25th May - Lieutenants in the tavern

Through his hands Leat heard the choked giggling and turned in surprise to see Cartwright utterly corpsed on the table.

"Good heavens, what is the matter, Cartwright?" he asked, stunned.

Get a grip! Cartwright managed, after a minute or two, to master himself. Or at least to settle his shuddering laughter enough so he could sit upright again.

"Sorry sir," he managed, his fit of giggles mostly past now. "I'm not shoe - sure - where that came from. I'm all right now."

Again with the strange cropping-up of 'shoe' into his speech and thoughts. Maybe his subconscious was trying to tell him something? Cartwright coughed to cover a final chuckle and reached for his half-empty wine glass. Pity that their entertainment had been finally dragged out...

"Would any of you gentlemen like some more drink?" A voice came from behind them. It wasn't the same lass as before, but no less, her purpose was the same. Rich looking, drink wishing men, were a perfect source of revenue. The drunker they were, the more eager they would be to spend even more money.

"We've got a local specialty you would certainly regret to miss." She smiled and leaned down somewhat further than she needed to when taking the empty bottle, so that her cleavage was fully in view, the soft flutter of lace that ran alongside the edge of her stays, only so adding to the pleasant impression.

Leat looked up, and then swiftly looked away again when he was met by the somewhat uninteresting sight of a pair of female breasts far too close to his face.

"No, thank you," he said.

"Are you sure, sir? Perhaps something else?" Her attention went briefly to the rest of the party, concealing the scowl that might've arisen at the failure to attract that gentleman's attention. "Anybody else of you f...uh fine men?" She asked hoping her words had been the right ones to choose.

His glass was empty now. When had that happened? Cartwright poked at it, as if expecting it to magically refill itself.

"Bit more wine, if you please," he said, once the barmaid's words made it through to what was left of his sensible brain. It was lost on him that there was still a bottle on the table.

Leat was glad that Cartwright had only asked for that. He nodded at the barmaid, thankful that her bosoms had been withdrawn to a safe distance, and waved his empty glass at her.

"Yes, vino, por favor, senhora- ita."

"Vinho?" The girl smiled, glanced at the bottle and decided to pour that one empty into the glasses of the two men. Then fetch more of it before they might change their minds. But just as she was about to reach for the bottle she changed her mind, bowed her head a little, grinned, playfully drew her hand to her lips to send a flirtatious kiss towards Cartwright, and turned. She laid her hand on Leat's shoulder, as she was passing, drew it very gently across it, so that it almost looked like an affectionate caress and then she went onwards in an innocent manner unbecoming her earlier ways.

She did not take long to snatch up a glass of wine for the table. She returned proudly with her find - more wine meant more money after all - and opened the bottle and began pouring its contents in Mister Leat's glass. "Anything else ?" She asked softly, the questioned meant for the whole table.

Bush eyed the woman, debating whether or not he should ask her for more wine. He did not want to encourage her too much, lest he have another bar wench starting to give him unwanted attention. Hesitantly, he offered his empty glass to her, wondering why the glass seemed to be swaying.

"Just wine, please," he said curtly, "Nothing else."

"Yes, and nothing else!" Leat echoed Bush, worrying that the woman may be considering coming to near to him again. "Nada, par vino!"

He sure sure he was making some sort of sense - at least he hoped he was, having been dubbed the table's unofficial translator.

"Nothing more? Ah, a pity." The girl said, but took his glass once she managed to snatch it from his shaky hand. She poured Bush a glass full of wine, careful not to spill a drop. "Here you are, senhor." She said kindly and placed the glass infront of him, leaning a bit less as she did in her earlier time. They were getting rather drunk, the whole company.

She pouted as Leat repeated the same as the first man. Why, they were a strange sort. She wasn't the prettiest, really, but she wasn't all that unappealing either! "Drink up, drink up. " She motioned to the glass. "Pour more." She indicated herself with a flirtatious smile.

Leat frowned, trying to waork out what she meant, which was proving a more difficult thing to do.

