I know, it's been für immer since I've updated… shame has been heaped upon me. But for today, remember that in this moment, life is good. The sun is out, (at least where I am) and I have finally finished this chapter! HA!
Mucho Importantness: This is the last chapter that takes place during the movie, Mutiny- the first half of the Renown's tale. Thus, it's half way over! (Hopefully there are more of you crying with sadness than with joy…) So without further ado, here is the last part of Mutiny. Enjoy! Oh, and please review, as reviews give me more joy than I already have. :D
Chapter 9: Here We Go Again…
The week had gone by rapidly. The crew had went about their duties and the Captain had continued to slowly recuperate from his trauma. The Doctor, after much pleading from the lieutenants, had decided the Captain was unfit for command—temporarily. He couldn't seem to bring himself to admit the fragility of his friend's mind. Regardless of his duty towards the ship, he forever would remain loyal to his longtime friend James Sawyer, even if the man was insane. However, Clive had come to realize that it was crucial that someone take over in the Captain's stead—even if it was that bumbling idiot, Buckland.
As soon as the words had left the Doctor's mouth, the new acting Captain—former first lieutenant Buckland—and the other lieutenants had begun preparing the drunken, lazy crew of the Renown for battle. In just a few days, the Renown would reach the coast of Santa Domingo, where they were sure to have action. It was critical for the Renown to be able to retaliate accordingly.
For the last few days, the guns of the Renown had been firing incessantly. Thankfully, Horatio had been able to sleep through several watches and regain the sleep he had lost during the many hours he had stood watch. The crew's speed with the guns had greatly improved and the morale of the ship had risen, save for that of the three female passengers—who had been forced to stay below during the exercises.
For the moment, it seemed that the crew had finally been given a break. Puzzled at sudden expanse of silence, Amy sat up. Cautiously, she swung out of her hammock, just waiting for the cracking and booming to resume, sending her back into her bunk with her pillow pressed over her ears. She waited a few minutes; still, there was no sound. Had they finally stopped? It appeared so.
The day so far had been grueling. Though the girls had tried to help with the preparation for battle in any way they could, the lieutenants had made it quite clear that their presence was only a distraction, both towards the men as well as themselves. Sulkily, the three had withdrawn to the Midshipman's Berth, plugging their ears with cloth in an attempt to save their already severed hearing they had acquired after regularly attending rock concerts in America.
Lottie looked up from what she was reading, a book discussing nautical terms and various other information of life aboard ship. Though Cat had found it thoroughly uninteresting, Lottie had always loved anything to do with the navy—especially in the 1800's. It almost saddened her to put her book down, as she had always enjoyed getting lost in a world all her own. However, it seemed as though the cannons had finally stopped their never-ending fire, and she was free to move about the ship at will. Besides, her banishment to the lower decks had kept her from the company of her newly betrothed. The sooner she could get back to him, the happier she would be.
Cat rolled out of her hammock sleepily, as she had just awoken from her nap. Amy arched an eyebrow disbelievingly at her friend. It never ceased to amaze her that no matter what the commotion, Cat could sleep through it. Often, Amy had teased her that the world could end while they were sleeping and Cat would still not wake up.
One thing was for sure: Cat felt entirely disgusting. Her hair was beyond dirty; it had to have been at least five months since she had been able to wash herself. That thought made her want to squirm. At this point, it no longer mattered to her if she had to use sea water, as long as she had soap!
"Have they stopped, then?" asked Lottie, once her friends had emerged from behind the curtain.
"It seems that way," said Amy, not at all disappointed.
"Girls," yawned Cat, stretching her arms above her head. "I think we should request a bath."
Lottie and Amy looked at each other and laughed. "A bath? Won't that be kind of awkward?" asked Amy, giggling.
Cat blushed. "We could use the wardroom."
Lottie nodded in agreement. "A bath would be lovely."
So it was decided. Three demanding girls marched up to Buckland, who was strolling around the quarter deck, admiring the new sharpness of 'his' crew. A bath was politely requested, and was met with much stammering and confusion. The girls pressed firmly and at last, the acting Captain was broken. Tubs were filled with sea water, towels and cakes of soap were fetched and the wardroom was cleared of the remaining lieutenants to give the girls privacy.
Satisfied, the three began to wash and indulge in what they had been denied for so long. Hair was lathered in soap, rinsed and combed—all the while the three humming cheerily without a care in the world. An hour later, three bathed girls emerged from the wardroom, content now that they had been rid of all dirt and dust.
