The evening meal was silent, as was the night they slept through. Morning dawned brightly over drab streets. Horatio had already been out, and was walking in as Archie rose. "Good morning, Archie," he said pleasantly, as though there had been no quarrel, "did you sleep well?"

"Surprisingly so. And you?"

"Not slept better since aboard the Indie," Horatio replied. "I've brought you a quick breakfast. There is quite the commotion going on in town, I thought it would be a good time to pack up our things and take our leave without being noticed."

"And have you made arrangements for returning the horses?" Archie asked, biting into the small pastry that Horatio had generously provided. He frowned down at it as he chewed. "I'm sorry to say, I have my doubts as to this filling any part of my stomach."

"It was all I could find. Many of the shops are closed. As I said, something is happening. Most of the town seem to be on the east side." He quite deftly ignored Archie's quip about returning the stolen goods. He was still working on a proper, and safe, and discreet way to obtain their mounts.

Archie stopped chewing. "The east side? Where the slaves are?"

"I believe there is to be another auction. Unfortunately we will have to pass them to get to the livery, but that shouldn't be a problem . . . Archie, what it is?"

Archie had stood quickly, and was shouldering his bag. "Let's go."

"You haven't finished your food!"

"I'm not hungry."

"Archie," Horatio grabbed him by the arm before the man could sail out, "what is this about?"

"I want to see, Horatio. Nothing more."

Horatio had little choice but to follow him.

They forced their way down to the east side, where the holding yards were. People streamed down the streets like running water and met in a mass at the foot of a large stage. A man stood atop, dressed head to toe in clean white, his hands trying to wave silence into an excited crowd.

Horatio stood beside Archie, trying to keep him from pressing too closely. The blond head was bobbing left and right over the crowd, trying to see.

"I think the entire port is here," Horatio said. "Look, now's our chance, let's be off." He took Archie by the arm, intending to pull him toward the stables while everyone's attention was diverted, but his friend wasn't moving. His eyes were fixed on the platform, and the man being brought to stand upon it.

It was he. The dark man Archie had saved from further whipping.

The slave driver fixed the man's bonds to the chain that dangled from two posts. The young man practically hung in between, his chin raised defiantly, yet a nervous quiver could be seen.

The White Man grinned, his teeth flashing against tanned skin. "This beast," he said as he circled his prey, "this crock of filth, this insignificant thing, seems to think he has the brains and capacity to run. Countless times he has tried, and countless times he has been caught, proving our superiority over these creatures! Now, normally this is punishable by death, but by god, what a specimen we have here! Do you not agree?" There was an affirmative mutter through the crowd, and it rippled past Archie and Horatio. Horatio still had a grip on Archie's arm, and he didn't like the look on his friend's face.

"Archie," he whispered, "we must go. Now."

"I want to get closer."

"What?"

"I said closer, Horatio." Archie pushed through the crowd, with Horatio dragging behind him, still not releasing him.

The slave driver continued. He was a thick, heavy-set man with a balding head and a grisly, unkempt mustache. "This specimen, this thing, is capable of long, hard days in the field. It should bring great ability to anyone who wishes to purchase it. Look at these arms, the muscles! Why if it weren't for the pure stupidity of this beast, I may very well be afraid of it!" The high-pitched whine of his voice was mesmerizing by result of sheer volume alone. His slow dialect spoke of time spent in the southern region of America. He pulled out a long, wiry whip, and forced it around his hand. "As such, I must demonstrate to this beast, and to you, the necessity for discipline. He tried to run. He must be reminded of just who," he stood in front of the man and looked into his eyes, "rules who. This filth is hardly worth the effort, but those arms. . ." he reared back and let his whip fly. It cracked through the air and landed on a limb. The man jerked, and kept silent.

"He's going to be flogged. Horatio, they're going to beat him!" Archie said, and pushed forward. Horatio held him.

The whip cracked through the air, opening skin and allowing the blood to run down the dark arms, down his chest, dripping onto the wood. The slave driver smiled and wrapped the whip around his hand once again. "Discipline," he said loudly, "is not an agreement. It is a necessity of order, for all citizens to thrive. We can only work well if we work together, now I ask you, is running away the way to solve one's problems?"

