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| When Darkness Falls; 1 July 1751 - Dark Day at the Fort | |
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| Topic Started: 27 Mar 2008, 08:37 PM (182 Views) | |
| Royal Navy & Marines | 27 Mar 2008, 08:37 PM Post #1 |
5th Lieutenant
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  OOC - This thread occurs after With Honours IC - Resentment was running high around the fort. Roughly half the remaining Port Royal garrison was still in hospital, recovering from wounds sustained during the mutiny. With more men from the Kingston battalion - newly arrived from the brief voyage across the wide bay - taking over responsibility for guarding the fort, the remaining Port Royal garrison was relieved of all duties. This, naturally, gave them too much time to sit idle, and most of the men slipped toward varying states of depression as they began the unpleasant work of sorting through their dead mates' sea-chests. As was the custom, there would be an auction of all the dead men's kit, with the final profit being given over to Major Cartwright for sending home to the various families, if any were known. The work also helped distract them from thinking about the funeral parade of the day before. A handful of men idled outside the barracks, attempting to calm their frayed nerves by lighting their pipes. Kingston marines were everywhere, patrolling the walltops and working to repair the last of the easily-repairable damage around the fort. Tradesmen would be needed to set the more complicated repairs right. The Port Royal marines paid little heed to anything going on around the fort, for observations only heightened their sense of frustration and bitterness at being supplanted. Even the weather seemed to be inclined toward them; Sergeant Myles, in taking an unwilling turn about the walltops, noted storm clouds gathering on the western horizon. He reported this to his marines, since he had begun taking refuge in the barracks with them. Doing so spared him the trial of sharing space with the Kingston sergeants, who had taken over both the sergeants' quarters and mess. "Just s'well there'll be a storm," Frazier grumbled after hearing of the storm clouds. "It'll give those Kingston sods a proper soaking, won't it?" The other marines made half-hearted noises of agreement and either snuffed out their pipes or spat out the last of their tobacco leaf, then shuffled back into the barracks. Frazier stayed where he was, leaning against the barracks wall and looking morose. He didn't want to help sort out anybody's sea-chests; in fact, he didn't want to help do much of anything. Except, perhaps, venture down to the dungeons and trade a few angry words with the traitors being held there. All of those bastards had been court-martialled and, with the exception of a few who had been pardoned, were to be executed the following day. The pardons had been the work of Major Cartwright, who had been pretty damned vocal in his advocacy of the group. Cartwright had been pretty damned vocal in most matters relating to what was left of the Port Royal battalion, in everything from watch responsibilities to care of the wounded. That had surprised the rest of the garrison, but to Frazier at least, it was a mark of Cartwright's suitability as an officer. After being let down so greatly by Forsythe, having their captain actively fight for them was a great relief. "Oi, Frazier. Look!" It was Smith, trotting after him and pointing skyward. Frazier looked up and his eyes went wide. The storm clouds Myles had spotted earlier were fast approaching and was filling up the entire sky. "Blimey. It'll be a proper thunderin' gale, ain't it?" The two Leeds natives changed their course and headed for the walltop, curious about the dark, heavy clouds. They were fully ignored by the Kingston marines who were patrolling, but they hardly cared. Down on the parade ground, a donkey-faced boy lifted his bugle and called Recall, bringing the Kingston marines back from their fatigue details. Frazier and Smith paused on the sea-ward battlement and looked over the harbour despairingly. There were six warships lying at anchor, three of them from Kingston. The staggering number of marines that had come with the mighty first-rate was the surest sign that the Port Royal garrison had no hope of returning to its former role as protector of the town. Cartwright's sacking and replacement by the unpopular Captain Stevenson only cemented the resentment against the Kingston interlopers. "Blimey." Smith gasped, as the clouds slipped overhead and hid the sun. The growing darkness was drawing notice from all over the fort, sending the Kingston marines scurrying for the guardhouse for rain-cloaks so they wouldn't get caught out when the rain started. "C'mon mate, the lads'll want to see this!" They hurried back toward the barracks, as the dark storm clouds continued their swift advance across the sky. It was almost fully dark by the time they reached the two-storey building, but no rain had fallen. Near the barracks door, someone had hung up a lantern to provide some measure of illumination. Smith glanced at it only for an instant as he started to follow his mate inside, then he stopped abruptly and looked again. "Frazier... Nick, mate. C'mere." Frazier looked almost cross as he came back out the door. "What?" Smith opened the lantern's shutter, revealing the strange, pale green