Up on deck, the tired lieutenants stood about the quarterdeck, exhausted after the rigorous morning. Bush leaned heavily against the railing, rubbing his forehead tiredly. Behind him, Amy approached hesitantly, contemplating the idea of talking to him. For most of the week she had been avoiding him, feeling a mild anxiousness rise in her chest whenever she saw him. She knew she couldn't just leave it alone. Even if he had only scolded her to hurt her, rather than for her benefit, she felt compelled to express her gratitude for what he had done. After all, had he not been there to save her, she would have been consumed by the fiend Randall.
Never before had she felt so awkward; for the first time that she could remember, she felt shy. Maybe this was because for the past several months, all she had tried to do was irritate this man, whereas now she wanted to attempt a civil conversation, and perhaps, make peace. It was crazy—even she did not believe what she felt.
"Mr. Bush," she began tentatively.
Bush turned and was surprised to see Amy, the girl that, for most of the journey, had been his enemy. The usual fire in her eyes was absent. Instead, her eyes were now filled with an emotion he had never seen in her before—humility. He hadn't seen much of her since their heated conversation in the hold. Guilt nagged at him for being so harsh with her after such a traumatic experience. He opened his mouth to speak, not knowing what he would say. All he knew was that he had to say something.
"Wait," said Amy, keeping Bush from speaking. "I have something to say," she said, biting her lip nervously. "I've been thinking about what you said, and you—you are," she sighed, internally conflicted, "You're right. And I want to thank you for saving me. I could never repay you. I know we have never been on peaceful terms, and I don't deny the blame I deserve. But I would like to put that behind us, and settle our differences."
Bush was shocked. Of all the things he had expected her to say, that had not been one of them. How was he supposed to respond? He was very glad he had been there to rescue her; no matter how awful her company usually was, no one deserved such a fate.
"I dealt with you quite harshly before, and for that I apologize. I…" he did not know what else to say. "I hope you will be able forgive me for my cruelty."
Amy smiled, relieved, and bowed her head. When she looked up again, the playful light was back in her eyes. "Friends?"
Bush smiled, the first real smile he had ever given her. "Friends."
Lottie skipped merrily up on deck, her damp hair blowing freely in the wind. Now that she had been released from her prison, also known affectionately as the Middy's Berth, she had taken advantage of her freedom. It was much better to be up on deck. With the warm breeze, the sunshine and the saltwater spray, life was simply brighter. Below decks, it was dark and somewhat unnerving, especially if you wandered alone. Wellard stood near the side of the ship, looking calmly out across the sea. Lottie pranced over to him, eager to be reunited with her beloved.
Across the deck, Buckland approached Horatio, who was leaning heavily against the rail of the poop deck. Horatio was tired and grimy. Perhaps the girls had been right in their earlier thinking. There was really only one thing he wanted—a bath.
Buckland was a little annoyed by his officer's request; it seemed like the only thing he had gotten to do as a 'Captain' thus far was give people permission to wash themselves. Nevertheless, he granted the officer permission and sailors were fetched to command the contraption that would spray Horatio.
Buckland hurried off to make sure that the females were secured below decks, as he wanted no peeping Toms—er, Amys. "Misses," he told them, "You must get below. You will be told when you can come up again."
"Why?" sputtered Amy, unwilling to leave the company of her newfound friend, William Bush. Lottie and Cat exchanged looks. Their moment of sunshine and good company had been much too short.
"It seems the Renown has been turned into a public bathhouse," he grumbled under his breath, and then explained, "Mr. Hornblower has requested a, erm… washing," Buckland stated, somewhat awkwardly.
Lottie sighed. It would have been nice to spend the afternoon out in the fresh air, and now it seemed impossible to do so. Amy too, wouldn't have minded staying up on deck. Rebelliously, she watched as Horatio descended into the hatchway and the hose was uncoiled.
"Ahem," coughed Bush, who led Amy away from the view of the soon-to-be-bathed lieutenant. She pouted devilishly, as if she was disappointed, and was led away to the Midshipman's Berth.
Archie looked at Cat apologetically and offered his arm to her.
"Hey," she said in response, pointing a finger stubbornly at him, "If I'm going down, your riding shotgun." Archie cocked his head, confused. Cat sighed, remembering how few phrases she knew made sense to her nineteenth-century friend. "Never mind. You're coming with me." The twosome exited the quarterdeck, arm in arm.
