A/N: The first three lines are taken from the book/movie. I don't own them,
or Horatio Hornblower, or anyone that you recognize from the series.
Justinian, 1794
Honor (n): 4. Glory
"Speak, apparition." One of the midshipmen said to the bedraggled youth before him.
"M-my name is Hornblower." the youth managed to say.
"What an infernal piece of bad luck for you." the same man answered. To his right, one of the men, with raven black hair, coughed slightly. When the youth, overcome at last by seasickness, vomited in a corner, only he did not laugh. "Leave him be." he said in a rough voice.
"Easy for you to say, Old Sam." one of the men said, "You never had a weak stomach."
"Even if I did, there's nothing funny about it." The man called Sam rose and came to the youth. "Easy, boy. We'll get you away from here."
Once the man had helped the boy into a hammock, he managed a smile. "They always do that to the new arrivals. Don't bother your head about them."
"Thank you, sir." the youth croaked. The man cocked his head. "I suppose we should be introduced properly. Everyone calls me Old Sam, and I suggest you do the same."
"H-Horatio Hornblower." the youth said, grasping the man's hand, "It's nice to meet you, s-sir."
Old Sam laughed. It was an unusual laugh, as though raindrops were softly falling upon cobblestones. It didn't quite fit the man's gruff persona. "Don't bother with that 'sir'." he said, "I'm only eighteen."
The youth's eyes widened. "Then...why are you called 'Old Sam'?"
"Because, frankly, the midshipmen are idiots. Well, all except two. You've met one. His name's Archie. He's harmless. The other's called Clayton. I expect you'll meet him later." He paused. "That's enough for now. Just rest. You'll have time to ask more in the morning."
The first thing midshipman Horatio Hornblower decided to do when he got up that morning was to seek out Old Sam. He found the man sitting on a coil of rope, watching things around him. When he saw Horatio coming, he smiled and moved over to make room. "Feeling better this morning, Mr. Hornblower?"
"Yes, thank you." Horatio sat besides him. Old Sam looked him up and down, and for the first time, Horatio realized how unusual Sam's eyes were. They were purple, a rare color in itself, but these eyes were clear and piercing. But now they shone with a quiet good humor. "You're going to be a handful, boy." Old Sam declared at last, "You're almost exactly like I was when I came here a year ago."
"A year ago? Then...you were seventeen when you joined too!"
Sam laughed that odd laugh at the youth's shock. "Yes, and I was given the same tongue-lashing about it as you had. But I earned their respect quickly by ignoring their scorn and throwing myself into my duty. Really, all they care about is the honor that they could receive from fighting battles, which is unlikely to happen at this point. We've been rotting here for months. A bit of new blood is just the thing I need to lessen the boredom." He held out a hand. "What do you say? Shall I make sure you don't repeat my mistakes?"
Horatio grasped the hand firmly. "I'd appreciate that, Sam."
Old Sam smiled. "I like that, boy. No one calls me that. It makes me feel like you trust me."
Old Sam did what he could to teach Horatio ship life, but the lessons had to be cut short, thanks to the arrival of Jack Simpson. The moment he appeared, all the midshipman froze. Even Old Sam's gaze hardened. Horatio didn't understand their fear and anger at first, but by the end of the night, after he had been told he would be awoken every hour, he knew life was about to become a lot worse.
It seemed, however, that Archie Kennedy, one of the other decent midshipmen, suffered more than he did. He awoke that night, screaming and thrashing about. Old Sam, Clayton, and Horatio got him back to his berth and calmed him. Old Sam looked mournfully down at Archie. "Poor man." he muttered, "How he can stand it..." He looked at Horatio with his violet eyes. "I don't know how you'll stand it." he whispered.
During the navigational lesson the next day, Horatio felt uneasy. He couldn't quite tell what was wrong, but he was sure that something horrible was drawing near. But he forgot about it in his attempt to solve the problem, which he found to be incredibly easy. Indeed, he was the only one to get it right. Before they handed their slates in, Old Sam compared his answer to Horatio's. His eyes became wide. "Damn, you're good." he declared, "I was off by miles."
