After the refit

"Just hope we get a chance to have a drink afore we die of thirst, is all," Thompson said. Finally, the pile seemed to be shrinking. It had taken long enough, after all.

He hoisted another sack onto his shoulders and staggered a little. "Dammit. They ain't gettin' any lighter, are they?"

"Aye," Branning agreed, covering both assertions with a single reply. He hefted another sack up over one shoulder but, instead of immediately following the others on their movement below, added another after a moment's contemplation. Now that was a bit heavy.

"Wunner if we'll git let ashore after this."

Thompson grinned. "Said ol' Brannin' could manage two sacks at a time, din't I?" He paused at the top of the companionway as Terpsy snubbed uncomfortably at the anchor cable. "A run ashore'd set me up nice. Find a tavern an' get in a drink or two. That'd be right welcome."

He started down the steep ladder, hoping Terpsy wouldn't jerk again like that till he'd reached the bottom.

"Did'ee say get a drink?" Billy asked, stepping aside to let the marine climb the ladder. "I knows a place! Near the big church, the cathedral? And they fair dotes on the Terpsies. Let 'em know, and they'll see ye right. S'called Sebastian sommat. With green shutters. You'll see."

"What was you doin' up near a church?" Thompson was amused, although from previous experiences he knew you were never very far from some sort of church or shrine in this part of the world. And the really big places had really big churches - cathedrals - too. Like Rochester Cathedral that you could see right across the river, back home.

Further in the shadows ot the spaces below, the former midshipman observed and listened. A church, a place on land, all those little details made him shift at the spot that he stood, and imagine making for a tavern or two. He hadn't stepped once on the land since their arrival and it was so little that kept him from kicking a sack in frustration. He watched the red coated marines and Billy, one of their... one of the sailors, and took a tentative step forward.

"Whad'ye think I was doin'? I was drinkin'!" Billy laughed. "Me and Chase and Dunnett and the lads. S'where we saw that Frenchie. We stopped a fight and now the keeper loves us all."

"Well, good f'r you. But if we don't get this lot shifted, we won't be gettin' no run ashore at all."

He bent to grab another sack and made his way back towards the companionway. Much more of this and they'd wear a rut in the deck planking, he was sure.

He was nearly at the bottom rung by the bread-room when the candle in the lantern guttered and went out, plunging the place into pitch darkness, at the same time as Terpsy was hit by a sudden wave. The anchor cable brought her up sharp, causing Thompson to lose his balance. He ended up on the deck at the bottom of the ladder, with a sudden sharp pain in his ankle. Luckily he'd twisted as he fell to land half on top of the sack, but he was still stunned for a moment.

He swore viciously as the pain in his ankle registered.

It was dark below decks, suddenly. Branning stopped in his tracks, as much out of instinct as because of the rattle and thump of something going down the ladder. Something had fallen.

"Git that lantern lit up again!"

A second lantern bobbed toward them from up forrard, giving enough light to allow Branning to see. It was a Marine down there at the bottom of the ladder. His big shoes clumped down the remaining steps and he dropped the sack he was carrying as he reached down to drag the other Marine up.

"Din't know them steps was slippery," Branning said wonderingly, taking care after a moment to keep from holding the other man up by his collar.

"Well, we try and keep them in our minds...not wanting ter miss out on a drink, you know." Westdale added, grinning as he took yet more sacks down.
His back was aching, but there was no way he could ask for a break, or would, come to that. the constant movement at least stopped it from seizing up, and the hope of a warm evening kept the worst of the dread of not beign able to get up the next mornign at bay.

He was a pace away from being thrown down the ladder when the weave hit, sending curses up from below him. Evidently he wasn't the only one staggered. "What have yer done down there, mate?"

"You all right down there?" Billy called.

"Thompson!.." He shouted then covered his mouth. He had wanted to hurry to see that the man was alright, but the marine was already there, and so was Billy Barrow, up higher. Surely the men amongst them could do a job of taking the other marine to the doctor's. And, when light flickered , with the sounds loud enough, he knew he was still alive at least!