"No!" a man shouted, and a fist rose into the air.

The slave driver pointed at him with his whip, which stuck out like a twig from a thick branch. "A very noble man, a very intelligent man. Of course not. Like a captain of his ship, we must exact discipline, or lose control." The whip cracked again, and the dark man jerked forward. "Now these poor men who own the plantations, these hard working men, they have no time for this. They have crops to tend to. Therefore we must break these beasts in, prepare them for work. We do a service, do we not?"

"Aye!"

"I think so." The slave driver crossed in front of the man and grabbed his chin, forcing his eyes upwards. His voice was low and cruel, and his distaste was obvious to every living soul standing within hearing distance. "And so I shall render unto you, the meaning of the word 'obey'. Never again will you run." He smiled and released him. "Of course you can't understand me, all you can do is talk in that damned heathen babble of yours, but by god you'll understand this!" And the whip whistled through the air, over and over, lash after lash. The poor man jerked and trembled, biting his lip until it bled. His teeth shone against lips pulled back in pain. His eyes closed tightly, then opened wide as the beating continued, tearing his flesh wide open in red rivers. His chest contracted, his ribs exposed, his stomach caved, and he arched his back and finally screamed. The crowd responded in cheers, pressing forward.

"NO! You must stop this!" Archie was pulling forward, almost to the edge of the platform. "Stop this madness, you'll kill him!"

"ARCHIE!" Horatio was on him, spinning him around. "What are you doing?"

"This isn't a flogging! God, this – we have to do something!"

Horatio grabbed Archie's face and forced the vivid eyes to meet his own. "This is their discipline. This is no different from what we undergo on the ship. You know that. Desertion is a hanging offense, he is getting off easily."

Archie's hands were on Horatio's wrists, wrenching his grip away. "Desertion? This isn't the navy! This man was taken against his will!"

Horatio's eyes darted around, surveying the crowd, and the large men that bordered them. "I'll not have you stick your neck out for a native! Is that understood?"

He expected Archie to consider his words carefully, and to step down, as was his wont. Instead, his next action proved to him how much had changed since their time in the Spanish prison in El Ferrol. Archie stood his ground. "What was that you said," he spoke carefully and deliberately, "when Borders first sent for us to see the Captain. He wouldn't tell you his name, said it was of no consequence. And you said, 'everyone is of some consequence'. Would you go back on your word, Horatio?"

"This isn't the same, Archie!"

Archie's eyes widened, and his nostrils flared. His lips pulled back in disappointment, and he pushed off Horatio's arm. "I can not, I will not, accept that. Even from you." He lunged for the stage.

"Archie! Damn it all!" Horatio lunged after him and grabbed hold, wrapping his arms around his friend's torso. Archie twisted, and they went down, virtually unnoticed in the crush of people that cheered the beating. They merely chuckled lightheartedly at two young men in a scuffle, and stepped around them.

Horatio managed to hold Archie down, refusing to let him rise lest he do something foolish like jump onto the platform in a heroic act. Legs framed them, people stumbled from the push towards the platform. Horatio felt a boot scrape his back, and forced himself up. "We're leaving before we're trampled," he yelled over the increasing noise as he pulled his friend up, "and that is an order! And by god, Archie, you'll obey it!"

Archie merely looked at him for some time. His hard expression changed as the crush of people gradually started to ease away, each one muttering or laughing, pushing and poking each other about the scene they had just witnessed, some heading to the corral where the slaves were kept, others keeping mind to their own business as more slaves were presented before the large door of the holding area. Horatio's gaze shot to the platform. The man was there, hanging, alone, the man with the whip nowhere to be seen. A few more jeers went flung in his direction before the people decided to search for other entertainment.

The slave's head was down, his body limp. Archie pushed Horatio aside and slowly walked to the man, looking up at the swollen face. Horatio appeared at his shoulder, but was not acknowledged. He stared up.