glow of the flame within. "Ain't natural, this here." He looked skyward, at the inky black gloom of the clouds, and shuddered. "That ain't natural neither." Other marines were coming out of the barracks by then, annoyed by the darkness within. Once they saw the green flame in the lantern and Smith standing next to it, however, there was an instant uproar. Startled and worried shouts rang out as the marines scattered away from the strange light. A group of Kingston marines came scampering toward them, thinking that the disturbance was a fight. "Oi, the lanterns! Look!" Davenport cried, pointing at the lanterns being carried by the Kingston men. "Dios mio." One of the Kingston marines gave a surprised yelp when he saw the green flame and heaved his lantern away. The lantern exploded with a pop, sending a brief spurt of sickly green fire into the air. Several men crossed themselves and loudly declared that the unnatural occurrence was the work of the Devil. There was a general clamour all around the fort now, as other men took notice of the strange colour of the fire in the lanterns. A Port Royal marine pointed at the Kingston men and cried " 'Tis all their doin', nothin' been right since they came!" "Turn 'em out, the evil bastards!" Another man cried. The Port Royal marines shouted in agreement, suddenly having an outlet for their fear and panic. "They're cursed, they is!" "Run lads!" A Kingston man yelled, already sprinting toward the partial safety of the guardhouse. His mates quckly followed and were closely pursued by the Port Royal marines. The latter had encountered cursed men before, which contributed to their fervor. In their already-agitated state, it would not have taken any real provocation to excite them into action, but the sight of the green flames had been more than enough. Those Kingston bastards weren't going to escape their just punishment for bringing more black magic and evil down upon the town! |
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| James Gray | 21 Apr 2008, 03:16 PM Post #2 |
Warrant Officer
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Jemmy was sitting near the group of idlers outside the barracks, he was watching them with his eyes most of the way closed and sitting right in the dust. They were off duty because of the mutiny and so he could pick what he wanted to do with his time. He didn’t want to paw through the stuff that belonged to dead men to see what it might be worth. He wanted to have something assigned to do but the Kingston marines were doing their jobs for them. It was funny how he separated himself from the Kingston marines even though he came from the garrison just a few months before…With Corporal Dryden and his squad. When Jemmy thought that, he looked a bit harder at the men who were patrolling the wall top and constructing repairs around the fort. He knew a lot of those men. They weren’t any different from the Port Royal marines really. They all wore the same uniform. Why had it become us versus them…That was as insane as what caused the mutiny in the first place. After his mistakes before the mutiny Jemmy was seeing things with different eyes now. The resentment that was still boiling up was a dangerous poison. It came from the inactivity of the marines who were relieved of their duties but those men weren’t finding themselves things to do. Someone should have kept them drilling if there wasn’t anything else that they would be trusted to do. Otherwise something ugly would happen. But it would be a while before it happened, or that was what Jemmy thought before he heard Smith shout to Frazier who had stayed outside of the barracks pretty close to Jemmy, “Oi, Frazier. Look!” He was pointing up at the sky. Jemmy looked too. It looked like a hurricane was getting together, ugly low flying black clouds were gathering right over the port. The light was already getting dimmer and he felt like the clouds were closing the air in on them. It wasn’t the right season for a storm like this. Jemmy felt uneasy, like a cat before a thunderstorm he wanted to get up and escape, he pushed himself up from the dirt and started walking. Frazier and Smith were running to the wall top and he thought he would follow them. The air was strange and heavy this close to the ground, maybe with a bit of height there would be more wind. There was no wind that he could feel but something had to push those clouds around. He was a little way behind Frazier and Smith up onto the wall top but it didn’t get any better higher up, it still felt like the air was too thick, like it was smokey, but he couldn’t smell any smoke or anything. No, actually he could, there was a strange sicky sweet smell in the air like something rotten. The clouds were coming fast now and they stretched over the sun to hide it, it was just a faint glow now and it was almost dark. Jemmy was still held frozen on the wall top while Frazier and Smith ran past him back down to the barracks. He was staring at the clouds with fear coming with the sign of nausea in his belly, there was something really wrong about this. The air was too still without any wind to drive the clouds but they were racing across the sky. It was getting almost pitch black and that was what sent Jemmy back down, suddenly he wanted to get inside, back to lights. He was just a few seconds behind Frazier and Smith and he caught up to them when Smith stopped and called Frazier