As he heared all was fair well he slunk back into the darkness and had their voices follow him a while till he was gone.

"Bloody hell," Thompson said. "Weren't the steps. Lantern went out, I was just about to step down and bloody ship went an' snubbed at the cable. An'... ah, bugger. Think I've done me ankle in. Hurts like bloody hell."

He couldn't see anything, but Branning had pulled him upright at least. He reached for the big Marine's arm.

"Same ankle I done in afore, the same way. Dammit."

Westdale shook his head. Damaging and already weak ankle...but he wasn't the sawbones here, that was for sure.

"D'ye want a hand taking him down, ter get it checked out, then?"
It was unlikely, he knew, but he was curious, at the least, and his back was sore enough to be wanting a small break from rough sacks.

"That's no good." Branning stepped carefully over the discarded sacks - it wouldn't do to ruin good provisions if he could avoid it - and considered his options. Thompson had a good grip on his arm but he'd need to move to get down to the sawbones.

"Mebbe," he said in reply to Westdale's question. To Thompson, he asked, "Don't s'pose ya kin hobble t'all?"

"C'n try. Rather not put me foot down if I c'n help it, though." Hopping would be all very well, but there was at least one ladder between him and the sawbones. One step at a time would be the only way to manage it, and he'd need some help. "Can hop, if nothin' else, like."

Allen had not yet started down the ladder when the lantern went out, but he had clearly heard Thompson falling. As soon as he had regained his own footing, he hurried down the ladder as fast as he could with the sack to check on his comrade.

"Thompson, you alrigh', mate?" he called as he reached the bottom. Noticing that Branning had helped Thompson up, he added, "Need any help?"

"Hm." Branning's poor brain was hard at work, trying to find a solution to this particular problem. He gave up the attempt when a dull ache began building behind his temples.

"Coul' jes' carry ya," he grunted.

Westdale ahd scrambled down, sidestepping the sacks neatly. "We'd need two of them, then, and he'd still have ter hop the steps."

This was a decision someone else woudl have to make, but he ventured to add. "Not that I'm casting aspersions on Thompson, but I reckon the sooner he gets down there, the better. He might get a little green, else."

"That'd work fine. Jest so long as you don't go droppin' me when we get there." He didn't think it was broken - he had neither heard nor felt anything snap, but he had broken that same ankle, tumbling down a ladder in a storm years ago, and didn't want to risk making it worse.

He looked at the sailor. "It's me ankle, not me ears, that's got bust, mate," he said, and sighed. "Corp'ral Johnson's goin' to give me what-for when he hears 'bout this."

"I'd be willin' t' help carry you," Allen said, "An' don't worry, we won't be droppin' you."

He moved to Thompson's other side and put his arm around him. Then he glanced around at their discarded sacks.

"We still need t' finish puttin' these bleedin' sacks away, though..."

Two? Did Westdale think he was a wee sapling? Branning felt briefly insulted by the suggestion that he'd need a Tar's help getting a fellow Marine below to the sawbones.

"I ain't dropped nuthin' 'portant yet," the big Marine muttered. "Mebbe quicker if he's up 'cross me back? Somebody'll see they's a stop in the line."

Westdale shrugged unrepentantly. It was neither here nor there whom he'd spoken his suggestion of haste to, and he'd ignored the patient in the hope of eliciting more speed. But such was the way of things.

"There'll be nay dropping, mate. Promise."

He added, hopefully, "T'corp'ral will know it wasn't your fault, though, surely?" He hadn't had much experience with Johnson, and didn't know, in truth, how he'd react. But that wasn't the point, really, he just wanting to make conversation.

He added, "Would be quicker, but bumpier, too, and would he fit...in them narrow ways?"

"I can wait a minute. Don't reckon it'll get any worse for the wait." Thompson was amused by all the people gathered around to help, though he thought Branning could probably carry him just fine by himself.

The ladder was going to prove an interesting obstacle to tackle, though.

"Brannin' probably could handle you fine by himself," Allen said, withdrawing his hold on Thompson. "Maybe it'd be better fer him t' carry you on his back..."