Thanks for being patient with the updates. I feel it fair to warn everyone that this chapter leads to material that I hope readers won't find offfensive, as it regards the slave trade and views of social classes of the time. I'm trying to portray these events as realistically as possible, though keep in mind that I'm no scholar and this is fiction. I intend no disrespect.

Thanks for reading!

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"Horatio!" Archie's sweaty face appeared over the side. He looked back over his shoulder, then held out his arm. "Take my hand!"

Horatio cursed his uncustomary lack of concentration and gritted his teeth. The last thing he wanted to do was let go, even to grab his friend's hand to save his own life. Blue eyes glared down at him, fearful, determined. He grimaced and with a yell forced himself to let go of the cliff with one hand, swinging his arm up as high as possible. Archie grabbed hold right as the supporting rock gave way, leaving Horatio dangling by one arm.

Archie's voice was strained. "Dammit! God!"

"Archie!" Horatio instinctively kicked and swung his other hand upwards.

"I've got you!" He grabbed Horatio's free hand, ignoring the sudden pain in his muscle, and tried to raise himself. Horatio managed to find a foothold. He walked up the rock face with slick steps, Archie holding him, and they gasped in relief as they rolled together onto the small cliff shelf.

Horatio's breathing was raspy with fear. He closed his eyes and fought to regain control over his emotions. When his eyes opened, Archie was by his side, propped on one elbow, looking down at him. "I believe I owe you both an apology and my thanks," Horatio said.

"And you thought this would be easy." Archie managed a smile.

"Yes, well, I have been known to make mistakes. . .on occasion"

"And we're not even up the cliff face yet. We still have to find this settlement, lay siege and destruction without getting ourselves killed, get back without getting ourselves killed, make our escape without getting ourselves killed. . ."

"Yes, thank you Archie. What exactly is your point?"

He smiled devilishly. "My point, Mr. Hornblower, is this. We have work to do. Now get off your ass."

"That smacks of disrespect, Mr. Kennedy." Horatio pushed himself to his feet, and reached down for his friend.

"No offense is intended. Yet." Archie accepted the help and winced as he stood. He rubbed his shoulder, moving the joint gingerly. "But I think we may need to go a bit slower this time."

"I just as soon get this over and done. Do you need help?"

"No, I'm fine. Just stiff."

"Just the same. Up you go, go on."

The next assent went more smoothly. The rocks above the overhang were larger and more jagged, which provided plenty of hand and foot holds. It also ripped at tender flesh and tore at their clothing. Both were determined not to look down. Both did anyway.

The cliff top leveled out without warning, and they found themselves treading up a gentle slope, cresting the top, and looking down over a plain bordered on the opposite side by trees. From their vantage they could just make out the bay to their right, and the area where the docks lay, though the actual position was blocked. A tallship could be seen far on the horizon, shrouded in haze, looking more like an ethereal craft than one man made. Horatio and Archie stood still and took in the area, catching their breath and trying to decide on the best course of action. "I'm not sure about you," Archie said once he could speak, "but I could do with some food."

"Mutton pie." Horatio shielded his eyes. "It would be best to enter the port through the back door, as it were."

"Any idea where Rapier's headed?"

"I believe Rapier has his own agenda. And we have our orders." Horatio jerked his head towards the faint settlement that could just be seen. "So, let us feed ourselves and rest. And if we should see anyone even remotely resembling a sailor, walk the other way."

Archie rubbed his palms together. "Ah, discreet and undercover! I feel like a foreign spy."

"That's exactly what we are. Unfortunately." Horatio led the way down the hill. Archie, uncertain as to his friend's sudden gruff manner, followed.

The port was bustling, and very monochromatic. Every building was a dapper grey, in fact it was quite hard to tell one from the other. It clashed greatly with the green of the rolling hill which they had descended, and with the gentle blue sea that stretched before them. There were unnatural cobbled streets and carriages, a further display of wrenching the land from the natives and thrusting it into the British aristocracy.