The dark man lifted his head. Slits for eyes seemed to look at him, no, did look at him. And something happened that not only held Archie in shock, but brought Horatio up to attention as well.

"Help me. . ." the dark man muttered.

Archie's brows raised. His mouth worked but nothing came out. He looked at Horatio, who seemed just as astonished. Then Horatio's dark eyes hardened as his features sharpened, and he sought out the slave driver, who watched the people press toward the gate with a gleam in his eye. Horatio pulled his shoulders back, and challenged him. "What do you mean, leaving him to hang like that? Do you have any idea what kind of infestation he may receive? The flies already swarm, and little good that would do for your prize!"

The slave driver turned slowly, his white clothes speckled with red. He took in Horatio's disheveled appearance. "You outta work?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You look like you need work. Torn clothes, thin as a rail." He regarded Horatio for a moment more, then hitched his pants up. "Fine, then." He nodded towards the platform. "Pull him down, get'em cleaned up. Take him back to the wall, and I'll see you get fed."

"Sir, I. . ." Horatio stopped as he saw Archie's expression. "Thank you, sir. You are too kind."

"So they say." The slave driver shook his head and walked to a table, where he sat and pulled at a leg of meat. He tucked a napkin into his shirt beneath his jacket and tore a hunk of meat off with his teeth. He stared at Horatio as he chewed noisily.

Horatio made little attempt to hide his disgust and signaled to Archie. Together they climbed the stairs to the platform and cautiously approached the man. His head turned slightly, and saw Archie. Their eyes locked. The man smelled of sweat and blood and stench that could only result from uncleanliness.

Archie stood beside him for a moment, then carefully reached up to release him from the chain, seeing Horatio do the same. The man's head had fallen to his breast. Limp arms dropped to his sides as he was freed. Archie caught him as he fell, realizing that for his size, he was a very heavy man, all lean muscle. He ended up half underneath him, the red blood staining his shirt. Horatio helped pull him aside and eyed the area. "We have to get him down from here." He knelt down, hesitated, then gently took the man's face in his hands. The black eyes that met his were desperate, and vastly intelligent. "Can you walk?" Horatio pointed to him and made a walking motion with two fingers.

"Y-yes. Help."

The voice was deep, much deeper than it should be in one so small. Horatio nodded and gently pulled an arm over his shoulder. Archie did the same. Together they walked to the edge of the platform, then sat with him and assisted him in easing to the ground. They landed in a heap. Horatio looked up and saw the slave driver snort, still holding his leg of meat. "Let's not take him in just yet," Horatio muttered. "Over there, to the outside of the building. We can sit and tend to him there."

"Will that slave driver allow us to go that far?"

"This man can't run. He can hardly walk. There's nothing to fear from us moving a mere twenty feet away." Horatio guided them towards the corner, seeing the slaver driver narrow his eyes, but saying nothing.

They released the man, and he fell back with a groan. Horatio cast about and found an old burlap sack. He ripped the seams and guided the man to sit on it. "The less dust you stir, the easier to clean these wounds, eh? Archie, see if you can find some water." Horatio removed his neck cloth and started to lightly, very lightly, dab at the man's skin. He did his best to blot the sweat away from running into the open wounds. Archie returned with water drawn from the nearby well, and together they went to work.

Archie said nothing, but noticed the change in Horatio. While he was pleased, he couldn't help but wonder if the change had come about only because the man spoke three words of English. He had to admit, in his eyes, it made the rescue more pertinent. He stopped cleaning long enough to meet the man's gaze, and point to himself. "Ar-chie." He raised his eyebrows and pointed to the man.

The man actually managed a tiny smile, which lit his face. He painfully pointed to his chest. "Lindiwe."

"Lindiwe." Archie smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Lindiwe."

"Nice, you here. Help." He turned to Horatio, who followed their example by pointing to himself and saying his name. "Or-a-to," Lindiwe tried.

"Something tells me your name is most unpleasant to his ear," Archie teased.

"He hasn't even tried yours, yet."