"I think she wants one for herself," he said finally, uncertainly. At least he hoped that was all she wanted.

The barmaid shook her head. "No, no." She said and pointed to the glass and then to Leat as if to suggest he ought to drink it so that she could pour him some more. She nodded and smiled, holding the bottle up. She glanced across the table to see if there were any glasses in need of filling. If there was an empty one she could see, some drink would certainly refill it.

Leat looked at this new gesture with even more trepidation and turned worriedly to Bush.

"William," he said. "She's trying to get me drunk!"

Empty. Again. Was there a hole in his glass that let the wine escape without his knowing? Cartwright turned the drinking vessel upside down and examined the bottom of it with dedicated thoughtful intent. No, it did not appear to be compromised at all. How odd.

"We have a fresh new bottle," he observed upon looking up. "Why does she stay?"

Bush looked between Leat and the woman, aghast that she would do such a thing. Cartwright's observation only seemed to confirm this suspicion.

"What kind of business are you running here, madam?" he demanded, "What do you take us for? We are not drunks--we are naval officers!"

Naval officers? Cartwright poked lightly at his up-ended glass and said absently, "Marine, too."

The lass smiled and shook her head. She understood some of the slur and did not wish to make the men think that she was trying to get them drunk. Not that they weren't already doing a great job to do so themselves. She took the glass from Cartwright carefully and poured him more wine, bowing her head.

"No, no. Just help." She said thinking the bottle would be emptied sooner, if she was pouring it in for them. Much sooner, which meant more bottles to come. Ah, customers that drank a lot, were always very welcome.

"Hmph." Bush frowned, not entirely convinced that the woman was not trying to cause them some sort of affront.

He turned his attention back to his glass--which seemed to have a lot less wine in it than he had thought...

Leat narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but then found this upset his sense of balance and vision and so ceased. He looked around at Bush and Cartwright, as if seeking for support.

"Well, if she is offering it to us..."

More wine. Good. Cartwright watched the joyous liquid fill up his glass, utterly fascinated by the sight. Ordinarily, he would not be so attentive to such a trivial thing, but it struck him as one of the most interesting things in the world at that moment.

"Almost a shame," he mused, mostly to himself as he reverently picked up the glass, "to let a good bottle go to waste."

Bush glanced at Cartwright. He did have a good point.

"Well, I would not wish to waste a good bottle." He looked at his now nearly empty glass, then looked at the woman. Finally, he shrugged slightly. "I suppose we could do with some more of that wine."

The barmaid smiled, and swiftly snatched the empty glass infront of Bush to fill it up. She turned to look at the other glasses and filled each up to the brim. There. The gentlemen could drink some more, and pay. Or else she could slip a purse or two for herself. The men would not even remember where they had got so drunk. Neither that nor that they had not lost their purses.

His glass was magically full again. Cartwright blinked, slowly, and nearly laughed to realise he was no longer concerned with how it had gotten so. He could not have managed it himself, he knew. In fact, he was not sure he could even muster the necessary balance to lift the glass at all. When had it gotten so heavy? It required him to grip the glass with both hands in order to raise it to his lips. Once it was there, however, it became quickly easier to make it lighter. How extraordinary. A lessening weight...

"I do believe..." he said with a hiccup as he carefully set the glass down again, "I do believe the wind is rising."

What sort of sense did that make? The seas were perfectly calm. He grinned blearily and, inexplicably, glanced down at his shoes to check they were both still on his feet. The movement was ill-advised. His next view was of the underside of the table. Now how had that happened?

He giggled and asked, "Is it storming, then?"

Bush looked across the table, then at his glass, then immediately back again. Cartwright was gone.

"Mr. Cartwright!" he exclaimed, rising to his feet, "Where has he gone? Has someone absconded with him?"

He was far too gone to have done such a thing; thus it was not surprising that the sudden movement caused him to lose his balance, and he promptly tumbled to the floor. He looked around in shock, in utter disbelief that he had actually fallen. Then he saw Cartwright, also on the floor and giggling.

"Oh...there you are..." was all Bush could think to say.