The pleasant feeling of being complimented by Old Sam was rudely extinguished that night, when Simpson cornered him and beat him for being better at Navigation. He was knocked unconscious, and came to amidst a roaring pain all over his body. Glancing over, he saw Old Sam sitting there, holding a rag and a bucket of water. "Let's get this blood off you. You're going to have problems with the Lieutenants tomorrow, you bet on it. Why make you look worse?"
As Old Sam gently cleared the blood from Horatio's face and back, the youth felt tears beating at his eyes. When Old Sam saw the pained look on Horatio's face, he managed a smile. "Don't worry about looking like a fool, boy. No one's going to criticize you for it." Horatio grasped the man's shoulder and wept. Old Sam had pity in his voice when he spoke again. "I'm sorry, boy. I should have warned you about Simpson. But it completely slipped my mind. I never thought he'd come back to the Midshipman's berth, and anyway, I'd never had trouble with him. I adjusted to him quickly."
"W-why does he seem to hate me?" Horatio choked out.
Old Sam wiped Horatio's back free of blood, then patted the youth's hair. "Because you're new, and you're better than him. The trick is to appear intelligent, but not as smart as him." He looked down at the youth and shook his head. "I know, that seems hard. Do what you will. I'll look out for you, if I can." Sam gently pushed Horatio away from him, and smiled. "Don't be discouraged, boy. Clayton and I agree that you're one of the more brilliant minds on board this vessel." He rummaged in his pocket and produced a necklace. "I believe this is yours." he placed it in Horatio's hand, then stood up. "Back to watch for me. Just remember, you're not alone."
Horatio wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. I'm lucky in one respect, he thought, someone here looks out for me. I'll always be grateful for that.
It was about a week later that Horatio, tiring of the hell that Simpson had made of his life, challenged the man to a duel. When the news spread through the ship, Old Sam was one of the first to seek Horatio out. "I thought you had a head on your shoulders, boy." Sam growled, "But this proves me wrong. Simpson will shoot you before you can even pull the trigger!"
"I just want it to end, Sam." Horatio said, "Either by losing my life, or by taking his."
Old Sam's look softened. "I understand that, actually. Most of the midshipmen on board have feelings like that at some point. But you're the first person who's actually tried to finish Simpson off. I'm sort of proud, in a way." When Horatio smiled, Sam went on. "Don't get cocky, boy. You need to know the basics about firing a gun."
"Can you teach me?"
Sam pulled out two pistols, handing one to Horatio. "We often practice our aim down in the Midshipman's berth. Are you sure you want to do this?"
"If it means there's a chance that Simpson dies, then yes."
Sam's water-like laugh seemed to echo down the deck. "I like the way you think, boy. Come with me."
Below decks, Sam leaned a plank of wood against the wall and pinned his neckerchief to it. "See if you can hit that." Horatio looked at the pistol in his hand, then raised it until it was level with the scrap of cloth. Taking a breath, he pulled the trigger.
The recoil as the gun went off sent the youth toppling over backwards. When he stood up again, nursing the bruise on his shoulder, Old Sam was laughing. "I'm sorry, boy, but that was rather pathetic." He rose and tapped to a spot well below the cloth. "If this was a man the size of Simpson, you just shot him in the leg."
Horatio turned red. "Don't be discouraged, boy." Sam said, "Watch me, now." Sam lifted his own pistol to eye level, closed one eye to examine the target, then fired. For a moment, Horatio thought Sam had missed. But when the man unpinned the neckerchief, he showed Horatio the hole in the middle of it. "You see?" Sam grinned, "It's not all that difficult. We'll try it again tomorrow."
By the time the morning of the duel dawned, Horatio had improved enough so that his shots grazed the cloth. Old Sam nodded at the youth's progress. "Not bad. There's a chance you might actually do some real damage to him." He helped pin the boy's cloak to his shoulders. "I can't come with you, as you know, so I'll just tell you this: remember all I taught you."
