What the Cat Dragged In

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What the Cat Dragged In; Finch, Jecks...and whoever
Topic Started: 23 Dec 2008, 03:06 AM (861 Views)
Henry Jecks	23 Dec 2008, 03:06 AM Post #1
Deckhand Posts: 28 Group: Riffraff Member #2,112 Joined: 17 November 2008	[OOC] If you need more to work with, let me know and I can edit [/OOC] Henry counted the steps to the door of the receiving room and wondered for perhaps the hundredth time how bad death by starvation could really be. He tried to imagine what it would be like and found he could not. How bad could it be? What a monumentally stupid question. Henry ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. Two days without food must have gotten to his head. The real question was: could it be worse than this goddamn waiting. Waiting for what? Imminent humiliation? And then starving anyway? He could find work elsewhere, couldn't he? He didn't need to put up with this shite. He was almost to the door when his rationalizations finally failed and the realization that he really had nowhere else to go turned him back around. Returning to the bench, he flung himself down—a little too hard—and sucked in a breath, clutching his left side and cursing the slow mending ribs. The other occupants of the receiving room glanced at him with a mixture of suspicion and annoyance. They probably thought he was daft and maybe they were right; this wasn't exactly one of his better ideas. Convincing someone that he was a competent medical assistant was laughable in his state. It wasn't even technically true. He hadn't completed his degree let alone the requisite term of assistantship—unless one counted his time with Fletcher, and somehow he doubted that mention of Fletcher would exactly inspire confidence. Mention of L'Herrisson certainly wouldn't. However, considering some of his previous bad ideas, this was remarkably tame, and desperation was a powerful motivator. He brushed ineffectually at his muddy trouser legs. A rainy night spent huddled beneath the dubious shelter of a shop roof's overhang had done nothing to improve his appearance and the damp clothes hung even more awkwardly on his frame than they normally did. Giving his coat several compulsive tugs, he straightened and re-straightened the collar. Henry glanced down at his bare feet and buried his head in his hands despairingly. How could he ever expect anyone to take him seriously without shoes? He had just about worked himself up to bolting again, when a figure appeared in the doorway of the receiving room, blocking his escape. Damn.



Royal Navy & Marines	23 Dec 2008, 09:23 PM Post #2
Master of Puppets Posts: 350 Group: Royal Navy Member #11 Joined: 7 December 2006	Of all possible calamities, it had rained during the night. Finch was unreasonably annoyed by that shift in the weather, for it had turned the parade ground and surrounding courtyard into a mess. His shoes were hopelessly coated in sandy mud and he was sure his stockings were splattered with the muck as well. The stockings alone would take days to get clean again. All that mess, simply to turn over the sick report to Captain Stevenson, as the marine officer had demanded. Ordinarily, a marine or seaman runner would have been sent with the report, but Stevenson had wanted it delivered by Finch himself. The physician was beginning to see why Captain Cartwright disliked Stevenson so much. It was a slight stroke of fortune that Colburn, the boatswain's mate in charge of the self-assigned hospital detail, had elected to accompany him. Finch could never be sure, but he strongly suspected that Colburn's presence had helped dissuade Stevenson from prolonging the meeting that followed Finch's arrival to the man's office. The burly boatswain's mate had yet to say more than four words since leaving the hospital, but Finch was quite obliged to the man when he had spoken, however briefly. Sailors were just as stoutly dependable as marines, when needed. Colburn was trailing a pace behind Finch now, his thumbs hooked casually on his worn leather belt. The two seamen standing watchful guard outside the hospital's archway saluted at their approach and Finch nodded at them in reply. Unsurprisingly, there were a few people waiting in the receiving hall. Finch suppressed a sigh. That was another reason he hadn't wanted to leave the hospital. His assistants, uneducated as they were, weren't equal to the task of treating patients without supervision. The physician started across the stone floor toward his office but was stopped abruptly by the appearance of Bartlett, one of the marines sent ashore from Intrepid. The coat-less marine had splatters of blood on his bare forearms and rolled-up shirtsleeves, with matching splotches on his waistcoat and breeches. It also seemed that his right eye was beginning to swell up suspiciously. "Bit of a problem upstairs yon, sar," the annoyed-looking private said. "Corp'ral's pulled his stitches, agin." Colburn grunted a chuckle at that, while Finch simply looked pained. That was the second time in a week. "Fetch some clean dressings and go back upstairs. Johnson is not to move until I get up there myself. He'll be sorry for ruining perfectly good stitches again!" Bartlett bobbed his head in a nod and hurried off to the stairs. Feeling unfairly weary, Finch looked around the receiving hall. His gaze settled on a man who, oddly, was without both stockings and shoes. "You there, sir. Into the working-room if you please. Just there," he said, and pointed toward the open archway across the hall. "Be with you presently." Just as soon as he saw to it that a pair of seamen were sent upstairs to help Bartlett deal with his corporal. A brief conference with Colburn saw a resolution to that particular problem, then Finch was free to worry about his other patients. He strode briskly into the working-room and retrieved his leather apron from where it had been hanging from a peg. Somebody, probably one of the sailors, had cleaned it for him. Good lads. "Now then," Finch said as he knotted the apron strings behind him, turning toward the shoeless fellow, "are you injured or ill?"



