Evening 24th May - Mucked make a visit

"It warn't a-purpose, Sar'nt, honest," Thompson said, shifting a little bit. He wondered just how bad it was going to be... A bar-fight with the Army wasn't going to go down with any of Terpsy's officers, after all. Even though it wasn't their fault... having a bunch of provosts come aboard was going to make folks take a very dim view of what had happened ashore.

He suddenly wondered what sort of punishments Lieutenant Cartwright generally handed out in cases like this.

"Din't start out as us lookin' for a scrap," Chase offered. " 'Sides, Thompson here din't want no part of it 'til it were too late."

Thompson blinked and frowned at Chase. He'd done his own fair share of egging the others on, after all. "Was the soldiers what started it, Sar'nt," he added. "We was only there for a drink afore movin' on."

"So you had nothin' to do with it? They up and started a fight for no reason?"

"Couldn't get out the way, Sar'nt. They was 'tween us an' the door," Thompson said, shrugging. He sent a grateful look in Chase's direction.

Chase shrugged. "Weren't no 'scapin' it. We held 'em off 'til their Provosts came 'longside. Then we showed our heels."

And in Quinn's estimation they'd have got away with it, too, if someone hadn't gone yelling out Terpsy's name for all to hear.

"How bad did you damage 'em?" he asked instead.

"Few flattened noses, coupla cracked heads," Chicken Dyer answered. "Preddie here knocked one clear to last week, wi' a table leg."

Even Quinn couldn't help chuckling at that. "I ain't surprised the provosts wanted blood," he said. "At least you didn't go and kill any of them, I suppose."

He'd have to go and see how Mister Cartwright wanted to deal with Thompson. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too hard on the man; he wasn't the sort to deliberately provoke a fight... but Quinn didn't think it was quite as straightforward as Chase had painted it: he'd never known a Marine to hang back from a fight yet.

"Not that we knows of," Dyer replied cheerfully.

Thompson shifted in the irons. The only reason Quinn - and Allen before him - had come down here was because he was a Marine and in irons. Of course, he couldn't open his mouth and tell the Sergeant that.

"Mind you, they didn't kill any of us, either," he said. "They'd have to try a sight harder'n they did, to kill a Terpsy, mind."

Quinn nodded. "All right. You lot rest easy there. I daresay the Captain'll deal with you in the morning. I'd be surprised if you fetch much more than a talking-to, but mind you don't go upsettin' Army folks like that again."

The seamen grinned at each other. It no longer bothered them unduly that they were in irons.

"We ain't goin' no place," Chase observed as he lounged back on his elbows.

That was blatantly obvious. Thompson knew just how secure the irons were; he'd stood guard over prisoners in the bilboes often enough, after all. It was just his luck he'd be one of them today.

"Won't upset them if they don't upset us, Sar'nt," he said with a half-shrug. of course, Army men didn't always have the sense to keep their opinions to themselves where the Navy was concerned.

"Aye," Chase agreed, grinning innocently.

That was just about what Quinn had expected them to say, of course. "Fair enough, lads," he said. They were quiet enough, which, considering the brawl had happened yesterday, was only to be expected. "You keep your heads down, and it'll all blow over," he said, and turned to go.

The seamen waited until Quinn had before dissolving into chuckles. "Prolly wishes he'd been there too," Dyer said.

Chase shook his head with a smirk. "I dunno. Them sergeants is almost like officers an' all."

Thompson shrugged. "He's no worse'n most, an' better'n some I could mention. He ain't so bit bad, not really." He sighed and leaned back. It was going to be a pretty uncomfortable night on bare planking instead of his hammock.