In the Wardroom--Signing In

"I recall dismissing you, Perry," Bush said, noticing that the sailor still had not left, "So you may leave any time you wish."

Glancing at Thompson, he added, "You may escort Perry out of the wardroom, if you please, Thompson."

Perry saluted again and turned to leave, taking the paper, inkpot and pen with him.

"Aye, aye, sir." He took the piece of paper that had Perry's watch and stations at Quarters, as well as his duties for all the innumerable tasks required on a ship, from where he should be when raising anchor to his post at Quarters. He took Perry's arm. "C'mon, the sooner you'm out of here, the better."

"Well that weren't so bad," Perry said, squinting in the gloom of the berth deck once more. "Where can I go and write this letter now?"

He passed the piece of paper over. "You'll be wantin' to keep that safe. The first bit, that's your mess. If we head there now, you should be able to write your letter home without too much of a ruckuss. Though you need to see Mister Foxley - the purser - and get issued your slops an' all."

"Aye? I want to get this written soon as I can. She'll be worried, my Lena will."

Thompson sighed quietly. He hated to admit it to this annoying Yankee that the annoying Yankee was superior to him in any way. "I can't read, mate. You tell me what mess it says, an' I'll take you there."

Perry squinted at the paper. "Hard to read, your lieutenant's writing. Mess number 6, I think it says."

"That's with Cob Chase an' Billy Barrow. And De Guarde. Up this way." He indicated for'rard.

Perry followed him, smirking at the curious stares he received from the other marines and seamen that they passed. Then he saw Williams and stopped. "Hey! There's the one that grabbed at my wife!"

Thompson sighed. "He was pressed too, you know. I think most of 'em were. It wasn't meant personal, like."

"I don't care about that. He didn't ought to have grabbed at my wife!" Perry spoke loudly to get the seaman's attention.

"What is the meaning of this rumpus?"

Lieutenant Leat stepped out of the shadows like a pale ghost, his voice quiet but cutting through the noice of the lower deck.

"Thompson, I believe you are taking this man to report to the Purser? I suggest you get a move on, Perry, as you shall be wanted up on deck to be be a ssigned your new duties."

Perry recognized a lieutenant's uniform. "Sir," he said, saluting awkwardly with the ink pot, "Lieutenant Bush said as how I could write a message to my wife. She's in Gaia. That man grabbed at her when they grabbed me, and I know she'll be worried and upset and everything, not knowing what's happened to me, sir."

Leat looked at him steadily with an officer's eye, seeing a potential troublemaker as clear as day - and Americans had a terrible reputation for being self-appointed lawyers. But also he saw a pressed man with little hopes of seeing home again anytime soon, and possibly no chance of ever being released from the service. He knew what that felt like; he had escaped the lower deck and found a somewhat better life in the wardroom, but as a foreign national Perry had no chance of that.

"Do it quickly, then," he said shortly. "After you have seen the Purser. And see that you do not make a fuss of it. These men are your messmates now."

He grinned amiably, saluting again. "Thankya, sir."

Leat did not return the smile.

"Carry on, Thompson - and Perry! I think you should know also that No. 6 Mess is in my Division. I will not tolerate any man that brings it into disrepute."

The Yank's arrival on the messdeck was impossible to ignore, though most of the men off-watch did their best to try. Williams, however, did not even try. He watched the brief confrontation between Perry and Mister Leat with interest, having already decided that he didn't like the newly-pressed seaman.

"That bugger'll be trouble," the carpenter's mate grumbled, turning back to his mates after a moment. "Shoulda let him run off!"

Chase shook his head. "Ain't nothin' wrote down says we gotta like him, is there? He'll run soon's we get to 'nother port, an' that'll be it."

"Oh, yes sir," Perry answered, looking guilelessly into the lieutenant's eyes. His ears however were attuned to what was happening behind him, listening to the movements and words of his new messmates, the very men who had brought him here by force.

Leat gave the American a very hard stare.

"Carry on, Thompson," he said, then left and headed to the wardroom.

Perry turned and stared at the group of stony faces. "Now. Who's gonna shift and give me a place to sit?"

Nobody moved. Chase glanced at Perry and shrugged dismissively. "Table's full."

Perry stared back at him. "That ain't my fault, is it."

"Mebbe you oughta find another table," Williams growled, ignoring Perry's comment.

He set the ink pot down with a thump. "Maybe I like the look of this one."