After the refit

"Ha!" Branning chuckled. Tripping a mate down the ladder wasn't his way, even if he ever thought about such things. He set the cask down and held out his arms for the sack that Allen was carrying. That sack didn't look too heavy at all. "C'mon then!"

After shooting Thompson a look, Allen turned back to Branning.

"What? You want me t' look like I'm not doin' my fair share o' work? I 'preciate th' offer mate, but no thanks. I'll finish th' task I started meself."

To make his point, he adjusted the sack a bit and acted as though it wasn't bothering him in the least.

Thompson intercepted the look, sent an innocent look back and then grinned at Allen adjusted his burden.

"C'mon and get a move on afore the Corp'l comes round," he said, turning to head back towards the companionway down.

Allen wasn't going to humour him. Pity. Shrugging, Branning picked up the cask again and fell in after the others.

"Corp'ral's busy his own self," the big Marine said. "Saw him up forrard heftin' a cask too. Firs' time fer everythin'!"

"Good t' know he'll be jus' as tired as we'll be," Allen said as he followed along behind Thompson, "Though that won't keep him from yellin' at us jus' th' same."

Thompson stopped and shifted out of the way just before Allen would have walked into him.

"Corp'ral's what? You sure you ain't gone daft in the head, or started seein' things, mate?"

"He'll yell even down 'til he's kilt, I bet." Branning shook his head. "Dead sure! Thought I were gone seein' somebody else, but it were him!"

Thompson shook his head in sheer disbelief. "Well, he might have a temper on him worse'n a shark with toothache, but he's a proper one of us, an' no mistake." He shifted back into the line of men heading for the ladder down.

"You're right mate," Allen nodded.

He got in line behind Thompson, then he remarked to Branning, "An' I'm sure he'll be yellin' right up 'til he's dyin'. Might even keep yellin' after that too..."

Branning chuckled. "He is, sure. An' I'd pay t'see him yellin' alla way t'the devil."

"Here we is," he added and followed another Marine with a cask down into the hold. "See ya lads back topside inna minute!"

"All right. An' don't leave it all f'r us to shift neither." Thompson was grinning as he said that; he knew Branning was a hard worker and would probably get it all shifted himself if left to it.

He made his way to the breadroom and dumped the sack, managing to stretch a little to ease his aching muscles before Rutland, one of the bosun's mates, approached, swinging his starter threateningly.

He shrugged and turned to head topside again for the next sack.

"I can't imagine he'd leave us much work," Allen said as he dropped his own sack down, "If there's work t' be done, he'll do it straight away."

He thought of pausing for a moment, but he too saw Rutland and thought it wouldn't be wise to dawdle. So he went off after Thompson, stretching as much as could while walking.

[OOC: I'm off for dinner as usual. So I'll see everyone tomorrow!]

"He's a good'un like that, Brannin' is. Keeps on steady-like and gets the job done quicker'n easier than them what rush at it all at once."

Thompson reached the gundeck again. The pile seemed smaller, but not by much.

"D'you think someone's bringin' they sacks back up again, an' we just keep takin' the same ones down?" he asked, reaching for yet another one.

"Sure seems that way. I could've sworn we carried these same bloody sacks down already," Allen grumbled, "But then again, they all look th' same, don't they?"

He shrugged and hauled up yet another one onto his shoulders.

"Worse'n bloody sheep f'r all lookin' the same. Hope there ain't too many more or poor ol' Terpsy'll capsize with the weight of 'em all."

He moved towards the ladder, stepping out of Mallory's way as he came up it.

"Hope not. We wouldn't want t' have Terpsy capsize. Though I'll be close t' capsizin' meself if we have t' keep this up fer too much longer..."

Allen allowed Mallory to pass as well, then he started down the ladder after Thompson.

"I want to capsize meself right into me hammock. Won't have any problems standin' still tomorrow, neither. Won't be able to move, I'm goin' to be so stiff. Ah, bother it."

Rutland had taken up position by the bread-room door, swinging his starter meaningfully.

"Doesn't he realise we're getting bloody tired?" Allen muttered, making sure Rutland didn't overhear him, "Does he 'spect us t' run wit' these sacks, or somthin'?"

"'Spects us t'run back up topside to pick another'n up, I reckon."

How long was it to dinnertime, that's what Thompson wanted to know. He needed to have a sit-down sometime soon.

"S'matter, cain't ya run?" Branning reappeared, though he had somehow slipped away from the other work detail and was now lugging a sack over one shoulder. There was a broad grin on his round face.

"I can run jus' fine. But I ain't runnin' wit' any o' these sacks, that's fer sure," Allen said, glancing at Branning.

It certainly was amazing how Branning could do so much work and yet he never seemed to get tired.

"Brannin', we ain't all as strong as a bloody ox, y'know." Thompson dumped his burden and dodged smartly out of the way towards the ladder leading topside.

He took their jibes with barely a shrug and dropped his burden into the breadroom. "Dunno 'bout bein' no ox," he rumbled, falling in behind the other two as they started back topside.

Thompson grinned. "We'll be done in half the time now, I reckon," he said. "Could do with a wet though. Me throat feels like a bloody sand-bucket."

"Right you are. Wit' Brannin' helpin' us, we'll be done before you know it!" Allen said, offering Branning a grin.

In regards to Thompson's suggestion, he added, "Good idea. I'm feelin' mighty parched meself."

[OOC: Dinner! Might be back later, but otherwise I'll see you all tomorrow!]