"Thank you." Horatio murmured. Sam crossed the threshold of the room, then paused. "If all else fails, boy, die with honor."
Horatio nodded, fear rising in his throat, as Sam swept away.
But it was Clayton, and not Horatio, who died with honor. Clayton, fearing for the boy, knocked Horatio out and took his place. Horatio, filled with guilt, couldn't bear to look any of the midshipmen in the face...except one.
"Cheer up, boy." Old Sam said, after he heard the news. "Clayton had his own grudges against Simpson." Sam looked around, and became confidential. "Clayton told me, after you challenged Simpson, that it was a damn shame that you had done it. Neither of us wanted such a promising youth to be cut down by a tyrant like Simpson. So he was doing you a favor." He clapped Horatio on the shoulder. "So, it's all turned out for the good, hasn't it? I heard that you've been transferred to the Indefatigable."
Horatio nodded. "Captain Pellew's a good man. You'll be fine there. Best of all, rumors are flying that Simpson won't be joining you."
"Aren't you coming?" Horatio asked. Sam shook his head. "They need me here. Anyway, I feel it's my duty to help any new Midshipmen who come aboard." When he saw the crestfallen look on Horatio's face, he managed a smile. "Don't worry, boy. I'm sure we'll meet again. Go on."
Old Sam was right. When the Papillion sunk a British ship near the mouth of the Gironde, Horatio was one of the men who went out to look for survivors. Unfortunately, the first man pulled on board the jollyboat was none other than Jack Simpson. Simpson looked at the boy with pure hatred, and would have, no doubt, insulted him, had a familiar voice not called out, "Jack! Are you just going to let your mates freeze in the water?"
Horatio stared in astonishment as Old Sam heaved himself into the boat. When his eyes fell upon Horatio, he grinned. "I told you we'd meet again." He looked at Simpson as he grabbed an oar. "Don't just stand there, Jack, help us get back to safety!"
Once on board the Indefatigable, Old Sam found time to chat with his old friend. "Has life been treating you better, boy?"
"Much better." Horatio answered, "But I'm afraid that it's about to get worse."
"This isn't his ship. Anyway..." he regarded Horatio with those violet eyes, "I don't think he can bully you around anymore. You've changed in the months since you left us. You're more...mature."
Horatio smiled. "It's more than that." he pulled out a neckerchief and handed it to Old Sam. Sam unfolded it and gaped at the hole directly in the middle of it. "My God." he said, then started laughing. "Boy, you are full of surprises!" Horatio joined in the man's mirth.
When Simpson volunteered to join the jollyboat on the cutting-out expedition to the Papillion, Old Sam took one look at Horatio before saying he would come as well. When Horatio asked why, Sam shook his head. "Think about it, boy! Simpson's gotten worse since you left, and he's never forgiven you. God knows what he'll do to you if you're in the same boat. Besides, think about Archie."
Horatio didn't understand until Archie threw another fit that night. Old Sam gave Horatio a dark look before bending over the Midshipman and trying to calm him. When it didn't work, Horatio forced himself to knock his friend out. Sam watched the midshipman collapse and nodded grimly. "It was all you could do." he whispered.
Boarding the ship was nerve-wracking, but actually quite simple. Getting the sails unfurled was harder, but Horatio managed it through sheer determination. Simpson took advantage of Horatio being up on the rigging to shoot him. Fortunately, one of the men from Horatio's division managed to save his superior officer from drowning. When Old Sam found out the next morning, he was livid.
"I'm sorry." He snarled, "I didn't know he had done that. Thank God for that crewman! Oh, I'll get Simpson for that!"
"No." Horatio murmured, dabbing at the blood from his wound. "Lieutenant Eccleston died earlier this morning, and left me to command the ship. I've already put Simpson in irons."
Old Sam's mouth dropped open. "You're in command?" Then he composed himself. "Aye-aye, sir." he saluted.
