Evening 24th May - Mucked make a visit

Well, yes, he had taken part in a tavern brawl, but he hadn't started it, or thrown the first punch, or anything of that sort. And he wasn't about to lie about being there, either.

He was standing to attention rigidly, and found himself biting his tongue to stop himself answering back. Doing that in front of the Captain, Mister Bush and Corporal Johnson would lead to more trouble than he wanted to face. But to be called a liar to his face - and in front of his own captain and corporal... His eyes were dark with anger and he was shaking a little, gripping his musket tightly as he fought to keep control of himself and not wipe that smug expression from the Provost officer's face.

Johnson couldn't believe his ears. Who were these fools to call one of his men a liar? Even if it was true, it was certainly not something that concerned any damned outsider.

He had already considered the provosts to be nothing better than bumbling stupid lubbers, but the insult they'd just so blithely given... if the captain and the first luff had not been present, Johnson would have been perfectly happy to show these arrogant bastards what a brawl with Marines truly meant.

His face burned and it was all he could do to hold his silence. The nerve of these worthless rats. But that was the army for you!

"You are absolutely certain that the men causing a ruckus were from the Terpsichore? And that Thompson was one of them?"

"Yes, Indeed I am." The provost officer nodded as he was being questioned. There was no trace of doubt in his voice, that was for sure. " I have heard one of the sailors call , and it is in his words - Terpsies to me -. I would thus assume as your ship is one named Terpsichore, that he spoke of that name." He smiled , his expression still becoming more smug.

"I doubt that Private Thompson would lie if questioned directly,"

"..We can easily confirm this, can we not?" He looked at Thompson, polite in his words, but more of a formal feel than that of any true emotion.

"If he has done anything wrong, he will own up to it."

"Would you then ask him..whether he had taken part in a brawl? And then I would be indeed most grateful if you would place your men in line, so that we may recognise those others that are also guilty of this."

Ridiculous. Simply bleeding ridiculous. Johnson curled his hands into fists and favoured the provost officer with a glare that could have melted iron.

"Ask him yourself, he's standin' right here," the corporal snapped, uncaring that he was speaking both ahead of the officers and entirely out of turn. He'd be damned if he simply stood by and let this pathetic bit of theatrics go on without interruption.

"Corporal," Bush said in a warning tone, shooting Johnson a quick look. Even though he sympathized with the corporal's anger--and completely agreed with him as well--he did not entirely approve of Johnson venting his annoyance before the captain had spoken.

Turning to the provost officer, he said, "Though I must admit he does have a point. Perhaps it would behoove you to ask Thompson yourself, since you are so convinced he was involved."

With a curt nod of his head, which had not lost that smug expression on its face, he looked to the captain for permission though he heard two of his officers give or rather demand that he does it.

"Certainly. With your permission sir." He spoke to Bolitho and then turned towards Thompson, a look of disdain on his face. " Private.. have you taken part in a brawl.."And he mentioned both time and place as well as the tavern's name.

Oh, he was in trouble now, wasn't he? "Yes, sir," he managed, though he sent a glance in the Captain's direction. "Though it was only 'cause someone threw a punch at me, sir, and there was a fight 'tween me an' the door."

Which was nothing but the plain truth, though he had no idea how the provost - or the Captain, or even Corporal Johnson - would take that.

Thompson's explanation was reasonable, considering the circumstances. Bolitho had thought it would be something like that. He highly doubted Thompson would have started a fight, and his statement confirmed that thought. But fighting back was still fighting; the provosts would see no difference at all.

"Thank you, Thompson," Bolitho said. Then he returned his attention to the provosts. "Well, there you have it. But since you seem so ready to doubt, perhaps you still think Private Thompson is lying, even though he has confessed his involvement."

"Certainly. He lies about the weight of his involvement surely. Who'd started it... who hadn't... even so it should not matter. He had been fighting, he had taken part in a brawl, he had caused damage not only to the property of the Portuguese." As if that mattered. Well, it only did when it was used to state how grave the crime had been.

