Preparing to sail

"Oh, never worry about that," Crozier cried, waving the comments away with his hand. "Yes, the carpenter made some stalls to keep them quite separate. We have an excellent carpenter - but I'm sure you know what ships' carpenters are like. It seems there's nothing they can't do. Sometimes I think our Mister McNish could build a whole second frigate with just a few planks - the miracle of loaves and fishes. Here's the boat. Chase, Dunnett! Will you give a hand? Now, doctor, can your patient - can Captain Padstowe walk?"

There was the dock and the two sawbones. Chase pulled his oar inboard and tossed a fender over the gunwhale, ready to spring up onto the dock and tie off the mooring line.

"Here we is, sars!" Chase declared, once the boat's coxswain had ordered the boat secured. He came to a grinning stop just a pace away from the two doctors, full of bounce and eagerness. The prospect of going back to sea had set him in a high state of good cheer.

Perched up on the back of the cart, with Padstowe more comfortably bestowed, Raoul could feel the dock workers and others as they looked at him, puzzled at first and then the news spreading, one man speaking to the next. "Spoils of war," he thought, the joke turning sour, and he slid down to stand by the cart, as if to demonstrate that he was free to do so if he wanted to. He pulled his dolman straight, brushed some of the dust from his breeches and boots, and began to stroll along the quayside. The doctors were still in conference, so he would not go that way, to intrude upon them, but in the other direction, as far as the high wall that cut off the end of the dock. It might be his last chance to walk on solid ground for some time.

"Good evening," Stephen said to the beaming sailor. "Please to help me with my patient - he can walk, a little, but he is quite unsteady; he will need help into the boat, and a bosun's chair at the ship."

"Glad to, sar. We'll take proper good care'a him," Chase said. He saluted and moved off toward the wagon at once, not waiting for any of the others from the jolly-boat to clamber up onto the dock after him.

It must be the red-coat who was Maturin's patient. He looked miserable. Chase saluted him as he ambled to a stop. "Doctor says yer t'have a hand, sar."

New ships meant adjustments. Particularly when joining a ship whose Marine detachment was already set in its ways. At least it was not the first time Arthur Cartwright had joined a new ship, even if he'd never done it mid-commission. The detachment's previous lieutenant had broken his leg while ashore, but it didn't seem that any of the Marines were saddened by the man's loss.

His first few hours aboard had been awkward. The detachment's corporal was certainly not a hospitable sort, though the man's disposition was balanced by his sergeant's more agreeable nature. Cartwright decided his time with Terpsichore would be fairly interesting.

Cartwright lifted his gaze back toward the docks. He was at the midships rail, waiting for the jolly-boat to return with its passengers. Truth be told, he was a little nervous. It was not, after all, every day that an Army officer, a Frenchman, and a distinguished Navy physician came aboard at once, never mind as passengers and guests. He was anxious to give them a proper, smart salute as they came aboard and hoped the frigate's Marines were up to the task.

The news that Brandeson was to leave them had been greeted with a quiet sigh of relief by Terpsy's Marines. Quinn was pleased to hear that they were getting a new officer, who would hopefully be better than Brandeson had been. It wasn't that Quinn couldn't command a detachment of Marines - he'd been the senior ranking Marine on Sophie, after all, and was more than capable of leading the ship's Marine complement.

It was just that he'd never felt comfortable doing an officer's job when there was an officer aboard. It wasn't right, though he was sure he'd never allowed anyone to suspect his feelings on the matter.

The new officer, Cartwright, looked far more capable than Brandeson had ever been, and Quinn hoped that Terpsy's Marines would finally have the sort of officer they deserved, who could lead them properly. Whatever happened, he would have Quinn's full support, anyway.

And now they were waiting for the arrival of the men Terpsy was to transport north. He hoped the Marines would prove to them, and Cartwright, how good they could be at things like this.

Raoul turned at the end of the quay and strolled back, quickening his pace as he saw the sailors beginning to come up to help Captain Padstowe into the boat. He might want to demonstrate that he was here by his own choice, but he could hardly remain behind while the Captain and Dr Maturin boarded the ship. He would go on board the ship, and would face up to the problems that this might cause. He was, after all, a Hussar...

Billy was a bit startled to see his Frenchman in a French uniform. He had been so friendly and normal that Billy had almost forgotten he was French. But waiting at the helm and looking up at the hussar waiting on the quay, he hailed him amiably.