Once below, Cat smiled ruefully up at him. "Sorry if I sounded petulant, but I refuse to spend one more moment alone down here." She cut him off the instant he looked as if he were going try to dissuade her. "And, no, all that time before does not count—how am I supposed to converse with Lottie and Amy when I can't even hear myself think?" She smirked triumphantly.
Archie couldn't hold in the laughter that bubbled over; after feeling stressed and drained from the day's events, it felt too good just to laugh out loud. Cat tried to suppress his contagious laughter. "I'm serious!" she protested, not sounding serious in the least. Still smiling, she slid her hand from its place on his arm down to his hand, and entwined her fingers with his. Life below wasn't so bad—when you were with Archie Kennedy.
Meanwhile, Lottie and Wellard wandered aimlessly through the passageways. The couple was holding hands and climbing from deck to deck, laughing and talking without a care in the world. However, both were somewhat wary, even though the Captain laid unconscious in his cabin. No matter if he was there or not, his image was always present, haunting them.
Slowly they emerged onto the upper gun deck, coming closer and closer to the sunlight streaming in from the doorway that led onto the main deck. Here, Lottie broke away from Wellard and walked into the sunlight, dangerously close to the area of which her presence was, for the moment, not permissible.
Wellard tensed, ready to stop her if she went out any farther. She turned around, smirking. "Relax, Wellard. I'm just testing my boundaries," she said, sticking her tongue out. Wellard smiled, knowing how badly Lottie longed to be out in the sunshine. Glumly, Lottie walked back into the dimly lit gun deck. She leaned back against the wall and sighed, defeated. "Besides, I'm a good girl."
Wellard laughed. "No, you're my girl," he said cleverly, caressing her cheek fondly. Lottie smiled. Then, giggling mischievously, she began to back away into the shadows.
Wellard cocked an eyebrow quizzically. Whatever was she doing? His question was soon answered as Lottie sprinted away. Grinning at her silliness, he chased after her. Though Lottie had never been a fast runner, she had been an excellent player of hide-and-go-seek.
Wellard stopped. She had to be hiding somewhere. "Come on out, you," he called, and in response, he heard a faint giggle. Lottie dashed out from behind a barrel, intending to climb down the ladder onto the lower gun deck. Before she was able to, Wellard caught up to her—his eyes flashing triumphantly. Quickly he grabbed her arms, preventing her escape. Squealing, Lottie tried weakly to free herself from his grasp, bumping into the wall behind her.
"Got you," Wellard said. For a moment, the two stared at each other, letting out heavy exhales. Then, Lottie wrapped her arms around his neck, and the two embraced. Wellard leaned his face downwards to smell her sweet, clean hair and twisted a strand of it around his finger.
"I- I love you, Herry," Lottie breathed, burrowing her face into his chest.
"I love you, Lottie," he murmured, his lips roaming her hair tenderly. Pulling away, Lottie leaned back against the wall.
"Kiss me. Quickly, before someone comes," she whispered.
Though normally the image of the Captain would loom in his mind, preventing him from doing anything the least bit punishable, now that the Captain was temporarily indisposed, Wellard had been willing to take more risks for his own pleasure. He was most happy to acquiesce Lottie's request. Laughing softly, he snaked his arms firmly around her waist, pinning her to the wall gently. His lips lingered for a hesitant moment before falling onto hers. He kissed her, more intensely than the last time, his fingers entangled in her hair. Lottie draped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. It felt so perfect, so right, this moment. All their cares seemed to fade the instant their lips met. The world around them vanished.
"I'll have no lewd behavior among my officers, Mr. Wellard. This is a ship of His Majesty, not some common brothel!"
The two jumped apart, fear filling their faces, and turned to face a livid Captain Sawyer. The Captain glared at his midshipman, completely irate. Then, as if changing his mind where he would direct his anger towards, he stared at Lottie, his eyes cold. She looked up, her eyes wide with terror. There was only one person that she had seen such an anger in before—the Captain of the Indomptable. It frightened her. Wellard grabbed her hand possessively. There was no way he was going to allow the Captain to hurt her. He could withstand as many beatings as necessary—as long as Lottie was unharmed. He tensed, expecting yet another fated punishment be laid upon him. However, none came. Instead, the Captain's eyes became sad, and the fire slowly began to fade.
