Title: On American Soil
Author's note: Please be kind when reviewing this, if you review it. It is only recently that I have seen any of the HH series, but I really like it. Horatio and Archie both are wonderful and as of right now I'm telling you all that I will ignore any parts of Retribution where Archie and Wellard get killed. They will live on in my fanfiction. Anyway, The Indy is attacked in the night by a French frigate and Horatio is captured. He ends up alone in an American jail, I'll explain that later. Wellard and Archie go after him. Chase is my OC, but you can use her if you ask. I will do my best to limit Mary Sue type qualities.
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me they belong to, ANE? I think. And by the by forgive any gross mistakes I make in the story line. I have as of yet seen only Mutiny and Retribution, so I'm still learning the ropes.
~*~
The sea barely rippled as the large British ship glided over its surface. The night was quiet, the stars glittering brilliantly in a velvet sky. The Indefatigable was asleep, her crew, her sails stowed away for the evening hours. Only the officer of the watch remained, and the effects of many long days were taking their toll on him as well. His lids felt weighted as if by anchors and he jolted in and out of sleep every few moments.
The Captain dozed fitfully in his quarters, happy in the knowledge that he and his ship had survived two encounters with the Frogs and come out the better for it. They held a Captain in chains below, as well as several of his Lieutenants. Horatio Hornblower, a Lieutenant himself in the King's Navy, slept equally as well. He was blissfully unaware of the dawn creeping toward him, and the danger awaiting the Indy over the horizon.
Horatio's best friend and confidant could not sleep. Archie Kennedy was something of an insomniac. He slept only when he felt the pressing need, or when he was ordered to, but sleep for him meant something different than it did to the others. In his hours of respite he grew agitated. Haunting dreams filled his mind's eye and fits came mostly in the night. So he paced. He paced in his quarters, on the deck, in the hold and in the wee hours of the morning it was he who first called attention to the threat.
Dawn peeked over the horizon, the sky ablaze in the deepest red. And still the waters remained eerily calm, the surface unscathed for miles. This sense of solitude drew a deep foreboding for lieutenant Kennedy and he fretted as the sun began to rise. It was not his watch, and still he fretted.
"Ship ho!" The loud, almost frenzied shout sent Horatio flying from underneath his bedcovers. "French frigate!" Hastily, he pulled on his worn blue jacket and boots. Footsteps could be heard all over the ship as the crew wakened in the heart of chaos.
Horatio rushed into the weak sunlight, blinking and squinting. His jacket fluttered in the breeze. He kept one hand still on his saber and the other on his pistol already loaded with shot. As his vision cleared he could see the French ship clearly, drawing closer much faster than he would have thought possible. Men teemed about her deck.
"Man the cannons, Styles, Wellard!" he shouted. Men rushed below to ready the Indy's weapons, but they were not ready for the first onslaught of the French. The captain stood outside his cabin yelling orders at the Lieutenants and crewmen alike.
Horatio spotted Archie giving orders to the guards. He dispatched them quickly as everyone left on deck readied for the impending boarding. Mr. Bush was below helping to ready the cannons. Archie hurried to Horatio's side.
"The Frogs don't know when to give up. This day will live in infamy I guarantee it." Horatio's best friend flashed him a cocky, know it all grin.
The first shot missed the Indy by mere feet, landing in the water a scant distance from the port side. "You were the one to raise the alarm Archie, I distinctly remember your voice. How is it you happened upon this frigate no one else seemed to see?"
"I was merely wandering the deck, looking for some hapless midshipman to order about. The frigate was shrouded in fog till just moments before I spotted it. Pure luck I can assure you."
The next shot did not miss. The captain's quarters were laid to ruin as the shot splinted and cracked the beams of his room. The frigate began a turn that would bring it alongside the Indy. "Keep your head about you Horatio."
"And you as well Mr. Kennedy." Finally, after many agonizing moments the Indy fired her first cannon. The shot hit the oncoming frigate broadside, but did little more than to form a hole in the ship's side. The two vessels could have scraped together as the frigate drew in.
Crewmen almost instantly overran men from both sides from the opposing ship. Horatio drew his saber and immediately slashed a young midshipman. He felt Mr. Kennedy at his back and, comforted by the thought of having someone there, focused his attentions in front of him and fought in earnest.
All around men were being wounded and maimed. Kennedy ran a young officer through with his blade. Two Frenchmen advanced on Horatio. He shot one with his pistol, blocking the other with his sword. The man, although proficient, was not a match for the English officer. He made a wild slash at Horblower's side, leaving his right side open for attack. He clutched his side and fell to the deck, howling with pain.
It was not long after that Horatio saw the Captain being advanced upon. He fought as well he could, but his back was against the wall and he was facing three Frogs all on his own. Horatio bounded through the fighting fray, knocking two Frenchmen down as he ran. He speared one man through the back. Another he slashed, the Captain finishing him off. Horatio held off the last as Captain Pellew (is it Pellew?) ran to a point of more strategic advantage.
