The sniggering of the men caught Archie's attention. "What are you about, Styles?" he barked, hating the way his voice rose, and almost cracked. Simpson's men made him nervous; he could never be sure what they knew.
"Nothing, sir." Oldroyd and Finch were suppressing smiles, but Matthews, the steadiest of the crew, just looked worried, and glanced up for a moment before staring down at the ground. The other men straightened a bit, and started to knuckle, warning Archie just in time that Simpson was coming.
He swung around, and cast his eyes to the deck, but Jack still came swaggering up on him, breath in his face. Archie fought not to shrink back when the man leaned in, not to flinch when Simpson laid an arm across his shoulders.
"Looks like your friend, Snotty, is afraid of heights. Wouldn't it be a shame if the damned prig fell off the shrouds. It does happen, doesn't it Kennedy?" Archie looked up wildly, scanning the rigging. He found Horatio at last, clinging awkwardly part way up the mainmast ropes. Dangling precariously and clearly terrified.
Of course he couldn't help thinking of another boy, younger, sprawled lifeless on the deck of a different ship. He was meant to. Peering nervously at Jack, he saw Simpson smile in that exact way that showed the man knew. Knew how he felt about Horatio, and intended to make him pay for the disloyalty later, in the dark. Jack was a jealous god.
But right now, they were in the sun, on deck, and Simpson couldn't touch him without cause. He dropped his head again, mumbling, "Yes, sir, it does." then shrugged free when Jack's grip loosened. He scrambled out of range, darting to the railing and up into the shrouds before he even thought about what he was doing; before he could be stopped.
He climbed up the underside as fast as he could, though it was harder than the sea side. Archie thought he had less chance of startling Hornblower, if Horatio could see him coming. He could hear the boy now, pleading hopelessly.
"Help me. Somebody, help me."
He hadn't been up in the rigging for months. Not since Chadd nearly broke his hands the last time. The ropes felt good, though he'd lost some of the calluses, and they would hurt later. In fact, he felt good, felt free. He wish he'd kicked his shoes off, but the ascent was easy enough even hindered. In less than a minute, he was hanging level with Horatio, gasping just a bit, and probably grinning like a fool.
Hornblower was looking at him like he was mad, anyway. The boy had fallen silent. Archie thought Horatio even looked suspicious, which hurt. He made sure his footing was secure, then hooked one arm through, where he could grab the mid's coat if he had to, and put the other hand over Horatio's clenched fists.
"You'll be all right." Those startlingly deep, anxious eyes fastened on to him. Archie could feel his friend's shame, hangdog even as long limbs and fingers clung with every ounce of strength. Horatio tried to master it though, even mustered a rueful smile.
"You're not going to tell me to jump, I hope?" It took Archie a moment to catch the reference, then he realized that he had said something similar to coax Hornblower off the corvette. Was it only a week ago that Horatio had clawed aboard Justinian, like a drowning rat? Perhaps a few days more.
He grinned encouragement, and squeezed the hands under his again. "No. Not unless you fancy a swim." Horatio nodded, and glanced over his shoulder at the sea below. The wrong thing to do, because the boy gulped, and pressed face into the shroud line, whitening just a little further.
Archie thought for several seconds about how to extricate his friend from the boy's precarious position, then climbed up above Horatio. Carefully wrapping first one leg, then the other around the shrouds, he winced just a little as he heard an abused seam in his breeches give way. Both hands free, he reached through to grab Hornblower's coat. At least the other mid's clothes were new, and hopefully well sewn.
"Here is what we will do. You're all tangled up, and there's a busted ratline, so you need to pull yourself up to the next rope, and then we'll go down together, budged over a bit."
Horatio nodded, gulped again, but after a few moments, stared up at him helplessly, near tears. "I can't let go."
"Of course you can. I have you." He jerked on the blue coat to prove the security of his grip. "Hold on with your left hand, then, and reach up with the right." Pulling up on Horatio's jacket seemed to help, and the other boy finally obeyed him. It took some hauling before they were chest to chest, but it was managed.