Lindiwe smiled, leaning back and wincing as the cloth dabbed the deep cuts on his chest. He breathed deeply and watched Archie from the corner of his dark eyes. "You. Ncombo unwele." He carefully reached out and touched Archie's locks, then pointed two fingers at his eyes, then to his own. "Luhlaza." Archie looked puzzled. Lindiwe pointed again to his eyes. "Luhlaza." He looked around, then pointed to the sky. "Luhlaza."

Horatio looked up, then at Archie, and smiled hugely. "Blue. He's saying your eyes are blue."

"Ah. Yes." Archie nodded and grinned. "Luhlaza. Blue."

"Ba-loo."

"Close." He jumped as Lindiwe hissed. "Sorry. How much English do you know?" This drew a puzzled look. "English?" Archie gestured to himself and Horatio. "English."

"Nice you here. Help."

"I think he's just picked up bits and pieces from being here, Archie," Horatio muttered. "I don't believe he actually speaks the language."

"You." Lindiwe's firm voice resonated in the small area. He pointed to Horatio. "Umholi." He fisted his hand, and gave a grunt of pain.

Horatio thought for a moment and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't. . ." he gestured helplessly.

"Umholi." Lindiwe pointed, and gave a firm nod. He pointed to himself. "Lindiwe." And again at Horatio. "Umholi."

"I believe you've just been christened, Horatio."

"Christened by a heathen. Will this journey ever cease to amaze me?"

Lindiwe seemed to be considering as he looked at Archie. His eyes prowled over the tanned features, the earnest expression. Finally he nodded, pointing a shaky finger at Archie. "Indaba."

"Seems I've acquired one as well." Archie smiled. "Indaba it is then."

"I wonder what these names mean?"

Archie kept the grin on his face. "I assure you, I have no idea."

The clean up continued for some time, until the slave driver crossed over to them. "There, that's enough then. Here," he grabbed Horatio's hand and upturned his palm, "there's enough for a meal for the two of you. You've done me a service, I can't stand to touch the thing." He pulled out a long stick which had a loop on the end, and roped Lindiwe by the neck, forcing him to his feet. "Now off with you, you don't want to catch what this vermin probably has crawling in what passes for hair on his head."

Horatio watched as Lindiwe was lead away by the neck, held at arm's length by the slave driver. He caught Archie's arm, but it was a gentle touch, a reminder, nothing more. "Come," he said, "we can do nothing more here."

"We have to burn their village, Horatio." Archie said softly.

"I know." He winced in distaste, then led Archie away, placing his arm around his friend's shoulder.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Horatio stared at his empty plate, trying to remember if he had even tasted the food as he wolfed it down. Archie had poked at his, but his own hunger won the battle with his ire and he attacked his plate as well. No words passed between them, the events of the afternoon sealing themselves firmly in their minds, each one waiting to be processed. Horatio knew Archie was hurt. He would be as well, indeed he was, that his friend should suddenly take on a cause that was contrary to their objective. Archie had never shown reserve in killing a man, not when it came to war. He could remember long ago, back when the thrill of battle filled their blood with the wish to finally become men, as Archie ran to him, his face slicked and spotted crimson, "Did you see me, Horatio? Did you see? I killed two of them! Well, one, surely! Well, where were you?"

This same man now sat across from him, his face still young but somber, his eyes downcast. Horatio knew that mischievous gleam was gone from them. This was the man that battle had brought forth, the one whose youth had abandoned him as the reality of war set in over the glamour. This was a man who realized that mixed causes was the tapestry of battle, that there were no real victors. He prayed, for a moment, to have that young man back, the one who stared at the red on his sword in wonder, who was an image of nobility and worried none about the consequences of his actions. The one who saw his duty and filled it with no question. For the first time, Horatio took in the taste of what true leadership must feel like, to have to abandon those he loved in the light of duty. Which was more important to him, truly? He loved Archie as he loved no other, never before had a friend completed him so. Was it right to serve the wishes of a man he hardly knew, for duty's sake, and leave that which he truly honored to the side to rot in the mud, or to be hung? He would not hurt Archie for anything, and knew his friend felt the same for him. It was evident in his slouched manner, in the way that he refused to meet Horatio's eyes for fear of seeing disappointment there. It was an emotion Horatio understood all too well. But their plates were now as empty as the conversation, and it was time to fill the air. "Archie. We must talk."

