25th May Coming early

They didn't need to go far, before the bugle sounded to make camp. The young rifleman studied the two, now rather sour faced, men. "..'least everything turned out alright. Nobody got hurt..." He glanced at Joe. "Much." He smiled sheepishly.

There wasn't going to be a flogging for what they've done, which was a high point of the whole situation. The river was pretty close. It could've run cleaner, but even with a slightly disturbed sort, it would do for drinking. Pye weighed his canteen. It was nearly empty, and the last few drops had just been gulped down.

He helped out when and where it was needed, till he were chased back by one of the German riflemen due to his muddy self. Then he made to sit down, and observed as the fire was lit. (if it will be).

Despite his fears about what Vickery was going to do to him and Newbury, Cotton couldn't help winking at Pye. "You never seen this, have you?" he said, and unbuttoned his bread-bag, pulling out a small package wrapped in oilcloth. "The trick to startin' a fire in the wet is to have dry kindlin'," he said. "I allus carry dry twigs an' things if I can. Wrapped up this way, they don't shed bark in me rations an' it keeps 'em dry, too."

He looked up as some of the other Riflemen brought over wood from some of the furze bushes scattered over the hillside. "First thing, when we make to set up a bivvie - bivouac, which is a camp without tents, though you know that, in course - is that everyone has a job to do. Captain Vickery'll set picquets, an' the rest of us get to startin' fires an' gettin' food ready. Some of 'em go for water - can't have tea, or stew, without water. You'll get to know what's what, time you've bin with us a few months. If the baggage gets up to us - which it won't tonight - I gen'rally start by gettin' the Captain's tent pitched for him while one of the others gets a fire goin'."

He dug out his tinder box. "How good are you at lightin' fires in the dry?" he asked.

Pye looked distant, thoughtful when Cotton addressed him. He had missed the wink, and jumped sharply when he registered that the words were addressed to him. His first reaction was simply to stare at Cotton, part in fear that he'd done something wrong, part just because he was startled from his thoughts. He blinked, and realised it was just Cotton and not some officer demanding attention, so he eased a bit, his posture more slack, his back no longer as stiff that any more and it would surely break.

He smiled and nodded, gazing at the bag and at the dry bits, that Cotton exposed. They'd be far better for starting a fire than trying to struggle with something wet. He had a chick in his breadbag but perhaps it would feel more comfortable if it had a soft roll of twig to lie on. He wondered about that as he glanced up at the approaching Riflemen, for the most part just following Cotton's own gaze.

"Vickery won't sleep in a tent today?" He asked genuinely surprised. He dropped his gaze back to the pile of wood that gathered up and grew with each log brought by the riflemen. He smiled sheepishly at the question. "Not as good as I'um at keepin' t' least bit of warmth on me." He hesitated. "But.. i've started a fire or two....not by accident." He added quickly.

Cotton grinned. "Sorry, didn't mean to make you jump, lad," he said, starting to prepare the fire. "The worst problem is keepin' the stuff dry. Only time we'll never manage this is when it's rainin' stair-rods - y'know, hard, drivin' rain. Get that a lot out here, though not so much back at home. This sort of rain is, well, it makes it harder, but you can still do it."

He crouched over the small teepee of twigs, keeping his back to the rain to try to keep the kindling as dry as possible. "Sometimes you can get a fire lit in the wet, like this, an' then there's times it won't catch at all on a bright hot sunny day when the whole countryside is tinder-dry," he said, striking a spark onto a handful of tow, before breaking off to blow the spark into life and then pushing it into the centre of the kindling teepee.

"Ah...you didn't. I was just.. Ain't used to being startled is all. Not by a friendly face anyway."

Pye observed, and stood half way, moving closer to see how well Cotton was succeeding in making the fire catch. "Don't need no fire when it's a hot sunny day, n' dry as a twig." Pye suggested with a small shrug. The shield that Cotton offered the teepee was doing its job well, to protect the tiny flame that was only now starting.

"Can't have tea an' a good hot supper without you light a fire," Cotton said. "Here, you try an' find some of the driest bits of wood off what we've got here, will you? Have to actually get this goin' afore we run out of kindlin' - oh, an' don't mind if it spits a bit. It'll only be the water, that. Try to find some of the dead stuff first, an' once we've got this goin' prop'ly, we can chop up some of the bigger stuff."

"Me? Ye sure you want to have the fire started by tonight?" Pye turned nonetheless to seep through the collection of logs and found those he thought were the driest of the collection even if perhaps far from actually being stone dry. He brought them to the fire and held them to Cotton to evaluate and decide if they wouldn't sputter more than they would burn, and if they wouldn't smoke much more than anything. He then laid each to the flame, so that it would not kill or suffocate it, but that it could spread to the wood nonetheless. The wood he had brought was mostly looking to have been dead for a while, least a few months without any green on it or inside.

"It's started, it jus' needs feedin' careful-like to make sure it don't go out." Cotton wiped his hands on his trousers before accepting the wood Pye offered and carefully feeding it into the fire, which hissed and spat because of the water. It caught and he waited a moment before adding another piece. "I think it's goin' to stay lit," he said. "Ah, here's Roper with the kettle." He carefully rested the kettle on a couple of big stones by the edge of the fire, where it could heat gently.

