OPORTO, 22nd May - Naval Landing Parties

De Guarde nodded: "A'right.. I'll wait here.." He studied the lad. "N' ey.. don't you be callin' me brain nasty. They're wot' enables you to have some bit o' conversation!" He scowled and decided to wipe his hands on the ground rather than soil either his new pair of slops or his borrowed coat.

"You ain't seen what brains look like, then," the drummer retorted, before heading over to the well to fill his basin. He kept an eye out to see if he could spot something he could use as a rag to help clean de Guarde's head with.

He carried the basin very carefully on his return, setting it down next to de Guarde with a small sigh. "There. Don't s'pose you've got a rag or anythin', have you?"

"Ain't saying they are pretty.. though I've sure not seen my brains, you know. Would be dead if I did.. .though I'm not quite sure how I'd even be able to see me brains if I were dead ter see em... anyway.." He turned quiet as he saw the boy go. He stood there for a while then just as he thought to sit, Oxley was already back with a basin full of water in both hands to prevent it from spilling.

"Rag? um...,would this work?" He reached into his shirt where he had the packets of paper and pulled out one. It wasn't the packet he meant to take but the rag in which one had been wrapped in. "There, .. it's big enough for you?" He asked holding it up for inspection.

He set the basin down next to the other boy, still being very careful not spill any of it. "That'll do, sure. This might sting a bit, though I'll try not to hurt you. You don't need all that muck gettin' in, an' anyway, if we don't get rid of this now, it'll be awful hard to get rid of it later." He dipped the cloth in the water and started to rub, gently, at the bloody patch in de Guarde's hair.

"Ow." He complained trying to pull away from the hurt. "Ow, it' urts you know.. " He bit his lip , and stayed put this time. "Jus'. ..." He couldn't whine for every little thing, now could he? "...Thanks. I mean, fer helpin' me with this n' earlier." He murmured feeling the wet rag rub against his hair and the bit where his skin must've been cut on the hard edge of some rock or other. "... I owe you that."

"I'm sorry," Oxley said, pausing. "It needs doin', though, and if I don't do it now, it'll be the surgeon back aboard - or even the loblolly boy - and it'll hurt even more." He waited till de Guarde sat still again. "'S all right. You'd do the same for me, wouldn't you? Friends is friends, after all." He grinned, remembering trying to describe friendship to this boy, the day after they'd been set to punishment duty for fighting. "Is that any better?" he said, dipping a clean bit of the cloth into the water.

"Well it's perfectly fine when you are not touching it, yes." He answered. "..You know, I think I understand this friendship thing now..Though t' examples are awfully uncomfortable." He grinned at Oxley and kept his head bent forward a little so that it was easier for the marine boy to reach it.

"Our surgeon's out cold.. Tom, we ain't havin' one at the moment till that'un gets better or he gets replaced or summat. Though I see your point....better to have someone do it, who ain't trying to see if his hand goes through my neck with a simple push at the .. ow.. there."

"Sorry," he said again. "It's the only way to get this clean though. I'm bein' as gentle as I can with it, too." It wasn't a good thing, not having a surgeon. He wondered if they would get a new one if their own didn't wake up. Even if he did, would he be able to do all the surgeoning he needed to do? Oxley didn't know, and suddenly, obscurely, felt glad he wasn't an officer and didn't have to deal with problems like that.

"I ain't seein' if me hand'll go right through to your neck, Buckles, I promise. Just tryin' to get rid of the shit an' blood you've got all over yourself here."

"Is it bleedin' much?" He didn't like the sound of , shyte, being all over the back of his head. The last thing he wanted to have something awful start growing right there. So close to his neck and his ..well on his head, it could well be a spell for disaster or death. And here he was panicking again, when it was probably a mere little cut being obnoxious in its bleeding!

"I know you're trying to be gentle.. 'ell, I'd be running from you for a mile now if I thought you weren't." He winced again. "I didn't get your coat dirty with it, did I?" he dearly hoped he didn't!

"No. It's mostly dry, mate. Well, sort of dry. Still in the sticky stage. I don't think it's a big cut at all - though head wounds always bleed bad, even when they's only small. There isn't much muck on your head either. I've got most of that off. Here." He showed the cloth to de Guarde. "Wasn't much there at all, not really. Still some blood there, though."

"Alright, as long as me head don't fall of, I'm satisfied." He glanced at the cloth. "And if it starts going, you promise ter hold it tight till we get a stock to keep it upright, a'right?"

"It's your head, not your neck, ain't it?" Oxley asked, amused. "'S only a small cut, really, at that. 'Bout a couple of inches, an' not so bad as all that, neither. You ain't got a headache from it, have you?"

"I do have a headache..'s been a splittin' bloody sort earlier." The boy replied with a shrug. "Why does it matter if I do? One would think that's good, neh? I mean.. only a bruise and a headache and a bit of a cut down there." He motioned in the direction of where he felt the pain come from.

