Preparing to sail

"Steady, sir," Robbins said gently, feeling the bite of the Army officer's fingers into his arm. Poor bugger! Doctor Maturin ought to get the red-coat below soon, or Robbins feared the man would fall.

Ah. Maturin stepped neatly up to take Robbins' place. The seaman knuckled his brow hastily and gave way to the physician, though he was ready to step back in to help if needed.

Thompson looked up as Sergeant Quinn appeared, nodded and vanished down the companionway, obviously heading for the arms locker. He was annoyed about not being able to do anything useful, though glad that he wouldn't have to help raise the anchor, which was a hard job, made harder if they were anchored in anything like the mud of the Medway back home, which seemed to hold an anchor as though in glue.

He was sitting on his sea-chest, trying to stay out of the way as the Marines came down from doing their ceremonial duty, welcoming the new passengers aboard. Some of them were obviously going on sentry-duty, and others looked as though they were preparing to raise the anchor, as they stripped off cross-belts and jackets.

He stood up to let Vining put his things away, holding on to the table to help keep his balance, as he still couldn't put his foot down. He sighed as the other man threw his things in all anyhow.

"I don't care what state you'm in on parade, mate, but you needn't go mussin' my things up an' all," he said, pushing Vining's jacket off his own spare trousers.

Vining shrugged. "Sorry, Thompson," he said. "You want anythin'?"

"A bit or water'd be favourite," Thompson replied, digging out his mug and handing it over.

"Comin' right up!" Vining said, taking it and head for'ard towards the scuttlebutt.

"I will be so," Padstowe murmured, still in Portuguese. "Once we are below."

He followed Stephen's instructions though, taking hold of the rope, those he did not exatly know what to do next. Having only one good arm he would not have any way of stopping himself should he stumble and fall.

"Thank you, thank you," Stephen muttered to the man who had stepped aside, who now kindly hovered behind them should Padstowe fall down. "Mister Crozier, you said that a cot had been prepared?" Before he could answer he turned to Padstowe, feeling his grip tighten. "I shall go in front of you, and there is a man behind - you shall not fall."

Padstowe was glad the doctor was so certain of that, simply because he was not.

"Thank you," he murmured, his grip on Stephen arm tightening momentarily again. They then began their precarious descent of the aft companionway. Three steps down and Padstowe legs felt increasingly unsteady - another two and he was convinced they had turned to jelly.

Thomas Crozier wrote:"Of course. Yes." He smiled again and looked around, spotting one of the midshipmen overseeing the securing of the boat. "Mister Kinsella, will you keep an eye on Capitaine des Sablières for a few moments? Show him what's going on, and don't let the men knock him overboard in their hustle and bustle," he added with a grin, trying to emphasize to the Frenchman that he was not under guard or viewed with suspicion.

Kinsella took the first part of Crozier's orders literally for a few minutes, keeping a close eye on Raoul. But a bellow from Mr Bush on the quarterdeck reminded him that at this time he had more nautical duties, and that these took precedence over any 'instructions' that the surgeon might try to give him. Nearly all the marines had dispersed, but he caught the arm of one of those remaining. "The Frenchman," he said swiftly, "might be called the Captain's guest, but our surgeon knows him better than Captain Bolitho does, and he thinks that man needs watching. Tell your Sergeant to see to it - I have to go aloft." He swung himself with ease round and climbed up to the mizzen top, to supervise the topmen there.

Raoul saw the boy go, and relaxed. He had felt quite flattened by the intense regard from the dark youth, and now he could concentrate on watching the men aloft and on deck as they moved about, preparing the ship for its journey.

Oh heavens. Robbins brought his hands part-way up, thinking sure the red-coat was about to tumble over backwards onto him. Having one of their captain's guests take a fall not even ten minutes after coming aboard would be a disgrace beyond imagining.

"Take yer time, sir," Robbins muttered, hoping the man would be able to hold his balance until they were down off the ladder.

Everett, the Marine that Mister Kinsella had spoken to, voiced his understanding and saluted the midshipman. The private hesitated a moment to study the Frenchman, wondering just how such a fellow as he could have come to be acquainted with Doctor Crozier. Then he shrugged and headed for the forrard companionway.