Horatio nudged Archie and pointed to a sign marking lodgings. They entered, and after paying a fee were lead up a set of stairs to a single room high above. "Tis the best we have at the moment, guv," the man said stiffly, "due to we're lodging a lot of sailors at the moment. Seems the whole damn coast has come in for the goods this time."

"And what goods might that be?" Horatio asked, eyeing the room.

"Why, the heathen beggarts, sir! Ain't that why you're here?"

"Yes," Archie said quickly. "Yes, that's exactly why we're here."

"Well, you better get a move on, then. I saw the last bunch, if they ain't done much better than that then's ya got your work cut out for ya, that's what I say." The innkeeper bowed his head and made his exit.

Archie cast a wry look at Horatio and heaved a sigh. "Well, now what do we do? We can't exactly launch off in the light of day, can we?"

Horatio had removed his kerchief and was threading it through his right hand. He walked over to the window and threw open the shutter. The room was instantly filled with the sound of the street, of vendors yelling and children frolicking about. "How long a ride to our destination?"

Archie pulled his map from his bag and smoothed it out on top of the rough table. He studied it quietly. "It is hard to say from this scratching Rapier calls a map. And of course it depends on how long we stop for rest."

Horatio nodded. "Then I will go and look for a livery. I suggest you walk about and get a feel for what is going on here. We'll need a quick escape, and a good reason to get onboard a ship if ours refuses to show."

"Do you really think Rapier would leave us?"

"I prefer not to leave anything to chance." Horatio retied the kerchief around his neck. "First, let us eat. Then we tend to our duties, and meet again here."

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Their meal was finished quickly enough, and they separated. Archie wandered the streets at his leisure, glancing into the shops, striking the odd conversation with the men on the street. No one was very forthcoming with information, but that could easily have been due to the type of business being carried out. It wasn't befitting for the young ones, and the elders seemed to want no part of it. Archie found he was becoming curious, and headed opposite the sea, to the eastern most end of the township, where the cobbles disappeared and the dusty lands once again claimed ownership.

The buildings here should have been white, and used to be, but the swirling dust had whipped them to a shade lighter than the ground. Only the upper third of the buildings could be seen over the large posts and fence that encircled them like a prison. Archie hesitated outside, then boldly pushed open the enormous door with a creak. What he saw stunned him.

Dark men were lined along the walls, each one dressed shabbily. A few spoke in very low voices, so low that Archie could hear only a deep color of language and no more. He blinked, taking in the scene, quite unable to believe he was there looking at slaves who were about to be sold and deported. It had never occurred to him before to take notice of news of these unfortunate beasts. Now, he felt an odd gnawing in his gut. There was something about these people that frightened him.

"What business have you here?" An older man grabbed Archie by the arm, yanking him around and studying him closely. "No one is allowed who ain't in the market."

Archie noticed the whip in the man's hand, and every instinct he had buried since the incident with Simpson resurfaced with a vengeance. He stared at the whip and forced his mind to work. "But I am in the market," he said quickly. "I-I came aboard the-the Rapier." He stood tall. "We own farmlands that require more hands than we have. We were at sea and near port, and we heard of your stock." His nose wrinkled and he raised his chin disapprovingly as he recovered quickly from his shock. "Not much to look at, but we are desperate."

"If you have farmlands, what you doing at sea, then?"

"Surely you don't think that farming is our only business?" Archie looked around and leaned in. "Prices we get for certain good overseas exceed those home grown, if you get my meaning, sir."

"You are in the black market?"

"As are you. Now will you allow me to examine your stock, or shall I take my rather expensive business elsewhere?" Archie made a point of discreetly patting his pocket while his eyes wandered over the men before him. It was a moment before he met the man's gaze, and his eyebrows raised.

"Very well. Five minutes, no more. Shouldn't take longer than that, these ain't the best of our lot. Most them shipped out already. Got scouts picking up more, but they ain't 'spected to be here for another week at best."

"I see. Fine then, I'll just examine what you have here."

"Naw, you don't want these. These are sold." The man cocked his head. "You'll want this second lot through here." He led the way to a heavy wooden door.