"Yes."

"I know you do not like this situation, and I wish to God I could fix it for you."

Archie thumbed the edge of the table, still not looking up. "I know."

"But the thing is. . ." Horatio paused and pursed his lips, then allowed his own gaze to fall. "We have to make a choice. Now." He poked the table with his forefinger to make his point. "Do we carry out our duty as we have sworn to do, whether it suits our personal interests or not, or do we toss away everything we've worked so hard for on a whim that will be history in a few day's time?"

"Do you expect an immediate answer, or do I have time to think?" Archie slowly raised the cup to his lips, looking at the wine and not his friend.

"You act as though you haven't mulled the problem over in your mind during the whole of dinner."

Archie sighed and set down his drink. "What would you have me do, Horatio?"

Horatio started to speak, then thought better of it. He had wanted to say, 'I wish you would do what is in your heart to do', but at the moment he did not feel that way. He wanted Archie to do what was necessary to get them back on the Indie, and his morals be damned. That was his honest feeling. Yet he did not want his friend to return unhappy, as though he had failed in some way. "I don't know, Archie. I really don't."

Archie nodded and shifted in his seat, placing his elbows on the table and looking, for the first time, straight at his friend. "You enjoy logic. Let's play at that, shall we?"

"Fine then." Horatio leaned in.

"Logically, the proper course of action would be to do as our Acting Captain says, and follow our duty. After all, these savages have repeatedly attacked our port, pillaged our goods, taken our women and destroyed our ships. They need to be taught a lesson, to show that no matter what, the English sovereignty will prevail, and that we are not to be trifled with."

"Yes."

"Now, this is due to the reputable business of the slave trade, which provides much needed hands to farms and the like so that our growing economy can flourish and supply can be kept with demand. This is an inexpensive way to continue the trade of goods and keep our nation and king flourishing. Now, in exchange for this we provide food and shelter for these slaves. They no longer have to hunt for their food, they no longer risk starvation. They have the chance to lead a better life."

"Yes."

"And so we pull them from the life that they have known and thrust them into a life that is in fact unfair and ill-suited for them, because it does our King a good turn." He sat back angrily and raised his drink to his lips.

"Archie, I see your point here, and I agree. But think on this. Do fathers not send their children to sea against their wishes? Do you really believe all of these young boys are here because they want to be? What of you? Was it your decision to set off to sea, with your prospects?"

"My prospects are not as you think."

"Yet you had them. And you were shipped to sea, just as these natives are, taken from your family. You were sent to fulfill a life that you had not chosen for yourself, and had to overcome insurmountable odds to acquire a taste for it. You have been flogged. You have been beaten, . . . and worse." He shook his head at Archie's sudden shame. "I do not bring this up to hurt you, but to prove a point. You were forced into a situation that you were not initially suited for, and you adapted. Who is to say these men will not do the same?"

"They were stolen, Horatio! Their families did not give them up, they were stolen from them. That is what the slave hunters do, they destroy the villages and steal the people. The Navy did not take me, I was sent to it."

"If you think about that, Archie, I believe you will find that the difference is but a subtle one. Did your mother wish you to leave? Your siblings?"

"Not especially."

"You were taken from your family, just as I was, just as the majority of these natives have been. Now, does this justify it? No. But is it fueling the flame for your bitterness towards the situation at hand?" Horatio sat back, watching Archie carefully.

He was giving the matter thought. There was probably truth in what Horatio said, there usually was. "It is possible," he admitted. "But I feel it in my gut, Horatio." He looked up, and his eyes were dark with emotion. "This is wrong. What we are doing, granted if it came from the King's orders and not Captain Rapier's I may feel differently about the situation, or at least able to carry it out without much thought."

