OPORTO, 22nd May - Naval Landing Parties

Even a table, however solid it was, would be blown apart easily by even a fairly small charge of powder, Oxley was sure. He felt nervously in the dark for his brother's arm, to reassure himself that Sam was still there.

"Didn't fall on us yet. .. sir." Which was a blessing.

If that would work, it would be splendid if not, then.. he didn't want to think that they might remain to starve or die of some dreadful disease right down there.

He looked around worriedly. The two of them might've been able to crawl out of it, maybe. But not Branning, or most of the adults.

"Tommy!" Sam cried in dismay as his brother grabbed his arm. One of the charges fell into the water at their feet.

"Leave it!" Cartwright hissed, glancing briefly back. He had heard the splash and knew what it was. It was one less charge for them to use later, but they could worry about that later. "Bring me one of the others, and an axe as well."

Oxley closed his eyes for a moment, feeling slightly ashamed of himself. He still had the charges he was carrying, of course, and one of the Defiances had the axe... he thought. "Where are you, sir?" he asked, trying to navigate to the Lieutenant in the dark stench of the tunnel so he could pass one of his charges over.

Having no duty to fulfill the boy pushed himself further back against the wall, keeping as much as he could, out of the way of the others. He tucked his feet nice and firmly close to the wall, not wishing to have some man - feeling about in the dark - to trip over his pair.

"What about the powder store?" Deverel asked. "That opening - where the table is - can you clear it out without setting off the whole magazine and taking us with it?"

"Just to your right, Oxley," Cartwright answered. "Mind your footing. There we go. Have you got that axe?"

Branning had followed close behind him and was sizing up the table thoughtfully. He was catching on, however slowly, to Cartwright's method of thinking. "Jes' need a little bit of powder, here, sar," Branning said, tapping part of the table. "It'd take it 'part right nice."

"Lieutenant!" Deverel said, a nervous edge to his voice.

Cartwright nodded at Branning's assessment, pleased that he wasn't the only one thinking. "That'll do it very nicely." He took the axe from one of the Tars and scratched a rought 'X' on the spot Branning had indicated. Then he looked toward the sea officer, managing to keep his expression neutral. "Yes, sir?"

He reached out, a little tentatively, for the officer's arm, and was relieved to feel the smoother weave of an officer's red coat under his questing hand. It was slick with things he didn't even want to think about.

"Where... where d'you want... this?" he asked, and was ashamed to hear his voice tremble slightly. He did not like being trapped down here, in the almost pitch-dark, with no way out, and had to fight to retain control of himself.

"The powder magazine, man! It's right there!" Deverel reminded the lieutenant. "Can you do that without taking us with it?"

"Most likely we can, sir," the Marine lieutenant said easily. He reached out and gave Oxley's shoulder a quick pat. "Hold onto that for a minute, Oxley. Haven't gotten a place to put it just yet."

He went to work gouging a hole in the table with the tip of the axe head, once again sticking his tongue partway out in concentration. It would be a comedic sight, if it had been light enough for the others to see.

Something crawled over his foot. He might have brushed it of, if not for what followed. With a startled cry he began jump, for the creature had squirmed into his left trouser-leg. He stifled more sound, but there was a good amount of splashing which was certainly caused by his hopping about.

"I'll take the axe, lad," Bakewell said kindly, hearing the fright in Oxley's voice. "You just keep the rest of them charges dry, hey?"

"What's the matter with you, boy?" Deverel snapped, hearing the young seaman's startled gasp and splashing.

He was reassured a little by the pat on his shoulder and managed to fight down his fear enough to wonder what the officer's plan was. He didn't mind the dark, or the closed in space, but the knowledge they were trapped was horribly unnerving and terrifying. He hoped he could hold himself together till they were out.

At least he'd found Sam again, he thought, trying to comfort himself with that thought. If they didn't make it, he'd found his brother...

A gasp and some splashing nearby prompted a whimper he couldn't hold back. Oh, they were going to tease him horribly about this. If they got out.

"N..Nothing sir." He cursed the little beast that had panicked and was now trying to scramble back and forth. Couldn't stay still if he wanted to. "Get out!" He hissed under his breath, but feared to take hold of the thing. With another hop his foot had come in contact with the dropped charge, but only half way. The later sent the boy falling hand and knees into the muck. There was a number of squeaks and little bodies running between the men's legs. Rats, which might've been frightened away by the chaos outside.

"Eugh! Rats!" exclaimed a less inhibited seaman.

"Oh shut up, Drew, you see rats every day!"

"Not like this, all swarming over your legs!"

"That you, Tommy?" asked an inquiring foot. "Get up!"

"Ain't down, Sam," he replied stoutly. He hadn't moved from near Lieutenant Cartwright's side. Sam... He couldn't let on to his brother how unnerved he was by the horrible feeling of being trapped with no way out.

"Ow. Ain't t' drummer boy!" Came the protest from below. The youth had the rodent still squirming its way through his trouser-leg. "Eugh.. bloody.." he cursed again, not at all as a young gentleman ought. The rats squeaked and ran a few trying to climb higher, just to drop off with a small yet distinct splash.

The hole he was boring into the table was nearly large enough to suit his purpose. Just a little bit more. That was it. Cartwright lowered the axe and checked the hole to be sure it was wide enough. It was.

"Here, Oxley," he directed. "Let out half the powder from that charge, doesn't matter if it ends up in the water. The rest of it goes in here," and he tapped the table just above the hole he'd carved out.

"Sorry, mate. What you doin' down there?" Sam answered lightly. "Coming sir. Oh. Wrong Oxley." He moved forward anyway and stood next to his brother. He could hear the nervousness in his voice, even if no one else could recognize it but him.

"Nothin'." The boy answered dully. At last the beast was out and could join her squadron of furry devils. He stood and grunted, his slops clung to his legs in the least pleasant manner. He turned silent again, drawing himself back. He couldn't be of use, so best as before - and hopefully without incident - he would be, silent and invisible.

He felt someone come and stand next to him and chuckled a little as he heard Sam's comment about answering to Cartwright's request. "That's bin happenin' a lot today, Sam," he said, just about managing to keep his nervousness under control. "Can I borrow your knife again for a moment?"

Deverel shifted from one foot to the other, grimacing at the flood of rats but rather more distracted with impatience. "Do you mind hurrying it up, lieutenant? We're going to miss the fight! Or if we're going to meet our maker - well, no time like the present."