Training Day - Rifle Competition

Cotton crossed over. He was almost sure he'd recognised Maggie and now he was definitely sure.

"What the hell are you playin' at?" he said, though not too loudly in case Waldegrave was still in earshot. "That's the craziest thing you could possibly do. Bedlam ain't in it!"

But now that the danger was passed, and now that she was face to face with her Gabe, Maggie's face broke into a grin. The excitement of such a narrow escape made her laugh in spite of herself. "Sorry, Rifleman Cotton," she said, biting back her laughter. "I didn't mean no harm. Gable, just look at me!"

Needham spotted Hunter sitting under a tree. Remembering that he'd forgotten to ask Prestwich whether he thanked the Captain for not mentioning their nightly antics to anyone, he pulled Havers by the arm to make him follow, - not wanting to leave the boy unsupervised for a moment, - and made his way through the crowd to where Hunter was with his servant.

He was a little startled to find that the two were eating: a food basket nested between them.
'Er, Captain, I just wanted to ask whether the Colonel had spoken to you?'

George looked up at Needham, smiling happily.
'Mmmhm,' he mumbled around a mouthful, then swallowing he waved a hand, - that held a strawberry in it, - at Needham and Havers. 'Sit and join us. We have plenty of food.'

Without much ado, Needham sat, pulling the blushing Havers beside him. Making the introductions, he turned to speak to Hunter, while Fernao was busy pressing food on the hesitant Liuetenant.

'I'm glad that there was no embarassment because of the two riflemen and the officer. Did you see it?'
George chuckled.
'Oh, yes! Though those two were no riflemen. I have it on good authority,' he nodded at Fernao, 'that those two were two girls from amongst the camp followers. It would seem that the officer in question did not notice it'.
Needham goggled.
'Truly?'
George nodded, his mouth somewhat occupied by food again, and Needham burst out laughing.

"I am lookin' at you, lass." He was grinning, unable to believe what she and Jenny had done. "I s'pose it was Jenny's idea, though? She's a little fool, that one."

"Oh she is, but she's brilliant. Oh Gabe, you should have heard the things she said to the lieutenant. I thought we were goners. My heart was pounding! Still is! I was that terrified, but oh Gabe! I'd like to hold you now except how would that look, a rifleman holding a boy, ha ha!" She could not stop grinning now, laughing with delight. "And aren't I a fine boy? Just look at me - trousers."

"Where'd she get the things from, anyways?" He was looking, unable to quite believe he was seeing a woman - his woman - wearing trousers. "Ain't nacherel though, a woman in trousers, lass. But the jacket looks mighty fine on you, that's for sure."

"Oh does it? Does it really? I wish I could see myself. I don't know where she got them all. Some of them were things she was mending for people. Haha, I could play football with you lot now!" she laughed, kicking out a leg.

"Don't even think about it. Though I'm goin' to have to get you a jacket of your own somehow, ain't I? 'Specially after this. You'd best get your own clothes back on afore anythin' else happens, though, lass."

(OOC - according to my bedroom clock, its twenty past two. According to my PC clock, it's still one. I think I need to let the computer get some sleep! See you tomorrow!)

"Oh I am, I certainly am. I don't want that Lieutenant Waldegrave coming back to talk to Danny Pickwoad," she muttered darkly, looking around in case he might be watching. She turned back to Cotton and grinned. "That's what Jenny called me, Danny Pickwoad. But you're right, I'm going to go put back on me dress. Think I've had enough of being a boy for today." She almost reached out to squeeze his hand, but she stopped herself and turned to run for the tents.

"Crazy girl." He grinned after her. She had pluck, though. None of his sisters would have dreamed of doing such a thing, even for the few minutes Maggie had done it.

But he wouldn't be quite easy till her saw her in her own clothes again.

And the actual competition was going to be starting soon. He had other things to think about, and turned back to the ranges that had been marked out for today.

(OOC - I really am off to bed now. See you around!)

Ten minutes and she was running back to the field, clothed and in her right mind, dressed in a frock and shawl and her hair loose. She felt ridiculously happy, and she had not even missed the start of the competition. With a whoop she descended on Cotton and gave him a triumphant kiss. "That's for luck," she laughed, giddy with delight, "because today I am full of it. Now you go and win this competition, and we'll see what you get for that!"

A woman dressed in a man's clothing, lucky enough that she were not recognised by Waldegrave for god knows what the man would think of them. Though he would perhaps not be vengeful against a miss Maggie even if he had had much to do with the punishment of her man. Still, they were lucky that neither was found though it bloody close! Standing to the side not to disturb the riflemen, Timothy looked to where the many men were lining up all signed up for the competition. It wasn't a surprise that none of the Hussars were present. All of them from the First Division, they have not deemed it their duty to appear, the feeling shared with their commanding officer.

He hadn't listened in on the conversation after Maggie returned, not being polite , such an act after all. Instead he scanned the rows and lines of men. It was a fine day. A fine day insofar. No need for anything to ruin it.

Needham took a sip from the wine bottle that oddly enough Hunter did not want, instead sticking to water. He glanced around again.

'Hunter, do you know anything about that lone Hussar? I saw him yesterday in the tavern with some riflemen. I thought the 15th were with the 1st Division'.

'There is some story or other about him getting lost after a skirmish with French, but I am not sure. Let's call him over, I've made his acquintance earlier on'.
Hunter called Willougby's name rather loudly and waved him over.