Henry Jecks	14 Jan 2009, 08:12 PM Post #3
Deckhand Posts: 28 Group: Riffraff Member #2,112 Joined: 17 November 2008	[OOC] Sorry for taking so bloody long to post this. No excuses. Will do better next time. Let me know if there are any goofs. And yes, he did forget to introduce himself. Henry can be a bit of an idiot around healthy people. [/OOC] "Be with you presently." Henry stood in middle of the working-room. He had only walked a few meters from one room to the other, but his heart was pounding as if he had just run half a league. He needed to remain calm. Remain calm? That presupposed that he was already calm, when, in fact, he was rather hyped up on nervous energy and his mind was spinning like a top. The principle parts of several irregular verbs drifted unhelpfully across his consciousness as he floundered for some single thought to focus on. He stared around the room. There was little there to absorb his attention; three work tables, each with a small table beside it and—he ventured farther into the room—around the corner, a cabinet (for tools and supplies, he assumed). He approached one of the tables. It bore the signs of use, but looked well taken care of. Nothing like the work table they'd had aboard Antigone , stained almost black and scarred with the marks of saw and knife. He remembered his disgust when he had seen it and the general disorderliness of the rest of the sick bay for the first time. He remembered the first amputation he had seen. The wounded seaman was unconscious and Fletcher had wanted to remove the leg before he recovered. Henry had attempted to intervene, thinking, naively, that the man should be consulted whether he would prefer to lose the leg or risk trying to save it. Fletcher had nearly cut Henry's own leg off for suggesting such a thing. He'd paid dearly for that interference later on. For the time being there had been nothing for it but to hold down the man, who by that time was regaining consciousness, while Fletcher proceeded with his work. The man was strong and if he hadn't been weakened already from blood loss, Henry would never have been able to control him. They struggled together on the table, Henry's attention so transfixed by the pain and terror in the other man's eyes that he was hardly aware of what was transpiring at the other end of the table. He threw up as soon as the thing was done, a fact which, for whatever reason, Fletcher found highly amusing. He remembered suddenly how the work table of the Fury had felt beneath his own shoulder blades and shuddered. He hoped never to be in that reversed position again. There was the sound of footsteps behind him and Henry started violently, spinning round. So much for calm. It was the same man who had directed him to the work room. Was he the physician? He could have been an orderly, but the way he carried himself suggested otherwise. "Are you injured or ill?" It was the obvious question, but Henry was nonetheless caught off guard. "Ah, well, neither, actually." Great. Brilliant opening. This man had actual patients to care for and now he had essentially stated that he was wasting the man's time. "I'm...I've come here...I need work," he finally blurted out and then pressed on quickly, "I have experience. Three years as a surgeon's assistant aboard a frigate and two years as a—filling in for the surgeon on a, er, privately owned vessel," he could feel his face growing redder with every word. "I also studied medicine for three years at the University of Edinburgh..." he trailed off. It had all sounded better and, somehow, longer in his head. It was all true at least, though standing there in his rags and bare feet, he found he could hardly believe it himself. He tried not to contemplate how it must sound to the man before him.



Royal Navy & Marines	16 Jan 2009, 01:34 AM Post #4
Master of Puppets Posts: 350 Group: Royal Navy Member #11 Joined: 7 December 2006	The shoeless man seemed quite ill at ease. Finch turned back toward him after taking a handful of steps toward the cabinet in the corner, frowning slightly at the silence that followed his question. It was a simple enough query. The physician glanced at the seaman standing silently near the working-room pump, wondering if the man's presence was the reason for the shoeless fellow's hesitation. "Ah, well, neither, actually." Finch lifted an eyebrow. Neither injured nor ill? What had brought him to hospital, then? The shoeless man seemed to sense Finch's question before he was able to voice it, for he hurried to add "I have experience. Three years as a surgeon's assistant aboard a frigate and two years as a—filling in for the surgeon on a, er, privately owned vessel." The seaman behind Finch cleared his throat, a little too noisily, but was silent again when Finch glanced back to frown at him. He had no interest in debating the meaning of "privately owned vessel", as Finch didn't care if the man had been pirate, privateer, or merchant seaman. All that mattered was the mention of experience as a surgeon's mate. Such a thing was valuable to Finch, for he couldn't continue to rely on the seamen and marines, despite their willingness to work. "I also studied medicine for three years at the University of Edinburgh..." Was that so? Finch's interest was completely captured, now. He had studied at Edinburgh as well but that had been years ago. Well before this man would have been there. at any rate. That this fellow had been there, however, added even more to his potential worth. Finch gestured at the nearest table and said, "Sit you, sir, and rest your feet. They seem to be rather ill-used." That was despairingly true, he realised. On closer inspection, the man's feet were in poor shape, in a similar state as might be the feet of a landsman newly gone to sea. Finch looked toward the seaman standing by the wall and bade him to fetch a basin of warmed water and some clean linen. "Now sir, you mentioned having need of work. I have need of an able assistant, as it happens. Though such an assistant would be well-advised to look after his own health with more care," he added with a fleeting smile.



