The guards stared fearfully at the man in the long, black coat, as he strode purposefully through the dark stone corridors of Kingston Royal Prison. Nobody reacted to his odd manner of dressing, or his unnanounced presence. The individual had an unusual authority about him, compelling everyone to stay back and keep silent.
He arrived at the cell he was looking for, in the right-hand corner of the sickbay. It was occupied by two young men, one in the bed, and the other one on a stick-chair next to it. The air was stale and clammy, with the stench of festering blood and other unpleasantries. He pulled a roll of parchment from his deep pocket, and handed it to the guard outside the barred door.
"I'm here for the prisoner."
The man on the chair looked up as he entered. His dishevelled uniform coat gave him away as a Lieutenant of the Royal Navy. A shaggy cloud of dark curls framed his angular, strangely handsome face. Third Lieutenant Hornblower, of the HMS Renown; Recently aquitted of mutiny, he still had a defeated look to him, as he watched over his friend.
Fourth Lieutenant Kennedy was unconscious. His skin was a deathly pale ashen shade, and his long, straw-coloured hair stuck to his face and shoulders, soaked with cold sweat. There couldn't be much blood left in him, after that many days. It was a wonder his heart was still beating at all.
The man in the coat walked over to Lieutenant Hornblower, put his hand gently on the young officer's shoulder. Do not fear. Do not be angry. I wish you no harm.
"I will have to take him with me now. He doesn't have long."
Lieutenant Hornblower looked up, only now aware that someone else had entered the cell. "Take him where? In the state he's in now, what would be the point? Let him have his final moments in peace, I beg you."
"I'm not here to punish him," the man explained, as he pulled up a small device from his pocket and attached it on Kennedy's chest. "I may be able to help him get well, but as you said, he's not long for this world. It will have to happen right away."
Hornblower's dark eyes betrayed a lot of confusion, sadness and worry, but he kept his voice steady as he talked.
"Lieutenant Kennedy has been convicted of mutiny, and an attempt on a captain's life. Even if you could help him, he will hang as soon as he gets well."
"He will not," said the man, producing a syringe from another pocket, and injecting the contents into the unconscious officer's arm. "I will take him to safety. Nobody will ever know what happened."
"Who are you?" Lieutenant Hornblower inquired. "You must be a physician, of sorts, but I do not understand..."
"I'm a friend," the man cut him off. "That's all you need to know. I'm sorry about this, but I'm afraid you won't be able to remember me, or what really happened to Archie. For a while, you will have to believe that your friend has died, and that it was the guards who took away the body. It will break your heart, but for now it's necessary that it happens that way. One day, I will come back for you, Horatio."