[Survival!] A Cold and Lonely Beach

[ElaineM]

MacNeil breathes a sigh of relief at the sight and the warmth from the roaring fire as the men lead them to the inn. Taking a seat as close to the fire as possible, he strips off his outer garments and hangs them up before taking some of the food.

He grins at Snout's question, but keeps his voice low as he answers. "Trust 'em more than the French, lad. And way I see it, anyone who wants to kill you wouldn't spare their food to fill your belly. What's the sense feeding a man who'll soon be dead, eh?" he points out.

"Fine timing on your part," he says in a louder voice around mouthfuls of bread, addressing the nearest Spaniard, an older man with a deeply lined face. "Much longer and I reckon we'd have been laid out right next to the rest of those poor souls who didn't make it out of the sea alive. Mucho gracias," he adds as an afterthought, realising the fisherman might not speak English. It seems the old man understands to at least some extent, though, as he replies, "De nada. You are welcome, senor."

[w00hoo]

Fuller shakes his head, he takes a bit of bread and looks at it unsure before continuing, his voice still low, "or they prefer to do us in while our guard is down. There's weird stuff floating in yer broth and everything, lot easier to kill a man if he ain't ready to fight yer." He finally gives in to the grumble in his stomach and takes a bite of the bread.

[ElaineM]

"You fret too much, Fuller," MacNeil chuckles. "You've done nowt to make them want to fight you, right? So hush up and get your strength back before you slight their hospitality."

[w00hoo]

Fuller grumbles a last indistinct, "they just ain't right, mark me" and goes back to concentrating on his rifle.

[wraithben]

Price leaves the officers greatfully and head over to Fuller and MacNeil giving a friendly nod to Tom on his way.

'Alright lads, how we're all holding up? Bloodly freezing like isn't it?'

He moves closer to the fire in a hope of getting a little warmer and drier.

[w00hoo]

Fuller looks up from the corner of the fireplace, where he'd been working a scrap of rag around the firing mechanism of the rifle. "Yeah, monkeys. Least we can be 'appy we're out of the wind eh?"

[ElaineM]

MacNeil shifts to the side, making some space by the fire. "Sit down and take your jacket off, Taff, for pity's sake. You'll never get proper warmed up if you leave it on. Look, drape it over here. It'll dry off better."

[Zuki]

For his own part the captain strips down as well, warming himself by the fire as he talks to Charlesworth "Thomas, We have met with misfortune in our mission, but I want you to make it known that I will not flinch in my duty to our current orders. This is no time for a lapse in morale..." he accepted a hunk of bread and some of the strange looking fish stew, raising a brow at its spiced scent. "Well...that is if I survive this meal..."

He tastes a little, making a pained expression that he tries not to show to their hosts, his palate not suited to this spicy spanish fare, he wonder when he will again taste the mild, boiled fare of old england again. Still he forces it down as they have little other supply to rely upon.

[Neil Gow]

The orders nestle on Hempwick's lap, bone dry despite their dalliance with the ocean waves. Even in the flickering light of the fire and the candles, their implication is clear to both Hempwick and Carmichael. Neither is going to see England again for a long time. After the dreadful march back to Corruna, plans had been laid to prepare for the inevitable return of the army and the navy and those plans relied upon three things - accurate intelligence regarding the movements of the French around the Peninsular, knowledge of the attitude of the local people to the prospect of a counter-invasion and of course, some degree of cooperation from the guerillas in the area.

The orders are clear - using any methods acceptable to officers and gentlemen and according to His Majesty's regulations and the Acts of War - the officers are charged with gathering intelligence on the French, gaining the support of the guerillas and ascertaining the mood of the local nobility. If they can undermine the French efforts as they are doing this, all the better.

As Hempwick folds the orders again and looks deep into the fire, Mareno pulls a stool up to the fire and extends two glasses of brandy. " My friends, to find you both here, now and alive, it is clearly an act of the Lord. I am sorry for the loss of so many of your men. These seas are treacherous at the best of times." He looks around, ensuring that they are speaking in confidence. "You will be safe here tonight, my friends, but you cannot stay. There are patrols around here every day. Hussars. They come into the village and ... well, this is the last of our brandy!" Mareno gestures to two of his men. "Romero and Sanchez will take you inland and up into the mountains. Rosalinda is there ... with her child." He flashes a suspicious stare at Carmichael. "From there, we can see how we can use men like yourselves."