out, “Frazier…Nick, mate. C’mere.” Frazier came back out and asked “What?” Smith reached up to the lantern that was hanging outside of the barracks door and he opened the shutter of the lantern, with the block removed the light could shine out. It was a sick green color like nothing Jemmy ever saw before. It almost didn’t give any light at all. It looked greasy somehow and like it was alive, it curled around like it was reaching toward Smith’s fingers on the shutter door although the other marine didn’t see it when it did that. Jemmy’s skin crawled and he stepped away from the lantern into the hungry black darkness, that was when the chaos started, the other Port Royal marines spilled out of the barracks and saw the lights. A group of Kingston marines came up to see what was happening, horrified shouting came out of the darkness here and there. Davenport swore in Spanish and men called on God and then the name of the Devil went out, it was Devil work. Jemmy wasn’t sure what to believe, he stopped thinking that God cared about the world a long time ago but that didn’t rule out the Devil. It was totally pitch black now except for the sinister green light, they were both equally sickening and frightful. Jemmy stayed half on the edge of the tainted light because getting too deep into the sucking darkness was a hideous idea, but he didn’t want to get close to the light either. He was frightened for the first time in a few years and he didn’t have the safety of a prayer that the other men did. He stopped backing up and he headed for the group of marines, there was safety in numbers. Then one of the Port Royal men pointed at the Kingston men that came up to investigate and he shouted “’Tis all their doin’, nothin’ been right since they came!” “Turn ‘em out, the evil bastards!” “They’re cursed, they is!” The ugly thing was happening. The Kingston marines turned around and they ran for the guardhouse to lock themselves in, they were just ahead of the Port Royal marines. Jemmy was left behind the rest of them in the dwindling light and he was lost for a minute in the blackness. It was like it was eating his thoughts, he couldn’t even think about what was happening because of the sick feeling in his gut. He could still smell the strange odor. He felt a cold breath of something go down his back and he jumped around and looked behind him, he stared into the blackness but he couldn’t see anything. Jemmy broke and ran for the guardhouse, the Kingston marines had shut the door and the Port Royal men were gathered outside. Jemmy just pulled up into the circle of men not because he was going to attack the guardhouse but because he couldn’t stand to be out in the dark alone. It helped a little bit and he could think more. When he was blind with fear he was not better than an animal but now he was a man again. He could see dimly he was standing next to Davenport. If Jemmy could find Sergeant Myles he knew that would be the right thing to do, the sergeant would put a stop to this. But he couldn’t face the idea of going out into the blackness alone and trying to find Sergeant Myles. He might freeze up again. He remembered Davenport in the days before the mutiny, when they were assigned to the same barracks cleaning detail. Jemmy remembered that Davenport had a better head on his shoulders than most of the marines and that he could command them if he wanted to. He was pretty sure that they wouldn’t follow himself but they might follow Davenport. Jemmy said in a quick and low voice to the other marine “Davenport this has to stop before more of us get charged with mutiny. It can’t be anything to do with the Kingston men. Come on, they’re marines no different than we are.” Jemmy shuddered. “they are as afraid of this as we are…they can’t have caused it.” |
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| Royal Navy & Marines | 24 Apr 2008, 03:29 PM Post #3 |
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5th Lieutenant
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 The group of Kingston men made it to the guardhouse only a handful of paces ahead of the wound-up Port Royal marines, but it was not an assured protection. Somebody smashed the window nearest the door and heaved a hunk of stone inside, while others hammered at the door. Davenport had gone with the herd of Port Royal marines and had in fact been close to the front of the pack, in essence leading the charge. Two lads from Jones' section were ahead of him, howling like banshess the entire way. From somewhere inside the guardhouse, a voice cried out in alarm as one of the Port Royal marines began heaving himself through the window. A collective roar of anger rolled up from the mob of marines when that man was clubbed back out the window by a musket butt. Davenport saw Ware throw himself against the door, which gave a noticeable crack. Another marine was quick to join him and their mates cheered their efforts. Somebody appeared close by Davenport's elbow but the half-Spanish marine ignored whoever it was. At least he did until the other man spoke. “Davenport this has to stop before more of us get charged with mutiny. It can’t be anything to do with the Kingston men. Come on, they’re marines no different than we are.” the second marine said. “They are as afraid of this as we are…they can’t have caused it.” The word mutiny was the only thing that instantly grabbed Davenport's attention. He paused, in the middle of drawing back to