19th May: Supper - Down below with the Tars

He smiled at the jest, as he took it, pleased to be able to joke around like this.
"Yer dressing on yer eye, oh kind master?" He played along for a bit, before dropping the voice and shifting so he could see better, standing up and moving behind de gUarde, blancing easily. "Don't look too complicated." he promised, "So long as yer won't get in trouble fer moving it. I should think, though" he added, fairly, "Dr Crozier ahs more ter worry about, right now. Or less."

He felt less at ease with the man standing behind him, where a quick strike with a blade, or a grasp for his neck would be fast fatal, much faster than he could see or react. Trying to ease his mind and convince himself that Westdale was certainly not a kind of man that would go back on his word, he shrugged faintly waiting.

"..Dr. Crozier, will hopefully have much of an ability to worry..." Meaning that he would be alive to be able to do so. ".. though I think he'd mind it more if I had nothing on 'ere.. than if any.." And hopefully even if he minded, he would be able to tell so. And maybe, for being in a fair mood, have at another time of pain and agony, laudanum ready even for a former middie or one , if he would become such again.

" He's not worryin' now though... lets everybody else do t' worrying fer him.. what with.. how he sleeps.. aye?"

Westdale nodded, though of course that coudlnt' be seen. "THough he's in good hands- t'best in t'service, I'd say." he was reassuring, though whether himself or de GUarde he wasn't sure.

"Os, what am I doing, then? just retying it, or looking at it, or what?"
He suddenly realised the maybe de Guarde hadn't heard, though that seemed unlikely, given how long he'd been down here now, "I used ter do this sort of thing, back home." he added, just to clear that up. "Me Uncle taught me, and I'd help him, owrk with him."

"Do what sort of thing? " He asked and lifted his head up, though finding he still couldn't see Westdale quite right.

"...Tyin' bandages?" He hesitated at the offer and the possibility. It would certainly have him follow the lieutenant's orders, not going anywhere close to the sickbay and disturbing that doctor and it would also serve as a quick checkup on his eye.

"...if ye know wot' ye doin'. .ye can do both."

"Tyin them, putting them on, poultices, that sort of thing. We'd dose them up, patch them up."
He didn't add that mainly it'd been small time problems, to people who had little money. THat went without saying, if he'd had anything else he'd be where Crozier was now, possibly. Or somewhere completely different.

"Right then. I'll whip her off, take a look, pop it back on again. Can't be any harm in it."

He nodded, thinking it went without saying that Westdale was welcome to do all of the above mentioned as long as he actually knew what he was doing. Which in turn he sounded as if he did. He shifted himself a bit more comfortably at the table, seeing as many of the mess tables were already empty again, men who had some time to rest, heading to their various favourite places to do so. The others had gone to catch up on the last minutes before their watch would again begin.

"Why haven't you gotten a place as a surgeon rather than a common Tar? The pay's better, fer patchin' people up, ye know?"

WEstdale shrugged, untying the knot and tugging at the cloth cautiously, laying it on the table and peering at the eye, "Mebbe. BUt then, I'd have ter take all that responsibility, and I'd never get ter shoot a gun, or board, would I?"
Also, he'd have ter work down in the dank all the time, there not being any excuse really for a surgeon or such to go leaping about the shrouds like he enjoyed. "An I got enough of lying there in sickbay when I hurt my back, too."

"..You'd have to work with the dead and the dying and those on their way during battle, aye. Not know what's goin' on 'cept for the count of the men you're brought down ter work with. Responsibility...well, guess it would be great. 'specially if you get the captain to tend to. " He shrugged. Of course they hoped it would never come to it, but it still could.

He tilted his head up a tad. "..'s me eye well 'nuff?" He asked then continued with his earlier inquiry.

"..Ye wouldn't have spent a day in sickbay for your back.. if ye were a surgeon , though, ye know..but ye couldn't be one 'ere anyhow. We've got t' doctor n' his 'mate' M'Clure."

Westdale grinned, "aNd then I'd not 'ave met yer, true."

He peered through the gloom at the boys eye, waving a finger in front of it. "Well, yer've still got an eye, so yer can be pleased about that." he nodded, briskly, "And it works a bit still, yes?"

He considered the last few sentances de Guarde ahd spoke, "Well, I guess not, but then, I wouldn't be a very good surgeon if I knew aboslutely nothing 'bout how people was getting sore, would I? Might've got hurt anyways. And It coulda happened ter anyone."

"Might've met me still. Dependin' o' which ship ye were on."

He watched the finger, his bruised eye opening just scarcely enough, but it didn't look damaged. "Think it does?" He shrugged, somewhat relieved. As much as luck went, he guessed the bad kind avoided him atleast this time.

"Ye were lucky t' have survived that injury n' the way you got it." He rubbed the back of his head and the messy hair. "Not many could say they did summat like that and lived ter be standin' right 'ere telling about it."

Westdale peered at the eye again- not needing to, exactly, but not willing to face the seeing eye in front of him, either. "T'weren't pleasant." he muttered, turning to pick up the cloth, ready to retie it, "I wouldn't recomend it at all, fer reference."

