Sunny morning

"..." The boy lowered his gaze, till his eyes were at the shined buttons of the lieutenant's coat. There they stayed, while his toes curled, and his left hand began to tug at the sleeve of his right. It was a subconscious action as always, but one brought on by nervousness or similar.

" My fist... when I slipped down.. the stairs. Wanted to stop the fall, but see... sir. Woulda been better if I didn't." He knew that if one made a story, they had to stick with it, or else they would surely be proven as liars. He knew also there was a fine line and time to lie, and sometimes it was better to drop the act.

A likely story indeed; but he doubted he'd ever get the boy to admit the truth.

"Careless of you," he said. "I'm surprised you did not break your ankle on the way down. Did you go and see Mr. Crozier after it had happened?"

"No, sir." That at least, was an easy question to answer. Or perhaps not. He couldn't say he woke up upstairs, when there was no ladder to drip down.

"It was late... so I did not wish to awaken the surgeon fer it. ..nothin' wos' broken after all." Well, then, it was easy and for one it was in part true. It happened during the night.

Leat raised an eyebrow. De Guarde could have woken one of the surgeon's mates and he knew it.

"It is not your place, De Guarde, to decide whether anything was broken or out of place less you make yourself unfit for duty. Report to the surgeon immediately. If he does find you fit for duty, you shall report back here to me where you shall be assigned duties for the day - since you are so eager for employment."

Ah, crap. "Tripped over a ring-bolt, sir, goin' to the head. Last night, sir."

How did he know what Oxley was going to say? How did they always know?!

De Guarde gulped , feeling his throat uncharacteristically dry at that moment. "..Yes sir. Right away, sir." He spoke and saluted again. He hesitated and then waited, as if expecting the lieutenant to tell him he was dismissed before he would head to report to the surgeon. Already his mind was filled with images of what the lieutenant could personally assign him to do. It couldn't be bad though, could it?

The lieutenant nodded.

"Carry on, De Guarde."

A believable story, Cartwright thought, if he hadn't seen similar things before.

"I see. Have you been to see the surgeon?" In all likelihood, the answer would be no - why go see the surgeon when one was guilty of fighting? Cartwright wasn't so inexperienced that he was unaware that surgeons always asked questions. Usually too many questions at that.

"Thank you, sir." The boy replied, turned on his heel swiftly and with a bit of an air of a middie - he couldn't help himself - he left to report to the surgeon. He felt a bit of pain below where a knee was driven into his most sensitive parts but altogether he'd done well enough. Better than one could expect against a 17 year old!

Why would he see the surgeon if he'd been fighting? And he couldn't lie - Mister Cartwright would check. He gulped. Bloody officers - why did they always have to poke their noses in?

"No, sir."

Leat watched for a moment as De Guarde departed, then turned away in disgust. However, at that moment further along the deck, amongst the diuspersing crew members he caught sight of Lieutenant Cartwright admonishing one of his Marines... who from this distance looked as if he had a black eye also. Well, well.

Leat took a few paces further along the deck, halting a little distance away to catch Cartwright after he'd finished with his drummer.

Of course not. Cartwright nodded slightly, ignoring the uncertain glare being sent his way from Corporal Johnson.

"I see," he said again. "Head below directly - "

Another Marine appeared at the bruised one's elbow, looking almost defiant. "It were my fault, sar. Ol' Tom woulda been arrigh' if I ain't of 'urried 'im along, like."

Well. Cartwright lifted an eyebrow at the second Marine, surprised at the boy's appearance and statement. He looked from one to the other, then said "Very well. You will see to it that your 'Ol' Tom' gets safely down the surgeon's berth. That'll be all."

"Aye, aye, sir," Oxley said, slightly startled when Andrew Shepherd popped up next to him, seemingly out of nowhere. It wasn't as though the lad needed to cover for him... and then he saw de Guarde making his way to the companionway.

Ah. Maybe he did.

(Oxley and de Guarde head here.)

