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It had been an exhausting day. Archie
took off his hat as he went below decks, anxious to finally get off of his feet.
His first day aboard His Majesty's Ship Renown hadn't been so bad. Nothing
unusual had happened today...a perfect day to get accustomed to a new routine, a
new crew, a new ship.
The wardroom itself was deserted. The first lieutenant--Buckland, was it?--was
still on deck; that explained his absence. But Horatio should have been here. He
had been eager to compare his day with his friend's. Shrugging away his
disappointment, Archie stripped off his coat and headed for his cabin. His eyes
scanned the cramped space that he would be calling home for God-knew-how-long.
It wasn't much, he mused, but a lieutenant's lot was luxurious in comparison to
a midshipman's. He hung his coat and hat up, then shuffling through his sea
chest--he hadn't had a chance to pull anything out yet--he searched for
something to read. Archie bit his bottom lip in frustration as his hand plowed
deeper and deeper without success. As if his caustic mutterings that "he KNEW he
had packed his books" called forth its discovery, the leathery cover of a hidden
volume brushed past his fingers. He fished it out happily, anxious to see its
title. "Principles of Navigation"? Archie groaned. It figured that the only
reading material that he could find would be the one he had no interest in
reading. He put it aside, searching in vain once more for one of HIS books.
There were none to be found. Sighing in resignation, he grabbed the book Horatio
had loaned him months before and collapsed onto his cot. He swung his legs up
casually and stared intently at the cover as a child would stare at vegetables
on his dinner plate. This was bland stuff. Most likely Horatio had read the
entire thing--and what's worse, enjoyed it--within a matter of days. Archie
considered himself far more discerning; he had had the book for several months
now if he remembered correctly and he still had not cracked it opened. In fact,
he had quite forgotten it was still in his possession. But, if anything could
put him to sleep, this could.
He had not even turned the first page when he heard something stirring in the
room beyond. Archie sat up and peeked out from behind the canvas wall that
sectioned his cabin off from the remainder of the room. The wardroom was still
empty. He had never known ship's food to cause one to hear strange sounds, but a
new ship, a new cook--one never knew, did one? Arching his brows in dismissal,
he sat back and looked once more at his sea chest. Perhaps dumping the contents
of the thing would be in order--THEN he would find his books and be spared the
sad fate of sines and cosines assaulting his dreams. A muffled grunt from beyond
the door caught his attention again. Thoroughly perplexed, he picked himself up
from the cot and walked out to the middle of the room. He tilted his head in the
noise's direction. Following the sound, Archie poked his head into his friend's
cabin.
"Horati...? Oh." He stopped short at the sight of the lanky figure curled
pathetically next to a bucket on the deck. A pair of sunken eyes stared angrily
up at him from a face whose greenish pallor could not be hidden even by the
darkness. Archie tried to make his smile look sympathetic, but feared he was
failing miserably. "Are you alright?"
"No."
Archie crouched down next to his friend. "Do you want me to get you anything?"
"Just go away." Horatio's words were barely audible through his tightly drawn
mouth. No doubt he feared what may come out if he opened it more than necessary.
Archie shook his head.
"At least get up on the cot. You'll feel better if you lie down." Horatio
groaned, pursing his lips and swallowing audibly. Archie pushed the bucket
closer. "Go ahead and throw up, Horatio." He placed a hand gently on his
friend's shoulder. "It doesn't bother me and you'll feel better."
Horatio closed his eyes, arms wrapped around his middle. "Archie...go...away..."
he moaned.
Archie stood up and shook his head again. Horatio was a stubborn fool, certain
in his belief that assistance was the equivalent of ridicule. The day would come
when he would be forced to rely on other people; and Kennedy could only imagine
the agony Horatio would put himself through before announcing that he was
incapable of doing something on his own. Horatio would rather die than choose to
accept help from others. The picture of Horatio's mental self-torture amused and
saddened Archie all at once. But the man was suffering enough at the moment. It
seemed cruel to do anything but fulfill Horatio's needs without waiting for an
invitation to do so. "I'll be close by..."
"LEAVE!"
Archie stood to go and took one last
look at Horatio. The miserable man cringing on the deck bore little resemblance
to the legend whose name he shared. It was somewhat satisfying to think of the
hefty revision that Horatio's godlike image would undergo should this side of
him be discovered. A satisfying thought, chuckled Archie, but an unlikely one.
However illogical, it had always been the way of things that such a foible would
only serve to grow Horatio's greatness in his men's eyes. Ah...that all men
could be so lucky...
Retrieving his book, Archie pulled up a chair at the wardroom table. He would be
able to hear Horatio better if he needed something...and it wasn't as if the
reading material would distract him. Sighing, he flipped the book opened to the
middle and gazed, unimpressed, at the notations on the pages. It wasn't until
Lieutenant Buckland stopped in the threshold of the wardroom that Archie began
to actually take a half-hearted interest in the text.