Archie decided he was too deep into his rouse to back out. He steeled himself as the heavy door opened, and he walked into the second holding area.

Archie was little prepared for what he saw. Men were lined against the walls, chained by their wrists and feet and fitted with an iron collar around their necks which tethered them to the stonework at their backs. Some were trying to sleep, others looked about with lack-luster eyes. Some looked afraid, and Archie figured they were the newer arrivals. Others looked broken, and that wasn't including those that were obviously ill or dying. Cries rose in the air along with threats to be quiet to avoid the lashing. Flies were everywhere.

The man stood at Archie's shoulder, watching him with eyes that spoke volumes. He knew Archie had never seen a sight like this before, and he was enjoying the shock. "Shall I show you around then?"

"Uh, no. . .no thank you. I'm fine. I'll knock on the door when I am finished." Archie glanced over his shoulder, then fixed his eyes on the tragedy before him. He felt rather than saw the man leave.

He stood for what felt like an eternity. The scene before him failed to improve.

The men took no notice of him. They were used to people coming and going, poking and prodding and examining their teeth like travel-weary cattle. But as Archie finally started to walk, he noticed a few slaves underneath the cover of a thatched roof that stood defiantly, pulling at the chains that held them. He assumed that, since they were shaded, the heat had yet to penetrate their brains. These men held interest for Archie, and he walked closer.

And then he saw him.

His eyes were wild like a young mare's, and if he could have frothed at the mouth, he would have. Small limbs yanked at the thick chains, arms so thin they looked to break at the slightest movement, and yet he continued to struggle. On occasion he would yell out, words that rolled over each other like water over rocks in a stream. Archie had heard similar speech before from some of the sailors that had picked up the language from their travels, but the words meant nothing. However, there was no need questioning the meaning behind them as the chains rattled and dust rose. Finally the small stallion eased, sitting down, reluctantly giving in to his need to rest. His eyes fell on Archie and held them, hatefully.

For his part, Archie had never found himself on the receiving end of such a glare, and could not loose himself from it. He was stationary, the only thing moving was his hair as the hot sea breeze whipped it about. His blue eyes were fixed on the black ones that drilled into his soul. He started walking without realizing he was doing so. The man continued to hold his gaze, even as Archie knelt down just a few feet before him. The young man's skin was dark as night, his nostrils wide, his eyes now slitted in distrust. There was nothing about him that suggested wariness, only anger. Archie slowly raised his forefinger and pointed to himself. "Ar-chie." He tapped his chest. "Ar-chie."

He had no idea why. It wasn't like these people could do much more than sit in the sun and pant, it wasn't like they were intelligent enough to understand him. But they were, and looking in this man's eyes made Archie realize that everything he had ever seen or been told about the trade, and these heathens, was a lie. There was sorrow underneath the anger, pure despair, the kind that only a human can feel. The helplessness that required a working knowledge of the situation, not just the current moment, but in realizing what was to come. Archie inched closer and pointed at the man. "You?"

The man remained motionless. His head had fallen back against the wall, but he looked down his massive cheekbones at the man who dared approach him. Archie figured the prisoner to be around his age. He took in the scars along the torso and left arm. Carefully he pointed, then raised his shirt and pointed to his side, to the three inch scar he owned due to battle.

The man raised his head from the wall and eyed Archie. He snorted.

He pointed to himself again. "Ar-chie." Damn it all.

There was a sharp spout of language from the man, startling Archie, and closely followed by a different man approaching with a whip. "Enough outta you, you shit!" Archie backed away quickly as the whip cracked inches from his head, striking the cheek of the man before him. The man flinched, then turned burning eyes to him, eyes like coal. He slowly touched the wound, felt the blood, then, to Archie's astonishment, put his finger to his tongue. The whip cracked again, and again, and each time the man turned his head further and further down, refusing to cower, yet unable to face the sting. Pink welts formed then darkened. The blood dripped.

Archie jumped to his feet and caught the man's arm before he could strike again. "Are you mad?" he said between clenched teeth.