The battle, for all its blood and gore, was short lived. Within ten minutes the French were streaming back on board the Frigate and it was getting ready to set off from the Indy. Horatio watched as Styles chased a Frog from the hold. He didn't hear the man sneaking up behind him. All he felt was the sharp pain in the back of his head and the sensation of pitching toward the deck.
--
Kennedy shackled the last Frog beside his brethren and stood back to revel in the ship's handiwork. Five men were strung together, all looking angry and rather pitiful. The frigate had limped away from the fight, leaving fifteen of their own behind, only five of which were still alive. The Indy however, was not in much better shape, and the Captain refrained from giving pursuit.
The main sail was torn nearly in half and would take several days to fix. They would have to use the smaller, replacement sail for the time being. Only three of the British men had been killed in the raid and five had minor scrapes and other injuries to take care of, the least of which was a broken toe received by Mr. Bush.
The Captain and his Lieutenants stood in the officer's quarters. "That frigate did not happen upon us by accident gentlemen," the Captain stated gravely.
"They were after the officers we have locked away sir," Bush supplied. "This is the testimonial I have received from one of the imprisoned."
"It seems then that the frogs may try again. We must be ready for them. Drill the crew for the next few days and place double watch at night. I do not wish to have a repeat of last night's debacle. Mend the main sail as quickly as possible. And where the devil is Mr. Hornblower?"
Kennedy's eyebrows shot into the heavens. Thinking back upon it, he did not remember seeing Horatio after wishing him luck and being boarded. "Go check with the Doctor Mr. Wellard. And be quick about it."
There was no mistake. Horatio was nowhere to be found on the Indy. He was not in the hold with the crew or interrogating the prisoners. He was not in the sick bay being treated. So the question remained, where was Hornblower?
--
~Two days later~
The young man was shoved hard into the cold jail cell. His knees did not seem able to hold him, and he fell roughly to the cell's dirt encrusted floor. The foul stench of human excrement filled his nostrils and a sizeable rat skittered into its den.
The man's dark hair was matted and tangled, both by blood and dirt. He had been stripped of his coat, the only truly warm piece of clothing he possessed and the damp, chilly air sank deep into him. A hideous, dark purple bruise covered the right side of his face.
The man's eyes blazed as he pushed himself up from the floor. Gingerly, he wiped the excess dirt and grime from scraped palms. His captor muttered something to another man in French and slipped him a wad of bills. The second man, unshaven and slightly heavy through the middle, accepted with a smile. The smile revealed a set of yellow, twisted teeth.
The French officer locked his eyes onto those of the Lieutenant. He sneered and spat upon the floor by the cell. Then he turned sharply on his heel and left the jail. "Those French boys pay real well to keep the likes of you here," the jailer told the unresponsive Brit.
"And where," Horatio began slowly, "exactly is this Mecca you proclaim as 'here?'"
"You're on American soil now. Virginia to be more precise. But don't worry, you won't be here long. I'll have someone by to tend those bruises."
"Don't trouble yourself."
"It's no trouble. Those Frenchmen pay for me to keep you in good health, and I will too, just so long as you don't start trouble."
"And if I start trouble?" He goaded.
For the first time since coming in, the man frowned. "Make no mistake. You have no friends here. You start trouble and you will go back to the French as damaged merchandise. Now, someone will be along shortly."
Horatio sat himself on the one piece of furniture in the dismal place, a tiny, unbedded cot that had seen far better days. The straw mattress was shredded in places, leaving rotting twigs to poke out the holes. It was befouled as well, dark stains crusted and dried, reeking. He sat so that he was on the very edge of the bed, touching as little of it as he could.
He was alone. His section of the jail was far back from the others, out of sight of any visitors who might question the presence of an English officer. He squinted in the dark, peering out into the aisle. At the end off the cell block a door was propped open and he could sent he jailer gleefully counting his money with his feet propped up on a large oak desk.
The woman approached from the main jail. She knocked tentatively on the jailer's door. She clutched a small basket close to her chest. The jailer eyed her like a dog eyed meat, hanging close to her as he walked her to Horatio's cell.
"She'll fix you up right quick." He unlocked the door and ushered the woman inside. "Behave yourself though for I'll be right down there." He closed the door behind her, locking it securely and proceeding back to his office.
Horatio eyed the woman carefully as she worked. She was barely a woman, certainly no older than he or Archie. Her dress did not hide her lightness in build, nor did the dark cover the calluses on her hands. Her hair, which Horatio guessed was light brown, was pulled back away from her face, but a few unruly strands departed from her ribbon. She did not look at him or utter a single word as she readied her potions. She held her chin out at a defiant angle, the muscles in her jaw flexing.