From his place near the quarterdeck stairs, where he had moved after dismissing the guard, Cartwright watched the exchange with interest. He was not as uneasy or concerned by the French officer's presence as the men were likely to be. With Everett's departure, there was no one near the Frenchman at all. Well aware that the man was probably feeling awkward - a feeling that Cartwright could understand, as he felt it himself - the Marine lieutenant approached cautiously and offered a salute.

"A good evening to you, sir," Cartwright said, a little cautiously. "I hope I am not intruding."

Kinsella pulled aside a Marine to stand guard before swinging up to the maintop and Leat shook his head with a wry smile to himself. He walked over to where the Marine stood regarding des Sablières uncertainly, not sure what drill of arms he was supposed to be performing - made even worse now that Cartwright had turned up to speak to the Frenchman.

"Alright, Everett, be on your way," Leat said to the boy, inviting himself over to join the two officers. As soon as the young Marine had dismissed himself and headed below Leat gave an apologetic smile to Raoul. "I am sorry for that, capitaine, but I am afraid Mr. Kinsella took Mr. Crozier's remark in seriousness. He is quite a serious boy, and although quite bright does not always perceive when one is thing is meant in jest rather than all seriousness."

Raoul looked at the two lieutenants - the Naval Mr Leat, whom he had met before, and the young earnest Marine lieutenant - and smiled. "I wanted to watch the ship, and to stay out in the open air. I know what would have happened if I had done as Mr Crozier wanted - I should have been shunted into a cabin - which I am assured will have no windows - and left there while the doctors bickered. They might have paused in their discussions long enough to have settled Captain Padstowe comfortably, but I would have had to remain until they were quite finished." He cast an eye at Mr Leat. "Unless you would prefer me out of the way - I speak merely as a passenger, you understand, not because I am French - on that, I do not think you have any fears, nor need you."

"Oh no, not at all, sir," said Leat, returning the capitaine's smile with one of his own customary small smiles. "There is no problem with your remaining aboce decks for the timebeing - I would say it would be right in your thinking it is quite preferable to do so at the moment; those cabins aren't very spacious at all. Might I request though, sir, that you retire to the taffrail if you are still above when we weigh anchor? Only the men will be running around setting sail, and we should hate for you to be trampled 'under foot', as the expression goes."

Lieutenant Leat's approach sent Cartwright into respectful silence. The sea officer's suggestion was a sound one, however, and the Marine lieutenant nodded his unspoken agreement with it.

Raoul's smile widened. "I speak English, but not nautical English or French. What is the taff rail? I shall be happy to retire to it, and watch from there. But everyone who comes aboard for the first time must have the same problem with the language. I shall try not to be trampled, or knocked overboard, which was Mr Crozier's concern." He looked from one lieutenant to the other. "I would have preferred to have met - to have been seen meeting - your Captain. But it was more important, naturally, to get Captain Padstowe down to his cabin. And formalities must wait until Dr Maturin at least is able to be here. But do the men - the seamen and the marines - understand my status here?"

"Most of them do," Leat said. "And those that do not will soon find out, or remain ignorant forever. I am sorry the captain was not here to meet you, sir; indeed, he asked me to convey his sincerest apologies, but he is engaged with several last minute details before we depart. He hoped you would understand. He should be out in a short while, though. A short while."

The lieutenant then indicated to the poop deck.

"The taffrail is the railing furthest aft... furthest at the back end, sir."

Raoul looked towards the stern of the vessel. "That surely is on the hallowed quarterdeck - I thought it was forbidden for mere passengers to go there without a specific invitation, and to speak to the Captain on his quarterdeck was ..." He smiled. "Not quite, but it is an elevated position. May anyone walk aft and lean on this Taffrail?"

"The Marines understand, sir," Cartwright said firmly, once Leat had finished speaking. "There will be no trouble from them."

He might not yet know his men, but he would see to it that none of them would create difficulties for any of their guests, regardless of nationality.

