OPORTO, 22nd May - Naval Landing Parties

"For a rag you call, and the rag you shall get. ..Well that or a handkerchief, if that's a'right with you!" He grinned and fished a piece of fabric from the other chest holding it to the marine lad.

It was odd. Here he was, no longer stinking as much, wearing a marine coat, laughing and having a fun time while seeping through the enemy's things to find a brand new pair of slops for the other stinker. The stinker he called a friend. He thought it had been awful when he lost his place, that he could sink no lower and then they went up the waste tunnel and he up a privy, he'd been knee deep in all sorts of muck and shit! It took a short while to have the boy chuckle, a bit more that he was laughing near hard enough that there'd be tears appearing at his eyes.

"..Go get changed you stink'er!" He spoke between the laughs. "..Because we're the dirtiest bunch o' lads ever come to Terpsy..n' will probably be tagged 'long in that boat even with all our bloody efforts!"

Oxley binked as de Guarde burst out laughing, though he took the offered rag. He looked down at himself and started laughing too.

He wiped his fingers off before trying to remove as much of the muck as he could from his gaiters before unbuttoning them. "We's a right pair, we is," he said when he could talk again. He put the cloth down and stood to undo his trouser buttons. "D'you reckon I could get this muck out o' me trousers, with a proper scrubbin'? 'Cause I don't want to leave 'em be'ind if there's a chance I can get 'em clean." He slipped them off and pulled the new ones on, buttoning them up before looking critically at his own stained trousers.

"Take 'em with you. If the muck won't come out, you'll atleast have something to use against a particularly mean person." He smirked and circled the lad critically, studying the new slops that he'd just doned on himself. "..Not bad." he spoke and pressed his forefinger and thumb against his chin as if in thought. " They seem to fit you.. considerably well. Not a perfect fit, I'll say.."

He stopped and nodded resembling a captain striking a decision. "However.. it's good enough. I say you take these.. and you snatch those smelly ones.. but please, do keep them away from your new clothes or else you'll soil em!" He paused and just then realised he'd spoken in a neat little, not so accented, not so gummy way. "Ah.. n'way. Take'em." He grinned. "ye smelly drumstick!"

"Now, there's an idea..." Oxley said, looking de Guarde up and down thoughtfully before breaking into a grin. "Not you, though. I reckon I like you well enough and all."

They were a little loose, but they could be adjusted at the back and possibly taken in, if necessary. He shrugged and rolled his old trousers up, before buttoning his gaiters and then wiping his hand on the rag, which he abandoned on the bed. "Reckon we'd best go, Buckles. Mikey'll start yellin' for us 'fore long if we don't, I should think."

"Hah, don't you dare! " He smirked and reached out to tap his hand on Oxley's shoulder. He stretched a bit, adjusting his.. well Oxley's coat, and made his way for the door of their little domain.

"He ought to be glad he's not going to need to smell us, should be well enough not to think of yelling at all!" He opened the door more hurriedly though, unwilling to find himself at the wrong end of the stick. They were done anyway, and as clean as the pair could be without a proper, long scrubbing down.

"Said I wouldn't, not you - not when you's a proper mate, an' all. Might do it to Shriver, though." He grinned wider at that thought and followed de Guarde out. His gaiters needed scrubbing too, and his shoes were going to need a proper scrub before he polished them. It was amazing how much work a simple landing party could create. He hoped Sergeant Quinn would hold off on holding his next inspection - though somehow he doubted Mister Cartwright would be so lenient.

"Reckon they can still smell us comin'," he said ruefully, shifting the rolled-up trousers a bit, making the roll a bit tighter and then tucking them under his arm.

"Shriver? Oh, if you need any place to hide after that, our mess is open to you at any time. Can even hide in me n' Chase's chest.. just be careful not to break somethin' in it." He grinned imagining poor Shriver, well not exactly poor, but anyway, finding something terribly smelly somewhere.

As they approached the other marines, now looking positively cleaner, although they still smelled and still needed a bath and a good thorough scrubbing, some of the men confirmed Oxley's thesis. Perhaps it was the wind that whisked the smell from them and carried it to the men, but several had turned before they even saw them coming and wrinkled their noses a little before finding the source of the smell. It was by no means as pungent or strong, but gone it was not.

Mr. Hollow was nowhere to be seen, nor any of the Confidence's other crew members.

