Off-watch with the Marines

Now he got it. Branning grinned. "Ah!" Who else could he recruit to offer Thompson a little bit from their own tots?

"No worries, mate," he said, a little belatedly. After all, what was a mate if he couldn't look after you?

Branning might be a bit slow, but Thompson didn't think anyone could call him stupid. He grinned back. "You ain't daft, are you, Branning? Just need things explainin' better, is all."

"'Course he's not," Allen said, smiling at Branning, "Everybody needs things explained every once in a while."

Thompson nodded. "'Course they do, mate. Can't understand stuff rightly if so be 't'ain't 'splained prop'ly, after all."

Daft? Branning shook his head. His brother could easily be described as daft, but not him. Truth was, Branning felt smart compared to his brother.

"Ain't that so," he agreed.

"Just don't go doin' your own ankle in. Not bein' on duty f'r a bit ain't worth gettin' your grog stopped, that's for sure," Thompson said with a sigh.

"That's th' truth," Allen said, "Don't know what would be worth gettin' your grog stopped."

[OOC: Dinner time, so I guess I'll see you all tomorrow!]

Private Bakewell's ears had perked up at the discussion of grog. "What's that you say about sharin'? A little bit o' his, and a little bit o' his, and a little bit o' someone else's makes a whole tot?" He scratched his ear. "So... Thompson here ends with a whole tot, and if he gives a little bit back to everyone who'd gave him some o' theirs, then they'd have a whole tot too. I reckon if we did that every time, we would never run out!" He laughed with delight at the idea of a miraculous never-ending barrel of rum.



[ooc - hope you don't mind the miraculous appearance of Bakewell. Oh my goodness, I've gone and played a marine! I've become one of THEM!]

"Don't think it works quite like that," Thompson said, amused at the idea that everyone could end up with a full tot just by sharing it around. "Be nice if'n it did, though."

(OOC - I don't mind in the slightest. Never thought to see you playing a Marine though. )

The men were talking about grog. Johnson nearly paused mid-way down the ladder, curious despite his mood. He'd heard that Thompson had taken a fall and was on the sawbones' sick-list. The news hadn't done much for his temper, which had been already poor after seeing their new lieutenant come aboard.

"Halves of this and quarters of that - sounds like a bleedin' school-room," Johnson snapped, finishing his descent to the messdeck. He eyed Thompson, sitting almost prince-like on his sea-chest, and snorted. "Never figgered you fer a landsman, Thompson. Taking a fall in a calm and all."

Thompson looked up and shrugged. "Sorry, Corp'l. Though I reckon it could've happened to anyone, what with the lantern goin' out an' Terpsy snubbin' at the cable like she did."

He didn't think Corporal Johnson was too happy at hearing what had happened, and to have one of his men on light duties for something stupid like that... well, that really wasn't going to have improved his temper. He'd better look sharp until he could get back to duty, that was for sure.

It was always something else that was to blame, Johnson thought. Never the man himself, oh no.

"Just bad luck it was you, eh?"

Thompson shrugged. "Yes, Corp'l. Could've bin worser, though. I could've broke me neck, like."

There was really no point in telling Johnson that he'd injured that same ankle before, however long ago. "Didn't help that I was takin' a step at the time, neither," he said instead.

"Hmph."

Better having a man on light duties instead of having him dead, Johnson allowed, grudgingly. He looked at the other Marines gathered around; Branning, Allen, and Bakewell. The comparison to Thompson being prince-like came back. Royalty was holding court.

"Don't be gettin' airs or anything," Johnson said. "Light duties ain't a free pass out of everything."

He didn't have to add the obvious. It was understood that he disliked having to accommodate injured men and generally kept a close watch on them until they were recovered enough to be returned to full duty.

Getting airs? Getting bored would be more like it.

Thompson nodded soberly. "Aye, aye, Corp'l," he said. Johnson was probably harder on injured Marines than able-bodied ones, if that was possible. And it wasn't as though Thompson wouldn't have time to square his kit away properly, either. He'd be as happy as Larry when the doctor finally signed him off the sick-list, whenever that would be.

Well, at least the man was smart enough to avoid snarking. Johnson shrugged by way of accepting Thompson's acknowledgment. He passed his gaze over the other Marines, almost daring them to speak, then turned away toward his own sea-chest.

"Ah, Corporal Johnson." A new voice called, halting Johnson's movement. "I had been told you'd gone below."

"Yes sir," Johnson replied stiffly, turning back around to salute. "Help you with somethin', sir?"

Though what their new lieutenant could possibly want with him was beyond his imagination. Cartwright regarded the corporal evenly, seemingly unruffled by his tone, before looking at the other Marines behind him.

"A tour of the messdeck would suit," the lieutenant said after a pause. "If you don't mind."

