OPORTO, 22nd May - Naval Landing Parties

"I ain't goin' ter t' ship bum naked, do what ye will, I can tell you that!" He grinned, his grin fading a little as it looked some of the sailors were coming back that way, Defiances, but only spared an angry glare towards the Terpsies and left the other way.

"Might be a fight there... with em." Justified, even if the officers wouldn't have thought so.

"You should. Them clothes are disgustin'," Thompson said, fighting down the urge to put a hand over his nose. "Ain't gettin' into no fight with that lot neither. They ain't worth gettin' into trouble over."

"Get me a new pair n' I will.. change." He wanted to get out of the pair as soon as possible, there was no doubt in that, but he'd have done anything but walked about butt naked. Even rather walked in the smelly pair. ..A very smelly pair.

"Don't think they'um sharin' t' same sentimentents.. how they looked." And if they found another stash with drinks they might get drunk. Then it would really be trouble. Drink dulled one's mind and common sense.

"We'um takin' some out'ta there when t' lieutenant goes, no?" That was spoken in such a whisper that even Thompson would have had to strain to hear.

"Dunno. You find a dead Frog an' pinch his trousers, it might help a bit." He had to strain to hear the boy's question, and shrugged. He didn't know what was going to happen to the wine now.

"Seen any French drummers on yer way 'ere?" He looked up thinking he heard something, and by the looks of it , a few sailors did too, looking to the empty hall. But the sound didn't repeat itself, and so the men nestled themselves back, waiting for the lieutenant to send them away and post sentries on their find.

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Hollow's Confidences were waiting by the Terpsy's captain. The midshipman stood stiff and purposeful keeping control of his group with his gaze. The somber Tars had a few wounded and one man shot dead. He was rather unfortunate. Not fallen by the musket's shot - which would need some luck too - he was rather hit by a loose brick, once the explosion had happened. Right on the head, cracked his scull and took a portion of flesh with it.

Mr. Hollow approached captain Bolitho and gave him a short salute. He'd seen the Defiances and Terpsies heading of on a hunt for the French. Their captain remained on his ship, sending instead only some midshipmen and lieutenants and a small portion of the marines with the sailors. What surprised him was, that this captain, Mr. Bolitho was down amongst his men looking confident about being safe that way.

Being that the man was senior to him and none of his lieutenants were in sight he asked: "Permission to inspect and secure the east side, sir?" He nodded in the direction. "For any fleeing French."

With Lyon having wisely removed himself from the immediate area, Cartwright resumed his inspection of the casks. There had to be a count taken of them to prevent any other attempts to claim theft. In total, there were twenty casks, including some thirty sacks of grain and a handful of barrels. A guard certainly had to be posted on this room and a runner sent to the admiral.

"Bakewell!" Cartwright called, and the Marine came clattering up. "You're responsible for everything in this room. Nobody goes past you unless he's an officer. You two," he pointed at Williams and Pringle, "will stay and assist."

"Aye sir," the three men said.

That was settled. Cartwright looked at the others. There were likely still French attempting to keep the fight going throughout the building, but he too had heard the shouting. The various ship captains would have sent men all over to clear the fort of all resistance. "Let's go, lads," Cartwright said. "Captain Bolitho is likely to have plenty of uses for us."

Terpsies were only glad that truth prevailed and though they would've been happy to put their hands on some of the casks, they preferred the outcome to anything else.

"Aren't we goin' after some Frogs?" One asked, while the rest made a move to follow the lieutenant sparing last glances at their discovery.

"If that's what the captain wishes," was Cartwright's answer. Chase smothered a groan. He wanted to fight, not wait for orders that would keep them from fighting.

Ever the forward one, Seward asked, "Where's yer coat gone, sar?"

"There you are, lieutenant!" Deverel cried, stopping as he ran past with the Oxley brothers. He was dizzy with pain and elated with joy. "A famous victory! They've surrendered and we'll all be heroes!" He noticed the attention paid to the door of one of the rooms and suddenly remembered what was inside, for he himself had broken the lock when looking for the magazine. "Ah ha, the wine store! We should drink to our victory!"

De Guarde looked startled at the lieutenant. If he had not proposed that they drink he would've thought that he was drunk already, just how he'd stumbled and how loud he was and cheerful. He'd been even more shocked to learn that the man was openly suggesting that they drink now, when the casks were secured so that no sailor was to lay hands on them, or was he thinking solely of himself and Cartwright. The later though would not bid well with the men.

He looked at his sleeves, stained and dusty and then at his slops. Thompson wasn't too wrong in suggesting that the set of both be removed. A glance at Cartwright confirmed the idea for him as well.

The two Oxleys looked at each other. "What've you done with the coat, sir?" Tom ventured after an awkward pause, looking curiously at Mister Cartwright, who was in shirtsleeves with his sash and sword-belt fastened over his waistcoat. Sam kicked his ankle. "You don't want him smellin' like a midden, do you, Tommy?" he said, and Oxley subsided. "Was only askin', Sam."

"Oh never mind that, younger Oxley," Deverel cried, pushing past. "He shall have a new coat when he's promoted to captain! And so will we all. Where's a glass, a cup, anything? My friend Branning here will have the first. Did you ever see someone so strong?" He laughed, full of infectious mirth. The Defiances, used to his exuberance, chuckled as well.

Sam Oxley grinned as well but would not be shaken off. "I reckon you oughta take off your own coat, Mr. Deverel, and wrap up that arm of yours. Plenty of time for a victory drink after that."

"Yes yes yes yes yes, Oxley. Seaman Oxley." He grinned and sat down on a step and allowed the young man to peel off his jacket.

