26th May, morning at anchor

Chandos climbed the stairs to the quarterdeck looking slightly more puzzled and wary than usual. He approached the first lieutenant cautiously.

Bush had been squinting against the glare of the sun and cursing his own stupidity for allowing himself to imbibe too much the previous evening. In truth, the sun was not all that bright at the moment, but his steady throbbing headache was making any kind of light a source of irritation. When he heard a sudden loud stomping coming from the stairs, Bush immediately turned and saw Chandos making his way up. Of course the boy was not stomping -- he was treating quite gingerly, if anything. But the sound of his shoes on the wood only made Bush's head ring all the more.

"What is it, Mr. Chandos?" he snapped, a bit more forcefully than necessary.

"Excuse me sir, there's a boat coming alongside," Chandos said, speaking in a rather private voice.

"A boat?" Bush frowned, "Well who is in it? What do they want? And why, Mr. Chandos, are you being so secretive about it?"

Hopefully it was not something that required the Captain's attention. After the incident with the provosts, Bush was not anticipating another round of annoyance being brought over in a boat.

Chandos frowned, trying to think of the best way to explain it. "It's a local boat, sir. With... someone hailing you by name, sir."

A local boat, with someone hailing him by name? Granted, Bush was already having a hard enough time keeping his thoughts in line, but this would have been downright confusing no matter how he was feeling. He had assumed anyone from shore would be wanting to see the Captain, or simply any one of the officers. But this person was asking for him by name. Who would possibly be asking for him? And he was starting to get decidedly annoyed by how vague Chandos was being about the whole affair. Not to mention that his unwell state was already making Bush have an even shorter fuse than usual, so all of this was only serving to aggravate him further.

"Mr. Chandos, will you cease being so confoundedly vague and tell me who is the person in the boat," he demanded, "And why on Earth do they wish to see me?"

In spite of being the seniormost midshipman and well accustomed to the first lieutenant's manner, Chandos was at a loss. "I - I'm sorry, sir, it's a Portuguese woman. I don't know what she wants, sir. She's - she's there."

And now the barge was pulling alongside the quarterdeck instead of approaching at the gangway.

"Lieutenant Bush!" The young woman was calling and waving from the stern of the rabelo. "Lieutenant Bush, I have you wine! For you!"

"A Portuguese woman..." Bush began, but broke off upon realising who it must be. Oh dear God. Surely she had not come all the way out to the ship?

Yes, she had, for now he could hear her calling up to him from the boat. Just when Bush was certain his morning could not get any worse. Cursing silently, he made his way over to the side.

"Ma'am, what are you doing here?" he shouted, "You know perfectly well that I did not request any wine! So what in heaven's name is your purpose in coming to the ship?"

The woman smiled and nodded in response to his words and answered with a cheerful babble of Portuguese.

Bush grimaced and closed his eyes in frustration. Oh for the love of...

"What...are...you...doing...here?" he shouted again, clearly pronouncing each word. He knew the woman could speak at least some English, enough to understand those words, anyway.

The outbreak of shouting above was unusual enough that it brought Cartwright on deck in a hurry, such that he nearly left his hat and sword behind. Sudden raised voices rarely meant good things.

To his relief, he saw there was no widespread alarm. There was, however, a woman in a barge, apparently trading shouts with Mister Bush. What the devil...?

"I'll be damned," he remarked when he reached the rail and saw conclusively who the woman was. "Shall I have the guardboat show her off, sir?"

That was something they should have done without direction, had they been tending their station properly.

"I would appreciate that, Mr. Cartwright," Bush said, shaking his head, "I can't believe she actually came out to the ship. And I still have no idea what her true purpose for coming might be. She claims to have wine for me, but as you can testify, I asked for no such thing."

Cartwright nodded. That was nothing but the truth. "Aye, sir." He turned away to look for the guardboat, which should have taken note of the disturbance and come to investigate.

Perhaps the devious woman understood their intentions, or perhaps she did not. Whichever the case, she now stood up in the stern of her boat and promptly fell into the water with a shriek.

The seamen who had been privately oggling her or smothering laughter at the first luff's distress now ran to the rail in alarm.

"Bend your backs, you lads!"

The guardboat, abruptly summoned by the quarterdeck, came sweeping around the stern. Previously, it had been casually gliding along, its oarsmen in no particular fear of anyone approaching the frigate who shouldn't.

Corporal Johnson stared forward at the drifting barge with the usual scowl on his face. What the hell was all this? They had been alarmed just for a crewless barge?

"Man overboard!" Somebody on Terpsy cried. "There!"

So there was. One of the seamen in the guardboat's bow heaved his oar inboard and grabbed up a boathook. Johnson rolled his eyes. This would be interesting.

Paul Perry was one of the seamen lining the rail, watching with interest more than alarm. But he winced as the boat hook was dragged across the woman's arm. "Careful with that!" Clumsy buggers.

The woman in the water screeched as if to agree with his assessment. Not only was the boathook edged with sharp burrs, but it was also rather heavy. It was difficult to tread water weighted down with a large piece of metal. Stupid English!

Man overboard? Oxley shot a glance in de Guarde's direction, shrugged and scrambled up the companionways to the weather deck to take a look for himself. There was certainly some splashing around in the water down there... and there was the guardboat, coming for'ard. Corporal Johnson was aboard, thankfully, which meant they were less likely to get in trouble for their prank, unless one of the officers noticed something wasn't quite right with the drummer.

It wasn't as though they'd put him on duty without teaching him what any drummer needed to know, though, so it wasn't like they were endangering the ship in any way. And he'd have to report the goings-on to de Guarde later, to make up to him for his missing it all.

"Heave!" The guardboat's midshipman barked.

The seaman in the bow obligingly heaved, bringing the struggling mass of skirts closer to the boat.

This heaving and pulling and scraping kept dragging the young woman's head beneath the waves, not to mention the weight of the hook. Stupid English! Wouldn't she tell them a thing or two...

"The boat's driftin' away!" Perry said fretfully. He turned to the nearest officer, a midshipman whose name he had not yet learned. "Shall I fetch 'er back, sir? Hook 'er on 'longside? I know how to steer a rabelo."

"Got her, sir!" The bowman reported. Aided by another seaman, he reached down for the woman in the water.

~

Mister Chandos shook his head. "No. The boat can be retrieved later. It's hardly worth worrying over right now anyway, Perry."

The woman coughed and snorted indignantly as she was dragged and scraped over the gunwales like a fishing net. But once tumbled in to the boards at their feet, she was all gratitude.

"Obrigado, obrigado senhors," she gasped with a touching mixture of relief and admiration.

A woman? What in the world was a woman doing out here? She didn't look like one of the bumboat women who came out to ships in port - which was understandable, as this place wasn't exactly a port, not like Portsmouth.

Bush could barely believe this was happening. First the woman had the gall to come all the way out to the ship. Then she had to go and cause a ruckus among the men by making a spectacle of herself falling overboard. Now she was in the guard boat, which would presumably be bringing her aboard the ship. There was already a group of the men gathering around the rail, watching. It was bad enough that she was going to annoy Bush himself, but he was not going to have her distracting the men as well.

"Clear off, all of you! Back to your duties!" he barked as he approached them. Dear Lord, none of this aggravation was doing his headache any good.