OPORTO, 22nd May - Naval Landing Parties

Flints. Good flints too, by the look of them. Foley clapped the lad on the shoulder. "There's a fine catch, boyo, an' no mistake! Some of the lads'll be glad for some good spare flints. Well done!"

De Guarde looked startled then embarrassed but grinning. "T..thankee Mister uh Mikey!" He looked at Oxley and nodded. The steward was nice!

"Where can I put 'em?" He had some more in his pocket. He couldn't say that the muskets to which they might've belonged were of any use. All bent and done in, as they were now. Thompson would make use of one maybe. That was good! And then he could help his friend sorting out those weapons. Useful, not so useful, mendable and not!

Oxley found a sailor's shapeless woollen hat that had somehow got mixed up with the weaponry, and passed it over. "Put 'em in here for now," he said. "It'll keep 'em out of the way for a bit, anyhow." He grinned. Who'd have thought it! If you couldn't fight, there were other ways of making yourself useful, and de Guarde had found one of them.

"Good lads," Foley said approvingly. "Pity you din't go for the Marines yourself, boyo!"

He filled the hat with all the flints that were in his pockets and slid his hand in, to check if any of them strays had managed to escape.

"There you go, Tom. All yours, or.. there 'tleast." He dusted his slops and beamed at the little pile.

"Wasn't my choice." He said to Foley. "Else I'd have been 'ere marchin' in red right proper. Wot' with t' marines bein' t' finest choice!" He grinned. He was flattering a little, but it didn't mean he didn't like wearing the coat, even if just for a short while.

Oxley grinned and took the flints. He'd look after them. He was sure they'd come in handy back on Terpsy, and even if not, it meant the French couldn't fire their muskets.

"Should've done what I did an' run away to 'list," he said, grinning at the Tar wearing his clothes. "Wouldn't have to borrow my stuff then."

"Run away?.. I'd be running over land for a good while, n' getting lost before I ever found t' sea." He chuckled softly."... anyway, them books speak little 'bout t' marines. Which is a real shame." He adjusted his coat and took one of the muskets checking them as he'd remembered Quinn teaching him.

"Well, it fits well enough, don't you think? I can grow into it anyway." He teased, his eyes dancing.

"And jus' what am I goin' to wear while you grow into me jacket?" Oxley demanded, his eyes sparkling. He picked up a cutlass, blinked at its twisted, deformed blade, and promptly put it into the pile designated 'no earthly use'. "Though the blacksmith could remake them, I s'pose," he said, looking at the mangled remains of cutlasses, swords and knives that the heap consisted of.

"Well, yer can ask Mister Mikey 'ere if he 'as anything ter borrow, or yer can jus' wear wot' yer wearing now. Suits you nicely. " The boy spoke innocently as he placed another of the muskets in the pile that would call for a "useable" sort. He picked a cutlass next and felt it's jagged end. It needed a sure work of sharpening, but it would do. There were a few of the short blades, that were dropped in the 'good' pile rather quickly, too.

"Might get them ter one later .. jus' don't keep them too close ter t' French. They might think they can get their hands on it...nevermind t' uselessness of them weapons!"

"I' might have to fight you for real, if you don't give it me back. An' we all know I'd win," Oxley said, grinning, deciding the knife he was looking at could be used without needing the blacksmith too desperately.

"I'll only do it, if I get Mikey ter be m'...punishment coordinator." The youth replied in quieter voice looking at one of the shorter knives as well. It was a bit damaged, missing the tip and the handle looked worn. He glanced between the piles.

"n' I'd win. Faster than you!"

"You'd only win if you cheated," Oxley said, though he was grinning, and didn't mean the accusation seriously.

"Don't remember me cheatin' las' time." He dropped his voice a little. "Hmmm, who was with t' lo' trippin'?" He asked quite innocently, and then more sharply. "Tom, catch!"

