Later Sunday evening.

"Pass the word for Sergeant Quinn, would you, Thompson?"

Having requested the sergeant's presence off the Marine sentry Leat returned to his cabin, sitting down and sighed, staring at the cat that stared back at him from his hammock covered in inkspots. How had she managed to do it?

Quinn was not long in knocking at the Lieutenant's cabin door. He'd seen a bit of the boys' skylarking around earlier, and was secretly pleased that the three Marine lads had made a good showing of themselves, though he still couldn't work out how the Shepherd twins had managed to give themselves identical wounds. You could trust those two to not want to be told apart, ever. He had a sneaking suspicion that they might even manage to swap duties between themselves at times, though he couldn't prove it.

"Sent for, sir," he said, staring at the ink-covered Emily, who looked back, unblinkingly, from her place on the Lieutenant's cot.

"Come in, Quinn," Leat said, indicating that the sergeant should shut the door behind him. It was interesting to see his attention drawn by Emily - perhaps he knew something of how the cat had got that way? If she'd upset one of the other officers he was certain he would have received a complaint by now. But that did not matter now; and he wondered whether he had any right to ask what he was about to ask now.

"Sergeant," he began. "I am sure you are aware that for a great while, since we left England, our situation regarding the Marine corps has been a somewhat irregular one."

Which was a polite way of saying that the previous oficer had been an inefficient drunken sot.

'Irregular' was one way of putting it, and Quinn couldn't help noticing that, seeing as he'd been the one practically running the detachment because Brandeson had been doing his best to try to crawl into his brandy bottle.

"Yes, sir, I had noticed that," he said, appreciating Mister Leat's delicacy in discussing that.

Leat cleared his throat.

"Yes, I suppose it would have been hard to miss," he said bitterly. Why Bolitho had not been able to get rid of him earlier - or how Brandeson had received the appointment in the first place - was entirely beyond him. "But to present business, it is likely that Lieutenant Cartwright will inform you soon that we are to take part in a co-ordinated attack on the city of Oporto along with other detachments from the fleet."

Here came the difficult part.

"The lieutenant has not been with us long, and although he is performing his duties well it would not be thought ill were you advise him as to the choice of men for the Marine assault force."

That was... interesting news. There had been some rumours going around the lower deck, but it was the first time it had been confirmed by an officer that Terpsy was going to take part in the fighting. And not only that, but the Marines were going to take part themselves? He nodded, scratching at his scar. "I will do my best to advise the Lieutenant, sir, you have my word on that."

From what he'd seen of the new Lieutenant, Cartwright would probably appreciate his advice, too, unlike some officers.

"Whoever goes, you can be assured that they will do their best by Captain Bolitho, sir."

"I am sure we can rely on it, sergeant," Leat said, relieved that Quinn had not seen his suggestion as a monstrous impertinence, or compounded it to make an indiscretion.

"The other thing I wished to speak to you about is our newly-pressed man, Perry; I am sure you have met him already. He is to be in my Division. I know I need not remind you of the need to keep a close eye on the freshly-pressed, but this one may be more trouble than usual."

He was sure that Mister Leat had not meant to suggest that their new officers was as incompetent as the man he'd replaced. And anyway, it wouldn't be up to Sergeant Quinn to point it out if he had meant to.

And having a newly-pressed man aboard while they were still so close to where he was pressed from could mean a whole can of worms itself. "I've... heard about him, sir. Haven't met him yet, not personally, I mean. If I can ask, d'you know if the Captain means to anchor while we're helpin' the Army out? Though even if we don't, it will help if we can set extra sentries while we're near Oporto. In case he gets any ideas." He shrugged. "If... If we can set sentries by the entry ports while we're in the Douro, it might help deter him. Though I don't need to tell you about what pressed men'll try, sir, I know."

Leat gave a thin smile in reply to that.

"Believe me you do not, sergeant," he said. "I believe we are to anchor, yes, though the captain alone has the precise details of our station. And by all means have sentries set on the entry ports; the circumstances of his impressment were more than irregular, and it is not beyond belief that if he escapes he may betray us to the enemy. He is to be kept on this ship at all costs."

