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| Sailing to Nowhere; Intrepid at sea | |
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| Topic Started: 13 Jun 2009, 02:05 AM (645 Views) | |
| Royal Navy & Marines | 13 Jun 2009, 02:05 AM Post #1 |
Master of Puppets
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  It had only been three days since Doctor Finch had declared him fit to return to duty, and this was the sort of duty he'd been sent back to? A vague explanation about some sort of patrol, followed by a hasty dash out of Port Royal to avoid some sort of trouble, and then another vague explanation that only really repeated the previous one. It all seemed pretty suspect to Corporal Johnson, but he was more inclined to be suspicious of Captain Gillette than most other marines. The man had tried taking away his shoulder knot. There was no telling what other trickery he might be capable of. He had gotten sent out of hospital just to get knocked around in the rush to get to sea. Somehow, Johnson wasn't sure he'd gotten the better side of that deal. Intrepid was two days out to sea, having the benefit of favourable winds since leaving Port Royal. None of them had any solid idea what they were patrolling for, beyond the tale that Gillette had spun for them. Chasing down the pirate called Sparrow naturally appealed to them, as there was hardly a man in the detachment that didn't want to see Sparrow hang, but it wasn't a good enough reason for Johnson. There was something else behind this whole venture. Even as big a jack's arse as their new commodore was, Johnson didn't think the man would hesitate to try catching such a notable pirate if he was able. The idea that the sloop's crew was being used for Gillette's own ends didn't sit very well with Johnson. Too much had happened in recent weeks for him to be used like a pawn by some stuffed-up sea officer. Fortunately, perhaps, there was plenty to do that helped distract him from his discontent. There were new marines aboard, several fresh from England, that needed shaping up. He got little help in anything from Corporal Wolfe, but he hardly expected any. If it was possible, Johnson disliked Wolfe more than he disliked Captain Gillette. How Wolfe had gotten his shoulder knot was something Johnson would never understand. Naturally, the work of conducting musket drill, setting sentries, and generally managing the detachment fell to Johnson and Sergeant Myles. Wolfe only helped when Myles was around. Within his own section, Johnson had discovered he would be contending with a number of new faces. He was still striving to adjust to the changes. At least the older marines would have told their new comrades what to expect. The rumour mill was good for that. Johnson scowled at the lock of his musket and rubbed harder at the gleaming metal with his rag. Most of the detachment were scattered around the foc's'le around him, working diligently to clean their own firelocks. Even Corporal Wolfe was with them. It was hard to say if that was the reason for Johnson's unhidden disgust, or if there was something else. Not that it mattered, really. The rest of the detachment had chosen spots as far removed from Johnson as they could without seeming like they were avoiding him. For most of them, it was just part of the routine. There was a low murmur of chatter from some of them too, the older hands trading stories with the new marines, or trying their best to scare them witless. Speaking of witless. Johnson glanced toward a pair of marines sitting near the base of the marines' walk. They were close enough to Johnson that he could hear their conversation even if he had no interest in whatever they were discussing. One of the marines was Bartlett, who had lately been working ashore as a loblolly boy with that damned troublemaker James Gray. Gray was nowhere to be seen but that was just as well. Who the other marine was, Johnson had no idea. It was probably one of those new draft lads. Bartlett was spinning some sort of yarn too, which was no surprise. Bartlett liked running his gob that way. "... next thing I knows, Jemmy Gray's gone leapin' in after me like he's gonna win the whole thing by hisself. It was a near thing, that swim. He got back aboard just after me. Din't matter much though, every lad aboard went right to skylarkin' soon's we both got ourselves up the ladder," Bartlett was saying. Johnson rolled his eyes. It would have to be the story of how the marines had helped turn Intrepid into a disgrace. "Aye, you lads sure went an' embarrassed your ship with that rubbish," Johnson grumbled, looking over at the two marines. "You was lucky to miss that circus, Private. There weren't ever a bigger disgrace aboard other than that." The corporal pointed at Bartlett with the lock of his musket. "Bet he ain't told you how the whole thing came 'round to happenin'. Didja, Bartlett?" Bartlett looked like one deftly caught in a lie. Smirking slightly, Johnson shook his head. He wasn't surprised by that. "It was that pipsqueak Gray that started it," Johnson went on. "Tricked Mister Morse into takin' the whole daft plan an' claim it as his own. Gotta watch out for Gray, an' half the other ruffians aboard." He nodded at Bartlett and added, "If you're gonna tell a story, might's well tell it all." |