"S' nice. How t' fire looks." Pye commented after he'd brought some more of the dry branches to use when the need arose.

He looked up at Cotton. "..It's so wild.. and..well, it's like the chaos itself, n' yet it's so peaceful and contained, offering us all warmth and a way to get our kettles ready for ..our hungry bellies, n'all. Is like a wild animal.. n' yet civilized." He murmured and blushed having said something which was probably very silly and dumb. He poked it gently with a stick, and watched the flame lick away at the wood a moist white 'snot' coming from one of the burning logs, that he could see more easily.

"There.., almost time for food, isn't it?" He beamed, happy as always.

"You've got a real interestin' way of puttin' things, times. It is nice bein' able to sit an' look into a fire, ain't it?" He grinned and stood up to stretch. "Here, let's have your mug an' I'll do you a cup o' tea." He looked around. "If anyone else wants one, they'll need to let me have their mugs."

"Is easier when you're allowed to think, Gabe. " He shrugged. "Not that you need to think much to be able to survive, just.. when you're happy n' you've got t' essentials, you can think. N' that's something that you want to do then too. You think when you try to survive of course. 'couse food don't come right on the platter for you to take. Got to.. snatch it." He dropped his gaze. "..If you've got no money that is... no other way. None. I hope.. hope you understand that it's really needed."

He smiled and quickly searched his pack to bring from it his mug, he wiped it on his sleeve and held it out to Cotton. "A mug of tea would be great!" He said.

"Aye, it is," Cotton replied, reflecting that that was precisely why Vickery was so angry with him and Newbury - well, mostly Newbury, although he wasn't entirely innocent himself. He grinned and uncorked his canteen, un-slinging his own mug from the string that kept the cork from getting lost, before re-corking his canteen securely.

He nodded. "Did me own share o' poachin' an' that back home. Was lucky I weren't caught, even on the Common," he said, pouring water on top of the handful of tea-leaves he'd dropped into each mug. "'Spect it's all bin enclosed now, like. Squire's son's a mean enough bastard I wouldn't put it past him to have done that."

Pye's eyes brightened . "Poachin' needs to be learnt. 'least that's the idea.. of course, you'd need a hunting rifle for that. Like them well to do have." He watched as water rolled in the mug while more poured into it, bringing some of the leafs from the bottom. There was a bit of steam that already rose from it, and the faint colouring that the leafs caused in the heated liquid.

"Lots o' watchin'... n' makin' sure ye don't jus' fire when they could hear you." His voice was quiet, but merry. Caution might've been thrown to the wind in such company. "They 'ave .. much more... ..much uh...well prettier.. ornamented rifles than these.. got like scenes on em n'all. " He looked curious as what Cotton had said.

"Enclosed?"

"You don't, then. I used to take rabbits - snares an' with ferrets sometimes," Cotton responded, with a shrug. "An' that's just as much poachin' as shootin' Squire's pheasants. Least, it is if you do it in the wrong place." He grinned. "Y'know, them what used to shoot when poachin' make the best marksmen. I reckon, if you used to do that, you'm got a good chance of bein' a real good marksman - mebbe even beatin' me."

He passed a mug of tea to Pye. "Aye - there's a big stink up in parts f the country where the squires and other gentry are enclosing the common land - takin' it over and claimin' it for their own. Means folks like my family can't have a cow or their own geese, 'cause of havin' nowhere to keep 'em. I ain't heard of it happenin' in Kent so much, though. And I hope Squire's son don't take it into his head to try doin' it back home."

"You've owned ferrets?" He'd never thought that he could've used other animals to hunt his dinner. Always thought it was either he tried to do it on his own, steal it or shoot, which was stealing too, or he would remain hungry. "Will you show me how ter set up t' snares?" He asked eagerly, trying right to imagine a better trap, easier, demanding much less work than having to spot the creature one wanted to catch.

He flushed beat red and shook his head several times before he spoke. "Ain't that. I couldn't be better n' you Gabe. Don't you be jokin' like that!" He grinned. "N' I only did.. well did it very little. Only couse I had a limited.. uh.. supply o' things. Was hard to get more." He brought his mug to his chest, and just warmed his hands on it for the moment. Felt nice, almost like curling up beside the fire, hoping it wouldn't go out or he wouldn't roll right onto it. That'd hurt!

"Hope your folk don't need to suffer such a whim from your squire.. or 'is son." He said honestly. "Ain't nothing good come if they take land in such a way. Could you ask t' captain to help you though.. if it happens? He's gentry too, n'.. he's a soldier, officer!" He smiled.

"Aye, had a couple of ferrets. They was both jills - females. Don't forget I was bred an' born in the country, an' I know a fair amount about things. And sure I'll show you about how to snare rabbits - though I don't think it'd be a good idea to go botherin' the Captain for permiss'n right now, not after what's just happened."

He put another few sticks on the fire before picking up his own tea. "I don't see any reason you wouldn't be a good shot, not if you can already shoot birds and things. That's better'n a lot of the folks from town can do when they 'list, already."

