruel one across his lower chest. "You will feel better with this between you and the wool."

"Thank the Dear - thank you - I would have gone mad in minutes," said Stephen as he pulled the shirt over his head and then the guernsey, darting looks at the door. He accepted the neckcloth more sedately and the two men shared a grin. Stephen looked swamped in the clothes and his hair stood on end, but he was sure that with a neckcloth and wig the rest of his attire could be forgiven.

"Here you are, Doctor," Crozier said breathlessly, returning in record time with slippers, stockings, two shirts, a coat and a dressing gown. "And some other things too... Bridgens! Hang the doctor's clothes next to the galley on the double. This is Doctor Stephen Maturin. Sir, should you like to sit next to the galley yourself while we drink something hot?" he asked, anxiously peering at his visitor's face.

Raoul continued to smile at the doctor, the look of mischief, the oversized garments and the spiky hair making him look like a child, probably in need of protection... The return of Dr Crozier, laden down with half his own clothes caused him to drop his eyes, and hide his smile.

Stephen felt almost terrified by the array of clothes presented to him, and the deference of the young surgeon. "Oh, sir, please - it is only a flying visit - our errand has been accomplished-" He looked to des Sablières for help - what time was it? Did the same rules regarding curfew apply? "Sir, you have been so kind, more than kind; generosity the like of which I have not seen, and do not deserve."

I'm an idiot, Crozier thought, smiling down at the deck, a first class idiot of the line. "Slippers at least," he said, handing them to the doctor and setting the other items on the table. "I must say, it's all quite a coincidence that... Lieutenant Leat!" He gasped as he suddenly understood the nature of their chance encounter and his own missed appointment. He pulled out his watch - half past three. "Oh, you must have seen the lieutenant at my house! Did you? And... I was supposed to meet him, only one of the boys dropped a mallet on his foot and there was a delivery of--" He stopped himself mid-sentence, realizing that his guests would not be interested in the minutiae of his afternoon. He sighed, flustered. "Please, come to the wardroom for some coffee. Please forgive the agitation and confusion. We sail tomorrow - yes of course, you know that already. Things are rather chaotic, everything last minute." He smiled sheepishly at his guests. "It will be a welcome respite to sit down for a moment."



[ooc - off to work now!]

Having deposited his things in his cabin, Leat was taking a few minutes to sit down to peruse the week old copy of the Times he had managed to get hold of with a mug of tea in the wardroom before he went back on deck. Emily was curled up in his lap, purring profusely as he absent-mindedly scratched behind her ears.

At the sound of the door he looked up and smiled as Crozier and his two guests entered. He shifted to stand, but Emily dug her claws into his trousers and he thought that perhaps the doctor would be less embarrassed should he remain seated.

"Are you warmer now, doctor?" he asked Maturin, who was quite dwarfed by the Guernsy he was wearing. "We are all fortunate that Barrow is such a handy swimmer; I don't suppose Captain Aubery would have forgiven us otherwise. DId you see to your watch?"

"Much warmer, thank you Lieutenant," said Stephen, both embarrassed and entirely comforted by the care he was receiving. Three weeks he had now spent with the army, risking his life and sacrificing his sleep, and he had been ignored by most and treated by others as an inconvenience, or a thing to be mistreated after it had served its purpose. But in half an hour on a ship he had never even visited, after falling into the sea and creating the most horrible fuss, he was being treated as an honoured guest. "I am indebted to the man twice over now; he is a credit to the ship." He shifted his bundle of clothes, smiling as they dripped on to the wardroom floor. "I do not have a watch - might I beg you for the time?"

Leat fumbled in his waistcoat pocket, disrupting Emily who growled at him and jumped up onto the table, pointedly sitting on his newspaper and staring at the new arrivals.

"A quarter past four, doctor," Leat reported, opening the watch lid.

"Thank you," said Stephen, gingerly sitting down and indicating that des Sablières could do the same. He held out his hand for the grey cat to sniff if she wished to. "Are you long out of England?"

Raoul put the saddlebags down, and offered to take the wet bundle from Dr Maturin. "I shall take these on deck - one of the sailors will surely be able to rid them of more water - you cannot drip all over the nice wardroom... " And, he thought, Dr Maturin would be able to talk more freely without the presence of an enemy, even if that enemy was, in personal terms, a friend.

"About four months, sir; though in that time we've bveen running about back and forth quite a bit. Would you like some coffee? The steward will bring you some."



Emily in the meantime had stood up and advanced with tentative paces towards Maturin. She stopped a couple of feet short of him, and sniffed dubiously at his outstreched fingers. He smelt all salty.

"Ah," sad Stephen, looking around. "I am sadly dripping, yes, I apologise - I can take them..." He thought of all those faces watching the hopeless lubber wring out his clothes. "Um..."

"Give them to the steward, capitaine, and he will dry them off in the galley. That will be the easiest thing. WOuld you like some coffee? Or tea?"

"Give them to me," Raoul repeated. "And sit and enjoy a coffee, and ... I shall not cause trouble up there, I assure you, sir," with a nod to Lieutenant Leat.

"You are welcome to stay and drink coffee as well, capitaine - I daresay it shall be safer than attempting to go on deck at the moment."

The lieutenant grinned.

"Should you stand still too long up there I fear someone shall try and stow you in the hold!"

"Sit down, Capitaine," Stephen said with a soft smile.

Raoul shrugged and sat down. "There is a lot of work going on still. I will stay here and not get in their way, if the steward can deal with Dr Maturin's clothes."