Later in the afternoon, Sam cornered Horatio when the youth was coming back to the Midshipman's berth. "Did I hear that Captain Pellew is allowing you to fight a duel with Simpson?" When Horatio nodded, Sam groaned. "You're mad, boy. Yes, your aim has improved, and you've certainly proven yourself worthy in battle, but Simpson...who knows how he'll manage it, but he won't play by the rules. But, if you're serious, allow me to be your second." Horatio thought of the lessons Sam had given him, and nodded again.
"Very well then," Sam said, "I shall be ready presently."
By the time the boat touched land, Horatio had become very pale, and more than once was forced to empty the contents of his stomach over the side. Old Sam seemed sympathetic. "Easy, boy." he whispered, "Don't let Simpson intimidate you." He looked around. "Remember what I told you, months ago, before your first duel?"
"You told me to die with honor."
"Forget I ever said it. You have enough honor at the moment. You're not going to die." For the first time, Sam's voice lacked confidence.
Sam stood behind Horatio and watched Simpson warily. When Simpson fired prematurely and hit Horatio in the shoulder, Sam sprang up and stood over the boy. "That was deliberate!"
Groggily, Horatio lifted his head and watched Simpson run up to Old Sam. "I've had about enough of you, Old Sam!" Simpson snarled, "You've always been the only one I couldn't intimidate! Well, here's what I think of you!" Simpson slashed out with his gun, cutting Old Sam's shirt clean down the middle. Horatio opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when he saw Sam's reaction.
Sam looked down at his torn shirt and began laughing that laugh of his. "You're thicker than I thought, Simpson. You never figured me out until now!"
Simpson's eyes were wide with shock. "It can't be possible."
"Oh really?" Sam's voice suddenly changed. Instead of being gruff, it had become softer, more musical. "You don't believe the evidence of your eyes?"
Horatio rose, blood coming from his shoulder. "Sam...what-?" He gasped when Sam turned his way. Now that his shirt had been slashed, Horatio could see, quite plainly, the curved outline of something that certainly wasn't muscle. A smile flickered across Sam's face. "You see it too, don't you, boy?" The musical voice seemed to surround Horatio. "Fight him, Horatio. Fight him and win."
And the woman turned away from him and sat upon a rock.
When it was all over, when Simpson was buried at sea, Horatio still felt numb with astonishment. The man who had been his mentor and friend since he had come aboard Justinian was really a woman. He couldn't fathom how she had managed to deceive them all.
There was a tap at the door. Horatio looked up to see the woman, holding a rag and bucket of water, just as she had long ago. "Pellew won't begrudge me a few minutes to set that shoulder right." She sat besides him and began to clear the blood away. When she met his eyes, she didn't look away. "I suppose you hate me now." she said, matter-of-factly, "And I don't blame you. I should have told you, but you know how it is: you tell one person a secret while on a ship, next thing you know, it's all over the fleet."
Horatio looked into her sparkling eyes. "No, Sam. You're still my friend, even if you've...changed."
"You're putting it mildly." she said, laughing. "But I thank you for your words."
"If I may ask," Horatio began, "What is your real name?"
"It won't hurt to tell you now. I am Samantha Nottingam. When I put down 'Sam' on the roster, everybody assumed it stood for 'Samuel.'" She paused to dip the rag in water. "I know what you want to ask, so I shall answer. I joined the Navy to escape my old life. My mother died a year ago, and my father didn't seem to appreciate me, so I fled. I sold most of my possessions and got a commission as Midshipman." She sighed. "Well, Simpson's had his revenge. He exposed me to everyone, and I'm to be put off when we dock at Portsmouth."
"I'll miss you." Horatio said before he could stop himself. She smiled at him. "Do you know that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me?" She finished cleaning the wound and stood up. "I guess this is goodbye."
"One more thing." Horatio said, as Samantha turned to go. When she looked back at him, he asked, "Why did you call me 'boy'?"
"It was a way of making you believe I was a man. Girls don't call gentlemen 'boys'. But when Simpson discovered me, our barrier was broken. That's why I called you by your name." She turned to go again, but paused in the doorway. "Something tells me we'll see each other again." She called over her shoulder.