[Neil Gow]

One of the Spanish fishermen pulls out a tin whistle and begins to pipe a shrill tune, lifting the spirits of the room as the wind and rain howl outside. Two of the men that gathered them from the beach - Sanchez and Romero - walk up to the gathering of Price, Fuller, Charlesworth and MacNeil.

"You are not having the best luck? First you lose to the French and then you sink your boat." Sanchez grins at them.

Romero joins in. "For men who are to come into our country and rescue us, well, it is no good. And your boat? The British are the greatest sailors in the world and yet Old Jose could navigate that water better."

"A bad day indeed for you .... maybe. Maybe you might fare better at a game of dice?" Sanchez holds out a handful of carved bone dice, expectantly. " If you have anything to wager?"

[ElaineM]

MacNeil chuckles, leaning forward as Sanchez and Romero speak. "I'll admit that the boat went down," he agrees, "but not through the fault of land-dwelling soldiers like most of us gathered here. Pure bad luck indeed," he shakes his head sadly. "As for a game of dice, I'd surely play a game with you, but I fear the sea swept away all my coin. I might be able to muster a bit of seaweed from my pocket? And of course, it'd be poor thanks for your hospitality to thoroughly beat you in a game of dice," he grins good-naturedly.

[wraithben]

Price mutters to Fuller

'Ever get the impression they don't like us Snout?' Mind you if we could scrape together an ante I bet we could get some weapons or cash off them or better yet some drink. I'm sure you can work your way around most games so we win?'

Even as he speaks he is following MacNeils instruction, shrugging out of his redcoat and hanging it to dry out.

[w00hoo]

Fuller looks across at the Spaniards, but his reply is directed to Price, "As you say lad, we've left our belongings back in their bay, so I'm sure they'll be collectin' em up tomorrow fer themselves any way. As fer powder an' shot, unless they've got any we've already give 'em, I wouldn't trust it to burn hot, nor roll true." He returns his attention to the rifle, seeing that with the mechanism now clean and dry the flint was giving a good spark in the pan.

[dpmcalister]

Tom takes a bowl of the stew and quickly polishes it off, the warmth of both the temperature and the spices flowing through him. "I think morale is remarkably high given the circumstances sir. A night out of the cold and the chance to dry our clothes and warm ourselves will only aid the matter."

He then takes a hunk of the bread and uses it to mop up the juices still in his bowl. "If I may speak freely sir, a more pressing concern appears to be our weapons. We should make haste in ensuring as many as possible are able to function and dry as much powder and shot as we can."

[Zuki]

Carmicheal nods to Charlesworth with a grim expression "You are not wrong, Thomas, if the frogs catch up right now we are practically defenseless - diplomatic mission or not, we need something to keep us safe in a tight spot..." within a few minutes he has finished the suspect stew and pulled on his shirt once again, most of the dampness having been removed, though it still looks a little grimy.

He beckons the Private over while he looks at the orders with Hempwick, taking a moment to absorb the information "Well Josiah, we certainly have our work cut out for us, I know an old friend of mine, Lady Terisse who has an estate around here..." he gets a faraway look in his eyes, remembering that summer spent in the mountains. "Ah...Once we are done with these chaps we can talk to her. I think her father had a small force of men too...perhaps he might have weapons for us, eh Thomas?"

As Mareno approaches he smiles and takes the brandy, "Salud, mis amigo." he sips it and is pleasantly surprised at its quality, though of course he had better in Ovideo. He takes a seat as well and lets Charlesworth remain standing, continuing in spanish <<Yes, to business. We need to avoid any french entanglements they will certainly discover the ships and bodies...Id suggest you make sure they understand there were no survivors.>> he pauses and reaches into his pocket, taking out a handful of silver coins and passing them over to the Spaniard. <<However...if you could see your way to ensuring they recieve a proper burial here, I would be eternally grateful, Mareno.>> he maintains the mans gaze to ensure he understands the seriousness of his words.

Captain Carmicheal relaxes some, though the mans words concerning Rosalinda have him slightly worried, those lonely nights in Ovideo seemed such a long time ago, but just how long? Regardless he could not let such things concern him now, not with so much to do. <<Who is in charge of the Salvajes these days? Is it still Vidal? I would like to catch up with my old friend.>>