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| George Thompson | 14 Jun 2009, 12:37 PM Post #2 |
Able Seaman
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Thompson hadn't been best pleased with the state of the musket he'd been issued. Whether it had belonged to anyone before him or had been a spare, he had no idea, but it was a disgrace. He'd cleaned the barrel out thoroughly and polished the wood of the stock, smoothing out a couple of rough spots, and now he had taken the lock off to give the mechanism a good going-over with a damp cloth, a bit of brick-dust and a good deal of elbow-grease. It had started to develop the first signs of rust in places, and that was nothing like good enough. He looked up from his work as Bartlett's story came to an end. "... next thing I knows, Jemmy Gray's gone leapin' in after me like he's gonna win the whole thing by hisself. It was a near thing, that swim. He got back aboard just after me. Din't matter much though, every lad aboard went right to skylarkin' soon's we both got ourselves up the ladder.” He chuckled at the picture in his mind. Well, they knew how to have fun, which was something, at least. It was probably his chuckling that caught the Corporal's attention because he looked over at them then. "Aye, you lads sure went an' embarrassed your ship with that rubbish," he said, addressing Bartlett before looking at Thompson. "You was lucky to miss that circus, Private. There weren't ever a bigger disgrace aboard other than that." He indicated the other Private with the musket lock he was holding. "Bet he ain't told you how the whole thing came 'round to happenin'. Didja, Bartlett?" He hadn't, but Johnson went on to say, "It was that pipsqueak Gray that started it. Tricked Mister Morse into takin' the whole daft plan an' claim it as his own. Gotta watch out for Gray, an' half the other ruffians aboard." He nodded at Bartlett and added, "If you're gonna tell a story, might's well tell it all.” That was certainly true. Thompson leaned back, one leg stretched out in front of him with the other foot flat on the deck. He leaned his elbow against his thigh, rubbing at a stubborn stain or something on the lock he was holding. Johnson seemed... interesting. Short-tempered, which he'd be warned about, but with something possibly of a story-teller in him, though it was obvious that he wasn't going to tell someone else's story. And Gray... he hadn't yet met Gray, that he was aware of. He wondered about him. Was he one of those pranksters you got sometimes, or a troublemaker? Why, precisely, should he watch out for the other man? That was, hopefully, a question that he'd have answered during this patrol. He sounded like a good sort, anyway, from what Bartlett had been saying. He looked enquiringly at Bartlett. “Well, mate, the beginnin's as good a place to start a story as any. How did you two end up swimmin' circles around the ship to start with, then?” Edited by George Thompson, 14 Jun 2009, 10:27 PM.
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| Royal Navy & Marines | 15 Jun 2009, 08:06 PM Post #3 |
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Master of Puppets
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Bartlett waited until Corporal Johnson was finished before grinning to himself and concentrating on polishing his musket stock. Johnson's grumbling was amusing from time to time. He was just irritated that he'd been stuck ashore in hospital while Intrepid's marines and seamen had done their best to relieve their boredom. Of course, if Johnson had been aboard, there would have been no skylarking or competition at all. “Well, mate, the beginnin's as good a place to start a story as any. How did you two end up swimmin' circles around the ship to start with, then?” Thompson asked. The grin came back to Bartlett's face. "Like Corporal said, it were Gray's idea, but we din't know that when Mister Morse 'splained the idea.to alla us. It was gonna be a race, basically. Gunnery, sail drill, marksmanship, an' a race with boats an' swimmers to top it off. We was all split up inta three teams, two with us an' Tars an' one with jes' Tars." He chuckled and shook his head. "Our lads made a good 'countin' of theirselves. Helps a bit don't it, Corporal?" "Not the least," Johnson growled, pointedly keeping his gaze on the lock of his musket. "Anyway," Bartlett went on. "It were a close thing for most all the way. Them Tars can't handle a musket worth a damn, but they knows how to work them guns. We showed 'em