Henry Jecks	19 Jan 2009, 09:48 PM Post #5
Deckhand Posts: 28 Group: Riffraff Member #2,112 Joined: 17 November 2008	Henry looked up from the floor, to which his gaze had dropped, and was surprised to find the man watching him with interest rather than skepticism. "Sit you, sir, and rest your feet." That wasn't a 'no'. But neither was it a 'yes', he hastened to remind himself. He should, he reflected, be accustomed to disappointment by now, but that was no reason to make things worse by hoping. He was essentially casting himself into the hands of Fortune here, and if Fortune, being the proverbial bitch, decided to drop him, he preferred to fall from a stump of pessimism rather than from a tower of expectations. "Yes, sir," Henry mumbled automatically, moving towards the table, "Thank you, sir." "They seem to be rather ill-used." Self-consciously, Henry glanced down at his feet. Ill-used. Yes, that was a fairly accurate assessment. Though he supposed he should count himself fortunate to be cast ashore in a place with such a warm climate. He'd never seen a case of frost bite, but he'd heard accounts by those who had and it was not something he wished to experience first hand. He sat straight-backed on the table, shifting uncomfortably when the man called for a basin of warm water and some linen. "I don't wish to trouble you, sir," he protested rather lamely, but the man's concern was reassuring and Henry's posture relaxed slightly. "Now sir, you mentioned having need of work." Henry looked up sharply, bracing himself for what he considered to be inevitable refusal. "I have need of an able assistant, as it happens. Though such an assistant would be well-advised to look after his own health with more care," he added with a fleeting smile. For a moment Henry only stared, not quite comprehending what had been said. When it did fully register, he was glad of the table beneath him, for he felt as though he might have collapsed under the sudden weight of relief, had he not already been seated. It was only then that he realized he was still just sitting there staring, and reddening, managed to stammer, "I-I apologize for my present condition, sir. I have—my luck has been rather poor of late and—"he stopped himself before he could make anymore excuses, "—but I will strive to do better in future...If, that is, I understand you correctly to mean that you would consider me for the position," he finished awkwardly. Never assume. It had been his father's most prized maxim, one which he delighted in bawling at his children whenever opportunity permitted. Coming from the man who had lost his entire fortune because he assumed a certain merchant captain was trustworthy, however, the words lost some of their former conviction. Still, they had made their mark.



Royal Navy & Marines	24 Jan 2009, 05:19 AM Post #6
Master of Puppets Posts: 350 Group: Royal Navy Member #11 Joined: 7 December 2006	His shoeless, ragged visitor seemed on the verge of slumping bonelessly across the table. Thankfully he was sitting down, as Finch never liked having patients keel over. The risk of striking one's head on the unforgiving stone floor was ever-present, after all. He preferred to avoid having to perform trepannings if he could. The seaman returned with the desired basin and linen, and placed both on the table beside the visitor at Finch's direction. "I-I apologize for my present condition, sir. I have—my luck has been rather poor of late and—" the man stammered, prompting a brief, quizzical glance from Finch, "—but I will strive to do better in future...If, that is, I understand you correctly to mean that you would consider me for the position." "Hm," Finch muttered, busily soaking a strip of linen to use as a swab so he could clean off his visitor's feet. "There will be a small trial period, of course, but it should not be difficult. Lift your foot, sir, thank you. Dyer, I'll need some balm. The same I used for Corporal McIntyre's back - yes, that's it." There was a crash from upstairs, followed immediately by a rumbling chorus of raised voices. Finch frowned at the noise but made no move to leave the working-room to quell the disquiet. He had sent Colburn upstairs for a reason. Sure enough, the boatswain's mate's lion-like voice was heard after a moment, thundering furious abuse at that uncooperative Corporal Johnson. After a pause, during which time Finch moved on to clean up his visitor's other foot, the physician said, "Is there a name you care to go by, sir, or are you not particular to such conventions?"