"Oh no, sir!" Leat's eyes widened at the suggestion. "None but the commissioned officers, or those that have business being there. You have an invitation, sir - the invitation of the captain to do so, as do Captain Padstowe and Dr. Maturin, should they feel so inclined."

Though judging by the deathly complexion of the army officer's face, it did not look as if he would be in any fit state to go wandering about any time soon.

Quinn looked up as Everett appeared to deliver his message. He didn't quite understand what was wanted, beyond the fact he'd been sent by Mister Kinsella, there was a Frenchman on board and a Marine was needed.

He locked up, headed up to the messdeck, saw that McEwen was still kitted up and called him over.

Someone was coming down the aft ladder, so both Marines headed for'rard to use the fore ladder, emerging topside to find the Frenchman in conversation with their new Lieutenant and Mister Leat. Were they needed?

He hung back a little to find out what they were needed for.

Raoul nodded. "Then I will withdraw and lean there, and watch Lisbon disappear into the distance." Leaving behind those who ought to have been his care, but for whom he could do nothing. They would pass the Tower of Belem as they moved down the estuary to the open sea.

He was relieved at the Marine lieutenant's words. He had a sudden image of the Captain's marine guard deciding that a French officer on the quarterdeck was a threat to his charge, and shooting him down, to everyone's subsequent embarrassment - well, except his, of course. He would be beyond embarrassment.

[OOC - and I must eat my dinner (lovely cold turkey), and watch TV - possibly Narnia! See you later.]

It didn't look as though they were needed, and Quinn turned to Everett.

"Dismissed. Carry on, Private."

It seemed as though everything was under control, and Quinn didn't want to get in the way himself. He had things to do and turned to head back down to get on with his interrupted business.

Sergeant Quinn was back on deck, with another Marine in tow. His arrival was well-timed. Cartwright excused himself from the other officers' presence and went toward the sergeant. He was as good as his word, when it was offered.

"Sergeant," he said. "Detail a reliable man for sentry for the capitaine's cabin, if you please." He would not put it past a sly seaman to find his way into the Frenchman's cabin and cause havoc or harm. Or both.

"I want the word passed that no man - seaman or Marine - is to disturb the capitaine here or any of our other guests without having an officer present," he added." The order should hardly needed to be given, but Cartwright understood the danger of rumour and natural resentment. Having a Frenchman aboard was not likely to sit well with everyone on the lower deck.

Cartwright only hoped that Sergeant Quinn would not be offended by the orders.

"Aye, aye, sir," he said, and called Everett back to pass on the orders, making clear that it wasn't to keep the Frenchman under guard, but to keep any curious seamen or Marines out.

It wasn't completely unexpected, Quinn thought. Some of the men would probably not appreciate having a Frenchman aboard, whether he was officially a prisoner or not, and would try to cause trouble somehow.

He felt resentment for the French aboard. As did some other seamen, and some seemed to accept it as orders to accept and not to question. Standing in wait where the sailors would be called to work to prepare the ship for leave, he thought about the foolishness of the captain. Taking and treating a Frog as if he were their guest? Were they not at war?! And if the Frenchman came with them, could he not have notified his other frogfooted friends where they were going so that they might find themselves attacked. The man was trouble. The moment he stepped on that deck, he was trouble.

And were he to be treated as a prisoner, that would be all well. Yet he was treated as a guest, a friend. A Frog! His captain would never have stood for that, he was sure.

"Here we are, Captain," Crozier announced, indicating the cabin recently occupied by Major Findlay. "I hope you will be comfortable here, but you must let us know if there's anything you need during the voyage. Capitaine des Sablières will be here next to you, and Doctor Maturin, you'll be just there." Because of the slowness of their progress, the men had already arrived to stow the passengers' baggage in their respective cabins.

Stephen raised his eyebrows - his own cabin... "Sir, I cannot say how grateful I- we are. You do us too great a kindness, truly."

Again Crozier felt embarrassed by the praise, but this time he smiled with childlike pleasure and pride. "Not at all, not at all doctor. And now shall I bring you anything, some tea or some coffee? It's rare that we should have the wardroom to ourselves, but everyone's busy above for our departure. Or do you want to go up and watch? You can stay below and rest, Captain," he added hastily.