Closed - Let the waters roar...
DATE: November 22nd, two bells in the first watch [9 o'clock PM] (backdated)
CHARACTER(S): willturntides and didnotspeak
SUMMARY: Two Navy officers meet properly.
LOCATION: Camp.
WARNINGS: None for now.
FORMAT: Prose.
Two bells into the first watch. Even so far from sea, Lieutenant David Chadd still thought in terms of nautical time keeping. He couldn't accurately shoot the sun, but he'd heard a man passing along the word that it was noon as they traveled, and he trusted that... and the pocketwatch he still had on him that another had been kind enough to let him set his by.
The first meal had been eaten with great haste without getting too near the others, and he'd returned the bowl to the wagon he'd borrowed it from-- the quiet cook who had been portioning out fresh food in a manner that reminded him quite a lot of Captain Keene's steward. And Pellew's, too, but he was more familiar with Johnson, having served with him for far longer.
Chadd bit at his lip, rolling the tip of his tongue agaisnt the roof of his mouth as he imagined having paper or bone between his teeth-- a cigar or a pipe. Tobacco. He hadn't craved it until he thought about it. But it would keep out the chill, and the smell would be a warm reminder of the Justinian and Indefatigable.
It was not yet cold enough-- though the slight breeze of the night hinted that it might soon be-- to warrant the thick wool coat he had woken in, so it was laid carefully beside him, and he wore his uniform, making him relatively easy to pick out as he sat alone, by a small fire of his own making.
He had seen others in similar uniforms. The man who had served food, another at work with a map, and another standing watch. One of them, he felt sure, was Lieutenant Tom Pullings, unless there was another Navy man he had not yet met. He had approached none yet. Mister Pullings had said he would find him, so Chadd was content to wait.
CHARACTER(S): willturntides and didnotspeak
SUMMARY: Two Navy officers meet properly.
LOCATION: Camp.
WARNINGS: None for now.
FORMAT: Prose.
Two bells into the first watch. Even so far from sea, Lieutenant David Chadd still thought in terms of nautical time keeping. He couldn't accurately shoot the sun, but he'd heard a man passing along the word that it was noon as they traveled, and he trusted that... and the pocketwatch he still had on him that another had been kind enough to let him set his by.
The first meal had been eaten with great haste without getting too near the others, and he'd returned the bowl to the wagon he'd borrowed it from-- the quiet cook who had been portioning out fresh food in a manner that reminded him quite a lot of Captain Keene's steward. And Pellew's, too, but he was more familiar with Johnson, having served with him for far longer.
Chadd bit at his lip, rolling the tip of his tongue agaisnt the roof of his mouth as he imagined having paper or bone between his teeth-- a cigar or a pipe. Tobacco. He hadn't craved it until he thought about it. But it would keep out the chill, and the smell would be a warm reminder of the Justinian and Indefatigable.
It was not yet cold enough-- though the slight breeze of the night hinted that it might soon be-- to warrant the thick wool coat he had woken in, so it was laid carefully beside him, and he wore his uniform, making him relatively easy to pick out as he sat alone, by a small fire of his own making.
He had seen others in similar uniforms. The man who had served food, another at work with a map, and another standing watch. One of them, he felt sure, was Lieutenant Tom Pullings, unless there was another Navy man he had not yet met. He had approached none yet. Mister Pullings had said he would find him, so Chadd was content to wait.