Henry Jecks	6 Feb 2009, 04:03 AM Post #7
Deckhand Posts: 28 Group: Riffraff Member #2,112 Joined: 17 November 2008	"There will be a small trial period, of course, but it should not be difficult." Henry nodded. It was to be expected. Or at least it was under normal circumstances. In his case, it had been more hoped for, than expected. The level of difficulty remained to be seen. He only hoped that he had not picked up too many bad habits from his time with Fletcher or working with carpenter's tools aboard L'Herisson. Every opportunity to make a good impression afforded an equal opportunity for humiliation. To Henry's mind, life was far too partial to the latter for his liking, but an opportunity was an opportunity and that was a great deal more than he had had a few moments ago. "Lift your foot, sir, thank you. Dyer, I'll need some balm. The same I used for Corporal McIntyre's back - yes, that's it." Henry obeyed mutely, glancing over at the man called Dyer, trying to catalogue the name with the face. Normally he was abysmal at remembering names, but he had to start somewhere. A sudden crash followed by an uproar above their heads caused Henry to start. What in God's name—? In alarm, his gaze darted to the ceiling and then to the face of the physician. The man before him, however, seemed unmoved. Bewildered, Henry was debating whether or not he should voice his concern, when the physician spoke again, "Is there a name you care to go by, sir, or are you not particular to such conventions?" Had he really been that remiss? Surely he had introduced himself? Momentary reflection revealed that he had not. Rather, he had plunged blindly into his explanation for why he was there with some half conscious idea of verbal momentum that if he stopped speaking, he would not be able to start again. Social courtesies such as introductions had not occurred to him at the time. "Henry Jecks, sir," he replied hastily. That was perhaps the only thing he had been coherent enough to establish while he was waiting to be called. It had not taken long to decide between Henry Falstaff and Henry Jecks. Henry Jecks may have been a nobody who had slipped through the cracks where the Royal Navy was concerned, but Henry Falstaff was currently wanted for debt evasion, murder and several (arguably) counts of treason, was by and large assumed to be dead and was, frankly, better off that way. The choice was rather obvious. His abrupt reply left him feeling as though he should say something else, so, with his curiosity beginning to get the better of him, he inquired hesitantly, "Would it be impertinent of me to ask, sir, what the noise from the upper floor was a moment ago?"



Royal Navy & Marines	11 Feb 2009, 02:28 AM Post #8
Master of Puppets Posts: 350 Group: Royal Navy Member #11 Joined: 7 December 2006	"Henry Jecks, sir," the man answered. Finch glanced up only for a moment, just long enough to meet Jecks' gaze and nod to show that he'd heard, then his attention was back on the more immediate task of cleaning the man's feet. Dyer was hovering just behind Finch, watching the procedure with undisguised interest. "Well met, Master Jecks," Finch said after a moment, as he dipped a fresh strip of linen into the basin of water. "I am Abraham Finch, and this fellow is Dyer. You'll met the others who are assisting me in due course. They are busy attending to other business." Dyer smirked at that. "Lads call me Chicken," the seaman informed Jecks proudly. "Used to be a chicken thief, like." There was another rattling crash from overhead, sounding suspiciously like a basin being thrown about. Finch paused in his work to glance up at the stone ceiling and sighed. Corporal Johnson was, it seemed, determined not to submit. And of course the racket had not escaped Jecks' notice or curiosity, either. "Would it be impertinent of me to ask, sir, what the noise from the upper floor was a moment ago?" Finch looked momentarily pained. "Not at all, sir. I would be uneasy if you had not. Give me a moment to bind your feet and you may see the cause for such ruckus yourself." It was quick work indeed to dribble the soothing balm on strips of linen and wrap them firmly around Jecks' feet. Finch's slim fingers tied each bandage at the tops of the man's feet, then busied himself with the task of setting the basin and used linen aside. For him, it was nearly a foregone conclusion that he would take this fellow on as his surgeon's mate, but much depended on Jecks himself for that last little bit.



Henry Jecks	4 Mar 2009, 04:15 AM Post #9
Deckhand Posts: 28 Group: Riffraff Member #2,112 Joined: 17 November 2008	"Well met, Master Jecks," Master Jecks. God, he hadn't been addressed formally since...He couldn't remember the last time. At school certainly, but that felt like a lifetime ago. Henry resisted the urge to clear his head by shaking it. This was no time for a trip down memory lane (which, contrary to its seemingly innocent title was really a dark alley where muggers lurked). "Lads call me Chicken. Used to be a chicken thief, like." In spite of his reserve, Jecks smiled, as much at the seaman's unexpected affability as at what he said. "Good to meet you, Dyer." He had half opened his mouth to ask where the man was from, but another burst of noise from above captured his attention and turning to the physician, he inquired as to its origin. "Not at all, sir. I would be uneasy if you had not. Give me a moment to bind your feet and you may see the cause for such ruckus yourself." Henry was not entirely sure how he felt about that. He was curious, certainly, but self preservation took precedence. Of course, it all depended upon what the man had meant by "see". The word implied that the agent (himself, in this case) would purely be a spectator. However, in his experience, an implicature was hardly reliable enough to warrant the full four syllables it was allotted. Still, he tried to remind himself, in case "see" meant something else, he'd dealt with unruly patients before...He tried not to think too much about how many of those cases had ended with the unruly patient dealing with him. The physician, Finch, deftly knotted the bandages on Henry's feet. Henry paused a moment to admire the bandaging job before gingerly letting himself down from the table. Standing, he felt slightly more at ease, though the feel of the linen strips wrapped around his feet would take a little getting used to. "May I help with anything?" he inquired, seeing Finch clearing away the basin and used strips of linen.



