Crozier's Operation

"You had no right, and in this case, no reason. Your decision was dangerous to the doctor, and thus to every one of the injured men on that boat." Peter turned away, shaking, to ensure the last two sailors in the boat were fixing the hoist ropes before leaving. Dr Maturin sat in the sternsheets looking up at him as the sailors removed their weight from the boat, and the hoist began, Spencer fending it off from the side. It seemed an age before it was brought aboard to rest in its cradle.

Men were already hurrying up with a stretcher for Barrow and Peter moved to help the Doctor from the boat.

The men with the stretcher stopped by the side, waiting for the doctor and young Mr. Yates to step aside. They looked to the boat where one of their men had looked awfully pale and they could only guess what he had stuck in his body. They didn't dare stir the man without the proper instructions, else be responsible for Barrow's own well being. they glanced over towards Crozier, and found - with relief - that the man was not as pale and he looked to have been breathing still. His chest was rising and falling, and there was the faintest of twitch about the eyes, which was enough to tell them that the man was amongst the living!

Their faces looked somber. Many knew Barrow as a friend and a fellow Tar, even the newer additions to the lines hadn't been ignorant of who he was.

After all, he'd been saving men over board a good many times. They looked to Mr. Yates, to the doctor that came up with him, soaked again from how he had fallen. There were a few of them that came closer but had no business to do so, neither working with the boat being kept up, nor with the stretchers being ready for the wounded to be taken away. Short and tall, and soon to be made to get back to work, and leave space for those others.

Stephen took Yates' hand and accepted his help in coming out of the boat. "Thank you, my dear. I should like to see Barrow and Mister Crozier settled; should I report to the Captain first?"

"You should salute him, and speak if he speaks to you, Sir, but I am sure he will understand." Peter smiled rather weakly. "You should always let the Captain speak first, as you know. So come and pay your respects, then I will help you down to the sickbay."

Stephen nodded, dripping all over the deck. "I know that. But is he expecting a report?"

He observed the doctor, dripping wet. He'd certainly catch something, were he to stand out like that for too long. Then he had glimpsed at Mr. Yates. Envious a little, not only of his coat, but of his late adventure. He shook his head and muttered under his breath, then had to take a step to the side, as the men bent to help bring Barrow onto the stretcher. They listened to the advice of those who had had the experience in bringing the man into the boat in the first place. Slow and careful, not to stir the patient the wrong way.

There, one out, and the doctor would be next.

"I have reported, and Sergeant Quinn - about the Frenchmen." Peter looked at the Captain. "Would you have reported on your ship? Or would the Captain have come to see you in sickbay, if you had patients under your care?"

On his own ship, the Captain would be Jack. He would be rushed into a blanket lined hammock by Killick, who would fuss and shriek and rage over his state, while Bondon would sort out the practical elements of the embarkation. Soon Jack would come below, telling him to rest before any report, everything could wait. "I... I will see my patients settled first."

"They are taking Barrow down now," Peter said. "Once you're below, I'll have the wardroom steward bring you some dry clothes from your cabin. You'll be able to dry yourself there, and change in privacy." It hadn't even been a long day, Peter thought, not as long as the day of the battle. He had not been hurt at all, so the struggle to he was having to concentrate, not to close his eyes, not to weep, must stem from exhaustion. "I'll come down with you, if you like. I have the fresh reeds."

An icy panic shot through Stephen - he did not want the steward finding the stolen papers. "There is no need - I have only a nightshirt and a coat in any case. Hopefully there will be proper catheters here, of metal, but thank you for cutting spares. In case we have..."

Barrow was carefully carried below. There were a few more hands there than usually spent on a man in a stretcher, but atleast it ensured that Barrow would have had the best manner of transportation all the way down to the sick bay. Next was the doctor, who'd been second closest to the side of the boat. Great care was taken to unload him, especially anywhere close to his head.

"Sir,.." One of the sailors dared come somewhat closer, and quickly, respectfully saluted to Mr. Yates. "..sir." He nodded to Maturin and then nervously he added : "Dr. Crozier is goin' ter be alright now?" And he dared not ask about Barrow, though it was a question of many of the men witnessing his injury. Was he going to be alright too? And why did he have that sticking out of him? But he dared not add that. He had an uneasy smile, hoping that the middie would not take it against him for speaking.

"He woke up briefly while we were on land, and that is a very good sign," said Stephen. "Of course we cannot be certain of a full recovery - in all cases such as these there is an element of uncertainty - but I am much more confident than I was before the operation." He peered at the boy in the gloom, and recognised him as de Guarde, the boy Yates was so worried about.

"Oh, that is great sir! Thank you sir!" The Tar's smile broadened. "You've got Terpsy in yer.." And he glanced at Mr. Yates and looked rather embarrassed. "Um' ...we're very glad for it sir."

De Guarde noticed the doctor's eyes on him and leveled his eyes on the man. He must've mumbled something under his breath, for his lips were moving, though no voice had come from it. He tugged at his sleeve and bit his lip, easing his hand to his side.

