Author's note: I'm not in the Navy, so if I get anything about the 21st century American Navy wrong, you have my apologies. *bows* Plus, even though Amy reads one of the books, the story's based on the TV show.

Disclaimer: The only character I own is Amy. Everything else belongs to C.S. Forrester and A&E.


Amethyst (or Amy, as she was called by her friends) Jackson looked every inch the twenty-first century lieutenant. She was dressed in blinding Navy whites and sparkling black shoes. The summer work uniform. The tropical sun beat down unmercifully on her brown hair, slowly bleaching it a rusty red. She had binoculars glued to her eyes, doing the definitely necessary and, just as definitely, boring job of searching for mines. In fact, the job was so dull and the sun so hot that she was spending much more energy pretending that she wasn't about to drift off than she was in actually looking for mines.

She jumped, did a sharp 180 degree turn and stood at attention, staring rigidly ahead.
Yes, sir?
Hand over your binoculars to Third Officer Compton when you get below. He'll give them to the next shift. You're done. Dismissed.
Yes, sir, she answered, although the captain had already started walking away. She almost added and thank you a thousand times, sir but common sense told her not to. Such a comment would get her sentenced to kitchen duty at best, locked up in the brig at worst.
As soon as the captain was out of site, she raced across the deck and down the stairs. She didn't pause to admire the awesome sight of the waves rolling lazily away from the bow of the ship; she was already thoroughly used to it. She dropped the binoculars off at Compton's office, and then ran to her cabin.
As soon as she flung the door open, she jumped on her bed and reached into her pillow case for her latest Horatio Hornblower book. She'd gotten into the series from watching it on TV during leave and had stocked up on the books before she came back to work. She opened Mr. Midshipman Hornblower and gazed at the detailed illustration on the first page. It showed men standing around the deck, supervising as large nets holding supplies were moved, lowered, and emptied.
I wish I could be there on the Renown she breathed. I couldn't stand to be a proper lady, but being a sailor in those times would be heaven on Earth. As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she gave herself a mental shake. Such a thing was impossible and she knew it. She almost flipped back to her place in the book but, instead, she kept looking at the drawing. She gasped. The picture was moving. The men were walking about the deck, the nets were swinging. She squinted at the picture. If anyone had asked her, she'd have said the nets were swinging too much.
Somebody's going to get hurt if those things keep swinging like that, she said out loud, pressing the book up to her eye. The net swung back a particularly long ways, and then started coming toward her, faster and faster. Get that net! She yelled at a burly, long-haired man in the foreground. Suddenly, stars exploded in front of her vision, and blinding pain danced across her scull. She felt herself falling.
Thunk. Instead of the soft bedding of her cabin bunk, she hit something hard. Her vision clicked on and off like someone playing with the power button on a TV. She squeezed her eyes shut until the pain receded to a consistent throb. When she opened them, she found that she was looking at wooden planks. She raised her head slowly and saw rough, wooden stairs leading to a bottom deck. Twisting to the left, she saw a row of cannons. When she rolled onto her back, she found herself looking up at sails and the crow's nest, perched precariously on the very tip of the mast. She was on board the Renown.