Royal Navy & Marines	11 Mar 2009, 11:40 AM Post #10
Master of Puppets Posts: 350 Group: Royal Navy Member #11 Joined: 7 December 2006	"May I help with anything?" Finch set the basin down near the hand-pump and unceremoniously dropped the dirty linen into it. He could clean it later, or have one of the seamen do it. Jecks' offer wasn't especially surprising or oddly timed but Finch found himself caught just a little bit off-guard by the question. Truth be told, he had grown used to the seamen and marines simply going about their work without seeking direction, accustomed as they had become to the routine. "No, thank you," the physician replied, effortlessly recovering. He nodded at Dyer and started toward the archway, knowing without looking that Dyer had already gotten some fresh linen from the cabinet. "Come, before Corporal Johnson sees fit to put something through a window." He was at the limit of his patience with Johnson. The corporal had pulled out the stitches in his side twice within four days and had been generally disruptive since he'd been brought to the hospital. This latest incident was more than even Finch could tolerate. He took the stairs two at a time, nearly leaving Dyer and Jecks behind. As expected, the scene in the enlisted ward was pure chaos. The seamen who'd gone to help Colburn were struggling valiantly to hold the red-faced Johnson down while Colburnn and Bartlett tried to press a wad of lint to the openly-bleeding incision across the corporal's ribs. The few marines still recovering from their own wounds were sitting up as best as they could in their bunks, staring with unabashed interest at the spectacle. "Corporal Johnson." Finch barked. His entrance brought everything to an abrupt halt. Even Johnson paused in his spirited resistance, so rare was it that Finch raised his voice. "Stop that foolishness, damn your eyes, or I'll have you turned out to the brig!" It felt unnatural, openly losing his temper. There was a large bruise and swelling on Colburn's cheek, however - no doubt where the basin had hit him - and one of the seamen was holding a heavily-splotched scrap of linen to his nose. And of course there was Bartlett, doing his best to work with only one eye. Johnson's poor behaviour had gone on quite long enough. "Dyer!" The physician turned toward the door, where both Dyer and Jecks had stopped. "Fetch needle and thread. Master Jecks. I shall require your assistance here. There is a spoilt child in need of sewing up."



Henry Jecks	23 Mar 2009, 02:56 AM Post #11
Deckhand Posts: 28 Group: Riffraff Member #2,112 Joined: 17 November 2008	The scene which greeted Henry at the top of the steps was one of suspended chaos. Men clustered around a bed, apparently frozen in their attempts to restrain its occupant. Two of them appeared to be engaged with keeping a piece of wadding pressed against the occupant's side, a piece of wadding which, Henry noticed with concern, had a deep red stain spreading across it. His briefly wandering attention was immediately arrested as Finch turned back toward the doorway, "Dyer! Fetch needle and thread." Henry, standing behind Dyer, failed to anticipate the result of this command and was therefore obliged to flatten himself hurriedly against the door jam to avoid a collision. "Master Jecks." Pealing himself abruptly from the wall, Henry turned to face Finch, his thoughts scattering in a dozen directions. Like rats from a sinking ship. "I shall require your assistance here. There is a spoilt child in need of sewing up." At these last words, Henry's panic subsided. He had done this sort of thing before, many times before. This was familiar ground. Relatively. "Yes, sir." Stepping forward from the threshold, he approached the men occupied with the wadding. "May I?" he asked somewhat hesitantly, reaching out and gingerly lifting the edges of the material just enough to ascertain the nature of the damage beneath before quickly replacing the wadding and applying pressure. Whether or for how long the effects of Finch's rebuke would last, he was unsure; however he had no time to speculate on the matter, for at that moment, Dyer appeared in the doorway bearing the requisite needle and thread.



Royal Navy & Marines	30 Mar 2009, 09:25 AM Post #12
Master of Puppets Posts: 350 Group: Royal Navy Member #11 Joined: 7 December 2006	"May I?" Johnson bared his teeth in a grimace. "Can't bloody stop you, can I?" The corporal grumbled, before falling silent after a glare from Finch. "Give that linen here," Finch was saying, as the seamen tightened their grips on Johnson's limbs. Dyer had scurried forward with the needle and thread, which he held out to Jecks. Only too happy to relinquish the chore, Bartlett handed the linen to Finch and stepped back to watch. "Don't let him move." The physician glanced up at the seamen around the bunk. Each man nodded grimly. Johnson looked disgusted but thankfully said nothing and didn't try to resist. Finch cleaned away the dribbles of blood and went to work quickly, using a lancet to cut the broken stitches so they could be pulled out. A moment later, he looked up at Jecks. "If you please, Master Jecks, you may start." To help the newly-hired fellow, Finch pressed the edges of the opened incision back together.