" Property of our allies. Perhaps it is of no importance to you, but the army would certainly not benefit from the people believing this to be A British soldier's way!"

He took a short breath before he continued: "He has behaved in a manner far for exemplary for ..even a marine." He glanced at Johnson when he said this. He matched the glare he had earlier been given with the most unpleasant smile as if to dare him to step out of line infront of his officers. " I am certain that , even if he might not have thrown the first punch.. he is not innocent of provoking it."

He braced himself, ready to hear Captain Bolitho order Corporal Johnson to confine him in irons. That was probably the only thing that would satisfy the Provosts, after all. Well, that and having him at the grating.

And he bet the Provost wouldn't dare accuse the Captain or Mister Bush of lying, the way he had the Marine. The bastard. He tightened his grip further on the musket, thinking that he wouldn't be surprised to hear the wood snap under the pressure.

And he was no more guilty of provoking it than any of the damn soldiers were. Less, even.

"How dare you, sir," Bolitho suddenly snapped. He had been enduring insulting remarks towards his sailors, his Marines, and his officers ever since the provosts had arrived, which was more than enough for even the most calm captain to bear. But now the officer had gone so far as to insult him, and he was not about to stand for that. "How dare you insinuate that I do not care about the conduct of my men or about our allies. I have a great deal of respect for the Portuguese, and I am deeply sorry that this has occurred. I would be sorry even if none of my crew were involved, for I dislike the idea of any of our men--navy or army--making a scene of themselves. If you wish to have Thompson or any of the other 'culprits' made examples of, then it seems I can do nothing to stop you. But I will not stand for having any more slanderous remarks cast against myself, my officers or my crew. If you cannot conduct yourselves in a proper manner, then shall have to ask you to leave."

"Beg pardon sir." It was the provost's turn to look somewhat more alarmed and less like a peacock that had just strutted about the deck. "I did not mean to throw bad light upon yourself." Though he had just so suggested. "I have only come here.. to ensure that you are made aware of this man's poor conduct as I see he has not come to you himself, the moment he boarded this ship."

He hesitated again, but continued somewhat more bravely. "An example of your men.. to your men sir, it is why I have brought this to you personally." He looked at the marine, his own men perhaps becoming restless outside, though some have still sought the familiar faces to point them out once needed.

"I will be eager to depart once my report to you is completed, in good faith that we shall not need take this further... official as is the habit.. generally." This he spoke more quietly, as if to convince that he was doing the captain a favour. "I know you need your men...and thus I would not think to arrest and take them from you, yet I would like to know that their conduct shall be punished accordingly."

Well, why the hell would he tell the Captain - the Captain, of all people, the man the Admiralty had put in charge of Terpsy - that there had been a stupid bar-room brawl? Didn't he think Captain Bolitho had better things to worry about than that?

He prepared to hand his musket over to Corporal Johnson, when the Captain ordered him into custody. Musket, and hat. Prisoners didn't wear hats, after all.

As for 'poor conduct'. It was a good thing there were witnesses; he felt an overwhelming desire to wipe that smug expression off the provost's face, and had to force his hand to uncurl from the fist it had formed. He hoped nobody had noticed that.

That snivelling bastard. Johnson's face flushed dark and he drew himself up, very dangerously close to taking a first swing himself. Officer or not, this bloody provost would deserve it. And arrest and removal? The provost would do that only over Johnson's dead body.

Johnson glanced at Thompson then looked at the captain. He would see to the Marine's punishment himself, if one was ordered, but for once he was not inclined to push for it. Not after hearing this rubbish.

"I can assure you they will be. I know how and when to see that the men are punished." Bolitho glared back at the provost, wondering if the man was going to give him advice on how to discipline the crew. At this rate, the officer would be telling him how to run his own ship next. "I give you my word that I will deal with any sailors or Marines who have been involved in this affair."

