Leaving Terpsy.

"What?!" Allen exclaimed as the man suddenly turned to him. Watch over his wife? Not bloody likely. "I ain't watchin' over her! I got better things t' do wit' my time!"

The prospect of having yet another charge so recently after having to keep watch on the Capitaine was none too pleasing to Allen at the moment. Even if the person in question happened to be a woman.

The man cursed them all roundly. "I never owed you any help at all! Shoulda let your washtub wreck on the skerry, only didn't seem fair on the washtub."

"You started a-runnin' afore he did, so that ain't goin' to wash," Thompson said. "'Sides, you sound as English as the rest of us. What're you a-doin' out here in Portugal if'n you's English, hey?"

"I was just walkin' away with my wife, an' I'm an American, not English like you," he said scornfully, eyeing the marine who had threatened him with a bayonet. "Sides, any man's got a right to be where his wife is. I don't owe you an explanation for nothin'. You lot owe me an explanation, for chasin' an' beating a man what just did you a favor, and for grabbin' at his wife!" he said, spitting on the ground.

In spite of Allen's protests, the woman had been handed off to him by a grumbling Williams who was now holding a neckerchief to his eye. The young woman, weeping, began babbling at the marine entreatingly, placing her small hand on his chest and pointing at her husband and his odd little boat.

Fighting the urge to grimace, Allen looked down at the woman as she wailed and gesticulated. This was most definitely not a situation he would have preferred. He swallowed hard and tried to think of something to say to her.

"Calm down, will you? I'm not goin' t' hurt you," he assured her, hoping that his expression was kind enough that she would understand his meaning even if she couldn't understand the words.

"Aye, she's right," the man said, looking over at the tall marine. "See, we've got the boat. It's all wine, finest Porto wine, see? What say we open a cask and share it like friends, and you can take one back to your... captain or wherever you come from, and he'll be glad, right glad of what you done. Take one for your captain and one to share with your mates, eh? Finest Porto ruby wine!"

"Well, where was you born - an' when? An' that looked like runnin' to me, so you can just come along of us, nice an' easy, and have a chat with our officer. If you don't come volunteerly, like, we'll just drag you, an' you don't want that. An' tryin' to bribe your way out of it ain't goin' to do nobody any good."

Thompson though he was probably a sailor from another ship, who'd maybe got left behind somehow. He didn't peg him for a deserter, though - a deserter would never have tried to get the attention of a boat obviously carrying Marines.

"I's born on Rappahannnock. What's it to you where I's born? What's it to you if I goes a-runnin' when I feels like it? An' I's just offerin' you some wine, finest Porto; no need to go sneerin' at it and callin' a bribe. Can't do nothin' good for you folk but you twist it around and all!"

"You're goin' to come along of us and tell the officer why you decided to leg 'stead of stickin' around. Actin' all sort of suspicious, you are. You sure you ain't run?"

Run - deserted from another ship - was one of the things Marines like Thompson were there to prevent, and all ships' captains had a duty to take up those suspected of having run.

"I ain't run till he came chasin' me," he answered with a glare. "Him and that bastard what grabbed at my Lena, who never did a soul wrong in all her life."

At the mention of wine, Preddie and Butcher eyed the strange man's boat covetously. Chase simply rolled his eyes.

"Perhaps you are not a run seaman. It is certainly a possiblity," Mister Kinsella said, a note of forced courtesy in his voice. "What about telling us your name?"

The man bristled, but surely there could be no harm in telling his name. "Me name's Paul Perry. What about telling me your name, laddie?"

Thompson bristled in turn. "That's no way to speak to a midshipman of His Majesty's Navy, that ain't," he said, giving Perry's arm a little shake. "And don't you forget it, neither."

"His Majesty's navy ain't my navy," Perry countered. "And if that young lad is in charge of you lot, he has a lot to answer for, he does. What's your name, boy?"

"My name is Daniel Kinsella," Mister Kinsella replied, pretending he had not heard the exchange. "Sit down, Mister Perry, if you please."

Chase bit down on his tongue and turned back toward their boat. He might as well distract himself by recoiling the lead and its line.

"What am I gonna do sitting down? I got work to do! Ain't got time to sit down and chat with you, young gentleman though you may be an' all," Perry answered with a barely detectable moderation of insolence.

"If the young gentleman wants you to sit down, down you'm goin' to sit," Thompson replied, putting one hand firmly on the man's shoulder.

The man sat. His wife became alarmed.

Mister Kinsella nodded at Thompson. "Thank you, Mister Perry. I admit to curiosity - why did you guide our boat around that reef?"

He sneered in something resembling a smile. "Cause I'm a real polite and kind fellow what doesn't like to see people smash they boats up, just a'cause they ain't read a chart. Your boat's too heavy for this part o' the river. What you need is a flat-bottom boat like a rabelo. Like mine. Sandy beaches up further for good landing and all, but you won't get far with that heavy boat o' yours."

He had a point. Kinsella glanced at Perry's boat speculatively. "You seem to know the river well, Mister Perry. We could use a capable pilot, if not a suitable craft."

The man looked at the young midshipman skeptically, but that sounded promising perhaps. "I might could lend you the use of my boat if the price was right. Why? Where you going?" His eyes strayed with curiosity to the passengers idling about the beach. Was that a French soldier?

Of course. Price. Chase shook his head and busied himself retying the knot in one of the mooring lines.

Kinsella said, "Only a little way more up-river. We are going to drop our passengers off with the army." The midshipman met Perry's gaze. "How long have you been ashore here?"

"Says he's a Yankee, sir. Could be anythin' though," Thompson said, privately thinking that if the man was 'run', actually legging it was about the stupidest thing he could possibly have done.