The sick bay

"And I shall know if you conveniently 'forget' to tell him anything," Leat murmured darkly as the boy turned his back, just enough for De Guarde to hear. He then turned and paced further up the deck to take station near the wheel, not giving the boy a chance to protest if he felt so inclined.

De Guarde stiffened, hearing precisely what the lieutenant had said. He hurried his step, dared to look over his shoulder only once he stood at the companionway. He saw the lieutenant had turned and left.

With an unhappy frown h began his descend down into the heart of the ship, and was soon found knocking before entering the surgeon's own humble abode.

In the sick bay below, Crozier looked up and noted the boy's return. "Ah, De Guarde, come in and sit there. Mister Leat received my note?"

"Yes, sir. He sends his compliments." He hesitated and moved to sit down. He frowned and looked around him, hoping that he would not be bled, and wondering how warm the dressing would be.

He felt the discomfort of the injury of the night, when the knee had gone to strike one low.

"He also sends a message, that I am to relay to you."

"Sent his compliments, did he?" Crozier repeated, studying De Guarde's eye. "Tilt your head this way. Now hold still. This won't hurt, but it will be rather wet. Did Mister Leat have anything else to say?"

"Yes." Hadn't he said it already. That he had a message from Leat. The boy felt irritated, but as he tilted his head he held his tongue at the retort.

He could have omitted the details, but as Leat's last warning returned to his mind, he chose rather to tell as it was told to him: " He says.. that I am to be at your disposal as long as you see fit. " He flinched at the touch of the wet cloth to his bruised skin. He was glad he hadn't been bled.

"Also .." He wasn't happy to say so, but least he did: "He said to tell you he defer to your superior medical knowledge as to what should or should not be omitted from my diet."

He nodded and winced regretting the motion. He should have stayed put as the surgeon had told him. "..whatever that might mean, sir."

"Oh did he, now?" It was the only response De Guarde received, and the doctor continued with his application of the oiled silk. "Here, put your hand right here, and hold this." He wrapped a long bandage around the young man's head, around and around to hold the dressing in place over his eye. With his audience thus captive, he said, "Now listen, all this nonsense about falling down the stairs is ridiculous. I know you and Oxley were fighting, though I'm not going to report it, so don't bother to deny it. You do know that fighting is a direct violation of the Articles of War?"

"..We.. didn't, sir." He replied stubbornly, his hand moving and pressing just as the surgeon had ordered. He blinked with his other eye, feeling the world a lot less three dimensional with only one eye to offer him guidance.

"..I.. know it's not right, sir." He added more quietly. What was the doctor getting at? What did he want?

"And you know that you could be punished severely if I were to report my suspicions. Or if Mister Leat or Mister Cartwright were to do so. Not only that, but if the captain were to hear of it, it would not put you in favor to be reinstated as a midshipman, and that is what you want, isn't it?"

He flinched. It wasn't from pain though. He lifted his gaze as much as he could, without disturbing Dr. Crozier's work. "...Yes sir. ..I would like to become a midshipman again." He murmured.

He thought he understood what the man was getting at. He wanted something from him in favour of his silence. He bit at his lip. He didn't have much, was it money though? Or was it something else? He looked worriedly at the doctor trying to conceal the admition to the surgeon's speculations.

"There," he said, finishing off the end of the bandage. "Keep it like that for an hour or so. Until after dinner anyway, and I'll change it for you then." Crozier grimaced as his thoughts returned to the more unpleasant subject. "Of course, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you were fighting. You're only, what, thirteen? Fourteen? Young and impetuous. I would have expected Oxley to know better, really, being older and more mature, a man now, with plenty of experience..." He looked at the young man from the corner of his eye, watching to see if he would take the bait.

He was hesitating. He could agree, but if he did, then he would confirm without any doubt that they had been fighting. Crozier could be certain that they did or he could only suggest he was to coax him like one does an animal with some food.

He touched at the bandage that had him look rather odd and worse than his initial injury. "...Yes. He should have known better..." He paused and narrowed his eye on Crozier:" But to fall on his way to the heads. ..with his age...n' time spent on a ship he should've been better balanced than that."

He studied Crozier and wondered. Perhaps he had done a wrong thing by denying the truth from him again, which could anger the doctor. But if he had done it right, he was safe.

Crozier gave him a withering look. "I mean if he had been fighting. A young man like him, well, one woudln't expect it of him. He's old enough to know better. A boy like you though, young and uncontrolled... a bit wild, maybe a bit rebellious... a fiery temper... It would be understandable if a boy like you got into fights really, even if he was an educated young gentleman from an upstanding family, and even if he had been a midshipman. A boy as young as fourteen can't be expected to act like a man, can he?"