The truth was that she had no need to look at the sailor again. She had already noted the characteristics of his face in her mind. He was young, but with eyes wise beyond their years. They were dark and soulful. His face was rather thin and his bones stood out from his skin, but not in such a way that made him unattractive. He was not husky or heavily laden with muscle, but had a rather athletic, if not thin build. He was like the others that had come before him, his fate still unknown to him. His eyes made her feel almost sorry for him, if only had he not been British.
She poured the last of her jar of water into a small bowl. She righted herself and wiped her hands on the front of her dress. "I've only two rules," she began authoritatively. "The first is that you do not speak unless to tell me where and how you hurt and the second is that you do not touch. Nod if you understand." Mildly amused by her demeanor, Horatio nodded.
"Good then, we understand each other. Now, I have a little laudanum for you to drink if you feel so inclined. I need to apply this salve to your bruises..." The entire application of care was rendered in a few minutes. The woman packed her things as efficiently as she had unpacked them and called for the jailer. "Stephen!" Keys rattled as he approached. An afterthought, she turned as she was readying herself to leave. "I'll be bye later with some food."
Horatio saw her several times in the hours following his arrival. She brought a plate of food to him in the afternoon. The food was barely edible, and the portions would be pressed to keep a dog alive, but Horatio ate it ravenously nonetheless. He spent the night drifting between a restless sleep and thinking of ways to escape. Not that he knew where he would go if he managed it at all. He had no idea where the Indy sailed at present and no way to know where in Virginia he was. Animosity toward the British still rang in many towns on the American seaboard.
The woman brought him food in the morning as well. He was starving then too, shoveling the thick gruel greedily into his mouth. And again, the plate was emptied far too soon.
She came back again in the afternoon, basket in hand to tend his wounds. Again she uttered barely a word though the entire process. But this time when she turned to leave, Horatio was ready. "Wait," he told her, grabbing hold of her wrist.
The woman pulled futilely against his grip. "Do you not remember rule number two?" she hissed. "I could scream to bloody hell right now and send Stephen running."
"You could, but I don't think you will," he responded. "What's your name?"
The woman ignored him. "What makes you think I won't?"
"Because I think you fear him nearly as much as you hate me. What I wonder is why?"
"You, are British. That makes you no better than a mongrel begging for scraps at a dinner table."
"At least it's not personal," he quipped. She didn't smile. "And you've taken a job in this wretched place because?"
"I need the money, not that it's any of your business. I learned a bit about healing from my mother, and Stephen is the only person that would hire me."
"But why am I here? A French frigate attacked my vessel. I remember being taken aboard, but everything after that is rather hazy."
The woman sighed. "We get a few like you every so often. The French officers bring you in the evening and pay Stephen. Stephen keeps you back here, away from the other prisoners while the Frenchmen go off and do whatever it is that they do. Since you are not present on the vessel the French can claim that you were never taken in the first place. They'll come back for you in a few weeks. Then they'll question you about everything you know about the British movements and battle plans."
"And how is it you know so much about all this?"
"The walls here have ears. But mark my words, you will not leave this place alive. Once they have all they need from you Stephen will take you out and slaughter you like a pig. You were never here, you never existed. And since no man deserves to die like that I do hope that God will take mercy on your soul."
"God, but not you?"
"Not I. In the war my mother watched as British soldiers raided her house and killed my grandmother. They raped her, and strangled her and then moved in on my mother. She was barely more than a child. My father says it destroyed her. She died a year after I was born. So no, you will get no sympathy from me. Now let go of my arm."
Horatio did as he was asked. The woman nodded. "Stephen!" The jailer unlocked the cell and let her out. Horatio sighed. Things looked more grim by the hour. He wondered if those on the Indy were even looking for him.
--
"But sir!"
"No Mr. Kennedy. And I will not repeat myself again. I will let that act of insolence slide simply because I know you speak out of loyalty to Mr. Hornblower, but my answer remains the same. We have our orders and we will carry them out."
The Captain stalked back into his quarters. Archie followed close on his heels, shutting the door behind him. "It's Horatio sir," he spoke plaintively.
"I realize that Mr. Kennedy," the Captain's words were still unfeeling, but the vehemence he had displayed in front of the crew was fast fading. He had always had a soft spot for Mr. Hornblower.
"One of the prisoners stated that he saw Horatio being loaded upon the frigate before he was captured. The ship was wounded sir. They would have had to go to the nearest friendly port to make repairs. That is in Virginia."
"We have our orders."
"And we both know that restocking the ship can't wait, but we also both know that it is not imperative for me to be present while doing it. The sail is almost set and ready. And we sail into friendly waters. You have no more need of me at this moment."
