Friday morning with the Marines

Ware looked aft, discreetly, and smirked. "Oh aye, he sure is," he said. "Lookit, lads. I figger there's somethin' gonna happen soon."

"I'll go'n find out what," Tom Shepherd promised and went scampering to his post.

Oxley grinned as Tom Shepherd darted off, and risked a glance aft, but couldn't see what had got Ware smirking. He sighed, looked back down to his crossbelt and wondered what Mister Cartwright had up his sleeve now. One thing was for sure... things were going to be interesting with him around.

"Them boys can't do anythin' at walkin' speed, can they," Thompson remarked, looking up from his sewing as Shepherd ran off. "Whatever's goin' on, I wouldn't want to be in that Shriver's place, not for all the tea in China. Though I ain't so stupid as to call ol Cross-Eyes names, not to his face, I ain't."

Ware shook his head. "Guess not. But they're good lads. Least when they ain't up to mischief, anyway."

"Maybe so," Vining said, "but I'd like to know which one's which!"

Then the conversation stilled when Everett reappeared, looking strangely embarrassed. He looked around at the loosely-gathered Marines and shook his head. "I ain't never been made 'shamed by an officer 'til today," he said as he dropped down on the nearest empty bit of deck. "Got a head fer words, that one!"

Oxley nodded sympathetically. "He does that, mate. Never knowed anythin' like it."

Vining snorted. "Hark at him! On'y a boy yet, an' thinks he knows a thing or two."

Oxley flushed and shut up, even as Mallory pressed forward. "Was it true, what Shepherd said, 'bout Shriver blowin' up at Cross-Eyes?"

"Oh let him be," Ware said to Vining, looking mildly annoyed.

Everett ignored him and grimaced at Mallory. "Aye. Couldn't believe it, when he said it. Johnson tol' him to keep hisself a-workin' with his holystone an' not be slack, or it'd go bad, an' Shriver hadda go an' open his gob."

"He would," Oxley said, which brought nods of agreement from the others.

"Ain't known for havin' any common sense, Shriver ain't," Mallory said, and Grattan grinned. "Ain't known for havin' any sort o' sense at all, he ain't. Surprised he can't see talkin' like that'd get him into all sorts of trouble, though. Daft as a brush, he is, sometimes."

"Most times. So what'd the Corp'ral do after Shriver ran off at the mouth then, Ev?" Dickin wanted to know.

Everett scratched absently at his knee. "Well's it's ol' Cross-eyes, ain't it? Firs' thing he does is order me an' Branning to stop where we're workin'. Then he gets Shriver up an' tells him he'll be scrubbin' the whole deck his own self, without no help, if he don't shut up. Stupid bugger don't say nothin' to that, but he makes a face 'bout it. So Corp'ral says to me to leave my mop where it's at an' get scarce. So I did."

There was no love lost between Johnson and Shriver; that was common knowledge among Terpsy's Marine contingent.

"So Shriver's scrubbin' the whole deck his own self? He'll be there till the mornin' watch termorrer, if'n he don't set to pretty sharpish," was Mallory's opinion.

"What was it that Mister Cartwright wanted ol' Foley for, I wonder," McEwen said, darting a glance aft.

"Dunno, but if Shriver's goin' to be in a worser mood than usual, I'm keeping as far away from him as I can," Oxley said, laying his crossbelt down. There really wasn't anything else he could do with it right now.

OOC - Ack!

IC -

Everett nodded. "He is, that. We'll prolly be sleepin' topside here tonight."

"Aye," Grattan agreed. "Here comes Branning now. Mebbe he knows what Foley's gonna be put to doin'?"

The other Marines watched Branning's approach with keen interest. They wanted to know what was happening, to the fullest extent possible.

OOC - Hee!

IC -


"Shift up there, Mall'ry," Dickin said, moving himself to give Branning room to sit down.

Oxley gathered his crossbelt and pipeclay, trying to take up as little room as possible. He felt suddenly nervous at Foley's absence, wondering what that meant with regard to his own punishment detail. He didn't think Mister Cartwright could have forgotten about him after only ten minutes or so since he'd last seen him. And hadn't his introduction been to effect of Foley would be in charge of him when he, Mister Cartwright, wasn't? That could mean almost anything, but whatever it meant, it probably wasn't good, for anyone.

"What's the news, Branning?" Ware asked, shifting over himself so Dickin didn't end up sitting on his lap.

The big Marine touched his nose gingerly. " 'Tenant's put Shriver to cleanin' the messdeck hisself. Think I heared him sayin' Shriver'll be givin' up his spirits ration for a coupla days too."

Grattan nudged him with his shoe. "What's he wantin' Foley for?"

"Somethin' 'bout the purser, I think. Or maybe punishment book. I didn't hear right." Branning shrugged.

