Sunday 21st - afternoon or thereabouts

Crozier alone was unaffected by the shout, apart from Barrow who was heavily sedated. Everett had by now lain back in his cot, hiding the book under a blanket and pretending to be asleep, but Donald and Joyse instantly awoke and looked around. Were they clearing for action?

Oxley swallowed a sigh and uncoiled the rope before beginning the work of lashing Doctor Crozier into the cot.

He really hoped he never ended up on Doctor Maturin's bad side - he was a dragon. Getting hauled over the coals by him would be nearly as bad as getting yelled at by a drill sergeant.

It seemed cruel to lash the poor surgeon into his own cot - it wasn't like lashing in a fellow who was drunk. But Markham knew that Maturin was an eminent physician, so he surely knew what he was about.

Bridgens stood in the doorway, holding a carboy of spirits and looking shocked at the spectacle before him. "God have mercy...!"

De Guarde had thought to look around for Oxley, having a mind to ask him about a few things in relation to the planned skylarking. Having not found him below with the marines, he'd gone further on the hunt for the red coated lad. It was about then that he heard an exclamation of :" God have mercy!" That had him think upon seeing what it was.

And as he came to its source he looked at Bridgens first then peered inside, blinking stunned. There was he, Oxley, but he was... why was he doing that?!

Entirely unaware of the goings on, having removed himself from the sick bay and gone to find something else to do, M'clure was put out to find a crowd round the door.
He prepared to meet the not inconsiderable fury of Dr Maturin, along with whoever else had been effected. It was going to be bad.
Bridgens clearly knew so already and he nudged his way past de Guarde to take a look, muttering an excuse.

Oxley decided that he was going to be keeping as far away from sickbay as he could once Doctor Crozier was fully recovered, otherwise he'd probably find himself being dosed with something unspeakably disgusting. If the Doctor didn't report him to Sergeant Quinn first for disobeying an order and getting Doctor Maturin to come down to sickbay. He finished what he was doing and stepped back, hoping to be able to hide in the shadows.

Once Crozier was lashed down, Stephen turned to face the crowd that had gathered. "Where," he said icily, "are the assistant surgeon and the loblolly boy?"

Devoutly wishing he'd never been so human as to want anything to eat ever, M'Clure stepped himself forwards, ducking his head and then standing up straight. He'd messed up, they all knew it, and let's just get on with it, eh?

"Here sir."

"Where have you been?" Stephen asked in the same time, wavering on the spot. He looked up to see the crowd that had gathered. "You, you, you and you - be off with you!"

Guilty he might feel, but he could still see the wavering and hurried forwards to the nearest chair, gesturing to it as he talked.
"Which I was eating, sir, and no-one thought to come to me first as you asked them to....please sit down."

De Guarde chose not to move, though he'd given space for anyone else to move forward and back. He wanted to see how the doctor was fairing and at the very least learn why he was bound to the cot as if he were a mad man. He hoped that a kick to the head did not just turn a few wheels wrong in the man's head. A mad surgeon was as useless as one dead, though possibly a good deal more dangerous if people did not learn of it soon enough.

"Why was no one left on duty here?" said Stephen, his anger rising again.

Bridgens held up the carboy meekly. "I was fetching a bottle of spirits in the hold, sir. Had to find the pusser and an officer with a key to let me in the spirit room. I were only gone a few minutes sir, and everyone was asleep except Everett."

In his cot, Everett studiously kept his eyes closed.

"Why were you in such immediate need of spirits, Bridgens?"

He wondered where Oxley had disappeared to, for a moment ago he was still out there, hard at work, now now he was nowhere to be seen. Poor Bridgens was being given a scolding, as would most of the medical personnel.

He lifted an eyebrow, observing the scene before him still. Who did the doctor think he was.

"We are..." he subsided as the next question was asked. Fired at them.

Oxley hoped he could sneak out unnoticed now that all the medical sorts were there. He'd sneak back later if he could, to find Mister Crozier's picture for him, or ask Mister M'Clure if he could get it, but right now, he wanted to get out of here. He took a step towards the doorway, hoping that Doctor Maturin wouldn't mind if he left now.

"He's a spirited lad, ha ha," Crozier murmured, smiling at his own wit. "Where's my tea? Where's my Frances?"

Stephen looked at Bridgens and M'Clure. "This is intolerable. Absolutely intolerable."

Bridgens found his tongue again. "I was gonna mix up the acetate o' lead solution, which he had told me to make," nodding at Crozier "afore he were kicked in the head, sir. It's why we'd gone down to the hold in the first place, then. On Friday."

They'd established that, M'Clure felt his failings as keenly as if they'd been whipped into him. Oxley was trying to leave, he realised, so M'Clure shifted himself away from the door, happy to have less of an audience.

he dreaded to ask what they were to do next, but it would have to be done sooner or later. Unless they could get the good doctor back into his cot and sleeping again.

"It was not an urgent task! Why did you see fit to leave a bay full of patients to get a minor errand out of the way? Crozier was walking around by the marine's account - what if he had fallen and dashed his brains out? All the risks that have been taken on his account would have been for nothing!"

There was the drummer boy again and by the look on his face, he wished to flee the sick bay as soon as he was granted an escape. De Guarde found that rather amusing. But annoyed he was. Maturin, doctor or not, had no right to treat Terpsy's as some lapdogs to bark at his command. IF he had been a Terpsy himself, the story would've ben quite different in that!

Bridgens stared, his shame and fear temporarily giving way to wonderment. "He was walking, sir?" he whispered reverently.