"Thank you, sir." He spoke and nodded. "..There's nothing else left then.. but to identify the other participants." He paused as if remembering another of the things he meant to say before he was to leave the cabin and the ship.

"And in that I should only point to another of them sailors who had thrown muck at some of my men, That had again called the name Terpsy and I would be certain, were the same party, with this marine, who had taken part in the brawl. Should you allow me to point them out as well and I shall be most grateful if we should be then to leave the matter behind us."

He had no idea who'd been involved with the muck-slinging. Well, he had, but not while he was standing here, he didn't. He had no idea why the hell this provost was all riled up over a tavern brawl in the first place. It wasn't as though they didn't happen all the time in Portsmouth and elsewhere.

He resigned himself to the fact he was going to get sent to the grating, and hoped it wouldn't be for more than a dozen lashes.

Bolitho had to resist the urge to sigh. He was not looking forward to having the provosts going about the ship searching for the rest of their supposed perpetrators.

"Very well," he said at last, "You may show me who else was involved."

Johnson set his jaw, already swinging around to open the cabin door so the officers could exit. This. Was. Mad. The sooner these bloody provosts were gone, the better!

"Much obliged , sir." The provost passed the Corporal, and to him he reserved that smug smirk, a smile as unpleasant as one could get, ad curt nod, as if of greeting and departure and then he had left through the door, ready to have his men point out the ones that they have perhaps seen or to have the sailors called into some sort of order.

"Would it be possible, sir, that you have them all come on deck?"

He stiffened as the Provost passed him, and looked between the captain, the First Lieutenant and his own corporal. "Beg pardon, sir," he said, finally, addressing Captain Bolitho. "Am I under arrest, sir?"

To be honest, Bolitho was not entirely sure what to tell Thompson. In his mind, there was no evidence which suggested that Thompson was guilty of a major offence. According to his own testimonial--which Bolitho did not doubt at all--he had only fought back after being attacked. To Bolitho's mind that was self-defence, but of course the provosts saw it differently. But he was still the captain of the ship, and he was not going to have his authority usurped by them. He would decide on punishment when he deemed it necessary.

"Not as yet, Thompson," Bolitho replied, "I would like to hear the rest of their charges before I pass sentence on anyone. But I would ask that you remain under guard with Corporal Johnson for the time being."

In response to the provost officer's request, Bolitho simply turned to Bush.

"Call for all hands on deck, will you, Mr. Bush?"

"Aye sir," Bush nodded, and promptly gave the order.

He was every bit as angry as Bolitho was about all this, if not moreso. The nerve of the provosts to try and tell the captain what to do about punishing the men. Damned army! Bush too seriously doubted that the Terpsies had been into any real trouble. He wagered the others had done the same as Thompson: been forced to fight back. Surely they had not started the brawl. But even though they doubted the information, they still had to put up with these blasted provosts until they were finished with all their petty accusations.

"Come on," Johnson rumbled, having no desire to stay in the great cabin while the rest of the ship was made a mockery of. He tramped up to the weather deck, not bothering to contain the outward signs of his seething temper.

"All hands! All hands!" The boatswain and his mates were bellowing down the hatchways and using their pipes in the terrible chorus that the seamen had quickly learned to despise.

Chase and the others exchanged uneasy glances as they melted into the river of Tars rushing topside. Whatever they were being called on deck for, it could not be good.

"What's alla this 'bout?" Chase asked another seaman as they pushed and elbowed their way up the ladder.

"Them army lubbers wanna 'spect the crew," was the reply. "Somethin' 'bout murder done ashore."

Taylor offered a few choice words upon hearing that. He received glares in return. The little group jostled their way toward the starboard rail, doing their best to stay innocently buried amongst the rest of the ship's Company. At least it was coming on to darkness. Perhaps the provosts wouldn't be able to recognise them if they were in shadow...?