The proprietor snarled. "You must be, for getting in my way! Where are your papers?"

"I'm here to check the stock."

"Right, and where are your papers? You think we just let anyone in here?"

"I'm scouting. My papers. . ."

"Your papers are not on your person, therefore you are not allowed within these walls, now out with you! OUT!" He pushed Archie by the shoulder, steering him away from the dark man, but not before Archie saw the look of faint surprise on his face.

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Horatio had no luck in securing horses. The stable owner had insisted there were none to be lent out, which seemed unlikely as the stable was well stocked with lively animals. Horatio questioned, bribed, and all but ordered the man to release two of them, but to no avail. He was sent away in defeat, formulating a plan in his mind for swiping two when the time came. Archie's sudden and unexpected tirade when Horatio returned to their room did nothing to ease his temper.

He had risen and walked to the window of their room, his hands clasped firmly behind him as he tried to stifle his concern. In the end all he could do was brace his hands on the table and lean over his friend. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" he practically hissed. "Battles on the sea isn't enough for you, now you want to stick your neck out willingly for it to be chopped off at the block?"

Archie was adamant. "I'm telling you, Horatio, this is wrong!"

"Dammit, Archie. . ."

"You didn't see it!" He rose and stalked around the table, trying to catch his friend's eye. Horatio slighted the attempt. "You didn't see this man being whipped, the chains, the way these people are harnessed together like cattle! It angers me to think that we condone this!"

Whatever Archie had seen, it had affected his soul. Horatio knew he would have no balm for such a wound. "Listen to me," he said in a low voice, finally rounded on his friend, his eyes violent with desperate emotion. "I like it no more than you do, believe me. But we are here for a reason . . ."

"Yes, the reason of a madman!" Archie chewed his bottom lip, averting his eyes. He rested his hands on his hips. "I honestly can't bring myself to defend this place," he muttered.

"And what would you do, huh?" Horatio asked, lividly. "Would you go back on your word, on your duty? No. You are an officer in His Majesty's Navy. You will do as you are told."

"Would you order me to, Horatio?" Archie's voice was soft, but firm. His stance was unmoving, but it was clear which answer he was hoping for.

"By god, Archie, if I have to, then yes. I will order you to do so."

"Duty first, then."

Horatio felt ill. He swallowed hard before speaking. "Please, do not put me in that situation."

"Before friendship."

"Archie. . ." Horatio pleaded, "do not go back there. I am asking you as a friend, as that friend you claim to treasure. You'll only be hurt, emotionally sure if not physically." He looked down at his clenched fist, and loosened it. His shoulders sagged. "And I can not bear that, nor will I be able to help."

"You would leave me to it."

"I would drag you from it."

"Right into a court martial."

Horatio turned away. He closed his eyes, unable to believe they were having this conversation. They were supposed to land, find the heathen village, set fire to it, drive the natives out towards the port, and get aboard ship. That was all they had to do. That was their duty. Not this. This was getting involved. Horatio's own opinions of the slave trade over the years had changed little, from blind acceptance, to the faith that things were going as God had intended. Some people were meant to serve, the social classes taught him that. He had heard of the rebellions and thought no more of it than sea cooks getting tired of their jobs. Everyone he met in a position of service he treated with respect. But that was service. This was servitude.

It was against the grain of his current thinking, of years of travel at sea that revealed the complexity and unfairness of life, the brutality of men, the sheer audacity of those that thought they were better than others. But dammit, he was under orders, and experience had shown him that disobeying orders was just too risky, though he still managed to do it. This situation was already too risky. He just wanted to do his duty and get back to the Indie, and leave this madness behind him. He squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and turned to tell Archie exactly what his duties were, and to obey them to the letter. Instead he said, "Just be careful, Archie. For my sake if not for your own."

Archie's eyes softened a bit, though his jaw remained firm. "I will. Have no worries on my account." He lowered his gaze, met Horatio's once more, then left the room.

"But I do worry, my friend," Horatio said quietly to the door.