Horatio settled back in the hammock and smiled. "Good luck, 'Old Sam.'"
"Speak, apparition." One of the midshipmen said to the bedraggled youth before him.
"M-my name is Hornblower." the youth managed to say.
"What an infernal piece of bad luck for you." the same man answered. To his right, one of the men, with raven black hair, coughed slightly. When the youth, overcome at last by seasickness, vomited in a corner, only he did not laugh. "Leave him be." he said in a rough voice.
"Easy for you to say, Old Sam." one of the men said, "You never had a weak stomach."
"Even if I did, there's nothing funny about it." The man called Sam rose and came to the youth. "Easy, boy. We'll get you away from here."
Once the man had helped the boy into a hammock, he managed a smile. "They always do that to the new arrivals. Don't bother your head about them."
"Thank you, sir." the youth croaked. The man cocked his head. "I suppose we should be introduced properly. Everyone calls me Old Sam, and I suggest you do the same."
"H-Horatio Hornblower." the youth said, grasping the man's hand, "It's nice to meet you, s-sir."
Old Sam laughed. It was an unusual laugh, as though raindrops were softly falling upon cobblestones. It didn't quite fit the man's gruff persona. "Don't bother with that 'sir'." he said, "I'm only eighteen."
The youth's eyes widened. "Then...why are you called 'Old Sam'?"
"Because, frankly, the midshipmen are idiots. Well, all except two. You've met one. His name's Archie. He's harmless. The other's called Clayton. I expect you'll meet him later." He paused. "That's enough for now. Just rest. You'll have time to ask more in the morning."
The first thing midshipman Horatio Hornblower decided to do when he got up that morning was to seek out Old Sam. He found the man sitting on a coil of rope, watching things around him. When he saw Horatio coming, he smiled and moved over to make room. "Feeling better this morning, Mr. Hornblower?"
"Yes, thank you." Horatio sat besides him. Old Sam looked him up and down, and for the first time, Horatio realized how unusual Sam's eyes were. They were purple, a rare color in itself, but these eyes were clear and piercing. But now they shone with a quiet good humor. "You're going to be a handful, boy." Old Sam declared at last, "You're almost exactly like I was when I came here a year ago."
"A year ago? Then...you were seventeen when you joined too!"
Sam laughed that odd laugh at the youth's shock. "Yes, and I was given the same tongue-lashing about it as you had. But I earned their respect quickly by ignoring their scorn and throwing myself into my duty. Really, all they care about is the honor that they could receive from fighting battles, which is unlikely to happen at this point. We've been rotting here for months. A bit of new blood is just the thing I need to lessen the boredom." He held out a hand. "What do you say? Shall I make sure you don't repeat my mistakes?"
Horatio grasped the hand firmly. "I'd appreciate that, Sam."
Old Sam smiled. "I like that, boy. No one calls me that. It makes me feel like you trust me."
Old Sam did what he could to teach Horatio ship life, but the lessons had to be cut short, thanks to the arrival of Jack Simpson. The moment he appeared, all the midshipman froze. Even Old Sam's gaze hardened. Horatio didn't understand their fear and anger at first, but by the end of the night, after he had been told he would be awoken every hour, he knew life was about to become a lot worse.
It seemed, however, that Archie Kennedy, one of the other decent midshipmen, suffered more than he did. He awoke that night, screaming and thrashing about. Old Sam, Clayton, and Horatio got him back to his berth and calmed him. Old Sam looked mournfully down at Archie. "Poor man." he muttered, "How he can stand it..." He looked at Horatio with his violet eyes. "I don't know how you'll stand it." he whispered.
During the navigational lesson the next day, Horatio felt uneasy. He couldn't quite tell what was wrong, but he was sure that something horrible was drawing near. But he forgot about it in his attempt to solve the problem, which he found to be incredibly easy. Indeed, he was the only one to get it right. Before they handed their slates in, Old Sam compared his answer to Horatio's. His eyes became wide. "Damn, you're good." he declared, "I was off by miles."
