Day Trip

"Scuse me. " Marine boy Whyte had to get off this strange, rather scary looking house that moved without any horses. He stumbled a bit at the centre, between the two rows of chairs. "Woah." His leg falling asleep made him trip and fall on the floor in a rather undignified hip, long tails and all, lying at odd angles.

The sudden bellow from Mister Bush caused Chase to start and he nearly brained himself on the outside of the carriage.

"Sorry sir," Mister Evans said, hauling the bewildered topman back inside.

Once he was firmly settled in the cushioned seat again, Chase accepted his hat back. "Bloody officers," he muttered.

"You does a lot of 'on'y sayin'," Mayden scoffed. He glanced at the wide-eyed Branning and added, "Dunno why you ain't rememberin' nothin', Sarn't. It ain't that long since we left Antigua."

"Well, you's doin' a lot of not listenin'," Oxley retorted. "Tole you, din't I, we's from 1809. Dunno quite what year this is, though, what with all the fancy stuff."

"I think," Cartwright broke in evenly, "that the pair of you had ought to try your own share of quiet."

"Aye, aye, sir," Oxley muttered, turning to stare sulkily out of the window.

"Oy, can I get off?" Whyte asked turning about, and blinked. Ok, so some of the men wore aged uniforms, but at the same time strange and new to him. Then there was a familiar voice, who was sulky and. "Tommy? Toxy?" He asked and got back to his feet, clutching onto a seat with each hand. There were some people, the officers or similar, whom he had not noticed till then. Well atleast his friend was here too, so it meant he didn't need to run off this strange carriage!

Someone was trying to get his attention, but it didn't sound like anyone he was familiar with. And who, on this coach, called him 'Tommy' anyway? He turned around to find that the person trying to attract his attention was a lad of about his age, wearing the same old-fashioned uniform as Mayden was. He frowned.

"Tommy. Here you is!" Whyte scampered closer to Oxley. "What odd thing are you wearing? Look at you. N' that hat. What gives?" He shook his head. "Your hair, all short too!"

"Marines," Cartwright said, raising his voice just slightly in warning.

"Here, gerroff. I's wearin' uniform, ain't I. And me hair's allus been this short." He leaned away from the other lad. "Dunno what you's wearin', like. Look like his'n." He indicated the seats behind them with his thumb. "An' now you's goin' to get me in trouble with me officer."

He really didn't want Mister Cartwright getting angry with him.

Branning was still dumbfounded at Mayden's insistence that he was a sergeant, such that he looked carefully at both sleeves of his jacket to be sure there were no stripes there.

"Sir," he said cautiously. "Sir. I ain't a sergeant, am I?"

"Ye officer? Oh.." He looked at Cartwright and stared. That man he knew. That man was suppose to be dressed like a captain, like a captain with the proper uniform not like this. "...wot's cap'n Cartwright doin' .. wearin' that sort o' thing?"

He slipped into the seat beside Oxley. "You're daft. You had your hair long just like me!

"He's a L'tenant, has bin since afore he come aboard," Oxley said, glancing towards Mister Cartwright. "An' I never had me hair like that, not since I took the shillin', I ain't."

"No he wasn't! He ain't a lieutenant last I remember him, n' you should too. We both came 'board at t' same time. We did! Don't ye say you don't remember me, really? .. You used to call me Chalky!" He shook his head in disbelief. This was like one of those really odd dreams, come after the food wasn't exactly right, and he ate too much of it. Just the sort that would make people see really strange things.

Despite himself, Cartwright stared at Branning in disbelief. "No, Branning," he answered carefully. "You are not."

To his surprise, Branning looked relieved. "Thankee, sir."

"Cap'n who?" Mayden asked, frowning at Whyte, who wore the same coat as he. "What ship, boy?"

Cartwright cleared his throat. "I am not a captain, Private. And that is quite enough of such nonsense talk, from both of you," he said, looking at the two oddly-dressed Marines.

"Sounds like you need to have a word with him." Oxley indicated the seat behind them, where Mayden was sitting. "I bin in Terpsy for two years an' I'm sorry, but I never seen you afore, mate."

"Interesting," Blackwood observed quietly, unavoidably having heard the entire exchange. He glanced across the aisle at Captain Vickery with upraised eyebrows, wondering if the Rifles officer was as baffled with the Marines' conduct as he.

"Dauntless. Us." He pointed at Oxley and himself. "been with her when she sunk." He shuddered at that thought. "He'um.." Oxley said he was with Terpsy, which wasn't true at all. "Don't be tryin' ter be funny.. Tommy, couse there ain't no point in that."

He leaned closer towards Mayden, which meant he was with his knees on his seat, and leaning against the back, with his head peeking over it, and pointed at Cartwright. "...this all don't make sense at all. They say they ain't whom they ..ought to be, n' they're dressed funny." He kept his voice as low as he could, for Mayden to still understand and hear it.

Vickery glanced at Blackwood, raising his own eyebrow. He had not the faintest idea as to why the Marines were behaving so strangely. It was entirely unlike his previous encounters with them.

Mayden frowned. Dauntless? He'd never heard of such a ship.

"I knows of a 'Tenant Cartwright, m'self. 'Board of Falcon sloop," he said. "Same's Sarn't Brannin' there."

Apparently the other captain was at a loss for explanation as well.

"Are they usually this... daft?"

"Terp..." He paused. He had to make a stab at her proper name, to have any chance. "That is, Terpsykor, frigate. Bin aboard her since... since the year '06, along of Brannin', an' Thompson an'... Well, Mister Cartwright come later. But I'm real sorry, I've never seen you afore."

Vickery shook his head. "No. They're usually fairly sensible. Well, as sensible as Marines can be when stranded ashore. They don't always seem to exhibit common sense, but then, even soldiers don't always show that."

"Hm." Blackwood considered that a moment. That held true for any group of men. "I have little enough experience with Marines, myself. With the exception of those two in white..." he shrugged slightly. Who wore white facings these days, never mind coats of that particular style?