Libertymen Ashore, 23rd May, Oporto

"I dunno. An' that's your second, unless you had any afore we come in," Thompson said. "Any more an' you'll be as drunk as a wheelbarrow, which ain't good if folks don't know you'm here."

He grinned at the way a couple of men managed to get in the provosts' way, without looking as though that was what they were doing. "I got no idea why they's here, but you want to be sober as a judge till they'm gone, Mathew, lad."

"I ain't no judging." The boy muttered and frowned bitterly at his mug. An empty glass in a tavern was as bad as a ship without Tars, well if one wanted to sail her at least. He tipped it over and saw not a drop fall from its edge. He was aware that there was company, men, tars from their ship, and Oxley the drummer boy, all able to hear his complaint.

"... they still there?" He mumbled , his back to the provosts now, if it hadn't been before. The men were clearly irritated at the obstruction. A short conversation was exchanged between two, and a few backed to the door, possibly declaring the tavern free of the men they were searching for. Still the very two men remained, as if torn between leaving and staying a short while.

"I got no idea, an' I ain't turnin' round to look. You can have sippers o' mine, only don't you go downin' the lot, all right?" he pushed his own tankard across. "An' I ain't carryin' you back aboard, no matter what, understand?" He shook his head a little.

He wasn't going to go turning round in case any of the provosts recognised him... though he didn't think they would, as they'd only seen him from the back. Well, hopefully, they wouldn't anyway.

"..Wot' yer needin' ter worry about them provosts?" De Guarde inquired as he eagerly clasped both his arms on the tankard pulling it closer and steadying it so nothing could spill. "They'um prolly just hear for some silly bugger who'd done summat wrong.. " Which made sense, in a way. He took a single short sip, which was all too quickly followed by another.

He made himself lay the mug down and instead looked at the marine, as seriously as he could. "Yer can leave me 'ere ..if that 'appens. Get in no trouble that a'way."

"I ain't leavin' you here in a strange town with who knows what creepin' round. If I did that an' you didn't make it back, the Cap'n'd have me head, all served up on a silver dish." He grinned and reached to take his mug back. "An' don't you emptyin' that, less'n you'm goin' to buy me another, lad."

"T' captain wouldn't know any of you lot saw me. So's it ain't as if he'd think you had summat to do with it. Yer head would be right where it is now, George, even if yer left me 'ere." He pointed out with what he thought made sense. As he thought of what he'd just said though he realised that it sounded all too much like he was saying that he meant not to return at all.

"..Though I'um returning ter t' ship of course. So we's talking silly theories 'ere." His hold on the mug tightened a little, his expression quite anxious as he saw the marine try to take it. "I'um goin' ter buy yer another." He said stiffly.

"You'd better, I'm feelin' too sober by half," Thompson said. "Though don't go sayin' things like that 'cause it sounds like you ain't comin' back, an' that'd mean real trouble all round. Trust me on that one, all right? Me bein' a Marine, an' all."

The provosts weren't leaving. Why the damn delay? It wasn't like they'd seen anyone come in who might have been anywhere else causing trouble... or had they?

"..I am comin' back...I'm with you lot anyway. Where else could I go?" He might've had that thought before. Once before, when he had been disrated, once just on this day before he left the ship. But now, he knew that when the time was up, and they would be returning, he would not have wanted nor tried to hide and remain in this foreign land.

Such a decision had not been made solely because he was talking with a marine, whose duty it was to bring back any of those who would desert. Thompson was his friend too and it would have been cruel if he was to hunt for the boy, knowing what would happen, if he found and returned him to the ship. Never the less, he also wished not to die, not even if he had to meet the man whom he loathed or holy stone the whole damned deck all on his own.

His voice dropped as he continued to speak, his words nought but for the marine: "But would I have done it.. would you have arrested me n' brought me back?" He was a bit drunk, that was clear, else he would not have asked such a question.

The provosts were still there, and one had looked in the direction of the Terpsy's collection of boys and men. He seemed to hesitate, look at his fellow, point in the direction. The other man shrugged. While the first made a curt wave indicating that they should still investigate.

"I'd have to, mate. Lemme have me drink back, will you? I said sippers, not drain the dratted thing dry."

He shook his head. "Best you don't find out what I'd do if... if you was to be that daft, lad." He risked a glance at the provosts and shrugged. "Wish they'd dratted well clear off," he muttered quietly.

"I said I'um goin' ter pay you another..'um sippin' it slow a'right." He glanced at the provosts. The men were coming closer, that was certain. What their business was, was much less so. He turned his back on them again, his voice a mere whisper:" Since I'um not plannin' ter try something as stupid.." The boy kept his gaze on the cards, mouthing each word very softly, leaning a slight bit forward. "... you can well tell me, can't you?" He finished and shifted a bit.

The men had been slowed down again. This time it was by a lass, offering them a drink, suggesting , in broken English, that theirs was the finest all around and indeed being quite full of words.

"Cheeky brat. An' I'd have to, wouldn't I, less'n I wanted to get in trouble meself."

He reached for the cards to shuffle them and deal again.

"If them provosts don't go quick, there's goin' to be trouble, I think," he said, though he didn't say who for.

"Well then... we bes' ferget we've ever spoken of it. I'm returnin' back with you though... I'll have ter ask the Shepherd if he's got an idea how I could do that easy." Sneaking in could prove much harder than sneaking out had been. He still could not believe his fortune, nor the lad's in his own 'escape'.

The provosts stopped by their table, the taller man seemed quite interested in the party. De Guarde looked at his cards, a few men to their left seemed equally interested in the table and scratching or rubbing their hair, or finding any other reason to have their hands concealing the sides of their faces.