throw a rock toward the broken window, and glanced over at the other marine in bewilderment. Mutiny. It felt almost like he was waking up from a daze as he came back to his senses. Mutiny... "¿Qué?" He asked, forgetting for a moment that no one but himself understood Spanish. "How d'you reckon I stop anythin', then?" The alarm was being raised as the other Kingston marines realised what was going on. Men were clattering down from the walltop with angry shouts and Davenport sneered. He didn't care what happened to the Kingston men, but if those snide bastards thought they had the upper hand in anything involving the fort, they were sadly mistaken. "They're comin' fer a drubbin', boys!" Tom Carter howled, flinging an arm out to point at the Kingston men who were moving to surround the mob of Port Royal marines. "Turn 'em out! Turn 'em out!" A piece of wood torn from the guardhouse's window-sill whistled past Davenport's head toward the approaching Kingston men. One of them shouted in surprise, then the Port Royal marines were charging forward with vengeful bellows. They had taken more than they could bear and in the heavy, clinging darkness, they were no better than a mindless rabble. Davenport leapt at a passing marine and all but tackled the man to the dirt. "C'mon, we gotta find the Colour-Sarn't!" If anybody could get a handle on this madness, the formidable Crawford could. |
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| James Gray | 24 Apr 2008, 06:01 PM Post #4 |
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Warrant Officer
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The mob of marines were roaring and yelling and they were ready to kill the unlucky Kingston men that were hiding in the guard house. The window was smashed in and they were working on the door. But the Kingston marines were holding back, the only thing they did was to club one of the marines trying to climb in the window in the face. They had muskets, they could have loaded and fired their muskets or even used their bayonets but they didn't. Someone must be keeping order and control of the Kingston men inside. That was good because if they started shooting then this would be worse than hell in seconds. Davenport obviously didn't know what Jemmy was saying, he was out of his mind. But then Jemmy said the magic word and Davenport turned back from what he was doing and he stared at Jemmy. Then he said "¿Qué?" but Jemmy didn't know what HE was saying now. But at least Davenport was paying attention, then he asked "How d'you reckon I stop anythin', then?" Jemmy started to tell him - because they will do what you tell them you fool! Probably. But there was more shouting now that the Kingston marines figured out what was happening in the darkness, the alarm was raised and Jemmy didn't say what he was going to say. There was one person Jemmy looked out for on top of everything else and that was Jemmy, he was not going to be caught in this and accused of mutiny. In the dark he thought he could get out of this pretty easy. He left Davenport and he was going for the edge of the mob now to escape before the Kingston marines surrounded them. He couldn't see everything that was happening but he heard the roar when the Port Royal marines turned around and fought at bay, Jemmy was carried with the wave although he didn't mean to attack. He turned to the side as soon as he could before the two sides clashed. Jemmy was making a dash for it when somebody smashed into him and he found himself wrestling in the dark for a little bit with the marine but then a Spanish accent said "C'mon, we gotta find the Colour-Sarn't!" "Davenport?" Jemmy said wheezing. "Thank god you are still sane," sane and thinking too, Davenport was right that they had to find Crawford. Crawford would put the fear of Crawford into the crazed men. "He has to be in the sergeant's mess or their quarters. Lets go!" He didn't waste any time, it was completely black but he knew the fort for memory and he could run through it even if he was blind. Jemmy couldn't have gone into the black alone but with a friend it was a little better. |
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| Royal Navy & Marines | 26 Apr 2008, 12:25 AM Post #5 |
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5th Lieutenant
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 To his shock, the marine he had tackled turned out to be Gray, who he'd been talking to only a moment before. Davenport didn't really care who he grabbed though, because that marine would be coming with him to find the Colour-Sergeant whether he liked it or not. "He has to be in the sergeants' mess or their quarters. Let's go!" Yes. That was it. Davenport slowed his stride and glanced over his shoulder toward the roiling mass of shouting, fighting men behind him and realised that there was no way to tell who was who. Then his feet caught up on themselves and he hit the hard-packed dirt with a sharp curse. He was quick to pick himself up and keep moving, embarrassed that he'd fallen. Such was the stifling darkness that Davenport didn't realise that the sergeants' mess was in front of him until he ran smack into the building's wall. The impact knocked him backwards, straight onto his arse. Dazed, since he had somehow managed to strike his head against the mess's wall, Davenport blinked and for a moment felt a jolt of panic when he discovered that he couldn't see. Then he