"..I would not fight sir." He answered shaking his head. He could sink Oxley. He could report him now, he felt. Him as one who had been an innocent at this occasion. But if he were to admit then he would admit to fighting as well. And then he would admit to lying when first asked.

He pursed his lips firmly together. " I'm a gentleman and should ...should be a midshipman. That is all there is to it. I've tripped. I fell. There is no reason that you call upon some course of action... not unless it is one.. where I may return..." He hesitated again and rubbed his side wincing. "to my proper duty."

"A gentleman, yes," Crozier agreed, waving his hand. "But a midshipman - well, a midshipman must be a man. No place for boys in the midshipmen's berth. Oh they may look like boys, some of them, but they have to act like men, and be leaders of men, and they have to inspire loyalty in those that follow them. Do you ever see Mister Bush and Mister Leat fighting each other?"

"... Yates had fought... and Fletcher is certainly no man." He spoke in haste, for he felt offended that he were told he was no man, when those he knew from the Berth were. Fletcher was but a child! And even as a child, a timid boy who was far from what he'd thought a midshipman would be. Young Fletcher, so he thought, was not leading but following.

He omitted the titles but more as he spoke without thought, than with intention.

"I'm a man surely!...."

"Then prove it." Finally! Crozier looked him in the eye - the one eye - as if defying him to be anything but a man. "Prove to the captain, and the men, and the other midshipmen, that you are more than just a boy. Don't look to Yates and Fletcher. Look to Lieutenant Leat, Lieutenant Bush, Lieutenant George. You do want to be a lieutenant some day, don't you? And eventually a captain? Mister Chandos and Mister Kinsella will be having their lieutenant examinations soon, and in a few years, with luck it will be you. And if you want to be ready, you have to start learning now. Learn all you can from the sailors - and from the marines, the armorers, the sailmakers, the carpenters, even the cook. They all answer to the lieutenants and to the captain, and those officers have to know everything about everyone's job on the ship. In a way you're lucky to have this opportunity to mix with the men. Almost - and I say almost - like a spy infiltrating a foreign army to learn everything he can and to report back. But in this case, you're not infiltrating the enemy, but rather the clockwork that keeps a ship running. And none of the other midshipmen are getting that opportunity."

Other midshipman. Other midshipmen. That night he felt sad because he'd lost his position and respect. Because he was no longer a midshipman and everybody treated him as a petty Jack Tar and some, even worse. He had an argument and it all just worsened. But the surgeon just spoke differently.

Though at first he wanted to ignore the words, they drew him in and soon he was listening attentively. He observed the surgeon with his one eye uncovered, trying to read him. His chest swelled just a little with pride. Not for the opportunity he was given. No midshipman would wish to trade respect for the insight. He'd been called worthless, useless, many a name that wound him. He couldn't retaliate to all. His boxed ears were proof of that.

A few years. He bit at his lip. All the right words for the distressed boy. He'd grown silent and didn't fidget at all. He'd watched Crozier as attentive as Emily had a rat before she pounced it. Of course Mathew's reason for watching Crozier wasn't the same!

" You.." He spoke when he was certain Crozier had said all that he wished: " you.. have faith in me..?" He felt a fool to ask the question and quickly bowed his head. The snarkyness and misbehavour was gone, he did however fear that somehow he had fell for it and somebody would burst out in laughter any time soon.

But Thompson didn't laugh. He wondered where the marine was and if he already learned of Oxley's adventure. He hoped he wouldn't ask any questions although with as much work as he was condemned to - first by the surgeon and then by the lieutenant - he doubted he'd have a chance to talk with him till night or even the other day.

Did they really suspect it all? Know nearly? He hadn't seen Oxley talk with Crozier on his own, so he couldn't have told him. The blasted boy. He'd gone too far with his slops and shirt! Strangely it angered the sailors too. Though after a moment of thought, he believed he understood. While the sailors could be mean to one another and deal with each other when the time came, they held together as a group. And in such a manner if somebody outside that group fought with one of the group they took it personally. Perhaps he was learning and he didn't even know it. How odd was that.