A disappointed and somewhat jealous look crossed the Captain's face. "I had hoped you would be a bit wiser in choosing the object of your affections, Miss O'Hara. What did he promise you—money, the world? How foolish of you to believe him. Nothing good could ever come from this boy," he said, spitting on the last word.
Lottie squirmed beneath his gaze, unsure of how to respond. Why did he always have to cut Wellard down? And what was it with these people and money? Was love not even something to be considered? Before she could manage a reply, Hobbs appeared beside the Captain, sneering at the discovered couple.
"What about the lieutenants, sir?" he asked, jogging the Captain's fleeting memory.
"Quite right, Hobbs!" Sawyer said, and the two marched out onto the main deck, followed by the Marines. Wellard and Lottie exchanged worried glances. Cautiously, the two walked into the sunlight. Though both were greatly relieved that the Captain had not punished either of them, both knew that his intentions for the rest of his officers could not be good ones.
Horatio, having finished his bath, was lounging with his fellow officers, as well as Amy and Cat, while drying his hair with a towel. Hearing the thundering of footsteps, they all turned around at once to find the apparently recovered Captain.
"Sergeant, arrest lieutenants Hornblower, Bush and Kennedy and clap them in irons for the mutinous devils they are!" he shouted, waving his pistols manically. Marines approached the lieutenants, somewhat sheepishly, leading them below deck.
Unable to accept what was happening, Amy grabbed Bush's hand. "Miss," asked a young Marine politely, reaching to pull Amy's hand away from Bush's. The girl held on stubbornly. Bush sighed.
"Amanda, let go. It must be done—there's nothing you can do to stop it," he murmured, and Amy promptly released her grip on his hand. She had always hated being called Amanda. It had never seemed to fit her.
"Fine, William," she whispered back, fuming at the injustice. To think that things had just been going so well mere moments before, only to be ruined by the presence of an authoritative, yet mad, figure.
Cat bit her lip worriedly. With the lieutenants absent, there was no telling what the Captain would do. What would happen when they met the Spanish at Santa Domingo? And who would keep them safe?
"Don't worry, love," whispered Archie, who quickly leaned over and gave Cat an impulsive kiss, "I'll be alright." She could only hope his words would prove to be true. Giving him a weak smile, she kissed him back. Who knew how long it would be until they saw each other again? The marine waiting for the canoodling couple to end their conversation rolled his eyes.
"And you women—I have no doubt you played some part in this infamous affair. I'll be watching you," the Captain said, glancing suspiciously at Cat and Amy. With that, he left, his nose raised haughtily in the air, Hobbs and Clive close behind him. The lieutenants were taken away to the brig, leaving the girls alone once again.
Later that afternoon, the Renown sailed into the dangerous waters of the Santana Bay, on the edge of an impending battle with the Spanish. The crew had attempted and failed to elevate the guns high enough to hit the fort, but Captain Sawyer still pressed on. Buckland had weakly tried to persuade the Captain to turn back, saying there was no point in fighting the Spanish from sea if they could not attack them. The Captain had refused, saying, "No, I want to fight them!" An attack from the Spanish was now unpreventable, and the Renown would be defenseless against the Spanish cannons.
Defeated, the first lieutenant had sent the girls to wait in the wardroom, fearing the approaching blows that the ship would suffer. Now, Amy paced back and forth, annoyed that she would have to miss out on yet another exciting experience.
"Amy, you're going to wear a hole in the floor," commented Cat dryly, who was paging through a log book. Amy rolled her eyes.
"I can't believe we have to wait down here, in the dark—we're missing out on everything!"
Cat looked up from her book, frowning. "Is that all you care about? Witnessing a battle?"
"No. Come on… You agree with me, don't you Lottie?" she turned to Lottie to receive some support in her complaint. Lottie was quietly sewing up a hole in her dress. She had never liked sewing, but now that she was forced to use the skill, she wished she had practiced it more.
Lottie paused in thought, then said neutrally, "I cannot help but fear for the wellbeing of the men during the battle. Perhaps I would be comforted if we were allowed to stay on deck."
Now it was Cat's turn to roll her eyes. "Nothing is going to happen to him, Lottie," then she paused, as if trying to remember something, "Well, at least—I think so."
"What do you mean, you think so?" scoffed Amy.
"I cannot remember for certain, my memories seem to be growing distant," answered Cat truthfully. Amy sighed.