"Evening, sir!"

He could not remember the man's name, though. Day Sab something.

Raoul looked down at the boat and recognized the sailor from the cathedral square. Who had taken him to Dr Crozier and who, therefore, was wholly responsible for the fact that they were now about to embark on a frigate which would take them easily to join the British Army, with the minimum of exertion on anyone's part. Rather than waiting in Lisbon and having a 200 mile ride (or walk!) to look forward to. His was also a friendly face, and welcome.

"Good evening, Barrow." He looked back at Dr Maturin, supervising the sailors helping Captain Padstowe, and decided that his help was not needed. He walked down the few steps to the boat. ["The tide" is I suppose high tide...]

"Oh, careful sir!" Billy raised a hand in warning and then nodded to the seamen closest to the steps. They reached up and helped the hussar into the boat. "Here, sit back here sir. Ned, mind his bags. You all right then, sir?"

Raoul moved back to take his seat. "I am very well - your doctor did a good job on my arm, and ... " He smiled and said: "You knew we had been invited to travel with you - at Dr Maturin's suggestion. It will be - interesting, I think. I have not been on a Royal Navy ship, and ... " He shook his head, and grinned at the coxswain. "You would perhaps not have intervened, had I been wearing this at the time?"

"Here, sar," Chase was saying to the red-coat officer. The man was definitely unsteady. Chicken Dyer had come up to help him and between them, the two seamen managed to get the red-coat safely down the dock steps and into the boat.

"Ready fer yerselves now, sars," the topman told the two sawbones. He wondered if Doctor Maturin would need help getting down into the boat as well.

"After you, Doctor Maturin," Crozier said deferentially.

"Thank you," said Stephen, distracted as he watched until Padstowe was settled. He handed over his bindle and his knapsack, shared a smile with Crozier, and stepped down from the step.

Both Chase and Dyer watched from the boat, their legs braced wide for balance. They were ready to spring forward to catch the doctor if he should slip or fall. That had already happened once, so they were determined to keep it from happening again.

Stephen looked entirely complacent, and managed to step into the boat with only a violent wobble. "I am sorry, Captain-"

Crozier sprang down the steps after him and seated himself beside the doctor.

"Thank you, Barrow, we're ready." He beamed at the doctor, and then looked at his patient. "Captain Padstowe, forgive me, I didn't properly introduce myself. I'm Thomas Crozier, surgeon of the Terpsichore."

"Shove off, ship oars," Billy called. "Oh I don't know sir," he continued, grinning at the Frenchman. "Maybe not, but then we woulda missed a free drink! A lot of free drinks, in fact, because now that tavern keeper there fair dotes on us Terpsies." He steered them expertly between a fast moving cutter and an awkward little launch.

Everyone was aboard without incident. Chase passed his oar out and waited for the stroke oarsman to set their pace. They'd be back aboard Terpsy in a bit and all would be well then.

"That's on'y the dead truth too, sar," the topman said with a grin.

Crozier turned with a slight anxiety, remembering something that he ought to have mentioned before. He spoke in Latin to his colleague. "Doctor, we have the... the chair of the... bosun" (using the English word) "for your patient, but I do not know if the pride of the soldier will interfere. Will you show him how it is done?"

"Master Crozier," Stephen replied fluently in the same language, a look of pride on his face, "my patient will take the bosun's chair, his pride be damned. My pride, on the other hand, as an officer in His Majesty's Navy, will not allow me to use the same when I am in a relatively whole state."

"Then I think the tavern keeper did not realize that I was French, or you would have been barred, for preserving me from just ... " Raoul looked back across the water to the quay, and the town rising above it. It was an unpleasant thought, just how hated the French had made themselves. He glanced at Dr Maturin - he would make a comment about the rewards of tyranny. Raoul turned as far round as he could to look at the Terpsichore, rather than at Lisbon.

Billy sensed his unease, and felt it his duty to be a gracious host, even if the man was a Frenchman and a prisoner. "Oh, I don't know, sir. Ain't nobody wants trouble. It's bad for business, brawls in a tavern. Scares the regulars away."

Listening to the doctor, Crozier nodded humbly and said, "Of course, of course." That was what he had been afraid of. He wondered if he might try a different tack, and since his own pride was neither here nor there, he said, "Perhaps I will use it myself, if it will help. I do not wish to cause embarrassment."