Evening 24th May - Mucked make a visit

The provosts cursed at the sailors, though dared to do so more quietly. It wasn't that they feared a stray cannon ball just happening to sink them, but more the wrath of their own officer, should they have misbehaved.

One by one they slid into the boat, some precariously close to falling over rather than into it, others somewhat more skilled and another nearly having a dip. But none went swimming or fell in the water, which was just as good.

He didn't much fancy sitting on a hard wooden deck with his feet in irons, waiting for eight bells when all hands would be piped to witness punishment. It wasn't like him to end up in this sort of situation, and he mentally cursed the provosts up one side and down the other as he waited to be escorted below, with the sailors who were also under arrest.

"Right then," Johnson grunted. "Down below with you. Let's go."

If he were to have his way, though, the whole group would get turned loose right now, if only to show the provosts that they had no real authority over the Navy.

He knew where the irons were, maybe better than the sailors did. He unbuttoned his shoulder straps as he walked, so he could pull his crossbelts off. He wasn't daft enough to think that, even for this farce, he'd be allowed to sit there wearing his bayonet and thirty rounds of musket ammunition.

"Couldn't you've just stayed shut up?" Preddie hissed at Dyer, as they were led below. "We mighta got off with nothin' 'til you opened yer gob!"

Dyer glared at him. "Ain't my fauld. Weren't no hobe for that after Cob went swannin' oud there."

"Shut up," Chase told them.

"Oh, shut up bickerin', do," Thompson said, finally able to pull off his equipment as the long iron bar was slid free. "It's a whole load o' nonsense, is what it is, an' even the Captain knows that." Though he was still smarting over being called a liar to his face.

He held his crossbelts in one hand and pulled his hat off, holding them out for Johnson to take, before sighing and sitting down on the deck for his legs to be locked in the irons.

"All of you shut up," Johnson snapped. He took the crossbelts and hat from Thompson only to set them aside for the moment. He only had two hands, after all!

It was awkward to get the long iron bar fitted with only one hand free, since he was not about to set the musket down, but he managed. "There now. Just behave 'til the cap'n sends for you."

He collected the crossbelts and hat, thinking about who he could send down here to send sentry.

Almost immediately, he found himself wanting to change position, which, of course, he couldn't. The last time he'd been in iron was also the first... and that was ten years ago. He fidgeted a little, trying to find a more comfortable position.

"It's a whole bloody mare's nest, is what it all is. Interferin' sods," he muttered, leaning forward, once he was sure Johnson was out of earshot. At least he wasn't the only one down here, though that was small consolation, as he was the only Marine. "Called me a bloody liar to me face an' all, the interferin', no-good, stuck-up bastard of a... a soldier." He shrugged one shoulder and grinned wryly at Chase. "Least it was a good run ashore, though, lads."

Chase grinned, despite the growing urge to scratch his ankles. It had not been very long since his last time in the irons. "It was that," he said. " 'Specially the last bit!"

Across from him, Taylor shook his head. "They done that? Even more wrapped up in theirselves than I thought!"

There was a chuckle in the dim shadows behind them before the lanky figure of that bloody American swaggered over. He grinned down at them, Chase and Thompson particularly. "Well this is different, ain't it!"

It was different. Thompson was far more used to being the sentry than the prisoner, and it wasn't a change he liked. "Ah, shove off," he said, trying to get a little more comfortable. They were going to be here overnight, he realised suddenly. The irons were, well, not exactly tight, but certainly restrictive. It didn't help that he was wearing stockings and gaiters, unlike the seamen.

He shifted again but the bar and the shackles were unyielding. As he knew they would be... they weren't designed to have any give in them, after all.

The seamen laughed at Thompson's efforts. They had all sat in the irons at some time in the past before now, with a stone-faced Marine standing sentry over them, and it gave them some measure of satisfaction to see a Marine in the same predicament.

"Might's well get used to it," Taylor told the Marine. "It's only til mornin' watch, or somethin', at least. First time I was in irons, the cap'n left me and two other lads locked up for two days."

"Aye," Chase said. "But weren't that 'cause you dropped the poor sod's silver dinin' set down a hatchway or somethin'?"

Taylor made a face. "That ain't - aw c'mon lads, not like any of you ever had to stand in as cap'n's servant."

Perry watched with a grin as Thompson fidgeted with the irons. "Ain't ya comfortable down there, Thompson, old friend? Least you got them gaiters to keep your ankles warm. Not like my old pal Chase, I see. Now what would a group of fine gentlemen like alla y'all be doing down here in irons? A gentle quite peaceable group like y'all are... I ain't never been so shocked in all my life."

"You can bleedin' laugh," Thompson said, giving up with a shrug. It wasn't forever, at any rate, no matter how uncomfortable it was. It must be pretty interesting for them to see a Marine in irons - especially when he'd been on sentry duty himself not half-an-hour earlier. "I'm all right," he said, looking up at Perry. "It's only some stupid Army sods decidin' they didn't like the look of us that's got us here. Just 'cause there was a bit of a fight yesterday an' the soldiers came off second-best. Stupid bastards."

