25th May Coming early

"It'll be all right," Cotton said, adding privately I hope. At least it was hopefully going to be over quickly. It wasn't as though Vickery was a vindictive sort, either, thankfully.

Newbury simply shrugged. The key to making this as painless as possible was keeping from speaking if he could.

And there was Captain Vickery. Schooling his face into a neutral expression, Newbury approached and saluted. " 'Portin' as ordered, sir."

Vickery returned their salutes and stood there for a moment looking between the two of them.

"You both know why you're here," he said. "I don't need to tell you what you did wrong. You let yourselves down, you let your comrades down and you let me down."

"Yes sir."

Of course he had, and that was why Newbury was dead sure he was about to be sent off to spend the rest of the war with the baggage train. It was only fair, wasn't it?

Cotton tried not to shuffle his feet. "It... It warn't all Newb'ry's fault, sir," he said, finally. "I was s'posed to be coverin' him, and din't go for to watch him when I ought to have. Sir."

"So you let him down," Vickery replied. "Although I noticed you were the first one there when he ran into trouble, which says something." He turned his attention back to Newbury. "And you did run into trouble. If it hadn't been for Cotton, who knows what would have happened. Have you been certified fit by a surgeon, since you were wounded?"

No no no. If he could have done it without consequence, Newbury would have glared daggers at Cotton. He could understand the man's motivation, but it hadn't been anybody's fault save his own that he'd run headlong into difficulties.

And of course Captain Vickery would have to ask the one question that Newbury could not lie in answer to. Dammit all! "No, sir," he replied stiffly, wishing that he had tried a little harder to wheedle the note from that sawbones.

"Well, then, Newbury. You will report back to the surgeon and stay under his care until he certifies you fit to march. And while you are there , you will think about what you have done and how you can best keep from doing that in the future. If I find you pulling the same trick again, I will have to see if I can have you partner with Sergeant Fischer. Cotton, you will also remain with the baggage for a week. In your case, I am aware that will likely be less of a punishment. Have either of you got anything to say?"

The surgeon wasn't likely to let him go back to duty for a month, once he found out what had happened. It would almost have been better to let those Portuguese buggers shoot him.

"No sir," Newbury said, his voice flat. He really was an idiot.

"You're a good Rifleman, Newbury, and I don't want to end up losing you to a misunderstanding with our allies. And if sending you to the baggage will help you learn to keep your head, then that's what I will do. Don't over-exert yourself and you'll recover quicker and be back with the rest of us." Vickery smiled. "Just don't make the same mistake again. Learn from this experience and you'll be better for it."

"Yes sir."

He suddenly dreaded the walk all the way back along the army. It was going to give the damned sawbones even more reason to keep him confined to a wagon.

"All right. Once you've rejoined us, we'll say no more about it." He looked between the two Riflemen, both standing to attention as rigidly as they could. "Unless you have anything more to add, you are dismissed." He thought of something else. "When you get back to your camp fire, would you send Rifleman Pye to see me?"

"Yes sir." Finally. Newbury was about to fall out, but Vickery's last-moment request stopped him from moving, just for a second. "Yes sir," he repeated. Then he had to shift himself, or risk toppling over. He'd nearly locked his knees, which never ended well.

Two steps away from the captain were all he got before his knee hitched and he almost pitched forward onto his face. It was only luck that he re-caught his balance in time and was able to carry on walking - or something close to walking - back toward his tree.

Great. Just bloody great.

For a moment, Vickery was tempted to call Newbury back, but the Rifleman seemed to be coping all right. And a week or so with the attention of a surgeon would hopefully allow his leg to heal up, too. He'd leave Newbury what was left of his dignity, and not mention it. He hoped Newbury would learn his lesson and not go off on a wild goose chase again, though he was at a loss as to what to do it the Rifleman didn't.

He returned Cotton's salute and watched him hurry off and offer his friend an arm to lean on if he wanted it.

"Good thing he has sent you back to the surgeon," Cotton said in a low voice, making sure Vickery couldn't overhear him. "That leg of yourn is in no fit state for you to go marchin' on it. Honestly, I dunno how you'd keep up with us if he'd decided on summat else. You all right there? You can lean on me arm if you need to."

" 'Cept the surgeon ain't likely to send me back up, is he?" Not after this, since Newbury had ducked away from the surgeons' wagons without a pass. If he'd been smart, he would have stayed behind.

He shrugged slightly at Cotton's offered arm, stubbornly determined to press his injured knee. "Ain't nothin' more than a bad twist," he said dismissively. "Be better after a rest. Thanks, though."

"You're an idiot, Joe Newbury," Cotton remarked cheerfully. "The surgeons won't want you hangin' around 'em forever, will they? Stands to reason they'll send you back up to rejoin the rest of the Comp'ny, once you'm prop'ly well. Which means no more of this larkin' about till you are fit an' well again."

Pye sat by the campfire. He had been drinking his tea, sip by sip, and was now warming his hands by the flame. He should've gone and had a wash, yet he decided first to await the return of the two riflemen, hear what they had to say and then have a fine scrub, if it was so permitted. At the very least, he thought to have his face and hair in a state better than present. Glancing over his shoulder, he didn't yet see the pair of the punished, and so turned back, to making sure the fire did not set his hands or his cuffs aflame.