Johnson bit down on his tongue. "Not t'all sir."

Oh help. The new Lieutenant had appeared, unseen. Thompson scrambled to his feet - foot - in acknowledgement, as the other Marines around stood up. To have an officer pass through happened so frequently that if the Marines stood up every time, they'd be up and down more regularly than jack-in-the-boxes.

But to have an officer stop by for a visit - or an inspection - demanded the proper respect.

Thompson rested one hand on the deck-beam just above his head, hoping he could stay anonymous. Coming to the attention of the new lieutenant as the Marine who'd sprained his ankle tumbling down a ladder while at anchor... well, that was something he didn't need.

Everyone, Johnson thought, was out to get him today. He resented the lieutenant's arrival and request, even more than he resented Thompson's becoming injured. It simply was not possible for anything to go right!

"Fairly straight forrard, sir," Johnson offered gruffly, looking around at the hammocks and sea-chests. "Lads sleep, eat, an' do nearly all else down here."

Cartwright didn't even seem to be listening. Instead, he was looking around thoughtfully, as if taking careful mental notes about the layout of the messdeck. Johnson found himself hoping that he wouldn't have to supervise a dedicated cleaning session - an overly fastidious officer was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

"It is inspected regularly, I assume?"

Johnson forced himself to nod. "Yes sir."

"Hm." The lieutenant looked about again and spotted Thompson. "Sit down, man, before you topple over." Somehow, Cartwright didn't sound surprised by the injured Marine's stance, or even his state. He turned toward Johnson with a casually-arched eyebrow. "Is it usual to refrain from reporting any unfortunately injured Marines, Corporal?"

"No sir." Johnson looked miffed. "Hadn't got 'round to it yet, sir."

Thompson sat down with a thump, embarrassed at being singled out like that. 'Before you topple over...' Did the officer really think he was as unsteady on his feet as a landsman? Though he must have seen the books and learned something of his service history... though of course he wouldn't be able to put names to faces yet.

And it surely wasn't possible that the Lieutenant had seen him straight away, was it? And to pull Corporal Johnson up like over him... the Corporal wasn't going to like that one bit, and it would probably make him even sourer. Which he would probably take out on Thompson, as the cause of it. Thompson could cope with that, though he disliked coming to Johnson's notice as much as any of Terpsy's Marines did.

He found himself watching the Lieutenant closely, wondering what he was going to be like as an officer.

(OOC - Off out for a bit. Hope to be back later this evening, so see you then!)

Cartwright nodded once as the injured man plopped back down onto his sea-chest. He'd spotted the Marine nearly as soon as he entered the messdeck, but had refrained from directly addressing him until it was clear that Johnson had no intention of putting the poor man at his ease.

"Hadn't got 'round to it yet. I see. It's quite fortunate that I looked into such matters myself, then."

Johnson's face flushed dark, but he managed to wrestle his expression into neutrality. He didn't like being publicly bested by any officer, never mind a newly-arrived one. "Fortunate indeed, sir."

The corporal waited a heartbeat, then asked "Care to see the rest of the berth, sir?"

"No Corporal, I think I've seen enough for the present. I should like a private word with you aft, however." There was no pleasant note in Cartwright's voice now and Johnson didn't miss the sudden firmness in the officer's statement.

"Aye sir," the corporal said sullenly as he tramped aft.

"Ho!" Branning burst out, when Johnson and the lieutenant had gone. "Weren't that summat!"

He grinned over at Thompson as he sat down on a nearby sea-chest. "Never thought I'd see the like!"


OOC - See you when you're back, Sharpie!

Like the others, Allen had been standing at attention until Cartwright and Johnson had left. Once they disappeared, he let out a sigh of relief and sat back down next to Thompson. The new lieutenant was certainly different. It would be interesting to see what sort of officer he was going to be.

"Never thought I'd see the like either!" he said, "Sure is a change from ol' Brandeson, ain't it?"

Thompson shook his head in disbelief. "Well, Brandeson he ain't, that's f'r sure, lads."

How badly was Johnson going to get chewed out - and how hard would he come down on the Marines because of it? Thompson was already going to get short shrift for being unfit for duty and he didn't need the Corporal taking out his temper on him just because he'd got an ear-bashing from an officer.

Branning was shaking his head slowly. "He ain't, that's sure. Mebbe we gots us a real officer now!"

"It seems it, don't it, mate?"

A real, proper officer could only be good news. Sergeant Quinn hadn't let anyone slack off, though he couldn't threaten all the dire things an officer could, so some of the Marines weren't as well as might be. But the Sergeant couldn't properly defend the Marines to one of the Naval officers like a proper Marine officer could, simply because he was only an NCO and not in charge of the detachment. Though, for all the good Brandeson had been, he might as well have been.