"So you too, huh?" she asked, glancing at Cat and Lottie, who nodded in confirmation.
"It bothers me—sometimes I can remember what there is to come, and other times I don't remember anything at all," said Lottie quietly. The three became silent, each pondering in apprehensive solitude.
It was not long before explosions rocked the ship, cannon balls fiercely hitting the side of the Renown. Boom after boom was heard, splinters of wood flying hither and thither. Cat cowered, and Amy and Lottie scattered to opposite ends of the room. Lottie curled up in a corner, covering her head and trying and shut out the noise. Only a few months ago, she had heard the same smashing, the same cracking, the same boom of men firing upon each other aboard the Indomptable. How she had hated the noise and blood! And how she hated it even more now, knowing that Wellard was in its midst. There had been so many dead on the Indomptable, all lives lost for a mad man. Now would be no different. All she could do was sit and moan, hoping nothing too horrible would happen—a worthless weakling sitting quietly out of the way. It made her feel claustrophobic, sitting and being thrown repeatedly against the ship with furniture and papers flying everywhere. She couldn't stay here like this.
Shakily, she rose and was immediately jolted by the shots pounding into the side of the Renown. Groping her way along, she managed to reach the door.
"What are you doing? Are you insane? Don't go!" shouted Amy and Cat over the cannon fire.
Ignoring her friends' insistent cries, Lottie left the protection of the wardroom. It was not long before she made her way to the top deck, and gasped. Blood, both wet and dry ran along the deck. Never had she been one to be squeamish before, but now seemed to be an exception. Walking as though in a trance, she passed the fallen Captain, who sat quaking on the side of the ship. Sailors, both dead and wounded, laid on the deck, cannons and guns askew. So this was what it was like. On the Indomptable, they had been kept out of sight in the brig. She had never seen a battle before. It was said that the curiosity had killed the cat-however, Lottie had no intention of dying any time soon.
Across the deck, Wellard had sent by Buckland to fetch Doctor Clive. The Captain had, as Buckland had put it, 'gone to earth somewhere'. In other words, the Captain had had one of his drastic moments, this time he had threatened the lives of both Buckland and Wellard with a pistol. Fortunately, before anything too serious could happen, the ship had lurched and the three had scattered. Perhaps the Captain would be done away with once and for all. That was, if the Doctor could finally come to admit that his friend was unfit for command.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something that didn't belong in the scene of battle. Lottie was walking along the side, seemingly oblivious to the shells and debris soaring over her head. Swearing under his breath, he rushed to her, stepping over bodies and scattered wreckage. "Lottie!" he called out, breaking her out from her numb trance. She looked up, startled, and he grabbed her arm tightly.
"Let go of me!" she shrieked, no wanting go to below, where the walls seemed to close in around her. Up here, she could breathe—no matter how chaotic it was. Wellard did not so much as loosen his grip on her as he led her down onto the lower deck. She would stay put from now on; he wouldn't see her hurt, he would never be able to live with himself. Lottie thrashed and fought, but to no avail, as Wellard was both older and stronger than she was.
He brought her to an out-of-the-way place, where it was quieter and a little less chaotic. Steaming, Wellard thrust her into the corner, where he hoped she would be a bit more protected from the raining blows. "Why did you come up there like that?" he shouted above the noise, furious. "You could have been killed!"
"I had to, I couldn't stay below- not in there, not knowing, never knowing," she mumbled, realizing how stupid her thoughts sounded out loud. Finally, after a few moments of silence, she added a minute, yet sincere, "I'm sorry." Wellard breathed out heavily, not at all consoled by her apology. If anything had happened to her up there...
"Never do that again," he ordered, his voice low. Lottie's eyes clouded with anger.
"I'll do as I wish. Now let go of me!" she hissed.
"No. Promise me you'll stay below," he said, tightening his grip on her wrist. Lottie gritted her teeth, irritated. His hand was beginning to hurt her.
"I promise," she finally muttered sullenly and she jerked her arm from his grasp. Realizing her fate would surely be to reside once more in the shaking wardroom, her eyes became wide and desperate, "Please, don't make me go back there!" she begged, "I couldn't bear it. I feel so suffocated and I-
"Alright, alright," he sighed and pushed her farther back into the corner. "Stay here." He paused, and it occurred to Wellard that he wasn't being very sympathetic towards Lottie—someone who shouldn't even have to witness something like this. Feeling a bit regretful, he opened his mouth to say something, then, as if having second thoughts, he shook himself and walked quickly back towards the sick bay to fetch the Doctor.