Henry Jecks	12 Apr 2009, 03:27 AM Post #13
Deckhand Posts: 28 Group: Riffraff Member #2,112 Joined: 17 November 2008	(sorry! short crap post) "Can't bloody stop you, can I?" Henry glanced at Johnson with mild surprise. From the look of some of those standing nearby, the corporal was capable of doing just that. Henry shrugged out of his coat, looking around vaguely with some half conscious idea that he should hang it somewhere, before letting it fall to the floor and tugging up his shirt sleeves. Taking the proffered needle and thread from Dyer, he turned back to Finch who had finished removing the stitches. "If you please, Master Jecks, you may start." Letting out a breath, Henry rubbed his palms on his trousers, more out of habit than because they were sweating, and bent close over the gash. He could feel the muscles around the wound tense as he began and he worked as quickly as he could, glad of Finch's help. Finishing, he carefully tied off and severed the thread and stepped back, nodding a thanks to the men who had been holding Johnson down. He turned to Finch, rubbing the side of his nose nervously, leaving a streak of red. "So...how do you want to proceed? Bandage it or...?"



Royal Navy & Marines	13 Apr 2009, 12:08 AM Post #14
Master of Puppets Posts: 350 Group: Royal Navy Member #11 Joined: 7 December 2006	Fortunately for everyone, including himself, Johnson did not resist as Jecks went to work with the needle and thread. Finch nodded, pleased. It was apparent that Jecks had done this before. "Bandage it, yes. When you are finished, gather up everything that has been used and take it back downstairs." Finch stepped back from Johnson's cot and looked toward Colburn. "Detail three men for ward stewards. I won't have Corporal Johnson pulling out this set of stitches." The boatswain's mate nodded. Satisfied, Finch turned his attention to Johnson. "You are not to tamper with your wound again, Corporal. Is that understood?" Looking disgusted, Johnson offered a resentful "Aye sir." Good then. That was nearly everything set to rights. The physician wiped his hands clean on his leather apron and sighed. Sometimes he wondered why the marines seemed so determined to neglect their own health.



Henry Jecks	16 Jun 2009, 11:00 PM Post #15
Deckhand Posts: 28 Group: Riffraff Member #2,112 Joined: 17 November 2008	Henry stared helplessly at Finch's retreating back for a long moment before collecting himself with an effort. It crossed his mind that he should perhaps give some show of confidence and authority, but such a display, he imagined, would only serve to draw attention to his lack of both qualities. Turning slowly his gaze sought out Dyer, the person, next to Finch, with whom he was most familiar. "Dyer," he said after a pause, relieved to have been able to recall the man's name, "The bandaging material...would it be located downstairs in the...in that--" "Work room. Yes, sir. I'll bring it right up." Saved by Dyer from further floundering, Henry turned back to the patient. His momentary relief quickly dissipated as the silence around the bed deepened. He should, he realized with chagrin, say something. Something, however, was nowhere to be found and while it was always possible to speak and still say nothing, Henry was fearful of the corporal's reaction to the banal topics which comprised his repertoire of "polite conversation". At length a question occurred to him concerning the answer to which he was genuinely curious. He hesitated briefly, unsure of the appropriateness of the query; however, after a moment, he raised his eyes and spoke, "May I ask how you came by that wound, Corporal?"



Royal Navy & Marines	27 Jul 2009, 08:00 PM Post #16
Master of Puppets Posts: 350 Group: Royal Navy Member #11 Joined: 7 December 2006	Johnson couldn't quite suppress a grimace as Finch departed, highly annoyed by his apparent high-handedness. Bloody sawbones. The corporal dropped back onto the straw mattress with a humpf, deliberately ignoring everyone else in the room. He had had more than enough of them all for one day. The three men detailed as ward stewards drifted off some distance, striking up quiet conversations with the other marines in the ward but keeping careful watch on the still-irate corporal. Bartlett gingerly massaged his bruised eye and plopped down on the nearest empty bunk, having decided to wait until Finch's new assistant had finished his assigned task. "May I ask how you came by that wound, Corporal?" Jecks asked, sounding nervous. Johnson grunted, plainly surprised to be addressed, but did not shift his position to look at the surgeon's mate. "Which one?" The corporal asked boredly. "My leg or my ribs?" Bartlett rolled his eyes. This was not going to end well, if Jecks wasn't careful.