Buckland reminded Archie very much of his childhood tutors. Tutor*s*
because he had driven a number of them away in succession with his relentless
practical jokes. Archie smiled proudly--he still held as badges of honor their
resignations and declarations to his mother that "THAT child, Mrs. Kennedy, is
incorrigible". Buckland seemed just like them. Stolid on the outside with eyes
that betrayed a lack of confidence and excitability eager to come to the
surface. A dignified bearing that hardly covered its clumsiness. An authority
figure with absolutely no authority. Even as a child, Archie had been quick to
perceive the incongruity in his instructors; it was hard to deny its presence in
Buckland.
But that was unfair to a man he barely knew, Archie chided himself. Buckland
was, after all, his superior officer; the man must have done SOMETHING to earn
his rank. He pushed his musings to the back of his mind and stood up to greet
the first lieutenant.
"Mr. Buckland."
The two stared awkwardly at each other for a moment. Buckland had said hardly a
word to Archie the entire day. Archie wondered if the man would say anything
now. The first lieutenant had his eyes fixed on the volume in Kennedy's hand.
"Reading, Mr. Kennedy?" Archie nodded at what could have been called a statement
of the obvious if it had not been for the fact that he was staring at--more than
reading--the information on the pages. Buckland moved closer to look at the
text. "Principles of Navigation. A good employment of your time, sir.
That is the sign of a worthy officer...nose constantly in a book..."
Archie raised an eyebrow. "Indeed, sir?" He wondered if Shakespeare could be
counted among the books 'that made for a worthy officer'; his nose was in THAT
far more often…
"Your conduct today has been admirable, Mr. Kennedy. I am sure that Captain
Sawyer is very pleased that you have joined us." It was becoming more difficult
for Archie to feign austerity. 'Admirable'? Doing what one was expected to do
was 'admirable'? Usually such a compliment from a first lieutenant would have
held more weight in his eyes, but for some reason, he felt that he should not be
so flattered this time.
"Thank you, sir." He finally said, clearing his throat. An uncomfortable silence
settled between the two men.
A heaving sound from Horatio's cabin suddenly pierced the quiet of the wardroom.
Buckland's eyes went wide. He gazed at Kennedy in askance.
Archie choked down a smile. "We had quite a night last night, sir." He started
apologetically. "Celebrating."
Buckland furrowed his brow. "And he's still feeling it?" He asked in disbelief.
They turned to yet another retching sound. Archie leaned towards Buckland and
said quietly, "He's never held his drink well." Buckland nodded slowly in
understanding.
"Then I would have you advise Mr. Hornblower to keep from spirits, Mr. Kennedy."
He cast a nervous glance towards Horatio's cabin. "We cannot let his habits
effect his ability to do his duty."
Archie looked down at his feet in mock solemnity, "I will, sir. Thank you for
your concern, sir." Buckland nodded and left the wardroom. Rolling his eyes,
Archie watched his superior officer leave. It was not wise to judge a man after
only a few hours' acquaintance, but still the thought lingered that Buckland had
the potential for being a very ridiculous figure. It was a thought best kept to
himself; he could only imagine how much Horatio would disapprove. But as
sobering as the prospect of his friend's condemnation was, the sudden
realization of the impressions his first lieutenant had just been left with
revived his mirth: Kennedy, the serious and studious, and Hornblower, the
raucous and inebriated. Yet another thought of which Mr. Hornblower would surely
disapprove...
The scraping sound of a bucket being pushed across the deck denoted a brief lull
in Horatio's "activity". Treading carefully towards his friend's cabin, Archie
peeked in.
"Feel better?" he asked.
"Not really."
"Do you want anything now?"
Horatio shook his head.
"Are you sure?" Archie pressed. "A drink maybe?" Horatio's throat convulsed as
he pressed his lips together. Archie smirked. "Maybe not."
"Archie?" Horatio asked pathetically, "Please tell me that I didn't just hear
you tell the first lieutenant I was hungover."
"Would you have rather me have told him you were seasick?"
"Yes...I mean, no..I mean...ugh..." Horatio's left hand sprang to cover his
mouth as his right felt feebly for the bucket. Kennedy pushed it towards him
with his foot.
"I'm sure Mr. Buckland thinks you quite the drunkard now, H'ratio." Archie
continued as if his friend were eating, rather than regurgitating, dinner. He
grabbed a towel on the wash stand and handed it to Hornblower. "I am to remind
you to keep from spirits." He could not keep from snickering. "Mr. Buckland is
very concerned that you might neglect your duties."
"You're a true friend, Mr. Kennedy," Horatio said sarcastically, then leaned
over the bucket to vomit once more.
Archie glanced over Horatio's shoulder into the bucket. "Looks like you're going
to need another one..."
"Don't you have ANYTHING else to do?"
