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

[greenjacketed]

Aye. It's the same on a special march -- the ones what bring us far from the main camp. I like them marching orders best.

[ of course he would! as a major, he has precious time left for proper soldiering any longer. taking men out on unique missions is just about the only time he manages to command men without higher officers interfering. ]

[contentwithoutcommand]

[David nods his assent, taking a sip of his brandy. One question plagues his mind. Something others have informed him of during the day, but he cannot be sure what he thinks of the idea. How much he believes.

But from someone with familiar manners, someone who will understand the importance.]

It's been suggested that no one will know I was gone. Do you put faith in that? If it isn't true... I should prefer to brace myself for the court martial when I return.

[greenjacketed]

[ his chuckle is try. ]

I confess, I've not known anyone too personally who has been and gone. Not while I too have been here, at least. But it's a well-known fact of the place: we're plucked from a moment, and we'll once again return to the same.

[contentwithoutcommand]

I'll pray to God they're right then. [He manages a smile, even if the idea of a court martial is still something to worry the back of his mind.]

Have you been here long, Major?

[greenjacketed]

Over a year. If they ain't right and we are missing...? Eh. The army already thinks I'm dead, I'm afraid to say.

[contentwithoutcommand]

[Long lets out a soft, appreciative breath.]

A year. Dead or captured certainly. [Or deserted. But that's not a politic thing to say. Too easy to give offence, to think it's an accusation rather than one of many possibilities of the worst that could be thought. And he most certainly does not want to offend.] Lord help us if they're not right.

[greenjacketed]

[ in truth, sharp had meant it literally. at the time he was sucked into luceti? he and his sergeant had already faked their deaths and had -- perhaps foolishly -- re-enlisted under fake names. if he never goes home now, he'll forever be known as the trumped up major who died in a ditch in st. giles...

but he's more than happy to let long believe he meant otherwise. ] In the meantime, it's a bloody chore just to keep busy in these parts. Best not to let yourself get too worked up about home, when it'll only drive you to dark places.

[contentwithoutcommand]

Not much to do? [Something like a prisoner of war, then. Officer status, considering everything. Parole given -- or assumed -- to allow them to wander about, given good rooms and food. But not free and not active.]

Damn. [He chuckles a bit, flashing a smile.] Must be some way to make a bit of fun here. [Granted, all fun gets just as dull after awhile; the idleness of the Peace didn't suit him well. But he can at least try to enjoy himself for a bit while he's here.] Liquor aplenty, obviously. [And, according to his sister, without a price to pay for it.] What other vices are there to indulge?

[greenjacketed]

Not outside of their rare battles, at least. Or their wretched experimentation. But there is a bit of sport to be had. [ ... ] I hunt, when I can.

[ as for other vices? well. not for him to say. he's been a bloody monk these past thirteen months. ]

[contentwithoutcommand]

Any gaming to speak of? [He won't ask about women. Too vulgar to put that out. A hand might say it, and he could benefit from the information. Not that he has much care himself of whether there are women to be had, but it tempers how things could be approached.

Still, he can work on coming to that point and expanding upon it later. In due time. No cause to rush.]

[greenjacketed]

There is a sailor named Sparrow who games. [ sailor is a generous noun and he knows it. ] An' if you asked, I have no doubt the village at large would provide fellows for a match or two.

[ but sharpe does not put himself forward as a companion in this regard. gambling's never been his bag. ]

[contentwithoutcommand]

Well, it may prove to be worth consideration. [He's not a man greatly given to gambling himself, but it would be a distraction at first.] I suppose I'll find some way to amuse myself.

[greenjacketed]

There's no coin, of course. But I reckon alternative measures could be made.

[ those mission points couldn't be transferable, but sharpe could imagine a gaming circle that ran on promised purchases. ]

[contentwithoutcommand]

Men who wants to will always find liquor and will always find stakes.

[It's said easily, and he drinks again with a smile.]

[greenjacketed]

Though hardly a vice, I plan to spend my damned free time growing a few vegetables. Not a proper farm, mind. Just a few to keep me and mine well fed, plus the few I promised to your sister in return for mending my shirts.

[contentwithoutcommand]

[David smiles a little more.]

Certainly sounds like a better idea than indulging vices. [The mention of his sister, though, makes David lean in a bit.] And, it seems, give my sister something to occupy herself.

Have you known one another long, Major?

[greenjacketed]

[ hmm. ]

Since the day of her arrival. [ he falls reticent, not yet certain he wants to express just how frightening the experience must have been for the woman. ]

[contentwithoutcommand]

I'm glad she hasn't been alone, then. [Not that he's willing to trust this man with his sister, but Long knows it's in his best interests to be friendly to find out what exactly has been going on.]

[greenjacketed]

...I fear she still has much to learn about this place.

[ or else the way of the world in any place but in her privileged circles. ]

[contentwithoutcommand]

[David frowns faintly at that, but he tries to keep his expression neutral.]

What makes you say that, Major?

[greenjacketed]

She's set on finding herself a maid of some sort, Commander. Although she's been told it's an unlikely thing in a place like this. [ not by him! of course. sharpe wouldn't presume to tell miss faith anything. but he's seen others be less gentle with her requests. ]

[contentwithoutcommand]

[David considers this, checking his initial protest that surely there is some woman, young or old, looking for a domestic situation. Even a maid-of-all-work, found in even the most modest of homes.

But, then, he manages:]

Because of the lack of funds available here, I imagine.

[greenjacketed]

Aye. Precisely so. [ a sip of brandy. ] She'd do better asking if any other young lass is looking to share quarters -- all friendly-like, you know? No doubt it's the tone of the offer what's turning'em off.

Perhaps you're best to explain it to her. I don't dare try. [ ... ] Not my place, I suppose

[contentwithoutcommand]

Faith is... stubborn. At best. [It's almost apologetic.]

If she's got her mind set on something, then that's that. But I'll try and speak to her. See if I can't convince her. Can't promise anything, though.

[greenjacketed]

...It's only that I hate to see the back-talk she gets for it. Them far-flung folk don't understand what it's like for someone such as her to be stuck here.