Lottie slid slowly down against the wooden wall, not caring that its roughness scratched her. A small part of her wished that she had stayed in the wardroom, instead of venturing out onto the blood covered deck with slain sailors lying amongst the scattered wreckage. Her mind was now filled with horrors that no movie could ever realistically portray, and Wellard was angry with her. What a mess. She had only wanted to be assured that he was safe, which was something she had momentarily achieved. It would be agonizing for her if something happened to him—she didn't know if she would be able to bear it. It made sense that, in turn, Wellard would be unable to bear it if something happened to her. No matter; all she could do was wait, a useless damsel anxiously awaiting the return of the hero.
Amy hurried along the ship, dodging enflamed wooden pieces spread throughout the gun deck. Matthews and Styles were right behind her, following her to the brig, where the lieutenants awaited to be released from their now water-filled prison. Cat and Amy had followed Lottie, for they both feared for their sanity if they stayed any longer in the wardroom. The rest of the ship had not been faring any better, though Cat and Amy had been somewhat comforted by the presence of other people around them.
Suddenly, the ship had lurched by a more natural cause than cannon fire. Cat and Amy had fallen to the deck, looking at each other with fear in their eyes. "We're aground," stated Cat, knowing that the Renown had finally hit the shallow gulf and was anchored, sitting still and waiting to be torn to pieces by the Spanish guns. It was then that Amy and Cat had split up, Cat heading to the sick bay to help save whatever life there was left, and Amy to fetch Matthews and Styles to help her release the imprisoned officers.
Now, Matthews swung a heavy axe down upon the barred window, breaking the lock and freeing the lieutenants, whose cage was slowly filling with sea water from a cannon-made hole. Matthews and Styles helped the three out, and Amy impulsively embraced Bush, as she was very happy to see him again. Their happiness was short-lived, as the lieutenants quickly ran out onto the top deck to help end the nightmare the Renown was in.
Meanwhile, Cat washed her hands for what felt like the thousandth time. If only the blackened blood would rinse off easily! She glanced up at Doctor Clive, who was freshening his instruments in a second bucket very similar in shape to the one Cat had her hands dipped in. Cat had been down in the sick bay for what seemed like ages, working alongside the Doctor, bandaging and cleaning what her little experience could handle. She often found she had to remind herself that the man she was working with was a drunken, belligerent man most of the time, as his demeanor completely transformed as he worked with his patients, his voice a bit less raspy and his hands having a calm purpose.
Even though Cat had never been queasy around blood, and had a natural way of fixing things that could be applied to simple medicine practice, Cat had never dreamed of working as a nurse. Several times, Clive had asked her to leave the room, presumably to perform something that he felt wasn't for female eyes to see, no matter how helpful she was. Cat hadn't minded too much; it provided a break and time to rest her eyes for a moment.
"Miss Hampton?" called the Doctor.
Cat quickly wiped her hands on the long strip of cloth that served as a towel. "Yes, Doctor?" she asked.
"I'm needed on deck. Could you please keep an eye on things down here?"
"Of course," she said, wondering why the Doctor would be needed on deck. From the look on his face, she couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with the Captain.
"And Miss Hampton," he paused, and added as an afterthought, "I greatly appreciate the assistance. You've been a great help to me." He paused, feeling awkward as he talked. Nodding politely, he walked out the door and up on deck.
Cat began to walk amongst the many, swaying hammocks, smiling encouragingly at pained patients. As she passed the very last bunk, she heard a small breath—too small to be that of a grown man's. Curiosity urged her to pause, and step aside to see. There, lying almost pitifully in Cat's eyes, was a sleeping boy who couldn't be more than ten years old. Her heart broke as her hand brushed the tightly bandaged left arm.
Wide blue eyes snapped open, and stared up at her, looking startled. Then, the slightly freckled face smiled boyishly, with his head tucked into his shoulder, light brown hair brushing his eyes. The voice that followed wasn't quite what Cat expected, but she liked the husky little resonance immediately. "I know who you are." Cat's brows rose slightly.
"Oh?" she asked, not quite sure what to say to the lad.
"You're Catherine Hampton—you're a lady," he said matter-of-factly. She felt a smile touch the edge of her lips as her said her name, looking proud to know it.
