OPORTO, 22nd May - Naval Landing Parties

"Can ask Mister Mikey there." He nodded in the steward's direction. "He's as close to an officer as can be, even if his might cost him his health.. all with how he treats his uniforms." He winked and chuckled.

The prisoners were beginning to outnumber the marines, and though some of them were injured, some even to the point that they had to lie and would not be able to stand an uprising, they were still the enemy, and risks could not be taken with them.

Thinking of that , the steward and some of the other marines kept him calmer. "..hope they don't." He responded more loudly, and grinned at the steward.

Foley grinned back. "It'd be a sorry thing fer them if they was to try. We got Branning here'bouts, an' enough other lads too."

"That ain't the same at all, and you know it ain't, Buckles," Oxley said. "Be interestin' to get you in a proper uniform. Wonder how many folks we could fool into thinkin' we had four drummers an' not three?" He glanced around "Branning's a good sort. These Frogs'll take one look at him and swear to behave theirselves prop'ly."

"Ah, ain't promisin' fer them with them big marines we have." He knew Branning could be a nice man, but not for those who were on the wrong side of him, not if they were trying to escape, were Frogs and mean looking.

"Would say so fer Brannin' fer sure." He chuckled." Though one look at you n' if I were a Frog I'd be runnin' fer t' hills." That was a very sure tease at the boy. He did turn to Foley and looked all serious as he asked. "Sir.., there's summat, Tom here has suggested. And it would be real interestin'... but we would need a thought of sum'one else, like ye'self." He had tried to ignore the fact he had yet again been quick to use sir. Darn that word and how quickly it would sneak into his sentences!

"Well any'ow. Mister Mikey. Would yer know if it were possible fer us to get a proper sized uniform, like this one. It would be a serious experiment to try..Of course. " Ok, so he ran out of proper sort of excuses why they could get a uniform as Oxley suggested, but it was fun, and the man did look an easy sort. Not one that would have you over a cannon, for dropping a mop.

'Summat real interestin'?' Foley quirked an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. He was never one to turn away an interesting idea. "A proper sized uniform?" The steward looked the boy up and down, considering. He was no bad hand at sewing. If he had an old coat - from one of the Shepherds, say - he ought to be able to adjust it to fit.

"It's possible, sure," he said after a moment. "If you can find a coat that's close 'nuff fittin'."

"So, if I do, then it could be done?" He looked straight at Oxley, who would be the one most probable to know where a proper sized uniform or atleast as fitting a uniform could be found. The boy and Foley, but he said he had to find it first.

"It would be a'right?" He was grinning. "Oy, Tom, you would know where there's an abundance of those kind of coats, wouldn't you? Wot' with you n'.... m' brother Shepherd.. n'all." His grin widened.

"The Shepherds might have an old coat between 'em. Or... I think I've got one in me sea-chest somewhere, if they don't. You sure you want to do that?" It was an interesting idea and the reactions of the other Terpsies would be fun to see.

"Aye, it could be," Foley agreed, nodding. "It'd take a day or two, once I got yer measurements down. Them Shepherds'd be more'n happy to give up an old coat, I'll wager. I ain't seen a pair more fond of a good joke than them."

"More than sure, if ye marines don't mind!" He grinned at the thought. It would be a nice joke, even if perhaps the officers would need to be avoided a little. Atleast the ones that did not understand one. Lieutenant Bush maybe, no.. certainly!

"I don't mind. It'd be fun to see the others' faces when they try an' work out where we got another drummer from, that's for sure," Oxley said, dropping another knife in the 'completely useless' pile of weapons.

This would certainly be interesting. "Just you get me a coat, an' I'll see it gets set it right," Foley said.

"That's what we'll be workin' on, right Tom?" He smiled at the thought. It would be a nice little trick. See how the other marines would react, and the Tars. Well the whole of Terpsy for that matter. Four drummers 'stead of three. See what they'd say seeing one they've never seen before!

He picked a knife, seen it as too bend and chipped to be of use, then another cutlass that could be worked with , and carried the one to it's pile and the other equally to its designated spot.