how's it done in the swimmin' bit, though! I ain't paddled like that in for ever." He glanced aft and smirked. "Poor ol' Gray ratted hisself out too. An' for punishment, the Cap'n sent him ashore to work for the sawbones." Johnson snorted and looked up with a scowl. "Ain't no sorta punishment fit for that one. Shoulda been sent below-decks in irons." For a moment, Bartlett didn't trouble to speak after that, but he was plainly hard-put to contain his amusement. Then he said, in a lowered voice, "Corporal's still sore 'cause Gray gave him a nasty thumpin' back when they was both privates. Don't take well to losin', Corporal don't." "You ain't gonna take well to marchin' round the deck with a full pack, you don't stop tellin' bad stories," Johnson said sharply. Bartlett at least had the sense to look cowed. "Aye Corporal," he said, then cast a fleeting, conspiratorial smirk at Thompson. He had stopped being honestly afraid of Johnson years ago. |
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| George Thompson | 1 Jul 2009, 05:15 AM Post #4 |
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Able Seaman
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Bartlett grinned again as he answered Thompson's question. "Like Corporal said, it were Gray's idea, but we din't know that when Mister Morse 'splained the idea.to alla us. It was gonna be a race, basically. Gunnery, sail drill, marksmanship, an' a race with boats an' swimmers to top it off. We was all split up inta three teams, two with us an' Tars an' one with jes' Tars. Our lads made a good 'countin' of theirselves,” he finished with a chuckle. "Helps a bit don't it, Corporal?" Thompson glanced up to see how Johnson would respond to that. "Not the least," he answered shortly, not even looking up from the lock of his own musket, which made Thompson hide a grin. Bartlett carried on, ignoring Johnson's obvious disapproval. "Anyway, it were a close thing for most all the way. Them Tars can't handle a musket worth a damn, but they knows how to work them guns. We showed 'em how's it done in the swimmin' bit, though! I ain't paddled like that in for ever." He glanced up, looking aft with a smirk. "Poor ol' Gray ratted hisself out too. An' for punishment, the Cap'n sent him ashore to work for the sawbones." Thompson raised an eyebrow, glancing up from his own cleaning. “As punishment? Seems an odd sort of punishment, getting' sent ashore, like.” It seemed Johnson thought so, too, judging from the way he looked up with a snort. "Ain't no sorta punishment fit for that one. Shoulda been sent below-decks in irons." He was scowling as he said it, and Thompson frowned. He seemed to be easily riled, Corporal Johnson did. He wondered just how much of that was due to the man's natural grumpiness, which Bartlett had remarked on soon after Thompson had first got into conversation with him. He wondered for a moment what Gray had done to get on the wrong side of Johnson's temper, and then Bartlett lowered his voice to say, "Corporal's still sore 'cause Gray gave him a nasty thumpin' back when they was both privates. Don't take well to losin', Corporal don't." “I'll 'member that,” Thompson said, in an equally low voice. “Won't go gettin' in any arguments with him if'n I can help it. Ain't healthy, arguin' with a Corp'ral, anyhow.” Johnson looked up then. "You ain't gonna take well to marchin' round the deck with a full pack, you don't stop tellin' bad stories," he said, speaking sharply. Thompson expected Bartlett to look cowed at the threat, which he did, but only long enough to respond, “Aye Corporal,” before sending a conspiratorial grin at Thompson, which made the Chatham man snort, which he turned hastily into a cough. “Got any good stories, then?” he asked, wondering what Johnson classified as a 'good' story. |
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| Royal Navy & Marines | 27 Jul 2009, 07:30 PM Post #5 |
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Master of Puppets
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 “Got any good stories, then?” Bartlett grinned. Good stories. Of course he had some! "That I does," he answered cheerfully. He thought for a moment, then decided on a suitable tale from before all the troubles had started. "I shipped in here somethin' like two years ago, aboard Interceptor sloop. Or maybe it was three now? I dunno. Anyways. Me an' ol' Georgie Everett was both sent on the first shore liberty outta the whole company, an' we goes right off to see what's good 'round the town. So we're off wanderin' here an' there in our off-watch rig, when we runs smack into this big fella in red who came outta a tavern right ahead of us. " 'Hey ye two!' he barks out, once he gets turned 'round toward us. 'Better watch where yer goin'.' Then he looks at us close an' gets a sorta happy grin on his face. 'Ye two's new to town, ain't ye?' " 'Aye Sarn't,' we says, 'cause of him havin' a shoulder knot an' sash on. 