"Because then, the blame could be put on the King."

"And country. Yes." His face relaxed into realization. "Is it possible I am just intent on countermanding Captain Rapier, and that I actually have no feelings about the slave trade one way or the other?"

Horatio leaned back. "I believe you have strong feelings, as do I, only you've just started to realize them. But the matter remains, what are we to do about it?"

"Horatio, you speak highly of duty. What of your duty to your friend?"

It was a question Horatio was waiting for. "What of your duty to yours?" he asked plainly.

This took Archie aback. His posture gave. "I know, and I'm unfair. God, but I wish this damned excursion was over and done!"

"You are not unfair, do not think it. It pleases me to know that you can come to me with these issues. As for this excursion being over, it can be." Horatio leaned in across the table. "We can set out tomorrow. The village is little more than a day from here."

"Is that all?" Archie frowned. How is it that it has remained untouched? Why hunt across the whole of Africa when there is a village so close by?"

"I don't know, Archie. Maybe these hunters are looking for a particular type of people, maybe they know nothing of the village. Maybe Captain Rapier is mistaken in his calculations."

Archie's thoughts turned to their objective. "Any idea how we are supposed to set fire, then escape? Do you honestly feel like running through this heat for a day with an angry tribe at your heels?"

"We shall have to find a place to hide. Return here at nightfall."

"Easier said than done, I wager. It is barren out here."

"Not so much as you think. According to Captain Rapier's instructions, we should be able to conceal ourselves. Baring that, we may have to concoct something."

"A sudden structure where there was none before?"

"We must also think of the horses."

Archie stared. "You've had too much to drink. I still cannot believe you are willing to ride."

"More so than I am willing to run, yes. Absolutely. Plus that would solve the issue of getting our supplies to and from the village."

"Horatio. . ." Archie ran his finger along the rim of his cup, "I was thinking. "T'would be a shame if these heathen villagers decided to wreck havoc upon the port in exchange for our burning them out of their homes." He let the comment hang.

"Archie, that is what Captain Rapier is indeed trying to prevent! Do not forget, there are innocent women and children that live at the port."

"Innocent people that witness this brutality day in and day out? Think I'd rather they be burned."

"You can't mean that."

"No, I don't mean that, but dammit!" Archie sighed angrily. "There is no easy way out of this, is there?"

"The only way out," Horatio said, "is to do our duty as we see fit. Now, you have no scruples about cutting down any frog that happens to board your ship."

"But that is war!"

"Aye, and so is this!"

"No, this is different! These people aren't asking for war, they want to be left in peace. They just want their families back."

"And you think the wives of those frogs don't want theirs back, hm?" Archie fell silent. Horatio sighed and placed his hand atop Archie's. "Listen. I do not mean to berate you. There may be a way out of this yet. We may not have to do anything to the village, or the port. Give me another day."

Archie eyed his friend warily. "What are you up to, Horatio?"

Horatio gave a sly smile. "I had a dispatch sent to the Indie before we landed. It should reach her by now."

"But how?" Archie paused, and shook his head. "My god, you really did it. You sent someone of in a bloody jollyboat!"

"Midshipman Rodgers.."

"Are you insane? Do you realize how far . . ."

Horatio shook his head vehemently. "I sent him to shore, you fool! He's met up with a ship that's headed back north. At best he should have rendezvoused with the Indie yesterday."

"And how do you expect to receive word?"

"I've asked the courier to expect a post from the Admiralty."

"The Admiralty?"

"He's looking for anything with a seal, whether from the Admiralty or our good Captain Pellew. It keeps his eyes fresh if he thinks there is a chance of the port getting an official visit."

Archie grinned. "You are a right devil! And yet you've told me nothing?"

Horatio gave a lopsided smile, despite himself. "Well, I didn't want to get your hopes up. There is still a very good chance this can all go wrong, and we have to set fire to that village and run for our lives, and hope that Captain Rapier is true to his word." He raised his cup to his lips.

"And we take Lindiwe with us."

Horatio choked on his drink.