remembered that it was far too dark to be able to see. "Colour-Sarn't!" The half-Spanish marine hollered, picking himself off the ground for the second time in about as many minutes. He charged into the mess without bothering to knock and narrowly avoided tripping over a chair. There was no response to his hail, which was very odd and unnerving. There weren't even any Kingston sergeants in here? Davenport turned and started toward the door, before checking himself and measuring his steps carefully. He was in no hurry to take a third fall if he could help it. Fortunately, he made it back outside without suffering the indignity of landing on his face. The brawl by the guardhouse was growing, if the clamour of shouting voices was anything to judge by. He tumbled into the smaller sergeants' quarters as much by luck as by desgin and bawled "Colour-Sarn't! Rouse up, the lads're in it bad!" To his absolute delight, he heard the familiar, unmistakable rasp of Crawford's voice somewhere in the darkness. "Ain't you knob-headed fops ever heard that this - " the Colour-Sergeant's voice trailed off as he too realised that it was unnaturally dark, especially inside the quarters. "What've you done with the sun, Davenport?" The half-Spanish marine had to laugh. Even half-awake, the Colour-Sergeant could tell who he was just by his voice. "Dunno what's doin' with the sun, Colour-Sarn't, but the lads're tyin' into it with them Kingston bastards. Half outta their heads, they are." "Idiots," Crawford growled and there was a crash as he knocked something over, mostly when he rolled off his bunk. In only a minute or two, the big marine was lurching toward them, cursing with almost every step. At least they finally had a powerful sort of deterrent on their side now. Crawford pushed blindly past the two marines in the doorway and stamped irritably toward the brawl - which was swiftly turning into a riot. Sickly green fire contained within several lanterns bobbed around the outside of the dark, shapeless, shifting mass of swearing, fighting men. There was the sharp tinkle of breaking glass and suddenly a higher-toned crack followed it - coincided by the leaping tongue of a muzzle flash which, in the unholy darkness, flared a bright green instead of white. "Bastards're firin' on us!" somebody screamed. The shouting doubled, if it was possible and Davenport felt a twisting knot of dread in the pit of his stomach. This wasn't good. Crawford was racing toward the brawl, thundering obscenity-laden threats and warnings as he went. Sucking in a steadying breath, Davenport followed. Hopefully the Colour-Sergeant's fearless authority would be enough to dispel the mob before anything else happened. |
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| James Gray | 2 May 2008, 10:41 PM Post #6 |
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Warrant Officer
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Jemmy and Davenport were tripping over all kinds of things in the darkness including what seemed like it might be just their own feet. Davenport fell full length once and cursed, and Jemmy stumbled when he tried to slow down for Davenport and he almost fell as well. He didn’t want to lose the other marine in the darkness. They didn’t bring a lantern with them and they were running blind. But it was pretty easy to figure out where Davenport was anyway because of the cursing. Jemmy was cursing a bit too, he didn’t even really realize that he was doing it but he was just muttering a whole stream of expletives and profanity and obscenity. When he ran out of curses he cycled back to the beginning and went through them again, it was almost a sort of prayer or chant to help him keep courage in the dark. Because although Jemmy would have been humiliated forever if anyone knew it, he was very close to becoming a coward right now. He could feel cold sweat all over his body and now that he was out of the ring of the green lights he wanted to curl up into a ball and hide somewhere. But instead he was running beside Davenport and he was cursing to keep himself from losing his nerves. There was a thud just ahead of him when Davenport rammed into the wall and Jemmy stopped just in time to keep himself from following the same fate. He felt around in the darkness for the wall and then for Davenport to give him a hand up, but the marine already picked himself up off the ground and he shouted “Colour-Sarn’t!” The two of them felt their way into the sergeant’s mess but there wasn’t any answer, there was nobody there. Jemmy shuddered in the darkness. They left the sergeant’s mess and followed the wall of the building to the sergeant’s quarters, Davenport tried calling again here, “Colour-Sarn’t! Rouse up, the lads’re in it bad!” But this time there was an answer from a sleepy bull frog voice. “Ain’t you knob-headed fops ever heard that this – “ then it stopped and started again. “What’ve you done with the sun, Davenport?” Jemmy laughed at that, there wasn’t much to laugh at really but he couldn’t hold it back. A nervous laugh just came out of him that was more afraid than funny, and he might have said something about where Davenport might have shoved it. Just to help himself nerve up a little bit. But he stayed quiet instead and Davenport said “Dunno what’s doin’ with the sun, Colour-Sarn’t, but the lads’re tyin’ into it with them Kingston bastards. Half outta their heads, they are.” Jemmy could hear