OPORTO, 22nd May - The Medical Corps

"The seminary," was the reply. "Or some yards away from it."

There was a wet-sounding gurgle from the corporal who'd been brought in first, followed by a half-choked noise that might have been words. Finch rose to stand by the man, leaving the other two momentarily alone.

"Giving in, is he?" Finch asked Sinclair quietly, wondering if the poor corporal was at last going to expire.

"Undoubtedly." he was just as quiet, moving his gaze from the man to the two privates, checking they had departed to their duty once again.

It was frustrating, the inevitability of it all and he couldn't stop himself moving closer, standing at the man's shoulder. "Easy, there, now."

"Poor sod." Finch reached out to lay his hand on the corporal's forehead. It was cool to the touch. The man was nearly gone.

Behind them, the Portuguese man pushed himself up on his elbows. "I have terrible manners. Forgive me. My name is José." He held his hand to the woman who had brought him the cup of water.

Jenny had been distracted by the redcoat dying on the other side of the tent, and she was surprised by the Portuguese man's sudden amiable and polite introduction. "Jenny," she replied, taking his hand automatically.

"Pleasure," José said. He seemed not to notice what was happening on the other side of the tent. "You have an interest in the greenjackets?'

"Yes," she answered absently. "I have friends." Thinking of what he had said earlier, she focused her attention back on him. "Why were you looking for them?"

"I had... their coming meant protection, from the French," José answered slowly.

"Oh." That seemed a reasonable answer. She smiled. "The greenjackets more than the redcoats?"

José nodded slightly. "Are they not always at the front of your army?"

"Well yes. You seem to know all about it."

"Indeed." José smiled, mostly to himself. "It is thanks to them that I was safely conducted here."

He looked at last toward where the two surgeons were standing and lifted an eyebrow. "Did you know him?"

"No," she said without looking at the corporal. "But you didn't finish saying what was going on at the seminary. What happened to your leg? Are there many wounded?"

It was probably better that she didn't know that poor fellow.

"My cart was overturned by some Frenchmen. When the fighting started," he replied, a little guardedly. "I did not see if there were any of your soldiers wounded."

"Oh." He had finished the cup of water. She reached out to take it from him. "Do you want some more?"

"I would, please."

With one ear he'd been keeping track of the conversation, couldn't help himself from muttering, sadly, "No-one will know him now." as finally, mercifully, the man died.

Grimly, Sinclair removed the tourniquet, reached forwards and pressed his palm to the man's forhead, checking the eyes were firmly closed.

Jenny was glad of an excuse to leave at that point.

Poor fellow, whoever the corporal had been. Finch turned away and looked for one of the old threadbare blankets they kept for these occasions. There would be no burial for the man until after the battle was over. The best they could do was move him out of the way.

The blanket was over him, his dead weight lifted as he was shifted from inside to out, left in as much dignity as it was possible to convey in a slumped old blanket tucked out of sight.

"How's the leg?" Sinclair was determined not to dwell. Not until there was time for it.

Finch suppressed a sigh as he helped move the dead corporal outside. He was fortunate in his ability to put all thoughts of lost patients out of his head until he cared to recall them. Hopefully somebody from the corporal's regiment would come round after the battle to claim his body.

José grimaced as he tried to move his splinted leg experimentally. "Hurts some, sir," he answered. "Not a bad thing, I think?"

"No. Not bad at all." he had little hope of speaking in anything other than english in the environment, which was a shame. He did his best to be reassuring, however.
"You have broken it. Cleanly, though, so it will heal well." He smiled for good measure.
"Can I get you anything else?"

A clean break. That was not so bad, after all. He shrugged. "Another bit of water would do fine, sir."

And thus Jenny found herself acting as an errand girl for the surgeons. She was by no means a natural at nursing the wounded, but it was better than sitting and waiting throughout the day, and at least this way she would get to hear all the news firsthand.

She offered the cup to her patient again. "Is your home nearby, José? Do you have family or friends to go to?"

Ah. The woman with the cup had returned. She had introduced herself as Jenny, he remembered. "Thank you," he said when she held the cup out to him again. He sipped at the water, deliberately taking an extra few seconds to consider her questions.

"My home is not near here, no," Calderón answered finally. "It is somewhat too far to travel back to my family as well. At least in my present state."

"Oh." She looked at him and tried to smile reassuringly. "Well I'm sure there will be someone to look after you until you can go home. There's probably a hospital in the city. Or they'll set up one for the soldiers left behind to recover." Or to die. "Don't worry."