Drummer's Jacket, 26 May

Mister Cartwright's orders. Of course. Johnson tried nobly to keep from rolling his eyes. He should've known that their new officer would cause trouble. What the hell was the lieutenant thinking, letting a sailor stand in as a Marine?

"Do you," he said flatly. Mister Cartwright might've given the order protecting De Guarde, but the rest of this little plot had Shepherd written all over it. He couldn't interfere with De Guarde, which in that moment he had no interest to anyway. He could, however, set those irksome twins to rights.

"Where's the twins at now, then? Or's that somethin' you don't know?"

"They was sent below, corp'ral." He looked thoughtful. "Honest isn't their fault. Any o' this." He shifted his weight from his left to his right food. " They was' jus' feeling ill, so .." He didn't know much of it, just what he had been told. "that's where they probably are. " He finished and then more quietly he added. "But.. dunno why you want them. Didn' do more n' bicker, today."

"Shut up," Johnson said. Insane. That's what this all was. Insane. "Mister Cartwright wants you standin' duty. Fine. Drummers don't run off at their mouths when asked simple questions."

Speak of the officerly devil. There was Mister Cartwright now, casually approaching the pair of them. Perfect. Johnson saluted the lieutenant. "Guardboat sentries relieved, sir. Just heard 'bout the Shepherds. I'm goin' below to see they've made it to the sawbones, sir."

"Carry on, Corporal," Mister Cartwright said mildly. Johnson saluted again and departed toward the ladder. Everybody was out of their bleeding minds!

He couldn't go. He had to stand duty like a real drummer lad on duty. He wanted to warn the Shepherds or to tell Johnson that they had nothing to do with it. Didn't Cartwright's agreement mean that it was legal, alright? He didn't know if Johnson would heed those words though, but he had to be quiet so he had indeed shut up the moment he was so told. Quiet as a mouse. And stiff as a mast. He watched Johnson leave and sighed.

After a few moments De Guarde looked at mister Cartwright pleadingly, but said nothing. None of his.. fellow conspirators were supposed to get in trouble. There was still hope. Cartwright.

Oxley had managed to avoid Mister Cartwright, which was good. What was not so good was seeing Corporal Johnson coming below, looking... looking rather put out, to put it mildly. He wasn't sure quite what to do with himself, but settled for deciding to work on his other trousers; the hem was coming down a bit on one leg and he couldn't leave it too much longer. Avoiding coming to the corporal's attention was always good, but he didn't think he could avoid it forever.

He just hoped the corporal hadn't noticed who it was who was standing in as duty drummer up topside.

Of all the harebrained schemes those twins had come up with, this one had to be the worst. Johnson couldn't think of any other time he wanted to wring both their necks more.

"Shepherds," he snapped as he came onto the messdeck. A cursory glance over the scattered Marines didn't reveal the two identical faces he was looking for. Damn it all.

The lad De Guarde had a pleading expression on his face. Understandably. Cartwright offered him a fleeting smile. "Carry on, lad," he said quietly. Corporal Johnson could stamp and grumble all he liked, but there wasn't a thing he could do about the arrangement. God help him if he tried!

Oxley started as Johnson called for the Shepherd lads, but neither of them were anywhere to be seen, which could probably only be good.

They'd all be on extra duties for the next three years, probably, if the corporal had his way... after a very painful encounter with the gunner's daughter.

Though fleeting, De Guarde caught on the smile and nodded sharply. "Sah." He said loud enough for Cartwright to hear and much less fleeting smile appeared on his own face. If they had Cartwight on their side they were good. Not even Johnson's best ravings could make anything happen that Cartwright did not approve of.

He glanced along the deck and grinned. Johnson could bark all he wished, but he will not bite. There. And when the time for the drum to be used would come, he would do his best. He'd do right and thus impress ..well those who could be impressed and make Johnson see he was wrong. That would feel the best. Make Johnson eat his complaints , because De Guarde would do no worse than any drummer. If the officers would listen, they'd not notice a difference!

No answer. Johnson silently cursed every man on the messdeck. "So where's they at?" He demanded, shifting his gaze toward Oxley, who out of everybody else was most likely to know.

Uh-oh. The Corporal was looking right at him.

He scrambled to his feet, abandoning his work on the mess-table and coming properly to attention. "They was sent to see the sawbones, Corp'ral. The... Mister Cartwright said I was goin' to be relieved all proper-like at the right time, though." And it wasn't his fault if it'd been de Guarde who'd been sent up to take over.

Though how did Mister Cartwright know he could do the job? Oxley knew he hadn't told the officer that.

"Did they."