De Guarde hadn't turned all till he reached the copanionway and then more out of habit than need, he glanced over his shoulder. He caught sight of Oxley and another marine that was accompanying him.

He turned in disdain and cursed. Surely they weren't... going to the surgeon also?

"Aye sar," the second Marine said, saluting. Cartwright fought back a bemused smile as the pair hurried toward the companion ladder. The brief encounter was unusual, certainly. As he turned away to resume his former place by the quarterdeck stairs, he noticed one of the sea-officers hovering nearby, looking intent on catching him as he passed.

"Good morning sir," Cartwright greeted as he approached, offering a salute.

"Good morning," Leat said, giving a small smile and touching his hat back. "Lieutenant Cartwright, I could not help but notice that one of your men, the lad your were talking to just now, had a black eye. I was wondering if you could enlighten me as to what he named as the cause?"

Ah, this was not the sort of conversation he wanted to have with a sea-officer. Cartwright inclined his head, just slightly.

"He was unlucky enough to trip over a ring-bolt while on his way to the head during the night," the Marine answered casually. "It seems he was being hurried along, rather improperly, by another fellow and was distracted."

Leat caught the meaning in Cartwright's attitude and understood. The man was new, still getting used to the other officers and was not sure how far he could trust them - and had a natural tendancey, as was well and proper, to reduce unwanted interference with his men.

"How unfortunate," he replied, his tone just as casual. Just as he thought; a scrap. "It seemed to be quite a night for accidents - one of the men in my Division tripped and fell down a companionway. Fortunate he didn't break his neck - or anything else for that matter."

He hoped the confidence would be taken for what it was, not a reproof. Such matters were difficult enough to handle as it was.

Another man had fallen during the night? How unfortunate. Cartwright nodded, once, at the sea-officer's words. Quite lucky that the seaman had not, in fact, broken his neck.

"A most welcome piece of luck, that," Cartwright offered, unwilling to be too forward in his remarks. "Weariness after over-excitement is to blame, I should think?"

"Possibly," Leat conceded. "Though I think he had little to be excited about."

He paused, looking over at the waves rise and fall before continuing.

"Although he did not come out completely unscathed. Funny thing really; apparently as he tried to stop himself falling he knocked his arm and smacked his own fist into his eye - gave himself a black eye. Most peculiar, but then again, stranger things have happened."

All of this was said in a quite light, casual tone as before; yet Cartwright, if he were the officer Leat supposed him to be, could not fail to catch his drift.

"Strange indeed," Cartwright agreed. It was bad enough that Marines should be fighting without having them getting into scraps with Tars. He'd have to speak with that young Marine again, once he was returned to duty by the surgeon.

"I'm sure the men will settle themselves now we're back at sea," he added after a pause. "Leaving port can try some spirits unduly, I'm sure."

Leat nodded. Cartwright seemed to have got the message.

"Aye, it often does that," he said. "Especially Lisbon. Though I don't think any of 'em were that sorry to leave; stank like sewer that place did!"

"It did at that."

It seemed they were both satisfied with the resolution that had been unofficially reached. Nodding slightly, Cartwright glanced meaningfully toward the paraded Marines, who were still waiting to begin the ritual of drill.

"If you'll excuse me now, sir, I'd like to begin exercising my lads. We'll try to stay out of the way as much as we're able," he added with a slight smile. Finding and maintaining a balance between the Marines and the seamen was often a delicate task.

Leat smiled and nodded. Cartwright was certainly an improvement on that useless sot Braithwaite, thank God! He did not know whether he would have been able to have the same such 'informal word' with Quinn - and thankfully until now he'd never had to.

"I shan't detain you any longer, Mister Cartwright. Good day to you."

Cartwright returned the sea-officer's smile, pleased to have reached an agreeable accord. "Thank you sir. Good day to you as well."

He saluted again before moving toward where Sergeant Quinn and Corporal Johnson were standing. Despite that brief disruption, he was confident that the day would progress in a tolerable fashion.