25th May - Lieutenants in the tavern

Hearing the distressed cries coming from Cartwright's direction, Leat staggered forward, dragging Bush with him, to assist his brother officer.

"Madam, leave go of him!" he exclaimed, with all force of voice that he could muster. Never mind that he could barely stand upright. "I warn you that I would hate to lay hands on a woman, but if you don't cease your attack I will be forced to treat you roughly! An' so will Mr. Bush."

When Leat jerked them both forward, Bush stumbled a bit, but managed to stay upright by clinging to his fellow lieutenant. He was every bit as offended as Leat was by seeing the woman accosting Cartwright.

"Yes, remove yourself from him at once, madam! Or we shall be forced to use force!"

He nodded firmly, but found that this caused him to nearly lose his balance and so ceased doing so. Instead, he settled for giving the woman as stern a glare as he could manage in his current state.

"Forget force, for pity's sake, sir," Cartwright said, managing somehow to push the misguided woman away. "A simple hand up will do!"

"Ah, yes...well..."

Bush glanced at Leat, wondering how either one of them--or both of them, for that matter--would be able to help Cartwright to his feet when they could barely stay on their own. Yet he managed to shuffle them a bit closer and attempted to offer a hand to the Marine officer anyway.

There was a hand floating close above his face. Who did it belong to? Cartwright stopped that train of thought before it could get any longer. He didn't care whose hand it was, as it was offered with only one intention. He pushed himself up with one arm and reached for the offered hand with the other. Even in his state of inebriation, he recognised that he could hardly expect someone to take all his weight with only one hand. Or something.

He did his best to help lever himself off the street, a feat managed rather more quickly than he had anticipated. For a moment, Cartwright felt positively light on his feet. It was as if he had not been sprawled drunkenly on the street at all. He spotted his hat and bent to retrieve it, which was when his stomach gave the first great pinch. Oh dear. A second lurch made him immediately question the wisdom of recovering his hat, but it was already in hand.

"Gentlemen," he managed, not at all inclined to make even more a fool of himself. "If you do not mind... I must... go for a walk. Over there." That narrow little alley was good a place as any to be sick, though it was not nearly far enough away from his fellow officers. Damn it all. He kept his hat in hand and walked as steadily as he could to the alley...

A walk? Why on Earth was Cartwright going for a walk when none of them could even move in a straight line? Well, perhaps there was something of importance in the alley, some situation which required Cartwright's attention.

"Very well. Yes. You do that." Bush said, staring confusedly at Cartwright as he staggered away.

In the end, Cartwright found himself leaning heavily against the wall that was the side of the alley and wiping his mouth with the underside of his sleeve. The worst of it seemed to be over though, which was something. His stomach felt a good deal more settled anyway.

"My apologies," he said, when he rejoined his companions. "I must not have my landlegs after all."

"Not at all," Leat murmured in response. he had occupied himself with shooting disapproving glares at the whore as had first sworn, then latched herself onto a legitimate customer very near their hearing. "Let's be getting back to the ship, shall we?"

He pointed unsteadily to another, slightly wider, street which lead in the general direction of the docks.

"Forward!"

To the ship. Yes. Cartwright approved wholeheartedly of this idea. "The sooner, the better," he said and tried to think why that gaggle of libertymen just down the street there looked familiar.

With stumbling steps, but generally in the right direction, the three lieutenants made their way down the next street, with muttered curses and apologies when someone trod on the other's foot.

They were about halfway down the street - close enough to see the harbour beyond - and Leat was just wondering where to find a liberty boat when he looked up at the overhanging houses above... and saw a heavenly vision. He stumbled to a halt, gasping in adoration.

"Oh, God Lord!"

The lingering uneasiness in his stomach was enough to register on Cartwright's consciousness, reminding him that he had clearly overindulged in wine, but then his attention was drawn swiftly away from them by Miser Leat's exclamation.

"Good heavens," he muttered, gazing a little blearily up to see what the sea officer had spotted. If that was not the picture of beauty... rather fittingly, considering, the Marine stared in mute fascination.

At the first floor window of a house directly above them there was sat a woman. Young, with dark coffee-coloured skin and long black hair that hung loose down her back, her shapely figure was clearly discernable through the thin shift she was wearing.

At the sound of the delighted gasps from below her she looked down and saw the three English lieutenants - quite obviously the worse for drink - staring up at her. She smiled then, waving in a flirtatious manner which, had they not been so sodden with wine, they would clearly have noticed had a mocking edge to it.

Edward Leat, however, found the smile enchanting and the wave a gentle encouragement. It was not often that the young lieutenant felt the stirrings of desire in his heart or his loins, but something about this heavenly being - the snap of her dark eyes, the teasing shape of her smile - set his heart beating faster in his chest and caught his breath.

"Bella Senhorita!" he called, in his strange patois of Foreign. "Es tu angelo?"

Cartwright didn't understand the words but the woman seemed to. She smiled down at Mister Leat and offered a soft laugh in answer to his question. Whatever he had said, she appeared amenable to it.

Leat smiled in return, thrilled by the laugh. She liked him! His heart fluttered again and he felt light-headed with pleasure.

"Si, tu est angelo!" he cried again. He could not think of what to say next, though, finding it hard to call the words to mind. Hell! What else could he do? There were no flowers he could conveniently snatch from a window box to offer up, no trinket on his person... There was only one other option. Abandonning his two companions, he staggered a few steps closer to the house, placing his hand on his breast in the vague area of his heart, and sang.