"Oh no, not now....will you..will you two be in big trouble for wanderin' off like that." Pye looked worried recalling how upset Vickery seemed just moments ago. Even from the distance he could guess that the captain was anything but happy about his riflemen nearly getting killed by their own fault no less.

He sipped from his mug, smiling and looking quite content with his drink. Good, hot tea it was, bitter, no sugar like the first dfay. But still it was quite fine.

"Your real kind, Gabe. We'll see though, won't we. " He grinned. "Was glad we didn' need to when you was up there. There's no way a single rifle'd ever stop t' Portuguese if they went off at you and t' captain." He frowned. "That was dangerous work up there. Why did they want to shoot you n' Newbury? Didn't they know we are their allies?"

"I dunno. I reckon Joe'll get it worse, it bein' the second time he's gone an' done pretty much the same thing." Cotton shrugged. "Tell you what, though. Captain Vickery's a real good officer, but you don't want him gettin' angry with you if you can help it.." He sighed. "An' I'm his batman sayin' that."

He looked across at Pye. It was getting harder to see him in the fading light, though the light of the fire helped somewhat. "We don't wear red, see. Most folks know the British army wears red - least, the infantry does. And what bits of red we do wear are only the facin's, which anyone could have. So if you didn't know about the Rifles, which a lot of folk round here don't, you'd get all confused by it an' think we was French, wouldn't you?"

Pye nodded. It wasn't right what Newbury did. He knew that he had a reason, which wasn't a selfish one, still every man couldn't just go off like that. " He's injured though..., so best it ain't something real bad..." He glanced across to Cotton again, thoughtfully. "'ow's yer back?" He asked taking another sip from his mug, the tea cooling to a comfortable temperature. He thought on what they resembled. The French he'd seen wore blue and white, but certainly not all red. They wore green and a speck of red. Their uniforms had a different array of buttons, somewhat reminding him of a hussar's type without all that shiny braid. A poor comparison, but they did look to resemble that more than ever they did the coats of the normal regiment of foot.

"Me back's near well again, I think. Dunno what it looks like, in course, 'cause I can't see it. Be pretty strange if I could, mind." That was good tea; black and strong, with the bitter taste that came from keeping the leaves in the same pouch as his cartridges. It tasted as though some powder had got mixed up with them; he'd have to check to see if any cartridges had split open, or if it was just loose powder.

"The green's to hide better - blends in with the bushes an' trees and things, see. The red's a bit bright at first, but it'll fade quick enough, like mine has." He smiled. "You seem to be settlin' in well enough. It's a good life, hard, but a good life."

His initial attempts to help with preparing the camp were rebuffed by the other Riflemen, but it wasn't hard to guess the reasons why. He had mucked things up again hadn't he? Newbury would have happily crawled into a hole and not come out, if it was possible.

Instead, he hunkered down on the opposite side of a wide tree, where he was mostly out of sight, and did his best to prop up his knee. Then, grimacing, he tugged up his shirt-tail to have a look at the state of his stitches. Didn't look like he'd pulled any this time, amazingly. Wasn't that nice. He tucked the shirt back in and wondered when Captain Vickery would send for him and give him a proper blowing up.

"s' good to hear. " The lad smiled, even if his face could only be seen by the softer dance of the flame. He rubbed his cheek, his hair standing at odd ends, hardened by the mud. The cuff of his sleeve was no longer red, nor was there a stripe seen on the side of his trousers all mashed up in brown hues. To say the least, the lad needed a proper scrub down.

"I do. Prefer this life ter that in the 33rd. That's fer sure." He grinned. "..much nicer that." He looked around thoughtfully. "Where's Joe gone of to.. Newbury's Joe?"

Cavender came over, looking anxious. Obviously some of Vickery's disappointment or anger, or whatever it was, had communicated itself to the lad, who shifted from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable.

"Spit it out, then, lad," he said, getting to his feet with a sigh. For Vickery to send Cavender to get him meant he was pretty annoyed.

"Um, Gabe, the Cap'n wants you to find Newbury and report to him soon as you can, please," he said.

'As soon as you can' meant 'right now', of course. He handed his unfinished cup of tea to the lad. "Any idea where Newbury's gone?" he asked. "An' I'd like me cup back when you'm finished with it."

Cavender waved in the general direction of where Newbury had last been seen and Cotton sighed "Sorry 'bout this, Zack. If we end up gettin' hanged, tell Maggie I love her." He shook his head. "I'm jokin', lad, just jokin'."

Five minutes later, he found Newbury. "Everythin' all right? Cap'n wants us."

"A'right Gabe." Pye took hold of the mug. He sipped from his own mug while holding the other in hand. He looked shocked when Cotton suggested that they might be hung. He was about to protest, looking fearful and worried about their prospects and once he was told it was just a joke, his skin gained some colour and he scowled." Never joke 'bout that, Gabe!"

And then he saw him leave and he concentrated on finishing the tea.

That hadn't taken long, had it? With a sigh, Newbury levered himself up, using his rifle for support. "Everythin's grand," he said blandly and started toward the middle of the small camp.