A dirty business

Once the doctors, midshipman and Tars left De Guarde knelt on Thompson's side. "Here, George. Lemme 'elp ye." He murmured.

"Thanks," Thompson said, holding the boy's arm. He knelt up and put his uninjured foot to the deck so that he was kneeling on one knee, and paused. "Would you pass me crutch, please? I don't think you'll be able to take all me weight, lad."

"Well ye don' plan' fer me to carry you, now do ye?" De Guarde smiled and nodded reaching out pull the crutch closer to the marine. "Here. Summat help." He hesitated looking at Thompson.

"You can stay some more.. or do ye need to get back to your mess?" There was some more work to do with the horses, yet he knew he'd understand, and help Thompson up to his mess, if the marine had to go. After all, after all that happened. They were lucky that..well, they couldn't yet pass judgement on luck.

"I can stay for a bit, though I'm goin' to have to change me trousers, an' see if'n I can wash these a bit," Thompson replied. "I dessay they can wair a bit, though."

He took the crutch and, with that on one side and de Guarde on the other, he pulled himself upright. He took his seat again and leant forwards to look at is ankle.

"Think I might've made it a bit worse, standin' on it like that," he said. "When Doctor Maturin's seen to Mister Crozier, I'll nip along and ask him to take a look, see if I have made it worse."

'Nip along'... Limp along would probably be the best he could manage.

"But he'll be busy for a bit. Was there anythin' you partic'ly wanted to talk about?" he asked, propping his crutch next to him again and stretching his injured leg in front of him.

"I'll help yer up, when ye need to go. N' I won't be takin' no fer an answer. Yer ankle's bad.. n' though we had ter do it, n' Crozier might be grateful ter ye, if he comes around, yer ankle didn't need it. N' as it got it.." He took a breath at last: "You will let me help you."

He smiled and straightened once he was sure Thompson was safely seated. "Ah.. Idunno wot'.. I.. Ye think t' doctor will fair well?.. How good is this Maturin anyhow?..'s he better than climbin' on ships?" He remembered how the man fell in and stiffled a chuckle at the thought. Already though he was checking what more was to be done with the stallion till they would have to move to the other side to the mares.

"Hn. Near done 'ere. Will ye be allright movin' ter t' other side? t' the mares?" He asked thinking about it.

Thompson smiled. "I won't say no to a bit of help, lad, not after that, though I'll be all right on the flat. I think I might've made it a bit worse, doin' that-all." He nodded in response to the boy's questions. "Aye. He's a proper doctor - a physician. Won't look at you for less'n a guinea, on land. He's the very best - I 'member him cuttin' open the head of one sailor, years ago, rousin' out his brains and settin' it all to rights. Put a silver three-shillin' bit in his head an' all."

"..cuttin' open a sailor's head? N' t' man lived?" De Guarde's eyes widened at the thought. "N' ..he felt it all too?.. Must've been awfully painful that.. but .. but living after his head was open?" He shook his head again in disbelief.

"Well.. if um anybody can 'elp our doctor then.. it sure is Maturin. ..if he opens heads n' puts money in them people's brains!"

The remainging of the work with the stallion was completed, hay and water given, the floor scrubbed and the dung removed. " 'Op with you, George. We'um movin' to t' mares now." He offered a helping hand.

He grinned, nodding. "I think he was uncon... out of it, for the operation. And aye, he lived. Still walkin' aroun' today with his wits intact. So, if anyone c'n help Mister Crozier, Doctor Maturin can."

He gathered himself and got to his feet, keeping his injured foot from touching the deck. "Ready when you are, Mathew," he said, tucking his crutch under his arm and taking the first step across the hold.

Hop, thump. Hop, thump.

At least he knew how to use a crutch, which was something.

Helping Thompson around the turn, and keeping him well away from the stallion, for he did not want another man down thanks to the animal, they crossed the distance to the mares. There he first lead Thompson to sit down safely. Only then did he consider having the lantern placed somewhere of use and then go fetch the shovel, the broom and the mop. He made a face at what the two mares managed to come up with while he was away.

"..They jus'....do it too much!" He nodded to the horse's shit.

Thompson grinned. "It's not like they c'n use the heads, y'know. It's what horses do. Not generally aboard ship, but there y'are."

He leaned back against the mast. "You never said if you wanted to talk about anythin'. So I'm goin' to ask you summat. What've you learned about lower-decks folks since bein' disrated that you never knew about us afore?"

"I'd personally walk them up if they could navigate the companionways." He replied as he lifted the first shovelfull of dung. "..why didn't we jus' tie em up on deck, with their tails over t' railin'. It would save us atleast one part of t' work." He wrinkled his nose and made a face, which looked more comical than complaining.

When asked the expression changed:" Well... I..I'um learned is harder ter get people to do summat you want.. n'.. that well I didn't know how t' sailors are like. Standin' out for their own. S'...'s almost organised that. Not jus' a mob held in place by shouts , if ye know wot' i mean."

He grinned at the the thought of the horses doin their business over the side.