Henry Jecks	19 Aug 2009, 01:35 AM Post #17
Deckhand Posts: 28 Group: Riffraff Member #2,112 Joined: 17 November 2008	"Which one?" Henry stared at Johnson, bewildered. He had not been expecting a question. "My leg or my ribs?" Flushing, Henry dropped his gaze and in so doing noticed that he had unconsciously balled the excess sleeve material of his coat into his fist with the result that his right arm now bore a faint resemblance to that of an amputee. He released the material, making a halfhearted effort to smooth the creases as he considered the question. He was beginning to regret saying anything at all. "I...uh--" he cast a backwards glance over his shoulder just in case Dyer appeared in the doorway. Nothing. Swallowing a sigh, Henry forced himself to look up,"uh...well, both, I suppose?"



Royal Navy & Marines	25 Aug 2009, 01:31 AM Post #18
Master of Puppets Posts: 350 Group: Royal Navy Member #11 Joined: 7 December 2006	"I...uh--" the new surgeon's mate looked around nervously, which prompted Johnson to roll his eyes and grumble darkly about the brainless toadies running around the hospital. "uh...well, both, I suppose?" The corporal hitched himself up on the bunk a bit and regarded him speculatively. He wanted to know about both wounds. Wasn't that special. "Got shot an' bayoneted," Johnson answered, leaving out all the details that the surgeon's mate was probably looking for. Nearby, Bartlett shook his head and lowered the cold soaked rag he had been holding to his eye. "Corp'ral's bein' modest. Ain't a brassier lad 'board Intrepid. Took a ball while we was drivin' off a boat of turncoats, then caught a bayonet while below-decks on Proserpina goin' to set Cap'n St Montgomery loose." "It's commodore now, Barty," Chase corrected idly, before turning back to his conversation with Lachlan.



Henry Jecks	30 Aug 2009, 07:36 PM Post #19
Deckhand Posts: 28 Group: Riffraff Member #2,112 Joined: 17 November 2008	Henry tensed as Johnson pushed himself up, eying him warily, but the corporal simply said, "Got shot an' bayoneted". "I see," Henry said quickly, resolving to keep his mouth shut unless speech was absolutely necessary. "Corp'ral's bein' modest." Looking up, Henry saw with surprise that it was the marine with the swollen eye who had spoken. He tried to remember by what name Finch had addressed the man, but found he could not. "Ain't a brassier lad 'board Intrepid. Took a ball while we was drivin' off a boat of turncoats, then caught a bayonet while below-decks on Proserpina goin' to set Cap'n St Montgomery loose." Henry's eyes widened, impressed. He had never been in a battle, but he had been shot and he could not have imagined even prying himself off the deck after that had happened, let alone fighting. Nonetheless, something about what the marine had said puzzled him. A noise from behind him caused him to turn and he saw Dyer approaching bearing the requisite materials. Thanking the seaman, Henry took the supplies and set to work. After having to make due with whatever he could beg, borrow or steal aboard L'Herrisson, the clean bandages seemed almost extravagant. Able to focus once more, Henry recalled what it was the marine had said which he had not understood, "Has there been some sort of rebellion here?" he asked, addressing the marine with the black eye, "I was under the impression that Jamaica was a comparatively stable colony."



Royal Navy & Marines	14 Sep 2009, 10:00 PM Post #20
Master of Puppets Posts: 350 Group: Royal Navy Member #11 Joined: 7 December 2006	"I see," the surgeon's mate said. Johnson rolled his eyes and didn't bother answering. As far as he was concerned, this was all pointless chatter and it was giving him a headache. Dyer's return was a welcome distraction and Johnson wished they would all go away so he could take a nap. Then, of course, the surgeon's mate - Johnson had already forgotten the man's name - started fumbling about with the bandages, covering up the newly-stitched gash on the corporal's side. "Has there been some sort of rebellion here? I was under the impression that Jamaica was a comparatively stable colony." Bartlett dropped his gaze immediately. The memory of that bloody unpleasantness was still fresh in his mind. "Maybe the rest of the island is," he replied grudgingly. "Been some disagreements here'round, though." The rest of the ward had gone deathly silent and Bartlett shivered uncomfortably. He disliked questions from ordinary citizens. It was his own fault for describing how Johnson had come by his wounds, though. Dammit. "We ain't so bad off, really. S'just a bit of - " "Shut up, Bartlett." The order hadn't come from Johnson, surprisingly, but from Chase, the seaman sitting by Lachlan's bunk. "Let the officers tell him what's what, that's all they're bloody good fer these days!"