Crawford growl “Idiots,” and then there was the sound of him crashing over obstacles in his way towards them, Jemmy got out of the way before he might get plowed under by Crawford on the war path. Jemmy and Davenport were left standing by the sergeant’s quarters for a bit as Crawford charged toward the green lights around the guard house. But then there was a new sound when the unmistakable sound of a musket shot went off, Jemmy went stiff where he was standing. That was what he hoped would not happen but now it had. “Bastards’re firin’ on us!” somebody screamed, Jemmy couldn’t tell whether it was a Port Royal marine or a Kingston marine but it didn’t matter really. Either side could have opened fire and whichever one it was it was a turn for the worst. He could hear the roaring increase, he looked blind over at where he knew Davenport was beside him and they ran forward together, he could hear Davenport’s foot steps beside him. Whatever was going to happen Jemmy was not going to be a coward, he was going to do his best to stop things. But Crawford was ahead of them, he would get there first. |
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| Royal Navy & Marines | 18 May 2008, 06:23 PM Post #7 |
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5th Lieutenant
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OOC - To clarify: Dunning wasn't shot when the second musket fired. He, like Davenport, was blinded by the muzzle flash and got shoved aside by somebody in the mad rush to flee from Crawford. Dunning, unlike Davenport, got trampled a bit. IC - The muzzle flash momentarily blinded the men closest to it, but those who had not seen the bright flare of light directly were not pleased. Lachlan, the kilt-favouring Scotsman, pushed a Kingston marine away and looked around for a way out of the pack of brawling men. He had no interest in getting caught in the middle of everything if those Kingston bastards decided to open up on the crowd. He'd seen the devastation such actions caused, back in Inverness during the "cleaning up" after the failed battle at Culloden. If a similar slaughter was to occur here, he wanted to be well away from it. A marine stumbled into him and Lachlan shoved the man away angrily. Then somebody grabbed him. He bulled against the other marine with an irritated snarl. "Gerroff - " "G'arn outta here," a deep voice rumbled. Suddenly cowed, for he recognised the voice as belonging to Colour-Sergeant Crawford, Lachlan ceased his resistance and obeyed. The Colour-Sergeant carried on ploughing through the tangle of bodies, roaring orders and heaving men out of his way. Lachlan paused but once, in time to dimly see somebody launch himself at a quickly-retreating line of shadows. The bloody fools, he thought, and stumbled away into the darkness. Davenport had followed the bullish Colour-Sergeant as closely as he could, given heart by the bigger marine's sure sense of authority. Where Gray had gone, he couldn't say but just then it hardly mattered. There was madness still broiling outside the guardhouse. While he'd recovered his senses, he wasn't about to pass up the chance to get another couple of licks in before Crawford drove the brawlers apart. While the Colour-Sergeant cleared a path through the pack of bodies, Davenport seized hold of a marine carrying a musket and yanked the firelock away from him. The weapon left Davenport's hands an instant later as he flung it as far away as he could. It was better for everybody if all these blackguards were disarmed. Another blossom of bright green flared in the darkness, accompanied by the crack of exploding gunpowder. Somebody barked a gruff curse and a space cleared instantly around the man who'd fired. Blinded by the muzzle flash, Davenport saw nothing but brilliant, dancing spots in front of his eyes. He staggered a step or two sideways, feeling dazed by the unexpected burst of light, and didn't see the shadow two feet in front of him as it was pushed over by the rush of men trying to escape from the Colour-Sergeant. "Get 'long back to yer posts, ye wee snivellin' rats!" Crawford was thundering. The dull drumming of feet over dirt began to overtake the shouting, as marines - it was impossible to tell if they were Kingston or Port Royal men - fled away from the Colour-Sergeant. Davenport's feet caught on themselves again and another burst of brilliantly-bright spots exploded across his vision when he hit the ground. Blimey but that was three times he'd fallen over! Was he that unsteady on his feet? "Some lad, c'mon an' bear a hand here!" The half-Spanish marine shook his head gingerly and pushed himself up off the ground slightly, still mostly unable to see clearly. He recognised the voice, or at least thought he did, and looked toward it. There were still shadows of men moving around and a cluster of dark shapes close by to where Davenport had knocked himself over. "It's Dunning," somebody growled, as the dark mass shifted and moved swiftly away. The dazed feeling came stealing back over him and he figured he was better off staying on the ground. Crawford's booming voice could still be heard, though it was a little distant since the Colour-Sergeant had gone off in pursuit of somebody. Davenport squeezed his eyes shut in the hope of banishing the dancing spots of light that still clouded his vision. What a bloody miserable day this was. |
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