"Don' think I'd fit in your sea-chest, not with your stuff and Chase's in it, too," Oxley retorted, grinning.

One of the other Marines theatrically plinched his nose. "Who let a farb-yard go wodderid aboud, thed, lads?" he said. "Sbells worser than de major wid de pigs id it."

Oxley rolled his eyes. "That's just Mallory bein' daft. As us'al. Jus' ignore him, Buckles."

"If you wouldn't fit, i could just give the lid a few jumps to shove you in, make you fit proper and all. Just like you do clothes, or stuff, if you have too much , n' they don't fit in a chest. .. Might ache a bit afterward, but you'd sure be safe. JUs'... don't you go wrinklin' or ruinin' me stuff."

He was silenced by the theatrics of a marine. Surely they didn't stink as much as before, but that man made it look as if they've just come out of a privy, and that was one privy that they were rolling in for the whole day too.

He glanced at Oxley, who rolled his eyes right back at the man, Mallory by the sound of it. "Well.. you do stink a little, you know. Wonder where you've been." He answered innocently , and then leaned closer. He'd never have done that before, that was sure.".. Think we could show him the way to that ..smelly tunnel again. ..share t'...smell?" Then as if finding that he'd crossed an invisible line he grew more sober and looked apologetic, nervous almost. ".....nevermind, nevermind!"

"I'd thump you if you tried it," he retorted before turning back to Mallory. "Least some of us've bin workin' today. Not like you lot, gettin' here late after all the real work's bin done."

He looked around, a bit at a loss now that there were older men around, who out-ranked him simply by virtue of their age. He might josh with them, but he was still youger than they were.

"You can't thump someone when you's... closed in." He murmured and glanced about the two. Most of the prisoners had been gathered up. It would be unfortunate for any ship that might have to take them anyplace. They could only hope that Terpsy wasn't picked for such a task.

"Think.. we'll be goin' back soon." He indicated the direction of the boats. The wounded were being transported to their ships now, surgeons still working furiously on land where they've been taken so the treatment could come sooner.

There were a few Terpsies ahead, a few more from the Confidence. There was a pair of injured sailors of the same ship waiting to be treated. They all looked solemn, dark faced. A report of few more gone missing came through.The men must've deserted.

"Hope so. The soone we's back on board and away from that... that middy and anyone else from that there ship, the better." His voice was quiet but grim and was keeping a keen eye open in case he wanted to stir up any more trouble of any sort. "Reckon we'd best make sure you's one of the first ones back to Terpsy, I s'pose," he said. "It'll prob'ly mean I'm goin' to end up rowin', don't it, though? You bein' a M'rine, an' all."

First to go was a fine idea, not meeting the middy even better. Not seeing any of those Tars there, the lot that looked to be eager to throw a good fist at a Terpsy , was just as great. He blinked and turned around to look at Oxley. "Not needin' to row?"

His face brightened at the thought and he adjusted the borrowed coat as if it were a king's robe. "..Can I be borrowin' your coat fer every time we go on n' off shore?" He asked. "..not needin' ter row.. didn' think o' that!"

"M'rines don't. Not 'nless there's some real trouble or summat that means they have to." He aimed a playful punch at de Guarde's arm. "No, you bleedin' can't. That's my jacket, that is. An' don't you fergit it, neither." He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "'Sides, Mikey's said he can mebbe alter an old one of mine or Sticks's for you, ain't he?"

"He did." He held his hand to his shoulder and looked apprehensive at first. Could think Oxley had intended to hurt him really. The punch was too light to cause any injury or discomfort and the lad was still grinning though. Must've been a.. joke, something done out of fun, tease.

His expression cleared and he gave a little chuckle. "Don't say nowhere it's yours." And at the softer whisper he added, in equally quiet voice. "He did. You think I could use that for m' shore leaves. Would work for... you know.. not' rowin' part." He grinned at him with some innocence.

"Might work, but I'm goin' to need that'n back for when I go aboard. Corp'ral Johnson'll have me guts if I don't 'ppear smart as a new pin. Well, mebbe a bent pin, seein' the state everythin's in right now. An' it ain't yourn. It's too big, see." He gave the nearest sleeve a light tug to show what he meant. "Says in the muster book I's a M'rine. Means I got to have a jacket, that, don't it? An' that's the only jacket aboard that's my size, that'n is."