"Do I have faith in you?" Crozier repeated after a moment. What a question! And how to answer? It deserved an honest answer, not just sentimental honeyed half-truth, though that was not Crozier's style anyway. "I don't know. I have faith in every man to do and be the best that he can." He sighed. "But you aren't giving any of us much reason to have faith in you. I believe you can be better, and you can become an officer one day. But I don't know if you will." He shook his head soberly. "A lot of things will have to change if you want to earn people's trust. No more fighting, for one thing! Everyone on this ship deserves your respect. Don't you know the captain respects them all? How could they respect him, or love him like they do, if he held them in disdain? And you saw how hard it was when the prize crew was gone, how everyone had to work that much harder and everyone was tired. The ship's like a clock, or some well-oiled machine, and it needs all those working gears, from powder monkey to marine drummer to the captain himself. If we didn't need them, why would we have the press gangs? But even landsmen can be brought aboard and trained up and polished to become part of the working gears of the ship. But if one gear, even the smallest most insignificant part of the works gets broken, or bent, or rusty, or seizes up, and starts to prevent the other gears from doing their job properly..." He shook his head. "It either needs to be repaired or - well, moved to a place where it can't hinder the progress of the rest of the gears. No one is going to say, 'Lets put this gear up higher where it can effect even MORE of the works!' Do you understand?"

"I did not fight.. so why d' ye accuse me of it." He answered stiffly. "N'... if I'd fight.. can't I defend myself?.. I can't jus' stand there n' take t' beatin'. That's what a fool would do.. n' a dead man too." He spoke soberly.

He understood what the doctor was suggesting with the gears. He was young perhaps, but he was a bright young lad, who used his smarts often for bad rather than good.

"Our capn' .. had a.. sort of similar take on things like ye say jus'... he said it was in a way t' fear that got t' clock tickin'. Fear n' hm.. discipline like. Went fer anyone. Sure t' sailors got it lots.. but so did we. ..n' though not t' same way.. I'm sure t' lieutenants knew not to do wrong either."

He looked away from Crozier. "..Wot' ye be needin' me fer? Mr. Leat said that I ..um' here till ye say different." He didn't point out nor ask about his diet. If it were a positive one, he may regret it, but if it meant a reducing of his grog ration, he was quite happy not asking at all. Curiosity be damned.

Crozier shook his head and did not hide a smirk. "I don't need you. You came to me, remember? Now listen. If fear is the only thing that will inspire your behavior, then listen. If you don't want to spend the rest of your naval career before the mast, do not let the captain hear your name even mentioned one more time for anything except praise of your behavior, your dedication, your increasing skill and knowledge, and your general usefulness to the ship as a whole. Do you understand me? You're very lucky that I'm not going to report my suspicions to the captain this time, and I expect Mr. Leat is going to keep his thoughts private too or else he would have already said something. And while that bandage is on your eye, it's best for your own sake that you stay out of the captain's sight or he will ask questions. I believe Mr. Leat will have some duties to keep you out of the captain's view for a while. And since you have a history of drunkenness, and now a history of clumsiness, as well as decreased vision - no grog. For three days. We don't want you falling down stairs again. Now cut along back to Mr. Leat." And having dismissed his patient, he turned to busy himself at his desk without another word.

De Guarde's one eye widened. No grog for three days! What was he expected to drink? That foul excuse for water? Well.. since they haven't been long out of Lisbon it might not have been as foul, but the thought of drinking that instead of grog made it right repulsive.

"Aye sir." He said looking as sourfaced as if he were given lemons to eat for the rest of the month. With an unhappy glare at Crozier he left the sickbay. Oxley. HE was to blame for all of this. Suspicions, punishments and lack of grog! Good thing he still had a bottle worth of it. But, he'd have to refill it again then. All the time of waiting and drinking less of it! And now even, when he'd been the mess cook and he'd get an extra one.

He climbed the companionway once he reached it and with some additional tilting if his head to see at his blind side he went to find the second lieutenant.

(link to new thread goes here XD)

Crozier looked up from writing in his log and stood as the young man entered. "There you are, Oxley. Sit down and tilt your head this way."

(Edited by Sharpie: Oxley has come from here.)

Oxley did as he was told, looking more than a little bit nervous. He hadn't forgotten the doctor's order to Bridgens to get his lancet out - the large lancet, at that - and really didn't fancy losing any blood just because the doctor wanted him to.

Crozier sighed, still irritated by his conversation with De Guarde, and he did not speak for several moments except to say "Put your hand there." It was not until he had finished wrapping the bandage around the drummer's head that he spoke again. "You shouldn't fight with De Guarde. I know you were fighting, but I'm not going to report you, so don't bother denying it. There's no point. But it's very foolish to fight with him. You're old enough and clever enough to have more self-control."