The pleasant feeling of being complimented by Old Sam was rudely extinguished that night, when Simpson cornered him and beat him for being better at Navigation. He was knocked unconscious, and came to amidst a roaring pain all over his body. Glancing over, he saw Old Sam sitting there, holding a rag and a bucket of water. "Let's get this blood off you. You're going to have problems with the Lieutenants tomorrow, you bet on it. Why make you look worse?"
As Old Sam gently cleared the blood from Horatio's face and back, the youth felt tears beating at his eyes. When Old Sam saw the pained look on Horatio's face, he managed a smile. "Don't worry about looking like a fool, boy. No one's going to criticize you for it." Horatio grasped the man's shoulder and wept. Old Sam had pity in his voice when he spoke again. "I'm sorry, boy. I should have warned you about Simpson. But it completely slipped my mind. I never thought he'd come back to the Midshipman's berth, and anyway, I'd never had trouble with him. I adjusted to him quickly."
"W-why does he seem to hate me?" Horatio choked out.
Old Sam wiped Horatio's back free of blood, then patted the youth's hair. "Because you're new, and you're better than him. The trick is to appear intelligent, but not as smart as him." He looked down at the youth and shook his head. "I know, that seems hard. Do what you will. I'll look out for you, if I can." Sam gently pushed Horatio away from him, and smiled. "Don't be discouraged, boy. Clayton and I agree that you're one of the more brilliant minds on board this vessel." He rummaged in his pocket and produced a necklace. "I believe this is yours." he placed it in Horatio's hand, then stood up. "Back to watch for me. Just remember, you're not alone."
Horatio wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. I'm lucky in one respect, he thought, someone here looks out for me. I'll always be grateful for that.
It was about a week later that Horatio, tiring of the hell that Simpson had made of his life, challenged the man to a duel. When the news spread through the ship, Old Sam was one of the first to seek Horatio out. "I thought you had a head on your shoulders, boy." Sam growled, "But this proves me wrong. Simpson will shoot you before you can even pull the trigger!"
"I just want it to end, Sam." Horatio said, "Either by losing my life, or by taking his."
Old Sam's look softened. "I understand that, actually. Most of the midshipmen on board have feelings like that at some point. But you're the first person who's actually tried to finish Simpson off. I'm sort of proud, in a way." When Horatio smiled, Sam went on. "Don't get cocky, boy. You need to know the basics about firing a gun."
"Can you teach me?"
Sam pulled out two pistols, handing one to Horatio. "We often practice our aim down in the Midshipman's berth. Are you sure you want to do this?"
"If it means there's a chance that Simpson dies, then yes."
Sam's water-like laugh seemed to echo down the deck. "I like the way you think, boy. Come with me."
Below decks, Sam leaned a plank of wood against the wall and pinned his neckerchief to it. "See if you can hit that." Horatio looked at the pistol in his hand, then raised it until it was level with the scrap of cloth. Taking a breath, he pulled the trigger.
The recoil as the gun went off sent the youth toppling over backwards. When he stood up again, nursing the bruise on his shoulder, Old Sam was laughing. "I'm sorry, boy, but that was rather pathetic." He rose and tapped to a spot well below the cloth. "If this was a man the size of Simpson, you just shot him in the leg."
Horatio turned red. "Don't be discouraged, boy." Sam said, "Watch me, now." Sam lifted his own pistol to eye level, closed one eye to examine the target, then fired. For a moment, Horatio thought Sam had missed. But when the man unpinned the neckerchief, he showed Horatio the hole in the middle of it. "You see?" Sam grinned, "It's not all that difficult. We'll try it again tomorrow."
By the time the morning of the duel dawned, Horatio had improved enough so that his shots grazed the cloth. Old Sam nodded at the youth's progress. "Not bad. There's a chance you might actually do some real damage to him." He helped pin the boy's cloak to his shoulders. "I can't come with you, as you know, so I'll just tell you this: remember all I taught you."
"Thank you." Horatio murmured. Sam crossed the threshold of the room, then paused. "If all else fails, boy, die with honor."