"Sounds like fun," Oxley said, grinning, and looked around. "That's pretty much everythin' sorted, I think. What's to do now, then?"

Foley glanced casually toward where Mister Cartwright was standing. He seemed preoccupied with a conversation with some sea officer. Good.

"Well... if you lads want, go pawin' through that pile of good kit and see if there's anythin' catches your eye."

"Pawnin' through? ..as in?" He looked at Oxley not sure what the steward was meaning. They could take something, or was it just to see what they thought was best? He looked back at Foley and again at his friend.

Oxley winked at de Guarde and started sifting through the good stuff. There was a decent knife there that he'd seen earlier, and thought he might like to keep.

"We can?" The boy hurried to Oxley. He saw what the lad was doing, though he was still rather shocked at such an easy permission for it. He found himself grinning though as he began to sift through the knives and cutlasses and all the other sort of kit.

"Think we should find ourselves a nice French Shako n' keep it fer memory too." He murmured to the boy. "Well, maybe."

"Dunno 'bout that," Oxley said. "Could look for a clean shirt for you, though. That thing under my jacket is a disgrace." He found the knife. It had a sheath, too, and he slipped it onto a belt round his trousers, looking much more like a Tar suddenly.

"Hey, don't you insult m' shirt!" He grinned. "Now yer look more like a proper Tar, 'tleast." He nodded at the knife. "So.. we can take summat.. anything you mean? Anythin' that we can carry proper atleast." Couldn't take a musket. It was too big and where could he store one, let alone use one. That was just silly. But a knife could do, or something small.

"Like this too?" He asked, spotting one nice looking knife that looked like it needed just a small bit of sharpening and it would be quite useful. Not too short either.

"Wasn't. Though it stinks like a privy. Can't think why." He gave the other boy an innocent grin. "Wouldn't take too much, though, or folks'll get suspicious." He looked at knife de Guarde was holding and nodded. "Nice one, that."

"Darn.. was thinkin' of takin' that musket there. Looks like a nice one." He reached out to gently smack his hand over Oxley's shoulder. "Hmph, stinks like a privy, least I can say it can't ever get worse... 'least wot' that is concerned." He grinned at the knife studying it a little.

"Thanks, think I'um going ter keep it. Might be useful with things, eh? You's goin' ter take more?"

"Don't think so. Don't think I need anythin' more. You still need a clean shirt though. 'Less you want to stink like that till we get back aboard." He had a look through the pile, but couldn't see anything else he wanted to take, and looked across at de Guarde.

"Hm, well if yer know where we can find some fresh shirts, n' preferably not with French lice." He grinned. "I'm well willin' ter pick it. This'un does stink, like it were born down there. N' I ain't fancying bein' thrown over board n' tagged behind t' ship... gulpin' on water jus' so I wouldn't stink 'em up...even if it might mean I get yer.. er our lieutenant's company!"

He looked through the pile, picked a small ball, deciding to take it as something to remember the battle by. Just like one flint which hadn't roamed into his pockets.

"Hmm..dunno. Never had an option ter be able ter take summat like here that is. Well Quite happy with that knife I think. Looks like it could be o' use! Maybe i'd need ter take a cutlass.. since I've lost t' other.. 'less I go n' look for it too."

Oxley indicated the cutlass he was wearing, on its black leather crossbelt. "Ain't got to worry 'bout that, mate," he said. "We'll just do swapsies later, an' I'll give you this and you give me me own sword back ag'in, see?" He grinned. "Unless there's anything else you's wantin' to take, anyhow."

"Better not be greedy. Would hinder us going fast if we had our pockets and belts stashed like som' pirates." He remembered those from the few books he had read. He grinned. "All covered in gold n' silver." He made a small , playful gesture and glanced lastly at the pile.

"Alright.. I reckon there should be some shirts in one of them rooms, that your officer didn't sent flyin' inter dust." He adjusted his coat, feeling it a bit large but luckily it was more evident only at the length of the sleeve.