As de Guarde spoke of the sailors, he nodded. "Aye, I know. D'you 'member me tellin' you about pride, a few days ago? That's got summat to do with it, you know. An' like I've said, the way to get folks to do what you'd like them to is to ask, nicely, like you've bin learnin'. Works better'n demandin' it, and folks are more likely to do it cheerfully."

"Aye. I also learnt that..holystonin' ain't all that pleasant to do..n' is hard! But also..uh.. that is hard to stay fresh clean with all t' work. N' that t' work is real hard n' ye start lookin' forward to when t' meal n' rest is. N' ter when you get yer grog ration." He nodded counting all that he'd learned so far, almost proud that he could share it with his friend. He wouldprobably not have told it to anyone else, certainly not with such vigour.

"N' I learned that 's quite important ter which mess ye belong. Because ye'um near become ..uh.. one with em. Don't know how ter explain."

"I know, lad. I mess with Vinin' and Allen an' Brannin' and Grattan an' Dickin and Beech. An' Green was part o' our mess till he lost his number, in that fight."

He laced ihs fnagers together and clasped them round his knee. "An' what d'you think o' the sailors now you've had a chance to get to know 'em a bit better?" he asked, curious.

"I... I'um not as afraid of them now N'.. n' did you hear? Billy called me sir!..he'd made a mistake I'm sure but.."He looked embarrassed at the happyness that brought him.

"..Well Billy did n'.. I thought sailors were more of..creatures like. Ter be exact more dangerous and vile n' thinkin' only of drink n' only of t' bad things n' how ter get out of doin' summat. But...'cept a few, they'....."He was hesitant to say, and lowered his gaze to the dung he had to heft up.

"Well, they'um rather civil, rather ..ok. Well,... well not as bad."

Thompson grinned. "Like I 'member sayin' to ye; they ain't so diff'rent from me an' the other Marines." He smiled, satisfied. "I knew you wouldn't find it easy, lad, but then, I knew you'd learn a lot. An' I really think you'll do good. An' Billy called you 'sir' 'cause you was bein' an officer. It was damn near bein' a Terpsy officer, an' all. I knew you'd do it."

He shrugged. "I think you've got a ways to go yet, but you've made a real good start. Only, other folks mightn't see it yet. Like Oxley. I said earlier i'm goin' to talk with him, an' I will. An' I'd like to ask you that if he 'pologises, you will too. Please?"

Bakewell had returned for sentry duty, and he blinked in surprise to see Thompson still there, hobbling with his crutch and covered in blood. "You arright, Thompson? Ain't yeh goin' to sick bay?"

"If I mus'." He scowled, though his good mood could not be spoiled even by the thought of apologising to Oxley. "..Maybe. But not unless he means it." He murmured and looked at Thompson with the side that he could see.

"But.. he's sayin' sorry for wot' happened in t' night. That prank.. 's too awful that a simple sorry would do , ye know." He nodded seriously. He knew what he wanted to do and also knew that Thompson wouldn't approve. It would be a childish thing to do also and if only he were smart enough then, to abandon that plan.

He had turned silent upon Bakewell's arrival. Then scowled at him, but spoke more lightly: "You got M'Clure ter see ter t' Doctor did ye?"

Thompson turned to see Bakewell gawping at him. "Ain't my blood, mate," he said. "An' I reckon Doctor Maturin's got too much to worry about with Mister Crozier without fussin' over me. I'll go along in a bit, when he ain't goin' to be so busy - need to have m ankle looked at again. But it c'n wait for a minute or so."

"Aye, course I found M'Clure," Bakewell answered. "He's up in sick bay now, ain't he? But here, I got sentry duty. Why don't you take ol' Thompson up to sick bay. Look at 'im! S'at your blood, Thompson? You're all over in blood and you done hurt your foot again. Go on up, lad, and get it looked at."

"I said it ain't my blood. An' the medical folks are too busy orryin' about Mister Croxier to fuss over me. 'M only a Marine Private, ain't I? An' it's only a sprained ankle, not a busted head like Mister Crozier's got."

"Hm.. George. Wot' if we take yer up,see if t' doctor's free.. n' if he is have him see you, scold you, n' then get you back? If t' leg needs a new dressin' or summat, it might be right ye have it seen. That is, if this Dr. Maturin isn' fully busy with Crozier. Who knows though.. can 'e do the shillin' thing on t' ship?"

"I dunno," Thompson said dubiously. "Don't reckon he'll much like it, me showin' up if he's busy with Mister Crozier."

"What shillin' thing you talkin' about?" Bakewell asked, then continued without waiting for an answer. "Aye, get you up there. You remember ol' Sandy Jones? He said 'oh no, it's fine' and then he had to get his leg cut off, all the way up here. You don't wanna lose yer leg do yeh?" He gave Thompson a truculent glare before making his way to the spirit room.

"Well if we see him busy, we'll jus say we.. came ter ask how Crozier is, aye?.. N' that we can do, can't we? " He smiled. "N' if he says he has time, we'll have yer checked up. So, wot' ye say? N' ye can go n' change yer slops then too, so ye don' have them matchin' yer coat!" Perhaps the boy was a slight bit eager to postpone the work with the two smelly mares, atleast for a short while.

"n' hear wot' Bakewill is sayin'. Won't be easy with one leg only, eh?"