Horatio nodded, fear rising in his throat, as Sam swept away.
But it was Clayton, and not Horatio, who died with honor. Clayton, fearing for the boy, knocked Horatio out and took his place. Horatio, filled with guilt, couldn't bear to look any of the midshipmen in the face...except one.
"Cheer up, boy." Old Sam said, after he heard the news. "Clayton had his own grudges against Simpson." Sam looked around, and became confidential. "Clayton told me, after you challenged Simpson, that it was a damn shame that you had done it. Neither of us wanted such a promising youth to be cut down by a tyrant like Simpson. So he was doing you a favor." He clapped Horatio on the shoulder. "So, it's all turned out for the good, hasn't it? I heard that you've been transferred to the Indefatigable."
Horatio nodded. "Captain Pellew's a good man. You'll be fine there. Best of all, rumors are flying that Simpson won't be joining you."
"Aren't you coming?" Horatio asked. Sam shook his head. "They need me here. Anyway, I feel it's my duty to help any new Midshipmen who come aboard." When he saw the crestfallen look on Horatio's face, he managed a smile. "Don't worry, boy. I'm sure we'll meet again. Go on."
Old Sam was right. When the Papillion sunk a British ship near the mouth of the Gironde, Horatio was one of the men who went out to look for survivors. Unfortunately, the first man pulled on board the jollyboat was none other than Jack Simpson. Simpson looked at the boy with pure hatred, and would have, no doubt, insulted him, had a familiar voice not called out, "Jack! Are you just going to let your mates freeze in the water?"
Horatio stared in astonishment as Old Sam heaved himself into the boat. When his eyes fell upon Horatio, he grinned. "I told you we'd meet again." He looked at Simpson as he grabbed an oar. "Don't just stand there, Jack, help us get back to safety!"
Once on board the Indefatigable, Old Sam found time to chat with his old friend. "Has life been treating you better, boy?"
"Much better." Horatio answered, "But I'm afraid that it's about to get worse."
"This isn't his ship. Anyway..." he regarded Horatio with those violet eyes, "I don't think he can bully you around anymore. You've changed in the months since you left us. You're more...mature."
Horatio smiled. "It's more than that." he pulled out a neckerchief and handed it to Old Sam. Sam unfolded it and gaped at the hole directly in the middle of it. "My God." he said, then started laughing. "Boy, you are full of surprises!" Horatio joined in the man's mirth.
When Simpson volunteered to join the jollyboat on the cutting-out expedition to the Papillion, Old Sam took one look at Horatio before saying he would come as well. When Horatio asked why, Sam shook his head. "Think about it, boy! Simpson's gotten worse since you left, and he's never forgiven you. God knows what he'll do to you if you're in the same boat. Besides, think about Archie."
Horatio didn't understand until Archie threw another fit that night. Old Sam gave Horatio a dark look before bending over the Midshipman and trying to calm him. When it didn't work, Horatio forced himself to knock his friend out. Sam watched the midshipman collapse and nodded grimly. "It was all you could do." he whispered.
Boarding the ship was nerve-wracking, but actually quite simple. Getting the sails unfurled was harder, but Horatio managed it through sheer determination. Simpson took advantage of Horatio being up on the rigging to shoot him. Fortunately, one of the men from Horatio's division managed to save his superior officer from drowning. When Old Sam found out the next morning, he was livid.
"I'm sorry." He snarled, "I didn't know he had done that. Thank God for that crewman! Oh, I'll get Simpson for that!"
"No." Horatio murmured, dabbing at the blood from his wound. "Lieutenant Eccleston died earlier this morning, and left me to command the ship. I've already put Simpson in irons."
Old Sam's mouth dropped open. "You're in command?" Then he composed himself. "Aye-aye, sir." he saluted.