He looked at Taylor. "You got to stand-in as Captain's steward an' dropped his best silverware down a hatchway? I ain't surprised he left you in irons for two days, if you was that careless."

"An' they're all sorta sore 'bout it, too," Preddie added with a grin.

Taylor, meanwhile, was blushing fiercely. "It weren't my fault I dropped that tray! Ain't safe bein' only an ordinary an' picked out special-like for idler's duties."

"What sorta ship was you on, that they'd be stupid 'nuff to knock the cap'n's servant around?" Preddie asked.

"That ain't the question needs askin'," Chase interrupted. "The question is, what the bleedin' hell are you still doin' down here, Yank?"

Perry pretended to be affronted and hurt by the question. "I just thought as y'all would like a bit a company is all. I know what it's like to be locked in them irons, stiff and sore and barely able to move about... Never a friendly face nearby..." He punctuated his remark by treading on Taylor's fingers. "Oh sorry there, mate. Any rate, them marines done gone to bring you a sentry, and who else is gonna keep you company till he comes?" He leaned back against one of the knees and complacently pulled out a bar of tobacco, chuckling. "Didn't like the look o'ya, did they? Can't say I blame 'em."

"Oh, there's plenty o' friendly faces," Thompson said. "Shame their owners is sittin' here in irons, like. An' if you don't get goin', you'm likely to miss your dinner an' all." Not that he cared. "Well, either that or you'll get ol' Cross-eyes come after you an' give you short shrift." He shrugged. "An' if I ever get me hands on them soldiers again, they won't know what's hit 'em, that's for sure."

Taylor cursed Perry colourfully but didn't make the futile effort to grab for the other sailor's feet.

"Serve that 'un right, to get Cross-eyes on him," the carpenter's mate muttered.

"Which I ain't 'im, but if there's any visitors 'ere'bouts causin' trouble, they ain't gonna be idlin' 'round long," said the sentry as he clomped over. The seamen grinned at each other.

Chase said, "Don't s'pose you got any snuff tucked 'way, Higgins? I know a couple lads could use a pinch."

"Hello there, Higgins, mate," Thompson said, grinning ruefully up at the other Marine. "If that Yankee gives you any trouble, jus' you clout him with that there musket of yourn. That'll settle his hash for him."

He sighed and reached behind his neck to unclasp his stock. There was no point in wearing it and being even more uncomfortable than necessary, not down here where there weren't any officers. He didn't think that even Johnson would say anything... not that the Corporal was anywhere nearby. Well, he hoped the Corporal was elsewhere, anyhow.

Perry scowled at marine and seaman alike before making his wordless exit. He didn't doubt that the sentry would do just as Thompson had suggested, given half a chance.

Higgins offered a smirk in return, holding his musket in the crook of his elbow so he could fish out his pouch of snuff. "No point in that, 'less 'e's stirrin' ya lads up. Din't mean fer 'im to go slinkin' off neither, but ah well. 'Ere's a pinch, y'ungrateful Tar, an' alla ya be damned fer 'avin' so much fun ashore!"

"Cheers," Chase said, taking the pouch and helping himself to a pinch of tobacco. "There's always next time, y'know!"

"Aye, there's allus next time," Thompson agreed. "Ain't that the truth. Though them damn soldiers need to learn when to shut their big mouths an' not go tellin' folks they'm liars if they don't even know 'em." Of everything that had happened in the last few minutes, that was the thing that hurt the most. "He's lucky I didn't go for to rearrange his face for him, the stupid bastard." Though of course, he wouldn't have done that with the provost being an officer, and with two officers and an NCO there to witness everything he did or said.

And he wouldn't mind a smoke, though of course that wasn't permitted down here. He looked up at Higgins. "You couldn't spare a chew of that for a mate, could you?" he said hopefully. Even a chew of baccy was better than nothing, after all.

Chase passed the tobacco pouch to Thompson, looking somewhat squirrel-like with one cheek rounded out with snuff. "Yoo shudda dun," the topman told the Marine.

"Aye," Preddie added. "Coupla lads near to lost a ball out one of the gunports while they was gone aft, y'know. Woulda served 'em right!"

"What - in front o' Captain Bolitho, an' old Cross-eyes an' all? I ain't that crazy," Thompson said, helping himself to some of Higgins' baccy. "I owe you some," he said, looking to see if anyone else wanted a bit. He grinned. "Would've bin fun if someone had dropped a ball through the bottom-boards of their boat. Let 'em swim home. Would've served 'em right, that."

The tobacco pouch went to Taylor next, then found its way back to Higgins' pocket.

"It almost happened," Preddie went on. "But Robbins stopped it. Bleedin' ol' woman that he is."

Chase rolled his eyes. "Just 'cause he's a gun cap'n..."