Horatio looked better, standing now, both feet on the ratline. Archie checked that the boy's grip was solid, then with a spare hand, tapped a quick little pattern over Hornblower's knuckles.
"Do you remember that one?" He smiled, trying not to show how tired he was from hanging upside down. It had been too long since he'd gone skylarking, and his limbs were feeling the strain. Horatio looked confused, still too unsettled by the height to attend to what he was doing. "It's 'hold fast' remember? Just hold tight, and I'll shift around and be right behind you."
"Oh yes! Oh. Yes, I will. Archie... Archie, thank you." Horatio set his jaw, managing to look grim and utterly lovely at the same moment. Kennedy had to restrain a sudden whim to kiss the boy's long, patrician nose.
"Don't be daft, Hornblower." With that he began handing himself down the shroud. He let his legs swing free and when he was in position, flung himself around to the sea side under his friend. Archie used perhaps just a little more flash than was wise for someone who hadn't scaled a rope in four months. There were far safer ways to shift about, but he couldn't help showing off some for Horatio. And he was fine, just breathing heavily, when he climbed up again, and wrapped himself close around Horatio.
"All right, I will be right here. Left hand down, then right, then left foot down, and when you have that on the ratline, then the right foot. Are you listening? Left hand, right hand, left foot, right foot. Don't look down, just watch the ropes."
"Left, right, left, right, ropes. Aye, aye."
"That's the spirit, Hornblower. I'm here, holding on tight, you can't possibly fall."
They went down together then, Archie's hands and feet to the outside of Horatio's, moving just ahead of his friend. It was awkward in places, his own limbs being shorter, and they bumped a bit. But he held on with all his strength, determined not to let Horatio fall, not to let the boy even feel in danger of falling.
There was a danger to it of course. He was on the outside, and might be dislodged if Horatio moved too suddenly, or fell into him. Archie could see men below, looking up at them, concerned, though just as many were laughing. He had few friends among the crew, and Hornblower hadn't had time to make any.
He was distracted from any real fear, however, by the sensation of Horatio under him, moving against him. It was a damned inconvenient time to notice that the reedy, awkward boy was lithely proportioned, that the unfinished body had a raw charm, brown curls were soft where they brushed his cheek, and under the acrid tang of fear, Horatio's scent was warm, and smelled of soap.
Hornblower's fine-boned elegance and beautiful hands had not escaped his earlier notice. How could it, the boy was as pretty as a painting. But that his own attraction went beyond merely admiring the aesthetics was something Archie had managed to avoid contemplating until now.
By the time he swung off the shrouds, back onto the deck, his friend was looking far more self-possessed. Still stiff-faced, and nervous, but hands and feet moved confidently enough as Horatio edged around and followed him onto the deck to safety. For his part, Archie was uncomfortably aware that his invertedness had not been excised by six months suffering under Jack again; that it was still possible to feel something other than revulsion in the press of another boy's body against his.
On shore, it might have been a welcome revelation. Archie could have entertained himself with wondering if there was some secret to all the times that Horatio set hands to him. He could have made at least a few fantasies out of long sensitive fingers and plump wide lips. Here, aboard ship, under Simpson's vicious blue glare, any such thoughts became utterly foul. He would not taint Hornblower with his own degeneration. The temptation was just another reason to steer clear of Horatio. The others were in the dark promises in Jack's eyes.
Steeling himself, he pivoted around on Horatio and adopted a disgusted expression. "Be more careful next time, Hornblower! Don't think I'm going to risk my neck again just because you're clumsier than a drunken cow." The bloom of pain in those soft sable eyes was immediate, and he had to turn his back on it, ignoring his former friend's mumbled apologies.
"Someone needs to fix that ratline," he yelled at the nearby ratings. Two men started up to attend to it as Lieutenant Eccleston, at least it was Eccleston, strode up with a stern frown.
"Mr. Kennedy, a word."
"Aye, aye, sir." And so his punishment would start. For going aloft now, for cutting short Jack's fun, later. Glancing over to where Hornblower stood, hurt but breathing, uninjured and safe; he found he didn't care so much what happened to him. Archie would save Horatio, from Jack and from himself. This time he would do better. This time would be different.
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