"N' hush.. neck, head, pah, the upper part of me body!" He smiled.

"Sorry," Oxley said, speaking a bit quieter. "Least it means you's still alive, if you got a headache, don't it?" He dabbed carefully at the cut and stepped back a few moments later. "Think that's clean now. Well, it's as clean as I can get it. You think we should mebbe bandage it up?" He frowned doubtfully and dropped the bloody cloth into the basin.

"That n' t' fact I'm talking to you." He felt awkward to have his bump on the head take such a centre role in their conversation and smiled when Oxley stepped back, done with his work.

"Thanks. I dunno if we should, don't have any more cloth m'self unless you do." He glanced at the bowl. If anything he felt relieved. The muck was gone and the feeling that something could have gone wrong was diminishing as well.

"Could nip back an' get one of them other shirts to use," Oxley said. "It ain't much more'n a scratch, though it bled summat awful. Like I said, head wounds allus do that, though I dunno for why."

He grinned down at the boy wearing his jacket. "It'll make me hat fit you a bit better too, I should think," he said, picking it up and giving it a dusting-off before handing it back to de Guarde. "Up to you, though, an' it ain't much more'n a scratch, like I say. About this long, it is." He showed his finger and thumb, about two inches apart. "Though I bet it hurts like all hell!"

"So, we're going back again? 'think them marines will real hate us, going about like sweet ol' nothings." He grinned thinking how t might've looked to anyone watching them. Once they appeared out the door just to skip back in. Take a while longer and appear outside again. And now they might well go there again if they so decided.

"'s not my fault you have a big head, Tom." He took the hat and weighed it a bit, though it was obviously not heavy.. well not very heavy at all.

"Think..t' head bleeds most couse....well,..it just does!"

"One of us'll have to. It don't take two to fetch one shirt, does it?" Oxley pointed out, thinking how that would look to any on-lookers. "I ain't got a big head. Just... a bit bigger'n yours, is all." He grinned. "You'll catch up, one day. Prob'ly. Won't take me a mo to grab a shirt - left enough of 'em lyin' around, after all!"

He picked the basin up. "Need to chuck this away, anyhow. Ain't any need to have it sittin' around for someone to trip over."

"A'right! Well I'll wait for you, just be careful ey? Don't know if we herded up all of them Frogs, but if we didn't.. well don't let your guard down, that's all." He smiled at his friend.

"Will wait here n' if we'll be on our way to the ships, I'll jus' tell 'em to wait, or well run off to find you for it." He shrugged and leaned back a little. "Now be off with you, ye Tar!"

"I see any Frog, I'll clout him wiv the basin," Oxley returned. He took the basin with him, discarding its contents by the wall for the barracks room, before ducking inside and grabbing the nearest clean-looking shirt. He wasn't sure if he was going to be needed again, but had no intention of not being able to be found, if he was wanted.

"Here y'are," he said, coming back and tossing the shirt into de Guarde's lap. "Reckon it's clean enough for what we want."

"Thanks, be lucky I changed my slops, else you'd just have made it real dirty." He lifted the shirt and shook it a little to see that there was nothing bundled in that would make it uncomfortable to wear.

"There, all ready. Will you do the honours?" He asked as he folded it a little and rubbed out the creases before he knew he'd done that.

"'S why I done it, Buckles," Oxley said, reaching for his new knife to help him tear a strip off the bottom of the shirt. "You'll tell me if I'm pullin' too tight, won't you?" he asked, beginning to wrap it round the other boy's head.

"You need not doubt that I will." He smiled watching the lad tear at the shirt. It was almost a sad loss to see it go. A perfectly good shirt that would soon turn into something of a nice bit of head cloth. "Ow... ah careful a little.. there. That's a'right." He murmured and smiled holding his hand to the back of his head moving it out of the way when Oxley needed him to.

"You know.. we should do these landing fightin' more often. It's so much you get to pick after all is set n' done!"

"Sorry," he responded, adjusting the rough bandage a little. "I'm tryin' not to hurt you, honest. Though I ain't much good at it... not bein' a surgeon or anythin', see." He wrapped the strip around de Guarde's head and knotted it. "Jus' so long as we don't end up crawlin' through any drains or privies next time, I'll be happy. How's that then?" he asked, stepping back to see his handiwork.

"I'll say it's fair good. Not too tight, but it ain't slippin anywhere either, thanks. Perhaps if you ever think of puttin' them sticks down you could be a surgeon. I know I'd trus' you....well.." He hesitated with a thought about his statement. ":..atleast ter tie bandages.. I ain't letting you decide to cut off no limb!" He grinned and placed the marine hat over the makeshift bandages.

"There. Fits perfectly!"