A dirty business

Crozier smiled mildly. "Well then, do be careful around him. Though it looks as if he knows he'd better not try anything with you. And the mares?"

"Here, sir," Thompson said, realising where the surgeon was standing, "don't get too close to him, will you?"

Crozier acknowledged the marine and took a step back, thoughtful and concerned. "Are you sure you can manage, De Guarde, with your eye bandaged up?"

"Mares are well tempered. They look to behave as they should.. " He glanced suspiciously at the stallion. They did say bad could turn good, but he doubted that such a short time would suffice with such a grand creature as the stallion. He turned away from him. Well perhaps, the doctor was right?

" They jus' dont know , that mop in a hand means.. clear your bowels now n' not when the mop is already out!" He smiled a little. He took a step back, with the bucket now empty.

"Sure sir. My limbs are still well, no?" The boy spoke distractedly, noticing the bucket was at last empty. He was just lowering it down, when the stallion without warning advanced towards the boy. His head bucking downwards as if attempting to bite and strike the boy to the floor.

"Here, look out, lad!" Thompson said, seeing what the horse was doing.

"Here!" Crozier exclaimed, crossing over to pull De Guarde back by the shoulder.

"What?" The boy was turning to look at the two men shouting, as is natural, and only then he felt a sharp thrust of solid flesh against his shoulder. He toppled over his bucket in a display of no grace, the clutter loud.

Spooked by another body appearing out of the blue, the stallion reared. He threw his head back and neighed. Then he was up on his back hooves and striking forward as if to attack the sudden danger.

It was loud. The horse was loud, echoing in that close confined space so near. And there seemed to be a crash, or maybe two crashes in quick succession, and a jarring sort of blow, a blinding sort of scintillating light, all in rapid succession but not in any distinct order, except for that last crash as his head hit the deck. "I can't lose the key to the spirit-room," Crozier thought absurdly. "How will the men get their grog?" And after that, there was nothing at all.

Mathew rolled to the side. The stallion was just heading for another strike, wanting perhaps to trample the danger even when it was already done and seemed motionless.

"BACK, back!" The boy cried seeing how close the next set of hooves came. He reached for the the rope attached to the horse's halter and pulled sharply down and to the stallion's side. "Back!" He added more softly, trying to calm the horse, yet a hold grip in hand. "Thompson! Can you see to the doctor. Quickly! We need him from under there! Need help!"

"Doctor!" Thompson exclaimed. He was on his feet in a flash Somewhere, the pain of his ankle was screaming at him, trying to get his attention, but he ignored it. Mister Crozier was on the deck, not moving. The horse looked like he might do more damage, and Thompson bent to grab the doctor's arm, or coat, or something and pull him away.

"Can you hear me, sir?" he asked, bending over the other man. And then the pain of his ankle registered fully and he sat down, hard, on the deck next to the surgeon. They needed help, and de Guarde was seeing to the horse. But any more loud noises would probably panic the horse more.

"What's the matter?" Billy cried, appearing on the scene with Bakewell close behind. Bakewell had been on sentry duty outside the spirit room, and had spoken to the surgeon only moments before.

"Mister Crozier!" the marine exclaimed. "Thompson! You all right?"

"Billy, help Thompson n' get Crozier away from the horse. Both of them! " He held onto the horse which was swaying it's head irritatedly and nervously. He felt that the moment he would release him the horse might either hurt himself, trashing, or hurt someone else.

He looked at Thompson with great concern as well. "Are you alright? How's the doctor? .." And then snapping back: "George, can you watch over t' doctor?" He hoped that Billy would do as he'd asked. "Billy, I'll need you to run for help once he's safe."

Thompson looked up. "I'm fine. Better'n he is, anyways." He looked at Billy. "We got to get him right away from that horse."

(OOC - computer needs a restart... BRB)

"Aye sir," Billy answered De Guarde automatically, forgetting the boy's current position. Bakewell was already helping Thompson hobble away, and Billy lifted the surgeon, gently cradling his bloody head, and moved away out of the horse's reach. "Will he be all right here, sir?" he asked anxiously, looking at a slightly cleaner spot on the deck. "I dursn't carry him all the way up like this."