Just as he was beginning to feel comfortably safe and inconspicuous there was a shout calling his name. He looked around at first, frozen to the spot. For a moment he thought that there must've been another with a same name. Of course, he couldn't think of a reason that any would call him and the voice he only barely recongised even.

Once though he turned into the right direction, he caught sight of two men. Captain hunter was one of them, while the other man was the kind he'd not thought to have seen before.

With a hasty nod to the riflemen and seeing that it was indeed him that they had called, he crossed the distance between the three. "Sirs! "He saluted. He stood upright, with no indication that his leg had been injured before.

Hunter acknowledged the salute.
'Sit,' he said indicating an empty space between Fernao and him (the four of them were sitting in circle and the basket now was in the centre of it), Needham frowned a little at this, but being a genial man followed Hunter's lead.

"Yes, sir." What did the man want of him? He sat where he was indicated to and placed his hands ontop of his knees. He looked briefly at Fernao, as much as he dared with the superiors present, and then turned to the ADC. He ran many of the reasons for him being called here, through his mind. The other man hadn't been a Hussar, so it was none of that. The Captain had a young lad at his side, who was probably a new servant of his. Silently he awaited to be addressed , hoping it wasn't a kind of entertainment of the higher ranks, who called onto the privates just to send them running again.

Hunter introduced Needham and Havers to Willoughby.
'Now, Willoughby, why don't you tell us how you came to be stuck with the Second Division?' He asked not unkindly, passing some strawberries to the hussar.

Now that he'd gotten the two away from the red-coat, he wasn't sure he'd done the smartest thing ever. One of the masquerading greenjackets split off to talk to Cotton - that in itself set off a warning bell in Newbury's brain - leaving him to contend with the remaining one.

"This is daft," he grumbled, trailing after the young Ross. They were both sure to get into trouble - and him most of all.

So that was the reason that they called him there. He felt a sense of dread even when he had nothing to fear. "Yes, sir." He began after the initial greetings of the men present. "I got separated from my troop in a brush with the enemy... " He was short and curt thinking that it was best for the longer one explained, the easier it was to find flaw even in something that was not to have a flaw in its base. Honest men could get in trouble thanks to their tongues.

"My horse got killed.. so I had to proceed on foot. ..Took a wrong turn." He hesitated for a moment:"I was fortunate to be found by a Portuguese civilian and later our Riflemen, Sir." He concluded keeping his eyes cast down out of respect to the officers.

Hunter nodded.
'Well, I was not far from the truth, Needham.' Hunter and the Engineering officer both suspected that there was something else to this tale, especially since the boy has not rejoined his regiment. Yet, neither of them pressed for details: Hunter did not really care and Needham was having too nice a day to spoil by putting someone into an uncomfortable situation.

As Needham turned away to watch the competition proceedings, Hunter nudged the basket a little towards the hussar: there was still plenty of food in it.
'Have some,' he urged. 'How's your horse? Haven't fought with anyone again, has she?'

Fernao finding that Havers coud speak Portuguese passably well, was busy telling him some story or other.

He hoped not to miss the competition, but would give no indication of his interest. Never before an officer should one even give hint to that. He looked at the basket. He was offered to take what was inside and so eat it as well. With the officers!

"My horse is well, sir. She is as healthy as a horse can be, on such a march." He smiled. Surely the offer had been something of a misunderstanding and he did not dare to reach for and thus offend the officers with his nerve.

"She has.." His eyes gazed at the basket unobstructed. "Gotten more accustomed to having to carry a man about. Thank you for asking, sir."

'Good, good,' replied Hunter. Since he himself was not particularly interested in the competition, he rather forgot that others might be.

Needham pulled out a cigar and after Havers and Hunter refused, lit his.

Fernao distracted from his story-telling by Needham's smoke turned to look at Willoughby.
'Why aren't you eating?' he asked in Spanish. 'The Captain told you to eat'. Sighing in exasperation, which made Hunter chuckle, he took out chunks of cheese, ham and bread from the basket and handed them to the hussar. 'Eat'.

He took the offered, with a small nod and a kind word of thanks. He wasn't certain whether it was right that a private was to eat alongside the officers, even worse, of their own food. But he had a mind not to decline. In part it was for the officers, but in other, the food was good. Cheese, ham, bread. And not the kind they were getting, though he couldn't complain over riflemen's cooking.

"Thank you most sincerely, sir." he said and smiled at the young lad:" And to you." He added. It was certainly as good as it looked, and though he ate politely and slowly, he enjoyed each and every bite taken.

Needham turned a blind eye to the proceedings: if Hunter wanted to feed soldiers he would not stand in his way and neither would he make any unpleasant remarks. He puffed on his cigar happily, aware of the fact that he and Havers rather hid the 'feeding of the hussar' from view.

Fernao huffed and turned back to the Liuetenant.

'You are welcome, Willoughby'. Hunter leaned against the tree trunk, stretching his legs out and readjusting his sabre. He took out one of his boot knives and playing with it absent-mindedly, asked. 'Were you with Moore, or did you arrive here with Wellesley?'

"Yes, sir. With Moore." He spoke once he didn't have anything to chew on. "But into Coimbra.. I've come with Wellesley. " He studied the captain, keeping his eyes respectfully lower than that of the man. He took another bite feeling awkward at feasting on the officer's food and in their presence.