Newbury simply shrugged in response. It was nothing more than what he already knew, though it went without saying that if he was smart, he'd have taken it easier before now. He ignored the other riflemen scattered around the camp and was in turn ignored by them as he made his way toward his tree. He was tired and aching and wanted nothing better than to curl up between the tree's roots and sleep.

And he hadn't gotten his shako back, either.

Cotton watched as Newbury headed off. That wasn't like him, really, going off on his own like that. He shrugged and headed over to the fire he'd lit earlier, finding some of the others gathered around, enjoying its heat. He didn't begrudge them that.

"Hello, Zack," he said, seeing the younger lad warming his hands. "Um, the Captain says he wants to see you 'bout sup'm, though he didn't say what. Don't reckon it's trouble 'cause he didn't say anythin' like that." He took his mug back from Cavender, who looked a little self-conscious, and made a couple of mugs of tea, taking one over to Newbury.

"Here, Joe, mate. Got a cuppa for you, if you want," he said, suddenly aware the other Rifleman probably wanted to be left alone.

Pye froze for a moment, becoming rather aware of his state and cursing himself for not having it changed earlier. "Thanks, Gabe." He murmured, and looked as frightened as a young rabbit even with the confirmation that it wasn't trouble that he was called for.

He didn't say more, couldn't really, as Gabe went to fill up his mugs. Getting up he hurried to where Vickery had talked with his men earlier. He'd run almost the whole way, and only slowed, if barely, when he had Vickery in sight. Never let a captain or an officer , or.. them wait. Never.

He quickly saluted, nervously dropping his hand to his side. "Sir... sir you wanted to.." He began. "uh,.. see me."

Vickery returned Pye's salute, smiling reassuringly at the Rifles' newest recruit. "Don't worry, Pye, you're not in any trouble. Stand easy." He leaned against the trunk of the tree they were standing under.

"Well, I don't know if they've had a chance to tell you, but I'm sending Newbury and Cotton back to the baggage for a week. That's their punishment for going off so far ahead without waiting for support. Now, I understand you've mainly been learning your trade from Cotton, so the question is: Do you want to go back to the baggage-train with him and Newbury, or stay here and carry on learning from some of the others? The choice is entirely up to you."

Choice? There was one choice he'd made before. The said choice was, to join the riflemen. It was an unnerving decision, which took a great deal of thinking, hoping, daring and never the less, doubt. Choices for riflemen, or rather for private soldiers? He stared at Vickery, first letting the idea that he was in no trouble, sink in. The captain looked reassuring, and the lad relaxed, after actually realising that he was told to stand at ease too.

"Choice.." He murmured, fighting the urge to say that he would be fine with whatever Vickery decided for him. The man would probably not have liked such an answer. Atleast, not after giving him a question and an opportunity to choose.

"Um....." He liked to learn with Cotton. The man was patient, informative, told him things, showed them, even when he needn't. He didn't mind showing it again, he thought, and always had a thought to explain, in simple terms. Getting used to a new teacher, would've not been impossible, but it would still take time and could end without either the good company, or the patience he liked.

"..um.. if Cotton won't mind.." He began. If the other lad chose not to have him around, he wouldn't mind switching. After all, there were probably things on the man's mind, which fit other sort of company.

"If Cotton's alright with it, then I would like to continue learnin' with him, sir. He's.. a real good teacher n'..real knowledgeable." He hesitated. "But.. it is.. your decision, sir." Well, he said it anyhow. "Because.. I serve you n'.." But knew not what to say more, or perhaps he'd just become as nervous.

"I'm not going to eat you, whatever you might think to the contrary," Vickery said. "And if I've asked for your opinion, that means I'm interested in it and want to hear it, and I won't get you in trouble for expressing it. I don't think Cotton will mind having you around, though you will have to bear in mind that he was only married recently." He nodded. "Then I will write you a chit as well, and you will accompany them back to the baggage train. It will only be for a week or so, which will help you learn the theory if not the practical side of things."

"Sorry sir." The young rifleman lowered his gaze. The captain didn't deserve the fear he was given. He was a good man, a fine officer and very kind to his soldiers. Far from the cruel tyrant, of which he could name quite a few. Pye tried to smile. He was edgy, more than he needed to be. He wasn't in trouble, Vickery had said that before. With a silent, but somewhat longer breath that he took he looked up again.

"I.. would like to learn under Cotton. N' I swear I can sleep out wherever, if he needs me ter go. Know he's married, n' he'll like ter be with his lass." He bit his lip. "If my presence would be not in his favour, I'd.. also not mind to learn elsewhere, I mean.. I don't want to be in the way, sir. Do not want ter trouble him, sir." His gaze lifted to meet with Vickery's for a brief moment. ".. I want to learn but not at his expanse, or that of his miss." He finished that and paused. It might've sounded as if his priorities were wrong, and he didn't want that. He sighed. It was uncomfortable, and never easy to talk with a superior. So many things could just end up misunderstood. He was just glad that Vickery hadn't noticed .. or perhaps had ignored to notice, how mucky he'd been. Head to toe, and his trousers the most, from sitting in the mud back where he'd been worried the Portuguese would shoot them.