So, it would require an anchor watch, as well as the extra sentries, and having men in the guard-boat. "It would have been a mite easier if we didn't have orders to help the Army out, and could get away. But things being as they are, we'll do our best, sir, you can rely on that."

"Such is war, Quinn; despite all their pride and posturing, the army does admit to needing our help now and again. I know you and your men shall do your duty."

He recalled the army captain - Padstowe - who had left with Dr. Maturin and the French Capitaine. A fine state he would have been in, poor fellow, had he to move across country. He had looked half-dead when they first brought him up the side.

Quinn chuckled. "If it wasn't for the Navy, the Army wouldn't be able to get to war at all, sir. Let's hope they don't need our hep too often. Well, Terpsy's help too often. It'd be nice to be able to see a bit more of the world than just the Portuguese coast, after all. Though I don't suppose we'll be needed to blockade anythin', sir, being as we're just a frigate."

He wondered what the Captain's orders said, and hoped that whatever they contained, it meant that Terpsy would have an independent cruise once they had fulfilled their obligations to the Army.

"Amen to that, sergeant. In the meantime I suggest that you prepare a shortlist of men for detail to present to Lieutenant Cartwright. That will be all."

"I will do that, sir." He saluted, giving the ink-covered Miss Emily another curious glance, and saluted before leaving the officer's cabin.

Out of the corner of his eyes Leat caught a second glance to Emily as the sergeant left. That settled it; he could not supress his curiosity any longer

"Sergeant," he raised his voice after Quinn. "One moment more if you please."

He was called when he was halfway out of the door, and came back in. "Sir?"

Leat set down his pen and looked up at the sergeant with an expression of open weariness.

"Sergeant Quinn... Might you have any idea at all as to why Emily is covered in ink?"

He shook his head. "No, sir, but I believe Private Oxley might. He was on the gundeck when it happened, from what I could tell. Shall I send him along, sir?"

Leat looked consideringly at Emily again, wondering what on earth the 'it' might have been and if Oxley would confide in him the truth even if called for.

"If you would please, sergeant. Dismissed."

"Aye, aye, sir," he said, saluting again and leaving the cabin.

It was only a few minutes later when there was a nervous tap at Leat's cabin door.

"Come in," Leat called again, then waited until the private had shuffled in and shut the door again. This time he did not waste any time prevaricating. "Private Oxley. I assume Sergeant Quinn has informed you of why you have been summoned?"

It was unlikely, but it was a good start, and would be interesting to see if he automatically looked at the cat.

The Sergeant had told him he wasn't in trouble, but you couldn't ever be sure you weren't. Though it looked as though the Sergeant was right, thankfully. He couldn't help glancing at the ink-covered cat, even as he tugged his jacket straight. He'd managed to miss a button when he'd pulled it on earlier, which wasn't good.

Was he in trouble for anything? He couldn't think of anything... unless... But why would Mister George go to the Third Lieutenant and not Mister Cartwright, if it was about him disturbing the doctor earlier? Or did the officer suspect he might have had something to do with the cat?

"No, sir, he didn't," he said, swallowing hard.

Leat sighed.

"Well, no, I was not to be expected, I suppose." Quinn was that sort of sergeant; the sort that used his discretion when to be an ally or a baiter for his men. "I see that you already have observed the state of Emily -" He waved a hand at the cot. "-and I was informed by Sergeant Quinn that you may know something of why she is currently spotted with ink. Do you?"

"Yes, sir," he said, and took a breath. "It weren't my fault, sir, honest. Wasn't nothin' to do with me. It was the new man, see, sir, though it weren't 'zackly on purpose, so far as I could see. He wanted to write a letter, see, sir, an' had the paper and ink. And Miss Emily, sir, well, she jumped up on the table an' spilled the ink all over everythin', sir."

He hadn't realised she'd managed to get herself covered in the stuff, though.