Later in the afternoon, Sam cornered Horatio when the youth was coming back to the Midshipman's berth. "Did I hear that Captain Pellew is allowing you to fight a duel with Simpson?" When Horatio nodded, Sam groaned. "You're mad, boy. Yes, your aim has improved, and you've certainly proven yourself worthy in battle, but Simpson...who knows how he'll manage it, but he won't play by the rules. But, if you're serious, allow me to be your second." Horatio thought of the lessons Sam had given him, and nodded again.
"Very well then," Sam said, "I shall be ready presently."
By the time the boat touched land, Horatio had become very pale, and more than once was forced to empty the contents of his stomach over the side. Old Sam seemed sympathetic. "Easy, boy." he whispered, "Don't let Simpson intimidate you." He looked around. "Remember what I told you, months ago, before your first duel?"
"You told me to die with honor."
"Forget I ever said it. You have enough honor at the moment. You're not going to die." For the first time, Sam's voice lacked confidence.
Sam stood behind Horatio and watched Simpson warily. When Simpson fired prematurely and hit Horatio in the shoulder, Sam sprang up and stood over the boy. "That was deliberate!"
Groggily, Horatio lifted his head and watched Simpson run up to Old Sam. "I've had about enough of you, Old Sam!" Simpson snarled, "You've always been the only one I couldn't intimidate! Well, here's what I think of you!" Simpson slashed out with his gun, cutting Old Sam's shirt clean down the middle. Horatio opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when he saw Sam's reaction.
Sam looked down at his torn shirt and began laughing that laugh of his. "You're thicker than I thought, Simpson. You never figured me out until now!"
Simpson's eyes were wide with shock. "It can't be possible."
"Oh really?" Sam's voice suddenly changed. Instead of being gruff, it had become softer, more musical. "You don't believe the evidence of your eyes?"
Horatio rose, blood coming from his shoulder. "Sam...what-?" He gasped when Sam turned his way. Now that his shirt had been slashed, Horatio could see, quite plainly, the curved outline of something that certainly wasn't muscle. A smile flickered across Sam's face. "You see it too, don't you, boy?" The musical voice seemed to surround Horatio. "Fight him, Horatio. Fight him and win."
And the woman turned away from him and sat upon a rock.
When it was all over, when Simpson was buried at sea, Horatio still felt numb with astonishment. The man who had been his mentor and friend since he had come aboard Justinian was really a woman. He couldn't fathom how she had managed to deceive them all.
There was a tap at the door. Horatio looked up to see the woman, holding a rag and bucket of water, just as she had long ago. "Pellew won't begrudge me a few minutes to set that shoulder right." She sat besides him and began to clear the blood away. When she met his eyes, she didn't look away. "I suppose you hate me now." she said, matter-of-factly, "And I don't blame you. I should have told you, but you know how it is: you tell one person a secret while on a ship, next thing you know, it's all over the fleet."
Horatio looked into her sparkling eyes. "No, Sam. You're still my friend, even if you've...changed."
"You're putting it mildly." she said, laughing. "But I thank you for your words."
"If I may ask," Horatio began, "What is your real name?"
"It won't hurt to tell you now. I am Samantha Nottingam. When I put down 'Sam' on the roster, everybody assumed it stood for 'Samuel.'" She paused to dip the rag in water. "I know what you want to ask, so I shall answer. I joined the Navy to escape my old life. My mother died a year ago, and my father didn't seem to appreciate me, so I fled. I sold most of my possessions and got a commission as Midshipman." She sighed. "Well, Simpson's had his revenge. He exposed me to everyone, and I'm to be put off when we dock at Portsmouth."
"I'll miss you." Horatio said before he could stop himself. She smiled at him. "Do you know that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me?" She finished cleaning the wound and stood up. "I guess this is goodbye."
"One more thing." Horatio said, as Samantha turned to go. When she looked back at him, he asked, "Why did you call me 'boy'?"
"It was a way of making you believe I was a man. Girls don't call gentlemen 'boys'. But when Simpson discovered me, our barrier was broken. That's why I called you by your name." She turned to go again, but paused in the doorway. "Something tells me we'll see each other again." She called over her shoulder.
Horatio settled back in the hammock and smiled. "Good luck, 'Old Sam.'"