"That's me. I'm sorry; I don't think I know your name." His head cocked, and that impish grin reappeared, only faintly laced with pain from his arm. His voice sounded softer, quieter as he gave up his name.
"Davy." His sentences seemed short and almost shy to Cat.
"Are you a…" She searched her mind for the term. "Powder Monkey?" Her head tilted sideways for confirmation. His eyes lit up, giving her the answer. She had to smile at the reaction. "How old are you, Davy?"
"Eight. Almost nine." His concise sentences made Cat want to hear more. She pushed him a little farther.
"What happened to your arm?" she asked, and gestured to it, careful not to touch. His gaze flitted to the injury, then came back to Cat's face.
"I…" His eyes closed in concentration, trying to remember what the Doctor had reported. "Well I, I knocked into something—really hard—and I, I d-don't remember what happened after tha- that." Cat was momentarily startled at his longer speech. He had a stutter."Doctor Clive said it should b-be alright soon, th- though." He looked as if he were tired out just by talking. His eyelids drooped ever so slightly, though Cat could tell he was fighting the motion. She smiled softly, and lowered her frame so that her eyes were level with his.
"I'm sure it will, Davy. You go back to sleep now, all right?" He nodded and closed his eyes, his head nestling back again into the hammock. As she made her way back, she still had the smile in place, leaving her to wonder why she felt like crying. Thoughts of her youngest brother flew through her mind, though he had long since passed the age of eight. Fragments of images fluttered around in her head. Football in the back yard. Toys scattered in the living room. First bike ride. Snowmen. Her smile now dripped with tears.
Up on deck, Horatio had taken charge. Two small boats were organized and the anchor was successfully rowed and dropped farther along the bay. The men now heaved and strained at the wheel, desperately trying to pull themselves from the rocky shore. A cannon was fired, and a great groan was heard from the ship, as if a tension had suddenly been relieved. That gave Horatio an idea. Racing on deck, he found Buckland, attempting to mop the blood spilling from the wound along his brow. "Sir!" he exclaimed, managing to get the fatigued lieutenant's attention. "In order to re-float the ship, we must fire all of our guns, double-shoted. I believe it will release the suction that is holding us here, sir."
"There he is! Get back, all of you!" roared Captain Sawyer, seeming to once again appear out of nowhere. Horatio turned, dismayed at the sight of his insane, yet nevertheless alive, superior. The Captain cocked his pistol, aiming it directly at Horatio's heart.
At that moment, Wellard appeared from below, followed by several marines. At the sight of the Captain, he recoiled, not at all happy to see him standing once more. Had the Doctor not at least brought him below? It appeared he had not. Good God! What was wrong with that man?
Horatio sighed with relief at the sight of the marines. "Mr. Wellard, please inform Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Bush to fire the guns, double-shoted."
"Aye, sir," the lad nodded breathlessly, and turned to go below decks once more. Before he could, he was stopped by the commanding voice of the Captain, "Don't move, you puppy!"
Horatio's eyes were desperate. "Please," he said, and Wellard didn't hesitate to leave. The Captain and his pistol were getting too close for his comfort. "Doctor Clive, is the Captain fit for command or not?" Horatio asked, panic beginning to rise in his voice as the Captain began to squeeze the trigger.
"You know it's not as simple as that," began the Doctor, who was swiftly interrupted.
"If none of you will do your duty, then I will!" shouted the Captain as he began to count down out loud, "Three!"
"Doctor Clive! You cannot keep prevaricating, or we shall all die here, sir!" yelled Amy, who had come up to stand beside Horatio. Would this man not make up his mind? He had to declare Sawyer unfit for command—regardless of his longtime friendship, the man would surely lead them all to their graves.
"Two!"
After a long and baited pause, Clive managed a defeated, "Alright!" Amy gave a sigh of relief. "The Captain is incapable of command—at the present time."
"One!" screamed the Captain, who fired his pistol. At the same moment, the Renown's guns were fired, causing the ship to once again float in the waters of the bay. Amy squeezed her eyes shut, fearing that Horatio's life had ended. When she opened them, she saw the Captain being led away by the Marines, and Horatio still standing, a little dazed.
"Did you know that the Captain's pistol would not go off?" Amy asked curiously.
Horatio blinked, realizing the miracle that had just occurred. "No, I didn't."
"Then that was very brave of you."