'Been in two days, on Interceptor over yon.' "He looks us over an' nods, like he's thinkin' hard 'bout somethin'. Then he says 'Seem like a good 'nuff pair t'me. Ye'll do. C'mon wi' me, the both o' ye.' " Bartlett paused, grinning and shaking his head slightly. The story still amused him. "Me an' Ev jus' sorta look at each other like we dunno what this sarn't's thinkin', 'cause it don't sound good. But we goes 'long anyways, 'cause of it bein' an order. So we follows this sarn't all the way up to the fort, an' up to the parade ground where there's some other fellows workin' at bayonet drill. " Corporal Bowyer!' The sarn't roars out. 'Fall yer lads out, there's some volunteers fer sport here. C'mon up here, ye two, move 'long like ye gots a purpose. That'll do. Now! Coupla volunteers for the circle, these two. Fresh ashore an' all fulla fire, they is, walkin' 'round like they owns the town a'rready.' "Well, that got them all grinnin' and chucklin', like it's a big ol' joke. Me an' Ev is just shakin' in our shoes 'cause we dunno what's happenin', an' the sarn't turns to us an' says, 'Arrigh' me lovelies, off wi' yer jackets an' caps, yer gonna earn yer welcome to my garrison! Ye'll be first,' he says, an' he points at Ev - " Everett, sitting nearby, snorted. "He din't choose me first, Barty, and you knows it!" "Hey, we both got our wits knocked half inta last year, what's it matter who got chose first?" Bartlett shot back with a smirk. "Least I din't fold up after a coupla swings!" "I din't tap out, sure. Woulda had to be bloody stupid to not give it a proper try," Everett countered, pausing to cut the heavy thread he was using to repair his cartridge box. "You gonna finish the story right or not?" |
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| James Norrington | 5 Aug 2009, 07:19 PM Post #6 |
Norrington, James Norrington
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Two days into the journey, and the Evans had already wearied of trying to come up with pranks to play on his fellow midshipmen, and on attempted ones on his captain. Of course, he had been pulled aside, and it had been pointed out to him, rather sternly by Lievtenant Pritchard the killjoy, that this was a bit too serious an affair to be making light of things by misplacing key objects such as charts and the colours. That Welshman was decidedly lacking in a sense of humour, Evans decided. And besides, there had been absolutely nothing to indicate that this cruise was about anything very serious. Why would they care about chasing after that knave Sparrow, when their own commanding officer was a brutal tyrant himself, and how was that a reason to give up on pranks. He'd stopped pointing that out, however, after a few good whacks with the cane. He leaned back in his hammock and idly flipped through his book, deciding that skimming was a perfectly adequate way to acquire the knowledge he would need for the examination for lievtentant. Besides, if he didn't skim, the text was so dull and try, he'd be afraid that he'd nod off. And there were better things to do. He started tapping on his knee, looking at the illustration of the rigging and sails (which he already knew), and hummed an out of pitch tune. "Oy, George, summaf us are tryin' to sleep 'ere!" Simms, one of the northern midshipmen said. "Right," he said rolling his eyes, and shutting his book. Wasn't interesting anyway. And he wasn't going to waste his time with it when he could be up on deck. Doing something at least, even if all it was was watching the sea and sky. Moving out of the hammock, and pushing it as out of the way as he could, he shrugged on his coat, and went above, blinking rapidly to get used to the light. As he scanned the deck he spied a gaggle of marines. Excellent! Marines were a much more fun lot than the officers, and other midshipmen. These lads knew how to throw it down. And they were telling stories, too. He stood as close as he thought he would need to be to hear, but hopefully for the marines to not notice that he was. Not that that was truly possible. Being a small cramped vessel as it was. |
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| George Thompson | 7 Sep 2009, 01:24 PM Post #7 |
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Able Seaman
