"You are going to have to put a stop to it, Bunny."
The Nightingale's Surgeon, Mr Reginald Dawson, or
Reggie as he was better known to his intimate friends
of which there were many, took a deep breath, held it
for several seconds and finally exhaled amid much
wheezing and sighing and fluttering of eyelids. "I
simply can't take it anymore."
Captain Robert Bell watched performance with
indifference. Dawson was nowhere near as good with the
dramatics as Peter Crittenden was. In fact he was no
where near as good with ANYTHING. Bell frowned. "For
God's sake get yourself in hand, Reggie."
"I have had myself in hand, on and off for the last
two hours! Why do you think I have been hiding away
down here? Every time I go up on deck, I remember that
scene, all that water, all that flesh, those naked
limbs, glistening and wet, those smooth muscles,
rippling and straining. That SOAP!"
Bell nodded. He was still fantasizing about it
himself.
"And I have no other option," Dawson continued,
mopping his florrid brow with a silk handkerchief,
"Than to come back down here and get myself in hand
once again. But when I am finished I am no better off
than when I started." Dawson put his hand to his
forehead and closed his eyes. "I fear I will suffer an
apopplexy if I have to endure this again!"
Bell closed his own eyes but resisted the urge to
groan. He had to admit that todays display had left
him in something of a state too. It had seemed a sound
idea when the Bosun had approached him about showering
the Midshipmen. They were a grubby and smelly lot at
the best of times and a good dose of cold water would
not only relieve their ordour but also help, no doubt,
in subduing any other festerings that had a habit of
seething away in the cockpit. It should have been
simple but Bell hadn't reckoned on the interruption
from his second Lieutenant.
"In the tradition of Lieutenant Hornblower, my arse."
Bell muttered under his breath as he remembered
Peter's untimely entrance. The crew had been laughing
and joking about size of Riley's unfortunate member
and the fact that Grayson couldn't seem to keep his
down despite the cold water, when Peter had pranced in
soap in hand and declared he would lead the way in
true Hornblower fashion. Things had gone steadily
downhill from there.
Of course Peter had dropped the soap far more often
than could be considered decent, making the already
slick deck even more precarious and soon the Mids were
sliding and slipping and scuffling with each other as
they attempted to keep their feet under the onslaught
of the pump. Peter had ended up on the bottom, his
favourite position Bell noted, under a tangle of legs
and arms and other appendages that Bell tried hard to
forget about, although he had to admit young Hislop
had a most impressive....
"So what are you going to DO about it Bunny?" Dawson
demanded, reaching for the bottle of medicinal gin and
taking a large swig.
"I'm going to call Kitten into my cabin and have a
long, hard .... talk with him! That's what I am going
to do." Well it was partially true, anyway.
JJ Feb 2003