A trip for some breath

"..Friendly... you bloody insulted me." The boy uttered. He should've been more careful. Of course he should've expected Oxley to do something like that! He was, after all, a Terpsy!

But there was something more that he could do after all. Something...
And the boy looked as if he'd lost his consciousness. His eyes went closed, hands slackened, and his body limp.

(Now this middie needs to find a doc... er hammock, so good night!! And see you tomorrow!!)

OOC - And look who's here now... (G'night to you, if you're going!)

IC -

Fortunately, it was not he who was stuck on watch right then, Andrew Shepherd thought as he scurried up the companion ladder, but rather his brother. Poor Tom. Served him right for tying Andrew's shoes up into his hammock earlier in the day.

Andrew moved swiftly forrard, keen to relieve himself at the heads and scamper back below. He was due to stand the next watch and wanted to drop back to sleep as soon as he could. His path took him past the lashed-down guns and a pair of lads fighting. Wait. A pair of lads fighting?

"S'all this?" Andrew demanded, stopping at once. One of the combatants - who looked like a Tar - flopped bonelessly to the deck even as Andrew came up. What the devil was going on here?

Oxley turned, fast. Ah. Andrew Shepherd - thank God it wasn't one of the officers!

"It's that bloody de Guarde," he said. "Stopped off to talk, an' I told him a few home truths, then he went off on one. Little bastard."

He flexed his fingers. He didn't think there was any permanent damage done to his hand, but he couldn't risk it. He glanced at the boy on the deck. He'd gone limp... That didn't look right. That didn't look right at all...

De Guarde. Andrew scowled and took half a step back from the unconscious seaman.

"Boy's a fool," he said. "Needed a good kickin', 'f arsk me."

He looked at the other drummer, who seemed to be nursing his hand. "Din't break nothin' on ya, did 'e?"

"Twisted me wrist, the little bugger," Oxley returned. "Think it's all right, though. If he tries anythin' like that again, I'll... I'll bloody wrap a drumstick round his neck!"

Andrew grunted by way of reply. Twisted Oxley's wrist, had he? Well. That was deserving of a lesson, beyond what he'd already been given.

"Take more'n one drumstick t'set this blaggard right."

That, of course, got him thinking. De Guarde was unconscious on the deck at his feet, which left him completely open to all manner of fates. A smug, knowing grin crept onto Andrew's face.

"Whaddaya think we oughta do wi' 'im?"

They were on the gundeck, with de Guarde sheltered from view by one of the cannon. Oxley looked down at the prone figure.

"He's a disgrace to them slops, he is. I reckon they could do with airin', to get rid o' the smell."

"Hm."

That they could, sure. Andrew glanced aft, briefly, before dropping down to his knees so he could set to work peeling off De Guarde's shirt. "Never knowed a Tar what smelt nice. 'Specially one like this 'un," he commented, smirking.

"I reckon... I reckon folks should just keep away fr'm him. You dunno what you'll catch."

He disregarded his own words and bent to unbuckle the boy's belt so he could pull his trousers off him.

"What d'you think - run them up to the fore tops'l yard?"

Andrew decided he liked the way Oxley was thinking.

"Jes' the place fer 'em, sure," he agreed, nodding. De Guarde's shirt was off now and Andrew was working at the knot in the boy's neck-rag. "Blimey, stoopit boy's tied this up like it were a officer's cravat."

"Thinks he still is an officer. Idiot. He'll try an' order Watts aroun' one of these days, an' I want to see the fireworks when he does."

He'd got de Guarde's trousers off by now and grinned. "There's got to be a spare halliard or some such we can fly 'em from. That'll be a sigh for sore eyes come mornin'."

"Same 'ere, mate. Right up t'the crosstrees wi' 'em, mebbe? Or mebbe scatter 'em about. Shirt up in the foretop, trousers on a backstay..."

Andrew managed, finally, to work the knot loose. With a grin, he tugged the cloth from around De Guarde's neck.

"Sounds good. Let's put 'em all over. It's wash-day come early!"

Well, the stupid boy shouldn't have said what he had, if he didn't want to be the butt of a practical joke. Anyone on Terpsy could have told him that upsetting the Marine drummers was not a good idea.

Too right. Andrew rolled up the purloined shirt and wrapped De Guarde's neck-rag around the bundle. "I'll take this bit, you take the trousers. Better be quick wi' it, eh?"

"O' course." Getting caught was not high on Oxley's agenda. He rolled the trousers up and took the belt as well, for good measure. "Best split after doin' it, Andrew," he said, grinning.

Foretopmast backstay should do it... and the maincourse would hopefully hide the evidence from the officer of the watch until it was light.

"Natch'rally." Grinning, Andrew took the rolled-up shirt and headed off quickly. He still had to use the head, which would put him in a perfect spot to tie up De Guarde's shirt. What better place to leave it than the sprit-sail yard?


OOC - And with that, I'm rolling off to bed.

Oxley couldn't help grinning as he slipped away to hoist trousers and belt into Terpsy's rigging, leaving them firmly secured and blowing in the wind before he slipped down the companionway and made his way back to his hammock, hopefully unseen.

Shame he wouldn't be around to see de Guarde's face in the morning.

(OOC - it's time for me to turn in and catch some shut-eye too. See you! )

(As the new day comes, Mathew may still be in the same place, but a different topic - to keep the confusion at bay . So here is that place : Morning )

P.S.: You two! *shakes finger*