"No...unless you have any suggestions."
"Yes. Go to the devil."
Archie grinned, ignoring the intended insult. "Well, you've one of two options
from what I can see, Horatio. Dump it or replace it. I'll dump it for you if you
think you can 'belay heaving' long enough..."
Horatio pushed himself up to standing. "I can do it." He reached down for the
bucket. Archie watched with no little amusement as Horatio's eyes widened at the
sight of its contents. Horatio stood back up, greener than before. "You'd better
do it."
Shaking his head, Archie guided his friend to his cot. "Lie down, Horatio. Just
be still for a while. This will pass."
"I feel miserable."
"I never would have guessed that."
For a moment, a flicker of hopefulness brightened Horatio's sullen eyes.
"Really?"
"No." Horatio's face fell. Archie pulled his friend's boots off his feet and
threw them to the floor with a thud. "You're a pitiable sight, Mr. Hornblower."
A wry smile crossed his face. "My God! If I didn't know better, I would think
that you were a mere mortal!"
Horatio covered his eyes with his arm. He racked his brain for words that would
wound the all-too-cheerful man beside him, but all he could conjure up was a
pathetic, "B@stard." He took comfort in the fact that he had meant it.
The fairer man chuckled, pulling a blanket under Horatio's chin. "Is that the
best you can do? You are feeling poorly, aren't you?"
"Go dump the d@mn bucket, would you?" Horatio growled.
"Aye, aye, sir."
Horatio listened as Archie grabbed the bucket and left the room. He fumed
silently as Kennedy's footsteps got fainter. He was glad to be rid of Archie and
his annoying knack for discovering--and accepting--his weaknesses. Part of
Horatio felt ashamed that he had sent his friend--the son of a lord, no less--to
do such a servile chore as emptying a vomit-filled bucket. Then again, the man
hadn't argued and had, in fact, offered to do it. One would think Archie would
have the decency to be disgusted, if not repulsed, by the task he was
undertaking. It was plausible that Archie would not RESENT doing such an errand
for a friend, but did the man have to do it so pleasantly? Kennedy's
obligingness irritated him. It only proved to Horatio that there was no justice
in this world. By rights, the humiliating task of dumping the evidence of his
malady should have been his. He should have been the one facing the heckling of
the men, not Archie. Horatio's foul mood overwhelmed the remaining sympathy he
had for his friend. Archie had chosen to do what he did and the imbecile did it
with a smile on his face. Any humiliation he suffered as a result would be
deserved. There was numbing comfort in such a cold thought. But the comfort was
short lived as a horrible notion struck Horatio. Would Archie defend himself
from the jeers of others by telling them who was responsible for the bucket's
contents? His stomach twisted anew.
"Ah! You've kept everything in while I was away! Good man!" Kennedy dropped the
bucket next to Horatio's cot. Leaning against the washstand, he crossed his arms
and studied his friend.
Hornblower struggled to keep his voice steady. There was a chance that Archie
would go away if he did not think himself needed. "I'm feeling much better."
Archie snorted. "Liar."
Stormy brown eyes met laughing blue ones. Horatio tried desperately to hold onto
his anger at this man who so tenaciously stayed where he was not welcome. Every
fiber of his being wanted to lash out at Archie, fool that he was for acting as
though weakness was tolerable. Had he been in a better mood, Horatio might have
been able to recognize the genuine concern in Archie's features. But in his
current state, the look registered in Hornblower's mind as pity. And he did not
want to be pitied. He searched for the phrases that would express his
resentment. And just as he was about to say them, Archie had the nerve to smile.
Not the sarcastic smile of which Horatio felt he was too often on the receiving
end, but the preemptive smile of a man who knew all too well what was
coming--and didn't care. Horatio wanted the expression to annoy him more than he
was finding it did. Without willing it, he returned the grin. "Thank you,
Archie." He whispered.
Archie's face lit up. "That's right, 'thank you'." He scolded jokingly. "That
must rank as one of the most revolting things I've ever done in my entire life.
What did you eat?"
Horatio's stomach churned at the mention of food. "Do you mind?"
"Sorry." Archie made a weak attempt to cover his amusement. "Well, at least by
starting a voyage out like this, you know it can only get better."
Horatio's mind flashed to another episode of seasickness--aboard Justinian.
Things hardly improved afterwards. He had learned the harsh lesson of what it
meant to be under a weak captain. He had felt powerless to change things. He had
made enemies though he done nothing to deserve them. He had nearly lost his
life. And as a result of his own desperate acts, he had lost a friend.
His pride, however, refused to allow him to connect the two. Previous bouts with
seasickness that had introduced miserable situations did not automatically doom
this voyage. He was an officer, Horatio reminded himself, and should not be
given to the ignorant superstitions of the lower decks.
"Yes, Archie." He replied insincerely,
"I suppose it should be a source of hope."
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