Making Shriver go without his rum was going to put the big Marine into an even worse temper than usual. Oxley was going to keep out of his sight, if it was at all possible. Though it wouldn't be easy in a vessel the size of Terpsichore. Not like a two-decker... or even a second- or first-rate, if the other Marines could be believed.

Grattan groaned. "That's goin' to put him in a fine temper, that will. Might see if I can shift me hammock till everythin's back to normal."

"Gonna be fair unpleasant below for a bit, that's sure," Ware agreed.

Branning was fingering his reddened nose. "Stoopit bastard deserves it."

"Hey. Quit playin' with that, or it'll fall off," Mallory chided.

"Be fair funny to see that," Grattan said, cracking a grin.

"He's joshin' you, Brannin'," Thompson said, reaching down to rub at his sprained ankle.

"You all right?" Oxley asked, noticing, and received a shrug.

"Can't make it get better any quicker'n it already is, lad, though I wish it'd hurry itself up."

"Course he is," Vining said.

Everett made a show of stretching and took a long glance aft. "Foley's comin' back. Mebbe he knows more 'bout what's what."

The steward's return coincided with an avalanche of questions, which he waved down with a bemused smirk. "Now lads," he said, "you'd almost think there was anythin' exciting happened below, the way you're all carryin' on."

Thompson laid his crossbelt plate aside and stretched, looking up at Foley. "Y'know what it's like when you can't see what's goin' on, though. O' course we'm curious to know what's happenin' below. We ain't never seen an officer quite like Mister Cartwright an' if he's takin' Shriver down a peg or two, good for him. We'd just like t'be able to see it. Hearin' about it's the next best thing, after all."

There was a chorus of agreement from the other Marines.

Foley grinned. "Oh he's took Shriver down a coupla pegs, that's sure. Got him holystonin' the whole messdeck on his own. He's gotta swab it down too. An' he's doin' it in full kit."

"Full kit?" Oxley could barely believe his ears. "Corp'ral must be pissed off with him - and there ain't no way he's goin' to keep hisself lookin' all smart-like doin' that in full kit!"

The other marines looked shocked at first, before beginning to smile and chuckle in amusement. "He ain't goin' to fergit that in a hurry," Joyse said, though McEwen disagreed.

"Ain't got the brains to remember it any more than a wee while, that one don't."

"Aye. 'Tenant's lettin' him manage as he sees fit, so it's all done proper," Foley said.

Ware shook his head. "Serves him right, the stupid bastard!"

"Jus' so long as he don't go wreckin' the place after," Mallory said, laying aside the lock of his musket and stretching. He crossed one ankle over the other and closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine.

"Or taking it out on the rest o' us," Vining added, scratching behind his ear and half-managing to stifle a yawn.

Oxley looked at him doubtfully. "He ain't likely to go pickin' on you, not if he's got any sense. Which he prob'ly ain't got, but even so." Shriver was more likely to pick on him and the Shepherds, being smaller and less able to cause trouble for him in return.

A smug grin came onto Foley's face. "He's a hopeless fool if he goes stirrin' anythin' up with lads after this. 'Tenant's told him that he's gonna land it a lot worse next time."

"What 'bout Branning here?" Grattan asked. "He was all into it too."

Branning's face flushed. "I ain't stoopit. Not like Shriver!"

Oxley shrugged and touched his black eye. At least he hadn't been caught red-handed in the middle of a fight, he thought. Though Branning hadn't had his wrist twisted, either, he supposed. He glanced down at the crossbelt in his lap, and almost wished he'd brought something else up here to do when he'd finished it - he was almost done with it now.

"'Tain't worth runnin' afoul of Corp'ral Johnson, it ain't," Mallory said, still with his eyes closed. "Though he's fair 'nough, in his own way, I s'pose. Not like some folks I've knowed in me time. 'Least Brannin's got the sense he was born with, not like that short-tempered idiot Shriver."

"He's goin' to find hisself in real trouble one day, he is," Joyse agreed. "What's the bettin' he'll slack off an' only do half a job, then, mates?"

"Long's it's only his own self he gets into real trouble," Ware remarked.

"Aye," Vining agreed. "I'll pass on that bet, though. Knowin' how Shriver does everythin', we can't expect nothin' else but half-done, eh?"

Foley leaned himself back against the rail and grinned.

"Speak for yourself, mate," Thompson said, looking up from his sewing. "You ain't ever had that crossbelt plate more'n half-polished since you come aboard here, you ain't. To say nothin' of the state you leave our sea-chest in."

Vining scowled at him, and gave it another rub without saying anything.

Oxley shifted over to sit near Foley. "What else d'you think Mister Cartwright's goin' to want us... me to do?" He was a little nervous at the prospect of waiting table in front of all the officers later, and wondered if there was likely to be anything else equally as daunting to do before the day was over.