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OOC - Sorry! You wait ages for a post, and then it's crap. I hope it isn't too crap, anyway. IC - Bartlett seemed to be a born story-teller, the way he was talking. "Well, that got them all grinnin' and chucklin', like it's a big ol' joke. Me an' Ev is just shakin' in our shoes 'cause we dunno what's happenin', an' the sarn't turns to us an' says, 'Arrigh' me lovelies, off wi' yer jackets an' caps, yer gonna earn yer welcome to my garrison! Ye'll be first,' he says, an' he points at Ev - " One of the other Marines leaned forward at this point to interrupt. "He din't choose me first, Barty, and you knows it!" Bartlett retaliated quickly, smirking as he said, "Hey, we both got our wits knocked half inta last year, what's it matter who got chose first? Least I din't fold up after a coupla swings!" “You came up to the scratch with a Sergeant? In front of a whole squad? Didn't you get trouble for that?” He could imagine what would have happened if an officer had shown up to find a Private and a Sergeant milling, in front of a whole squad of Marines. Though, from the sound of it, the Sergeant had bested both of the Privates. "I din't tap out, sure. Woulda had to be bloody stupid to not give it a proper try.” He paused to cut the thread he was using to repair his cartridge box. "You gonna finish the story right or not?" “That ain't the end of it?” Thompson asked, finally satisfied with the state of the lock. The flint was another matter, but that could wait until he'd put the lock back on the musket. “So what happened then?” He saw a flash of blue from the corner of his eye and glanced up. Oh... nothing to worry about. It was only a middy. Only a middy...! He started to scramble to his feet, sure that he should acknowledge the arrival of the young gentleman somehow, though from where he was standing, it seemed the lad didn't really want to be seen. |
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| Royal Navy & Marines | 14 Sep 2009, 10:45 PM Post #8 |
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Master of Puppets
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“You came up to the scratch with a Sergeant? In front of a whole squad? Didn't you get trouble for that?” "Trouble?" Bartlett shook his head. "How could we, it was his own idea!" “That ain't the end of it?” Everett scoffed. "Course it ain't. Barty here got his sorry arse beat an' but good. It was a beautiful showin' by the Colour-Sarn't." He grinned. "I'm glad he went first, 'cause he got the Colour-Sarn't softened up for me." " 'Softened up' - " Bartlett began, but Thompson's sudden attempt to get to his feet interrupted him. What the devil? There was no officer around except for that scamp Evans. Oh. Evans. The Norfolkman darted a glance around the weather deck and saw that there weren't any other officers or warrants about and decided he could get away with keeping his seat. "Come down to idle your time 'way with us lads, sir?" Bartlett asked, conveniently ignoring the presence of his corporal only a few feet away. |
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| James Norrington | 2 Jan 2010, 09:29 PM Post #9 |
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Norrington, James Norrington
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Stay inconspicuous and listen in. Listening in wasn't hard. The inconspicuous was, the thought, as he saw one of the privates jump up, clearly noticing his arrival. Evans gestured to the marine to sit down, not wanting to tell him to because then he might interrupt the story. And goodness knows he needed some amusement and diversion. Clearly Thompson wasn't the only one who noticed him, Bartlett and the others must've noticed Thompson's movement. Of course, it seemed silly to come to that conclusion, because when in a group of people when would you not notice one in your midst standing up? "Come down to idle your time 'way with us lads, sir?" Evans grinned, "Why not? I figure you lot all know how to have more fun than my fellows, the sleeping princesses the lot of them." He approached, and found a place to perch. "Just pretend I'm not here," he said, hoping that they wouldn't bother to moderate their stories for an officer in their midst. Edited and censored stories were just no fun. At least when compared to the uncensored accounts. |
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| Royal Navy & Marines | 10 Jan 2010, 07:36 PM Post #10 |
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Master of Puppets
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"Why not? I figure you lot all know how to have more fun than my fellows, the sleeping princesses the lot of them." Mister Evans settled in on the bulwark with a grin. "Just pretend I'm not here." The marines - except for Johnson, of course - grinned. "Arright, sir," Bartlett said cheerfully. "So anyways, Ev, you prolly don't remember that scrap right, 'cause of you gettin' your head half beat in. Oh hey, Thompson. Did he ever try gettin' you to fight him too?" Everett snorted. "Lookit him, he ain't been touched by nothin' 'cept the sun. So much the better, really. Better off not bein' humiliated in front of everybody. 'Sides, the Colour-Sarn't ain't done any boxin' since he almost did for Corporal McIntyre, after them turncoats was shot." "That's a story ain't really oughta be told again," Johnson observed curtly. [align=center]test[/align] |
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8:29 AM Mar 10