"Alas, my love, you do me wrong to cast me off discourteously..."

The pitch was not perhaps the most manly, being as the singer was a castrato, but the sound was sweet and pure, and certainly not lacking in passion.

His gaze shifted down from the balcony to Mister Leat, surprise on his face. He had not known the sea officer had such a fine voice. It was certainly an interesting surprise.

The woman on the balcony listened for a moment, then she called out something in her language over her shoulder. Perhaps summoning a maid to observe the scene with her? Cartwright found himself hoping so.

Having been gazing up at the woman in the window, Bush was taken by surprise by Leat's sudden outburst of singing. The woman was pretty, but he had not thought that his fellow lieutenant would suddenly become so smitten with her. But who was she calling for? Perhaps it was not the best idea for Leat to be serenading her, yet Bush was still not thinking straight enough to try and stop him. Even if he had been, he most likely would not have had the heart to do so, especially after hearing how passionate Leat's singing was.

She seemed to be appreciating his singing, and calling for someone else to listen. Leat therefore continued, increasing his mezzoforte to fortissimo when he reached the chorus and launched into the fourth verse;

"I have been ready at your hand, To grant whatever you wouldst crave..."

Far from being a serene lover's serenade it was now most likely possible that the lieutenant could be heard two streets away, for years at sea had ensured he certainly did not lack in lung capacity.

Now windows in other houses began to open, and amused onlookers had gathered in the street. It was an oddly high voice for a man, but he did sing rather well in spite of being obviously drunk.

Mister Leat was attracting a crowd with his song. Ordinarily, Cartwright might have attempted to suggest a withdrawal from such a scene, but as he was just barely able to stay upright for the swaying of the ground underneath him, he was content to remain where he was.

Above them, another face appeared on the balcony, but it did not belong to a maid. Or even to a woman at all. Rather, it was a bearded man who gazed down at the Englishmen with a frown. The fellow glared at them for a long moment before disappearing from the balcony.

That couldn't be good, Cartwright thought.

The sight of the man made Bush start, which in turn caused him to lose his balance. He would easily have pitched over if he had not made a grab for Cartwright's coat at the last moment. His mind was still foggy, but he tried valiantly to focus his thoughts enough to try and get Leat to cease his serenade. Passionate singing or not, this seemed to be an increasingly tense scenario.

"Mr. Leat, perhaps...perhaps it would be best if you...stopped your singing..."

Leat, having reached the line "My gayest gelding I thee gave To ride whenever liked thee...", turned on his heel at the remark from Bush, making him waver off balance and so stop singing.

"What, William?"

However, Bush did not have much chance to reply as the door to the house before them burst open, revealing the burly bearded man that had been at the window not long before. Judging by the scowl on his face he had not come down to congratulate the singer on his performance.

What the...? One of the Lieutenants seemed to have fallen over or something.

No. Oh, no. He was... he was singing. And in a curiously high-pitched tone that was still rather pleasant to listen to... if it hadn't been quite so loud.

"Jiminy." Was that Mister Leat, singing to a woman? Looked like it.

"She'sh pretty," one of the older Marines behind him muttered, looking up at the woman the officer was addressing. She didn't seem to be all that flattered, though, judging by the way she'd turned to call someone over. Or maybe she was.

"Never knew he could sh... sing," Oxley muttered as the serenade continued. "Does he know the hell he's standin' in, though, I wonder. Won't be so amused when he finds that all over his boots in the mornin', that's for sure."

A rather unusual high tone of a voice drew the young brat's attention as well. Though not knowing at the time that it had belonged to Mister Leat, his curiosity blended with the correct direction towards the port, drew the boy forward. There was a couple of marines that blocked his view, and as he came closer he thought he recognised the lot, or at the very least, the smaller one of them. Unlike the merry ones though, he was not drunk. Just as he had promised, he had kept himself, even if with a heavy heart,away from drink.

Instead what little money he had on him, was spent on the small bundle of things, tucked under the tar's coat and fastened tight enough so that he would not loose it.

Coming even closer , he could point out the drunk lad, Tom Oxley, and past him he saw three lieutenants and a burly man. He gasped softly. The lieutenants had a strange, unnatural sway to them. The one who had sung, was without doubt the very same having a man approach him. Were the intentions of this man kind? By the upspet look that he could make out in the shadows, not really.

But... it was Mister Leat who had been singing? In public. Higher than most men. It left the boy gaping.

The bearded fellow appeared on the street, looking angry fit to burst. Cartwright blinked. This wasn't good. "Here now," he said to the man, holding up his hands placatingly. "We're not meaning any harm - "

He took a step forward, thinking to interpose himself between the Portuguese man and Mister Leat, but his balance was anything but steady. He succeeded only in stumbling forward and was summarily pushed aside by the incensed Portuguese.

"That ain't very sportin'," the Marine observed, when his view of things suddenly seemed upside down. What the hell had he landed in?

Clearly the Portuguese man was none too pleased with them. Bush saw the man push Cartwright aside, then saw the Marine lieutenant promptly take a tumble to the ground. Now that was uncalled for. Bush took a shaky step towards the man, hoping he would be able to keep his balance enough to stand his ground.

"My good man, I'm sorry if...we have caused you offence, but...surely there is no need for...for violence..."