Stephen smiled wearily, recognising the compliment for what it was. "With the blessing, he should recover, and quite soon. It was very much a joint effort; look after your messmates tonight. But I understand you had some excitement as well?"

"No sir. None at all. The bloody Frog.." He hesitated glancing at Mr. Yates :" Uh.. the Frenchy escaped before we could'a fired a single shot! Not even one! " He shook his head.

"And then when we were turnin' well t' wind jus' gave up on us altogether! Had ter get our boats out rowin' sir." He nodded. " Bu' if yer callin' that excitement t' starbowlines sure got it lots!" He smiled, having belonged to the other watch.

"Ah, a tiring one, in that case. Be sure to sleep well tonight, now," said Stephen, shivering. "You will excuse me; I must go to the sick-bay. Good day to you."

"Certainly sir! Thank you again sir." The Tar knuckled his brow to the doctor and then to Mr. Yates, quickly turning around to tell the others what he had learnt. Their doctor would be alright and if Barrow was for the worse, surely the doctor would look more grave or say something, so that meant that their fellow Tar would also be on the mend! All was well.

De Guarde had observed for a short while, but seeing the young midshipman he did not approach. He turned away rather, the stain on his left elbow seen a moment before it were obstructed by another sailor. Perhaps he would learn later how Dr. Crozier fared. Voice was certain to travel from man to man, he'd just have to be in the right place at the right time. He watched as the next man was helped below. The boat was near empty, all the injured safely taken to the sickbay. All in one piece.

M'clure was shepherding Barrow through into his new home- hopefully one he would leave on his own two feet, not feet first, as he came to it.
It was going to be an interesting few hours, though with all the outside risk gone he found himself looking forwards to it, Doctor's grumblings or no.
even with all the jostling, gentle as it could be, there was less blood oozing out of the reed than there had been coming out of his mouth, which M'clure took to be a good sign.
Carefully he placed the much-vaunted moss and cobwebs on a shelf nearby.

"Looks like he could do with a good sleep too." Westdale had hovered almost out of hearing, forming the front of a cluster of Tars, all waiting to find the answers to de Guardes questions they knew he'd be asking.

Now he came closer, wanting answers, or at least more conjecture, having a vague sense of letting de Guarde know that he accepted him with them, at any rate.

The Tar, going by the name of Willson stepped a little to the side, and hoping not to attract the attention of the bosun and his mates, or any of the officers, before he could share his news.

He nodded to the men, and explained how their doctor, Mr. Crozier had woken, and that he was going to be well, and he added a thing or two that Maturin hadn't said, but all showing hope. They would ask Chase about what happened, and some of the other Tars that had been there. But for now the men needed to eat, and so were given that much of space.

De Guarde stood to the side, glanced over at Westdale. He was nudged back a little, as the sailors made space for another of their ranks. He scowled and pushed back a little to make space for himself.

THere was pleased murmering at the news, though each man hastened to shush the others, given the sight of the sleeping Doctor fresh in their minds.

tHere was still conversation, though they tried to keep it quiet. Once again the tales of Doctor Maturin were trotted out and examined, reassuring in themselves.

Westdale smiled at de Guarde, "Tis all good news then, ain't it? Fer now...anyway." he added, tapping the nearest spot of wood he could lay his hand on reflexively.

"Aye. .." He pulled Westdale by the his sleeve.

"That doctor took another dip." He grinned and nodded towards Maturin. "He's sure wantin' ter be squeaky clean each time he be wantin' ter board Terpsy!" He glanced at the man then quickly averted his gaze back to Westdale, his smile disappearing. "But t' damn lot.. had their fun with t' Frenchies while ours fled!"

Westdale shook his head in mock horrow, "Clearly he doen't think yer can be trusted ter clean t'decks properly. Termorrer, yer'll have ter show him by doing mine as well."
He stepped out of possible clouting range and looked out at the land, "T'ain't fair they got their own Frogs without us! If we'd'a known we coulda gone and helped them isntead...and got some too."

"Decks? Oh, don' think he's in need of that lesson. Ju's one of climbin' a ship's side. Would think he knew how.. with all t' stories goin' bout him." He hesitated and added a slightly bit more kindly to the name of the doctor. "...Though... I reckon,.. he did summat right. ...yer know. Savin' t' doctor n'all." He looked at his shirt. ".. Bloody thin'.. it started again. ..bloody damn boat that was." He added more annoyed. Wasn't no reason to go see the doctor for it, he thought. Looked worse than it was anyhow.

"He's a handy man ter carry round with yer, I'd say."

Stepping closer again he peered at the arm. "Told yer ter clap a hand ter it, didn't I? Here...yer could just do this." THere was always spare cord in their pockets and he sacrificed a newly accuired peice to be tied around the offending area, "If yer roll up yer sleeve first, afore I tie this up, yer'll have a bandage."