"As a filthy, bent pin, that fell right inter t' officer's privy." The boy whispered hushed. "But I meant, if you'um need this coat ere.. what you meantioned makin' there. T' Coat n'all.. well.. fittin' it better. Do you think I could use that'un?" He dropped his hand and placed each on the cloth of his coat so as to give it a sharp tug.

"Um, Johnson'd be havin' yer guts fer anythin' really. ..Even if you was as clean as a new recruit!"

"Cross-Eyes ain't that bad. Well, he's got a temper on him like... like a bear with a sore head, but he ain't mean. He's... He might moan an' grumble at us 'bout stuff, but he won't let anyone else say there's anythin' wrong. I mean, if, say, a bosun's mate from your old ship was to say us M'rines from Terpsy were a damn disgrace, or summat, he'd stick up f'r us, even if he was to turn round later an' lay inta us for the same thing." He shrugged. "Can't 'splain it rightly, but he won't let anyone call us any sort o' name unless it's him, the sar'nt, Mister Cartwright or one of Terpsy's officers."

"No need ter explain it.. 'zactly. I know what you mean. ..Wos' me sayin' you was a disgrace before ..long. I know he sure didn'.. let that be said. Jus' you don't be tellin it around.. anyway. That'un was the time I.." Slapped him. He made a small gesture with his hand and gave a weak grin to the lad.

"..n' I was a.. middy then. So's.. was higher than now. Wouldn't dare t' 'ell to say anything now. Not that I'd have reason to. But even if I did.. he boxes those ears right painful!"

"Ah." Oxley saw the gesture, realised what he meant and caught his lip between his teeth, even as he gave a half-shrug. He still couldn't believe the lad had done that - the rumours had been all round the Marines' messdeck almost as soon as it had happened, he thought. At the time, he'd had no sympathy at all for the boy - if anyone wanted to sail so close to the wind as to hit a Marine NCO, he had to take what was coming to him.

"He does that," Oxley said, nodding in agreement. "Jus' don't go windin' him up a-purpose, like. It ain't worth it, honest. Though he can't give you double duty."

"Don't go windin' him up? I'd be mad if I tried it now. He had som' power when I ..was a midshipman and now, he can well strike me n' I could not have anythin' against him. Not daft you know! Hard enough he boxed me ears. Had it feel like I'd be turned deaf, so hard that he did it." He grumbled at the memory. And he was sure the corporal would've been preening his feathers and grinning with glee if he angered him somehow and made his striking out a possible reaction to his action.

"Think he can complain to me officers, can't he?.. N' if he said summat to Mr. Leat, or Mr. Bush or ...what's the new man? Well.. It'd be just as if he'd done it himself!"

"'S only the same as the rest of us have it, then," Oxley replied. "Jus' talk to him like the rest of us do an' don't do anythin' you shouldn't. Good advice, that, anyhow. Like he ain't boxed my ears or nothin'. You ain't the only one y'know." He shrugged, with a grin. "Why d'you think me an' the other lads is so p'lite alla the time, then? 'Cept among ourselves, I mean."

"'cos you was brought up that way?" He asked playful but thought again not to ask about Oxley's father. If the boy wanted, no , maybe if the time was better at some other time, he could. He marked it as something to ask anyway.

"Yer right rascals amongst yeselves, that much I've seen. But..., why do you smack someone's shoulder anyhow... I mean, when it's not ter fight about? N' that'.. if he boxed ye ears, you wouldn't mind if I did eh?" He grinned at the last.

"You are jokin'," Oxley retorted. "Oh, mum tried, but Dad din't care a bit. Well, so long as we wasn't downright rude to him, anyhow." He looked at de Guarde, frowning a little. "You... It's just summat boys do. It ain't meant to hurt, like. Me an' Sam do it all the time. That an' pretend-fightin'. Sort of a friendly jokey sorta thing." He shrugged. "Can't 'splain it prop'ly, sorry."

"Pretend fighting?" He arched a brow at the idea." How do you know not ter hit too hard.. or when hard is too hard?" He asked thinking it sounded like it could be fun as long as he didn't get a blue eye from it. If others did it and if Oxley did it with his brother, it was a game no? And Thompson did tell him that he should've been more.. young acting. Not that he was the only one, if he remembered right."