"Hey, you!" The tall man said , his voice deep.

"You do that, lad," Thompson said. "He'll know what to do." Though he had no idea how de Guarde had managed to sneak into the liberty-boat in the first place.

He looked up as the provosts stopped by their table. "What?" he said, looking puzzled as one of them addressed him.

Taylor wiped the annoyed expression off his face and looked up blankly at the provots. What the devil were they doing here, bothering mostly-innocent lads at their game of cards? Or maybe the cards were the reason for it. Stupid buggers.

The provost looked straight at the marine. "You're not gambling are you?" He said coldly, though this was just a bothering of a man that had been given a task to search for a number of men, who had done so and came , atleast for the moment, rather empty handed from it, and saw an opportunity .. or did he?

De Guarde was smart to keep silent facing the table, with an attention a man often gave something..of much greater value or interest. "N' you there.." The man started and looked at Taylor. "How long have you lot been in here?" Now that question could have some weight, and perhaps sounded more useless than it really way.

Gambling? Taylor gave a snort. He was glad now that they had refused De Guarde's request to play for prize.

"Been here I dunno how long," the carpenter's mate replied. "Long 'nuff to lose four hands runnin', in 'tween a few mugs of rum. Why, wanna join us? Playin' Twenny-Ones, we is."

"Don't give me that cheek, sailor." The provost looked anything but amused. Not only had the man prove rather useless in supplying a straight answer - but what could he expect of them seamen, but he was making evident attempts to mock him. "Not unless you'd fancy yourself arrested." He added with an air of authority and equal feeling of all too great self-worth, a man who thought he was all that and more.

"We ain't done nothin', mate. 'Cept he've got the worst streak o' bad luck I seen this side o' Christmas," Thompson said, looking up. "Good thing we ain't playin' for anythin' but fun - he'd've lost the shirt off'n his back b'now if we had bin."

"No trouble here," Taylor told the provost, wishing he could give the bastard's ears a good box. Then he glanced at Thompson and grinned. "I ain't half so bad as Shepherd here," he added.

And then from outside there was a great crash and an outbreak of shouting. Taylor canted his head to the side to listen and was almost sure he heard a cry of "Boarders! Away boarders!"

'Away boarders'? What the devil was going on out there?

"Not a proper soldier are you." The provost turned from the sailor back to the man he identified as none other but a marine. He'd seen a few of those that evening,quite a handful less than there were the army reds and sailors. But before he could progress into an annoyed glare to both the Tar that spoke out and the marine that did so earlier, there were shouts heard.

He turned on his heel, but not without saying a sharp:" I will deal with you later!" He shoved against the crowd , trying to reach that damned door. De Guarde jerked his head up listening rather confused. "Boarders?.. Wot' on earth they be 'bout?" The mug still neatly clutched in his palms.

'Not a proper soldier'. Thompson was a better soldier than any provost. Hell, even an army redcoat was a better soldier than a provost.

"I'm a better soldier than the redcoats in 'ere," Thompson said, and then there was a crash from outside and a yell of "Boarders!"

What was going on out there?

As for 'deal with them later'... not if Thompson could help. He looked round and shrugged. "Reckon he'll be back later... unless he get clouted over the head. Wonder if we should go an' help 'em do it?"

Taylor waited until the provost had gone shoving toward the door before nodding slowly. "Aye, I'll gladly give that bugger a good lump over the head."

Outside, the cry of "Boarders!" was continuing. Shepherd, unable to contain his curiosity, slipped out of his chair and scuttled through the pack of yammering men who were trying to crowd outside to see what was happening.

"Sticks!" Taylor cried. That stupid drummer!

De Guarde saw Shepherd move. He looked both at Chase, Taylor and Thompson before slipping through the crowd, glad for once that he was not a burly large man, but a small, short and thin lad that could well go where no other man was able. And Shepherd certainly did not count as a man, but a boy too! He was still clutching his mug in his hands, and took a quick swig from it, which near ended with him being knocked backwards. "Wait fer me!" De Guarde shouted, having lost all sight of the other lad.

The provosts were shouting for the crowd to clear, and men get out of their way, but quite unlike the two younger boys, they were struggling with very little progress made. Two steps forward, one step back.

And then both boys had run outside, though what help they could be to either party, Thompson couldn't work out. And de Guarde still hadn't given his tankard back. Ah well... he was going to get some of the lad's grog ration tomorrow, if he could, to make up for it.

It seemed the provosts were all trying t get out of the door, with very little success, as far as Thompson could see.

And then there was a louder shout, a cry of "Terpsies! Terpsies to me!" He looked at Taylor, shrugged, and got up, jamming his hat back on and went to try to push the provosts aside. If one of those got in between him and a shipmate in trouble, well, the provosts had better watch out...

The men shouting "Boarders!" were, in fact, Terpsies. Chase and Preddie were crouching atop some stacked crates, thundering the order out in their best lookout's voices. The intent was stir up confusion and draw the provosts outside again. They had spotted the provosts going from tavern to tavern in search of the wayward brawlers and rightly decided it was wiser to stay out of taverns until the provosts were gone.

That was until Preddie saw Taylor and the two Marines going into one place, and later observed the provosts following. They had hurriedly planned a diversion with the goal of distracting those army bastards. So far, it was working.

Chase pried up a piece of crate planking and heaved it into the crowd milling deliberately about and bellowed, "Keep 'em off our ship, boys! Keep 'em back! Don't run, there!"

It was bloody working, it was. Grinning, Preddie cried out "Terpsies! Terpsies, to me!"

And there was Shepherd, sliding almost effortlessly through the pack of men in the street. Chase cheered.