It had to be a miracle for the twins to do what they were told without being chased. Johnson shook his head and headed away up forrard. Devil take Mister Cartwright and his notions!

"Good lad," Cartwright remarked, before turning to make his way back to the quarterdeck. He wished to finish his conversation with the sailing master before retiring below.

Damn, damn damn. Johnson wasn't supposed to go of for'rard after the twins! That wasn't on - and they were going to think he, Oxley, had dumped them in it, when that was about as far from the truth as you could get. He'd tried to keep them out of trouble, after all, even if it meant getting in trouble himself.

Was there a way he could get for'rard in front of the Corporal and warn them? He had to try.

Abandoning his sewing, he scrambled up the aft companionway, running along the gundeck to try to get to the sickbay ahead of the Corporal.

The sawbones had finally finished looking them over, a process which had included asking more questions than Andrew Shepherd thought the man had any business asking. He'd found nothing obviously wrong with either of them, however, and had certified them as fit to return to duty.

"Finally," he grumbled to his brother, slipping his arms back into his jacket. "This one's still all yer fault, y'know."

Thomas scowled at him. "Ain't! It weren't me that got Mister Cartwright thinkin' we was both ill."

"Didn't see ya helpin' any - oi, what's allayer rush, Oxley?"

Oxley skidded to a stop. "Mister Cartwright sent Buckles to take over from me - dunno for why - and Corp'ral Johnson seen him, an' he's after you 'cause he thinks it's summat to do with you two, though I never tole him nothin' 'bout it all." He looked from one to the other. "Promise, if there's goin' to be any trouble, I'm goin' to be in it too - I ain't keepin' out of it all, 'cause it was as much my idea as anyone's."

It would be easy enough for Oxley to stay out of trouble and let the Shepherds and de Guarde carry the can, after all. But his conscience wouldn't let him do that.

Andrew said something foul. Why did Corporal Johnson always have to stick his nose into everything?

"So there's a Tar standin' in as drummer?" Thomas asked, less obviously affected by Oxley's report. "An' Mister Cartwright's let him?"

"Who cares? We gotta - "

"Hello, lads," Corporal Johnson said, appearing from aft. "Feelin' better, are you?"

"Yeah - took over from me when the watches changed," Oxley said, and gulped as Johnson spoke up from behind him. Great. Just wonderful. They were going to be in so much trouble.

"A bit, Corporal," Andrew replied, putting his heels together in the same moment as his brother. Naturally.

Johnson gazed down at the three drummers expressionlessly. "Good then. You're both fit for standing your own watches. Next watch, I 'spect to see one of you two up there, where you oughta be."

That was it? Oxley let out a long slow breath. His heart was still pounding. That couldn't be it, surely? He didn't dare look at Johnson's face, and settled for staring at the trunk of the foremast as it passed through the deck-head, wondering when the blowing-up was coming.

There was a slight gargle from Andrew, before he said, "Mister Cartwright don't want us standin' watches just yet, I don't think, Corporal. 'Count of us bein' ill."

If he could've done so and gotten away with it, Thomas would have put his elbow into Andrew's ribs. Instead, he offered a meek, "Bit of bad salt-pork, Corporal. Oughta be right's rain by the evenin'."

"That so." Johnson didn't look convinced. "And what're you doin' down here, Oxley? Thought I'd just seen you on the messdeck."

Oxley opened his mouth, and closed it again. "Need the head, Corp'ral an' thought I'd stop by and see how they was, like, on account of 'em bein' a bit off-colour."

Not the best excuse ever, but the best he could come up with on short notice. He never liked being interrogated by Corporal Johnson for anything.

"On your way, then," Johnson said.

Thomas shifted the barest bit. "Not feelin' so well, Corporal. P'mission to 'port to our hammocks, like?"

"Sawbones ain't keepin' you?"

"No, Corporal. Best to rest on the messdeck, he said."

An expression of distaste flitted across the corporal's face. "Very well. Straight to your bleedin' hammocks, and no-place else. It'll be double-watches apiece when you're both well again."

"Aye, aye, Corp'ral," Oxley said, and turned to go, but paused as he heard Johnson's last words. Double watches? Did that mean, for him as well, or just the two Shepherds? Because, really that should include him as well - he was no more innocent than they were.

"Aye aye, Corporal," the twins chorused and headed aft immediately. It was a clever bit of talking on Thomas' part, getting them effectively confined to their hammocks. Free, undisturbed sleep. Despite the promise of double-watches for each of them, it was a very nice little victory.

"Now that is me own fault," Thomas told his brother with a smirk.

"Aye, not bad," Andrew replied. "Might's well get settled, then. Old Tom'll have more to say 'bout our new drummer when he's back, I'll bet!"