Henry Jecks	27 Sep 2009, 03:16 AM Post #21
Deckhand Posts: 28 Group: Riffraff Member #2,112 Joined: 17 November 2008	Henry had made a mistake. If the manner of the marine's answer did not convince him of that, the frigid silence which followed it certainly did. Henry stared fixedly down at the bandages in his hands without really seeing them and wished fervently that he could simply vanish. What kind of 'disagreement' involved circumstances where a captain needed to be 'set loose'...he had no idea, but something had clearly happened and his thoughtless questions had been a probe in the wound. "We ain't so bad off, really. S'just a bit of - " The marine was cut off by one of the others, but Henry did not look up to find out who. His gaze was focused determinedly downward as he finished bandaging the corporal's wound and collected the used materials. Then, with an effort, he looked up, glancing from Johnson to the marine, Bartlett, "I apologize. It was not my place to inquire," he said seriously and, turning, headed from the room. It wasn't running away in the sense that it involved any actual running, he was in fact walking as calmly as he could, but as he re-entered the working room (seemingly empty, at least for the moment) and slumped against the wall, he was forced to conclude that that was exactly what he had just done. Letting out a long breath, he pushed himself away from the wall and approached the hand pump. The basin containing the linen Finch had used on his feet was still there and he let the bloodied bandages he was holding drop into it. He placed the needle and thread carefully nearby and then, because there seemed to be nothing else to do, he returned to the basin and pump and began to clean, or at least attempt to clean, the soiled strips of linen.



Royal Navy & Marines	17 Oct 2009, 06:45 PM Post #22
Master of Puppets Posts: 350 Group: Royal Navy Member #11 Joined: 7 December 2006	Post rated Mature for language "I apologize. It was not my place to inquire," the surgeon's mate said quietly, before making his exit with the dirty bandages. Glares flew around the ward like a swarm of angry bees. As the one who had spoken last, Chase received his share of them, which he did not take very kindly to. "Dunno what's wrong wi' you lot," the topman grumbled, "but it ain't right to go talkin' 'bout squadron b'ness like all that. Not in fronta any cove what's come strollin' in." "Oh piss off, Chase," Bartlett snapped. "He were here with the sawbones. Sure that makes him not just any cove what's come strollin' in." Chase snorted. "An' what's the sawbones got for judgment? Just 'cause he's a proper physician don't make him any good at tellin' a good lad from bad." "Yer talkin' 'bout what he did durin'... that whole mess here ashore?" Bartlett sounded incredulous. "For Christ's sake, what else was he s'posed to do? Them bastards was wavin' muskets at him, an' you know how the sawbones is 'bout fightin' an' all that." "Shut yer gobs," Corporal Johnson snarled. His command, instead of silencing the argument, only heightened it. The marines and seamen-orderlies were shortly in full cry, naturally taking sides in the dispute and making the whole thing worse with each outburst. Chicken Dyer shook his head sadly and slipped unnoticed out of the ward to pad on silent feet back downstairs. As he'd expected, he found the new surgeon's mate at work cleaning the dirty linen. "Here, sar," the topman said, crossing the stone floor to retrieve a bit of soap from the stores cabinet. "It'll work better with this." He looked around for something to tidy up, but saw to his private dismay that the working-room was spotlessly clean. With a slight sigh, he added, "Don't mind them others neither, sar. They been through a lot this past fortnight. It's wearin' on 'em, like." Dyer shrugged helplessly. He didn't know how to describe everything that had happened in a way that would make sense to an outsider.



Henry Jecks	23 Nov 2009, 04:13 AM Post #23
Deckhand Posts: 28 Group: Riffraff Member #2,112 Joined: 17 November 2008	Cleaning the linen was slow work, but Henry was glad of it. The mundane familiarity of the task was reassuring, as was the absence of watching eyes and he felt the quivering knot of tension in his chest ease somewhat. "Here, sar. It'll work better with this." Startled, Henry turned to find Dyer standing behind him. The man could move as silently as cat! For a moment, he stared stupidly at the proffered soap, but recovered himself quickly. "Thank you," he said, accepting it with a brief smile, before renewing his attack on the pile of linen (armed this time). "Don't mind them others neither, sar. They been through a lot this past fortnight. It's wearin' on 'em, like." He continued scrubbing, but half turned as Dyer spoke, nodding slowly, "I'll bear it in mind. Thank you," he said seriously. It seemed suddenly like such a trite expression, bearing little resemblance to the gratitude he felt for the man's kindness. "Some things," he paused, frowning down at the pile of linen as he grasped mentally for the right words, "don't bear talking about. Especially with outsiders. That much, at least, I ought to understand."



Royal Navy & Marines	28 Nov 2009, 04:35 PM Post #24
Master of Puppets Posts: 350 Group: Royal Navy Member #11 Joined: 7 December 2006	"Some things," Jecks said with a frown, "don't bear talking about. Especially with outsiders. That much, at least, I ought to understand." Dyer thought about that a moment. "Maybe, sar. Won't be long 'fore the lads get used t'you, like. Bein' as the sawbones has signed you 'board an' all." The topman shrugged and padded back across the room, deciding to busy himself polishing the brass scales that Finch used to weigh out his strange plants. Not that the scales needed polishing, necessarily, but it was part of a seaman's nature to impulsively clean and polish everything that could be cleaned and polished. It was also a tactic designed to distract Dyer's thoughts, as he wasn't sure he would ever honestly regard the surgeon's mate as part of the crew.



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