He bowed his head humbly, hiding a smile, "Thank you, Miss."
Later that evening, Cat sat with Horatio and Archie, listening to them discuss their situation. Horatio's idea to make a second attack on the fort that night, instead of continuing on to Kingston, Jamaica, had been brought up and swiftly thwarted by Buckland and Bush. Now Horatio and Archie seethed in silence, knowing that their fate had been sealed by their failure to capture the island of Santa Domingo.
Cat put a gentle hand on Archie's shoulder, causing him to look up and give her a weak smile. "Oh, Cat," he sighed, and she sat down on the bench beside him. "It's hopeless. We've removed the Captain from his command, we've failed to take the island, and to top it all off, we're going to have the whole Admiralty waiting for us in Kingston."
"Shh," shushed Cat, hating to see him so defeated. She herself felt a wave of dread slowly overcoming her as well, even though she knew that the story was not yet over. "This isn't over yet," she told him firmly and kissed his cheek.
"But I'm afraid it clearly is, Miss," said Horatio, who looked away, pretending not to notice the physical display of affection shown by the couple. Cat could swear she saw a tinge of red spread up from his neck.
Cat frowned. Surely they weren't giving up so easily! "Yes," Archie mused sadly, agreeing with Horatio's former statement. Then a flash of anger passed through his eyes, "If only Mr. Bush had-" The door opened, and Amy and Bush entered, both breathless and fearful.
"My former opinion was a mistake, a mistake we must now seek to correct, together. I agree that we should attack the fort, as soon as we can. For if we don't," Bush looked grim as he told his companions, "I fear we shall all hang."
Up on deck, Wellard sat wearily. He would be on watch for another seven long hours. It had been a horrible, long day—the only thing he really wanted to do was sleep. After the battle, Lottie had latched on to him, not wanting to lose sight of him ever again. At first, he had feared she would be angry with him for his earlier tone, but it seemed as if she could only rejoice in the fact that he was still alive and be contented by his warmth. All in all, he was relieved that the whole matter was over.
Wellard had tried to convince Lottie to go to her hammock. After all, she was clearly exhausted—both physically and mentally. However, she had adamantly refused, practically begging him to let her share his watch. Begrudgingly, he had allowed her to stay with him, and the two had curled up nicely on a long box along the larboard side of the quarter deck.
Secretly, he was glad that he had someone with him. Not only was it easier to stay awake, but he could spend a few more hours with the girl he loved so dearly and, perhaps, sneak a few kisses here and there when no one was looking. Lottie had managed to stay awake for exactly an hour, defiantly forcing her drooping eyes open. Wellard had meanwhile played with her fingers absent-mindedly, leaning down every once in awhile to nuzzle her cheek.
Finally, Lottie had given in and laid, half asleep, on his shoulder. Shifting his weight to make her more comfortable, Wellard admired her beauty. Strange, it was, that no matter what Lottie had seen and endured, all signs of stress and worries faded as soon as she closed her eyes. The moonlight shone bright against her skin, making her fair-colored hair luminescent. Smiling to himself, he led a finger along her cheek softly. Breathing out contently, Lottie burrowed down into his shoulder, absorbing his warmth. Wellard knew he couldn't let her sleep here for the rest of the watch; he should take her back to her hammock. Gently, he moved her head from his shoulder and picked her up. "No," she moaned in quiet protest.
Wellard smiled. "Sorry," he murmured as he carried her down to the Midshipman's Berth. Once he reached it, Johnson and Delaney immediately stood, pulling back the curtain so Wellard could lay his sleeping beauty in her hammock. The two midshipman exchanged smirks, but refrained from making a jibe at their fellow officer's entrance. Wellard covered Lottie with her blanket, kissed her forehead, and left.
Part of the Renown's journey had come to a close. They had reached their destination—Santa Domingo. Now that the Captain had officially been declared unfit for command, an inward sigh of relief seemed to echo throughout the Renown's crew.
While weary sailors climbed into their hammocks and restless officers paced in their cabins, one burly seaman planned his desertion. He had made too many enemies here; if he stayed, he would surely get a knife in his back. There was nothing left for him here. He, along with several others, crawled out through portholes and slipped silently overboard. They were leaving this mess to be sorted out by someone else.
Well, there it was. ZSHA END (of Mutiny). And kind of a cliffhanger too... sorry. I just couldn't resist! Review, my wonderful readers!