Placing the cloth back again he stepped back round the boys head, holding one peice firmly in place, sweeping the hair out of the way before moving in to tie it up. "THat'll hold, nice and snug." he assured de Guarde, patting the knot carefully.

"... Thank you." He felt the cloth at his eye and its snugness. He smiled and nodded. "It should hold, for a while at least." He sat himself back a little, thankful that he needn't constantly push the cloth up.

"What do you.." He began watching as the next mess cook had to clean up their table. " do in .. your free time?... Like today?"

His spirits were high, almost unusually so. He had been topside with Chicken Dyer, having quickly wolfed down their supper as soon as it had been served and taking their leave from the mess-table immediately after. There were arrangements to be made about that damned bold drummer boy, after all.

Chase was grinning cheerfully as he padded back toward the mess-table, now all but abandoned. Only Westdale and De Guarde were still lingering there. " 'Ow's this fer a pair o' starin' monkeys, then, Chicken? Ain't seen more sombre faces since poor ol' Donahue got tipped o'er the side."

Startled , De Guarde jumped a little at his seat, hearing the familiar voice of Jacob Chase. He looked up, wondering if he should feel guilty about something and soon decided he needn't.

"What's the.. occasion?" He asked, nothing how bright and happy Chase looked about something. Couldn't be that he'd just missed a prize ship battle and claim, that was for sure. Couldn't be much else that he'd come up with, at the top of his mind, that would make Chase so. And they haven't just found a goddess of all women on board either, he'd reckon!

" 'Casion? Why, never ya mind that, Buckle," Chase said airily. He slid onto the bench beside De Guarde and smirked at Dyer, who had sat next to Westdale.

Dyer eyed the abandoned plates and asked, "Got any scraps left fer us'ns, then?"

"Ye'um late." Mathew started, with a bit of an edge, then his voice softened and he nodded towards a pair of plates, beside the two men, left on the chests so that the table was more easily cleaned.

" 's all there."

Studying Chase with not a small amount of curiosity. This had become a secret now by the looks of it. "Don't want to share in on t' cheer, 'Cob?" Genuinely interested.

"Not so late," Dyer corrected with a grin, fishing out half a piece of hard tack from his jacket pocket. "Ya jes' din't see us'ns when we was eatin'."

Chase was looking pleased with himself as he shook his head. "Nope! Least not so early yet. So," he added, deftly changing the subject, " 'ow's yer eye?"

"Just learned why I was given a pair." He answered, not quite recognizing that he'd followed the ruse and left the question unanswered.

"..is allright. Westdale 'ere checked it." He shrugged his shoulders a little: "Couldn't go for t' doctor.. one's out cold n' t' other's out on a prowl fer fresh blood." He faced Chase, deciding that kindness and calmness did better than his throwing of tantrums. For now.

"Where were ye?" He hadn't seen them possibly since morning, not surprisingly so, though, considering Leat's 'kindness' of the day.

Westdale was pleased by the distraction the newcomers provided, and bemused at the deft changing of subject to boot.
"That eye of his looks like he'll be right soon enough" he muttered, willing to join in the conversation.

He shifted over a little again, allowing for Dyer to settle in, and grinned a welcome to him while waiting for an answer.

Chase waved a hand dismissively. "We was tendin' t'business. Kept us outta sight, y'know." He glanced at Westdale and grinned. "Better fer him if that's so. Topman's no good if he's on'y got one eye fer seein'."

De Guarde smiled to himself a bit of pride there at what Chase had said. Silly on that, when it kept him a tar. He was still wondering what the two might've been up to, to have them grinning as this. Wasn't a task on the ship he knew, that could bring a grin to a person's face like that! But seeing he couldn't hear of it, he'd let it drop. For now.

" Wos' just a ..an unlucky fall ye know. S' nothin'." He smiled touching the cloth. Appart from the bruise. "Ye two heard anythin' interestin' about the going ons ?" A while ago, he knew, he wouldn't have been talking with the Tars like that, but there was a sense of familiarity in it now. Since morning even more than it had been before. It might've been that the incident in which the Tars have quite about saved some of his pride, was to blame for that.

"Falls is usually unlucky," Chase said, nodding. "Ain't heard anythin' real interestin', 'cept there's one'a them drummer boys doin' steward duty fer 'is officer."

"Jus' steward duty?" It didn't take a genius to figure out who that was. Oxley, just a steward's duty. He frowned eyeing his palms. Red and covered in places by small blisters. He'd stunk well enough earlier too.

"Heard anythin' 'bout t' doctor. Crozier that is. He t' same?"

Both Chase and Dyer shook their heads. "Nothin' new," Chase answered, his good cheer slipping. "Bloody shame what 'appened to 'im, really."

"..Aye.. wos' to be thought there wos' to be trouble with the horses though. 's a reason they ain't on a ship..., harm our surgeons n' so.." He smiled very slightly. "But t' doctor will be fine, I'm sure. Jus' needs some takin' care of. S'all." He felt odd to be in some way 'comforting' the two men, but if it hadn't felt odder that he was actually worried about the surgeon, well the both was rather strange!

(and time for sleep now x.x good night!)