Mathew De Guarde wrote:Hollow's Confidences were waiting by the Terpsy's captain. The midshipman stood stiff and purposeful keeping control of his group with his gaze. The somber Tars had a few wounded and one man shot dead. He was rather unfortunate. Not fallen by the musket's shot - which would need some luck too - he was rather hit by a loose brick, once the explosion had happened. Right on the head, cracked his scull and took a portion of flesh with it.

Mr. Hollow approached captain Bolitho and gave him a short salute. He'd seen the Defiances and Terpsies heading of on a hunt for the French. Their captain remained on his ship, sending instead only some midshipmen and lieutenants and a small portion of the marines with the sailors. What surprised him was, that this captain, Mr. Bolitho was down amongst his men looking confident about being safe that way.

Being that the man was senior to him and none of his lieutenants were in sight he asked: "Permission to inspect and secure the east side, sir?" He nodded in the direction. "For any fleeing French."

"Permission granted, Mr. Hollow," Bolitho nodded as he looked around the courtyard. He was starting to wonder what had become of the rest of the Terpsichore's crew. Since the powder magazine had exploded, he had yet to see any of them, and now Cartwright had gone off as well. Where had they all gone to?

"What are you men doing?" Bush demanded, coming upon the group of Terpsichores and Defiances still lingering around the wine store.

"Lieutenant!" Deverel cried, looking up with a joyful grin. "Give you joy of our victory, sir!"

"Thank you, sir." The man saluted again, turned on his heel and called his men to follow him, with a choice few marines to bring the rear. The marines spared no feelings for the Tars, as the men chose not to speak a word to the redcoated men.

As quickly as they have come, they were now disappearing through the doors , up the stairs and into buildings, so as to find the last men of the enemy and bring forth their prisoners and find rooms of good use. Another group of Confidences that had earlier met with the 'hidden stash and the Terpsies' passed Bolitho, and muttered about the damned Tars and a lieutenant marine of the Terpsichore.

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De Guarde flinched at the sight of Bush. The man was intimidating and his shouting could be heard well even by a deaf man, he was sure. He looked at the lieutenants in wonder. That would be interesting. He wondered how soon it would be that the lieutenant is told the casks are off limit. But if the lieutenant said they were not and they could have a drink that would be splendid! He grinned a little at the thought. "Drink." He blinked for he'd not expected to speak. "oh..."

Realising that the only way he was going to find the others was to go in search of them himself, Bolitho did just that. And when he finally found them, it seemed they had a made a discovery of their own--the fort's wine stores.

"What's all this then?" he inquired as he approached, not knowing that Bush had just asked a similar question a moment earlier.

"Captain!" Deverel cried, staggering to his feet and shaking off Sam Oxley who was attending his arm. He saluted awkwardly. "Give you joy of our victory sir. I can commend these men of yours, heroes all of 'em. Especially lieutenant... lieutenant..." He frowned quizzically at Cartwright, trying to remember his name, before he had to sit down again, feeling suddenly lightheaded.

Thompson saluted. "Found a stash of... Found some stores, sir. An' then the Defiances an' Confidences said we'd pinched some, when we hadn't even touched 'em, sir. Mister Cartwright's put a sentry on 'em, sir. Dunno where he's got to, though, sir."

He hadn't seen him leave, but there were quite a few men milling around, and the Marine officer was only in shirtsleeves, and bare-headed, too. Ah - there he was! "Mister Cartwright, sir!" he called.

Bolitho raised an eyebrow at Deverel. The man seemed slightly tipsy, which made him wonder if they had already gotten into the stores of wine.

"Thank you Mr. Deverel, and I believe you are referring to Mr. Cartwright."

Turning to Thompson, he said, "I appreciate you telling me that, Thompson. I'm pleased to know that none of our men touched any of the wine." He refained from adding though I'm not sure if I can say the same for the others... as he glanced back at Deverel.

Speaking of which, the boy turned as the distraction seemed to be fine and certain. Deciding to take it before anyone was to stumble across it, he walked some from the group and towards the stairs leading up. About where he had left his bottle when he fell and where a dead Frenchman lay sprawled.

Good that the lieutenants and captain had drawn such a crowd and such attention. He smiled and had the Frenchman's hat first considering its uses at the game. They weren't chasing the French, it seemed so he could come and take it.

"I beg pardon for the indecorum, captain," Deverel apologized with an amiable but pale smile as he gave his arm back to be wrapped. Now that the excitement and urgency of battle had worn off, he was feeling quite drained, both figuratively and literally with the amount of blood he had lost. "I had a bit of a run in with a... bit of a..." He looked at his drenched red sleeve.

"Whoa there, Mr. Deverel," Sam Oxley said as the lieutenant melted onto him, limp and senseless. "Tommy, help me out here."

"Here, sir, don't go all... thataway, sir," Oxley said, trying to get the Lieutenant more upright. "Ain't healthy, that. What d'you need help with, Sam, 'zackly?"

He had not noticed Deverel's injury before, but now that he had, Bolitho felt slightly ashamed for having thought the man was drunk. Clearly he was simply weak from the loss of blood.

"Not necessary, Mr. Deverel," Bolitho said, shaking his head, "You've done your duty, and have earned yourself a respite. There's no need for any apology."

Deverel simply blinked and smiled as one Oxley held him up and the other bandaged his arm.

Suddenly it was confusion and other officers arriving. Cartwright took care to keep back from the newly-arrived officers, owing as much to his lesser state of dress as to the fact that his clothes reeked of sewage. He had little enough to say anyway, unless he was directly asked a question, though he wished he could've answered Seward's question before everyone else had turned up.