Before a somewhat damaged musket was thrown to the boy, not so that it would be hard to catch it though.

He caught it and looked at it, grinning. "Reckon it's past it unless there's a proper gunsmith around," he said, and put it down on the 'useless' pile.

"What about this here, if that weren't cheatin'?" he said, making sure the other boy could see him rub his wrist.

"That? Oh t'at was jus' usin' wot ye've got available." He picked another knife and studied it. It looked to be in a good state, almost new. Whoever had gotten it, must've just had it brand new, or he was excellent at tending to it.

"Got you right good with that one, didn't I?...Tripped n'all." He added with a smile.

"Tripped over a ringbolt on me way to the head, an' went smack into a gun truck," Oxley said. "That's how I done my eye and wrist in." He gave de Guarde an innocent look. "You don't think I done it fightin', do you?"

"Yes. It's jus' our luck we was all careless in t' same night, slippin' n' trippin' like we were a pair of landlubbers. Bloody luck!" He added throwing another musket to the marine, sparing the distance he'd have to walk, if he was to take it to it's pile.

"Fightin' ain't right. ..us lads..we kno' better, don't we?"

"You wouldn't catch me fightin'," Oxley said. "I ain't so stupid as that." He caught the musket and added it to the pile. "Ain't a lubber, see. Nor you ain't, neither, of course."

"Aye, but I hope I aint ever fallin' right on t' cannon with me legs either side o' it.... bloody 'urt, that'un. Never be skylarkin atop a cannon, i'll be sure, or t' railin'!" He made a face with small laugh.

"Sure I ain't a lubber. I'um a marine. " He grinned placed the knife he found onto the , 'usable right away' pile, and then sorted two more to the one, in need of fixing but not totally useless.

"Wot' do ye think them Frenchies are thinkin'? Now they'um all prisoners n'all."

He winced a little at de Guarde's picture, and glanced over at the dejected French. "Who cares what they'm thinkin'? They're prob'ly wonderin' why they ever bothered comin' here instead of stayin' nice and safe at home." He added a cutlass to the 'good' pile and grinned at de Guarde. "Still don't know why you didn't join the Marines as a second lieutenant, y'know."

"Don't know..some might. Well as long as they'um not thinkin' how to escape, is all good." He eyed one of the Frenchmen who was looking their way. he seemed to have done that for a while now, but once the lad's eyes were on him, he averted his gaze.

"..Oh, n' tell me then, How could I have done it? Jus' come aboard as a new... not middie, and snagged some lieutenant's uniform before I came?" He grinned. "Preferably one from t' Confidence..., you think they wouldn't be runnin' right after us to get it back?"

Oxley shrugged. "I dunno how they arrange it, really. Just... that you seem to prefer the Marines. 'Sides, you look good in the red. Suit you. I still want me jacket back after, though, so don't you go thinkin' you can keep it. I need it for when I go on duty, after all."

The 'useful' pile was the one furthest from the French prisoners, but at least one of them was looking eagerly at it, until Oxley glanced up at him, when he dropped his eyes.

"Ah..darn.." The boy made a scowl. It would look believable, almost, if not for a small twitch at the corner of his mouth, threatening for a grin to appear. "well, I can always nick it from you when ye'un not lookin'." he said wistfully. Of course it was a joke and a tease, nothing more.

"Better watch them. Ain't never good to trust a hoppin' Frog." He nodded towards the prisoners. "'specially a desperate sort." He added, glad the useful pile was furthest from them, even if in full view.

"They ain't gonna try nothin'," Foley said, having noticed the overly-interested prisoners too. He loosened his bayonet in its scabbard. "Or they shouldn't want to!"

There were other Marines around watching the prisoners too, and Oxley was thankful for it.

"You couldn't, mate. You don't know when I might be needed on duty," he said, grinning across at de Guarde. "Should try to get you a uniform of your own. That'd keep you happy. Though I dunno what the officers'd think about it all."