First Tackle : written

[contentwithoutcommand]

[David has had... three days. He's taken three days living with his sister to sort out where he is and what's going on. Which, as far as he can tell, is all very vague.

Of course, a woman like Faith can't be expected to have any sort of reckoning of points of longitude and latitude, and he doesn't have the tools required yet to shoot the sun to take his own calculations. He is most certainly not in England or the West Indies, though. Of that much, he can be certain.

The Journal is his biggest contemplation. He's watched it, these last few days. He doesn't understand most of it, but he has seen how it can used to address letters and even speeches to the general population. How the latter works, he doesn't know. Really, how it works in general is a mystery, but he understands the written form best.

There's no telling who will read what he writes as he finally takes up a pen, so he's careful with his wording. Around him are about twenty sheets on which he's practiced before committing himself to this.]

The fourth of May.

[No location, he doesn't grasp that well enough yet to make that distinction.]

To whom it may concern:

[There may be an admiral or commodore or post-captain in this strange place, but he can't be sure, so a more general heading will have to do.]

I arrived here on the first of May. After making a basic of study of the area, I proceeded to the north where I found a village. It is the only one according to local information. I established a residence and read what is provided by way of documentation. I have since collected my possessions that have arrived: my uniform, my pocketwatch, and my telescope.

My ship is lost, my crew unaccounted for, and the fleet far out of range of communication. I write this dispatch in the hope that it might be received by someone in a position to answer it.

I am, most respectfully, your servant,

D Long, commander of His Majesty's Sloop Hornet, R. N.

[The strangest dispatch he has ever written, David thinks, but it will do. It might also give him some indication if there are any brother officers here, if any of his crew or squadron have suffered the same fate.]

Comments

[contentwithoutcommand]

Nil desperandum. [He drinks to that sentiment.]

Doesn't do any good to worry about it, does it?

[greenjacketed]

It does not. [ another drink. and sharpe realizes only too late that he's learned a great deal about david and hasn't offered much of himself. even beyond what the man has shared, faith has shared plenty on top of it.

so sharpe tries to awkwardly pin a new fact to his person: ] South Essex, by the by. My regiment. I failed to say it, earlier-like.

[contentwithoutcommand]

South Essex. I was curious when you mentioned the Rifles. Heard of 'em but never got to meet a man of them yet.

[greenjacketed]

Truthfully, the South Essex is a battalion of red coats. I were once of the 95th Rifles, but we got cut off during the Corunna retreat and...

[ and that's the lad's bloody future, weren't it? ] Me and about half a company found ourselves attached to the South Essex's light company, and there we bloody well stayed. A few rifles among muskets.

[contentwithoutcommand]

[Cut off. Long can appreciate those words. Can understand how chilling that idea is.]

Best idea I can see in that case. Attach to some sort of force. [More of a chance of staying alive.]

[greenjacketed]

Indeed, Commander. We should've been shipped back to the Rifles properly but I believe the paperwork was -- ah -- lost.

[ rifle companies -- even if fractious -- could occasionally be coveted by the army. wellington's intelligence officer had only been too glad to get the men lost in the shuffle and keep them close. ]

[contentwithoutcommand]

[David cants his head then bows it slightly.]

I'm sure they're doing everything they can to figure out how to fix that.

[Said in a way that makes it clear he thinks no such thing. Paperwork was only convenient when it didn't go against the plans of someone higher up.]

[greenjacketed]

...It's been four years for me, now, in Portugal and Spain. It's been a long and profitable mix-up.

[contentwithoutcommand]

Christ. Not much for efficiency are they?

[greenjacketed]

[ laughter. ]

When are they ever efficient, eh?

[contentwithoutcommand]

When it suits them to be. And not a moment otherwise.

[greenjacketed]

...You're orright, Long. [ he grows more informal by the moment. it helps to have laughed. ] Better'n the last slew of navy men we had here. Bloody hell.

[contentwithoutcommand]

I heard there'd been others.

...Didn't ask much about them. [Long admits it with a slight grin.] I was more interested in -- seems they left a ship behind when they went.

[greenjacketed]

...They did, at that. The Britannia, though I never had the chance to board her. Have you been down to the shore?

[contentwithoutcommand]

I have. [He frowns slightly, still puzzling out exactly how he went from the barracks to near the shore so quickly. Things that defied his sense of the possible... but he shakes his head. A problem for another day.] It's... something of a relief, I admit, to know there's sea close at hand.

[greenjacketed]

They say it never used to be a ocean, but was instead a great desert.

[contentwithoutcommand]

Really? Well. [He flashes a grin, half chuckling. It's less disturbing to think about than other things.] I suppose, given this place, that shouldn't sound so strange, should it?

[greenjacketed]

I believe I've been here too long. My notion of what's strange and what ain't is a bloody mess.

[contentwithoutcommand]

I... suppose it's the same as with anywhere. One gets used to it... in time. [From his tone? That'll take awhile.]

[greenjacketed]

I believe the brunt of this place took me until the half-year. There are surprises still left that no one bothers to tell you 'bout.

[contentwithoutcommand]

Will it do me any good to ask you of them, Major? I should like to be as prepared as I can.

[Granted, given what he's seen so far... "prepared" might be an overstatement as to how much a warning will help process what else there might be.]

[greenjacketed]

...February is a rough month, though I did not survive my first until recently. They play with people's hearts, Commander. And their feelings. They invent things what shouldn't be there.

[contentwithoutcommand]

Invent things? [Possible? It must be. The major, after all, has no reason to lie. How? Long isn't sure he wants to know.] Christ.

[greenjacketed]

Make you love people you don't. Make you hate ones you wouldn't want to. Make you remember things wrong. Make you think you're someone else. It's what they do. It's their bloody nature.

[contentwithoutcommand]

Christ. How the hell do they manage to do that? [It seems impossible, but he knows well enough that is the nature of this place. After all, he has wings on his back, under his coat.]