De Guarde blinked at the address, the stallion pulled at the rope so that the former midshipman had to pull all of his weight into halting him. "Don't know, Billy. I hope so."

He looked at Bakewill: "Bakewill help Thompson sit n' then go get M'Clure. Lively now. Might not have much time!"

The swelling could grow worse and, well he wasn't a doctor but he guessed that time was of the essence with what injuries were concerned.

He looked back at Billy: "Is he breathing? Respondin' at all? Carefull with his head. Don't touch it where he's got hit, alright? " If the horse shattered anything, well it wasn't like a cut wound where you pressed on it.

"I don't know, I don't know, I can't tell!" Billy cried, anxiously peering at the surgeon's head and face in the gloom. "Doctor Crozier, sir, can you hear me?"

Thompson sat back down. "Nat, would you get Doctor Maturin as well? He's one o' the passengers, an' he's real good with stuff like this."

His ankle was hurting badly, but there was nothing to be done about it. His attention was on Mister Crozier, lying pale and still on the deck planking.

Bakewell nodded, still looking shocked. "Aye, Doctor Maturin and M'Clure."

"Billy, calm down. Calm down. You're stirrin' him." He was speaking with near the same tone to the Tar, as he was to ease the horse. Copenhagen looked nervous, and pulled a couple more times. "..shh.." He whispered to the horse, gently rubbing his hand along the animal's head and at his neck.

" Alright'.. Thompson, help Billy. Check if Crozier is breathin'. Try not ter move him if you can n'.. keep him from touchin' t' floor. Is filthy 'ere. He don't need ter get it into his injury!"

He paused: "No, wait it will be quicker if you, Billy, go to fetch Dr. Maturin, while Bakewill goes fer M'Clure." The Tar was shaken, it was safer and better to have him run for help too. Better for the doctor as well as the man.

"George, you'll be ok with him , aye?" He nodded towards the doctor, slowly easing the hold on the horse somewhat.

"Doctor Maturin's the little pale one who come aboard in Lisbon - he'll be in the wardroom, most likely. But you know that." He nodded his thanks and turned to look down at Mister Crozier. "Dunno where to put him. Um." He knelt and carefully pulled the surgeon's head into his lap. "This'll have to do, I think. An' I'll need to wash me trousers later."

"Aye, I'll find him," Billy said, scrambling to his feet and rushing behind Bakewell towards the nearest ladder.


[Billy goes here]

"Steady.." He murmured to the horse. Almost calm. Well as calm the beast could be. Bitey and bad tempered as he were. Couldn't risk him getting injured though.

"George. How's Crozier?" He hoped the two Tars would come quickly. He looked at the horse and took a step slowly from him, ready to return if Copenhagen began to cause trouble again.

"He's..." He felt the man's chest, trying to find a heartbeat. There was a flutter under his fingers, which was good. He moved the hand up to hold it just above the surgeon's mouth. There was a slight warmth on his hand as Crozier breathed out.

"He's alive. He ain't awake though. Dunno how hard the damn horse got him." He looked up. "How're you with that horse, Matthew?"

"Good. " He was so far alive and although not well he looked not to be ten feet under just yet. There was hope. He bit at his lip. No time to worry about what could be, or making scenarios each worse than the next. He looked to the horse and answered.

"Alright. Seems he's calmin' down now. " He glanced at the animal's leg. " Stressed bu' no worse for wear." He murmured after a moment.

"Jus' keep Crozier steady. Help's on the way." He looked towards the doctor and hoped the two Tars would locate Maturin and M'Clure quicky and that perhaps they were already coming as they spoke.

"How badly 's he bleedin'?"

"Dunno, it's too dark to see prop'ly." He carefully felt the surgeon's head. "Bit of a swellin', like, can't really tell if there's much blood."

He hoped either one of the two men sent for would hurry up and get here to tell him what to do. This felt awkward and a little uncomfortable - and probably wasn't doing his ankle much good. Though that didn't matter, in the face of the surgeon's unconsciousness.