The captain reached up to rub his temple. His resolve was fading quickly. He leveled gray eyes at Kennedy. "We will be coming back through these waters in sixteen days Mr. Kennedy. Have you not found him by then I will still expect you to return. Otherwise I will list you a deserter."
Archie felt like shouting. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling like a Cheshire cat. "Understood sir. Thank you sir." He saluted and turned to leave.
"Mr. Kennedy," he paused by the door. "Take Mr. Wellard along with you. Bring him back Lieutenant."
"Yes sir." Wellard and Archie were set to get underway in a matter of hours. Styles and Bush wished them luck as they lowered the boat. They were dressed for the first time in months in something other than a uniform. The two would fit in fairly well with the locals, just so long as they kept their accents in check. And then they were away, rowing in the opposite direction of the Indy, toward what they hoped would be Horatio, and what they knew to be American soil.
End Chapter 1
I hope this was a decent first effort. Do tell me if I made any gross mistakes. Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks.
Author's note: Please be kind when reviewing this, if you review it. It is only recently that I have seen any of the HH series, but I really like it. Horatio and Archie both are wonderful and as of right now I'm telling you all that I will ignore any parts of Retribution where Archie and Wellard get killed. They will live on in my fanfiction. Anyway, The Indy is attacked in the night by a French frigate and Horatio is captured. He ends up alone in an American jail, I'll explain that later. Wellard and Archie go after him. Chase is my OC, but you can use her if you ask. I will do my best to limit Mary Sue type qualities.
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me they belong to, ANE? I think. And by the by forgive any gross mistakes I make in the story line. I have as of yet seen only Mutiny and Retribution, so I'm still learning the ropes.
~*~
The sea barely rippled as the large British ship glided over its surface. The night was quiet, the stars glittering brilliantly in a velvet sky. The Indefatigable was asleep, her crew, her sails stowed away for the evening hours. Only the officer of the watch remained, and the effects of many long days were taking their toll on him as well. His lids felt weighted as if by anchors and he jolted in and out of sleep every few moments.
The Captain dozed fitfully in his quarters, happy in the knowledge that he and his ship had survived two encounters with the Frogs and come out the better for it. They held a Captain in chains below, as well as several of his Lieutenants. Horatio Hornblower, a Lieutenant himself in the King's Navy, slept equally as well. He was blissfully unaware of the dawn creeping toward him, and the danger awaiting the Indy over the horizon.
Horatio's best friend and confidant could not sleep. Archie Kennedy was something of an insomniac. He slept only when he felt the pressing need, or when he was ordered to, but sleep for him meant something different than it did to the others. In his hours of respite he grew agitated. Haunting dreams filled his mind's eye and fits came mostly in the night. So he paced. He paced in his quarters, on the deck, in the hold and in the wee hours of the morning it was he who first called attention to the threat.
Dawn peeked over the horizon, the sky ablaze in the deepest red. And still the waters remained eerily calm, the surface unscathed for miles. This sense of solitude drew a deep foreboding for lieutenant Kennedy and he fretted as the sun began to rise. It was not his watch, and still he fretted.
"Ship ho!" The loud, almost frenzied shout sent Horatio flying from underneath his bedcovers. "French frigate!" Hastily, he pulled on his worn blue jacket and boots. Footsteps could be heard all over the ship as the crew wakened in the heart of chaos.
Horatio rushed into the weak sunlight, blinking and squinting. His jacket fluttered in the breeze. He kept one hand still on his saber and the other on his pistol already loaded with shot. As his vision cleared he could see the French ship clearly, drawing closer much faster than he would have thought possible. Men teemed about her deck.
"Man the cannons, Styles, Wellard!" he shouted. Men rushed below to ready the Indy's weapons, but they were not ready for the first onslaught of the French. The captain stood outside his cabin yelling orders at the Lieutenants and crewmen alike.
Horatio spotted Archie giving orders to the guards. He dispatched them quickly as everyone left on deck readied for the impending boarding. Mr. Bush was below helping to ready the cannons. Archie hurried to Horatio's side.
"The Frogs don't know when to give up. This day will live in infamy I guarantee it." Horatio's best friend flashed him a cocky, know it all grin.
The first shot missed the Indy by mere feet, landing in the water a scant distance from the port side. "You were the one to raise the alarm Archie, I distinctly remember your voice. How is it you happened upon this frigate no one else seemed to see?"
"I was merely wandering the deck, looking for some hapless midshipman to order about. The frigate was shrouded in fog till just moments before I spotted it. Pure luck I can assure you."
The next shot did not miss. The captain's quarters were laid to ruin as the shot splinted and cracked the beams of his room. The frigate began a turn that would bring it alongside the Indy. "Keep your head about you Horatio."
"And you as well Mr. Kennedy." Finally, after many agonizing moments the Indy fired her first cannon. The shot hit the oncoming frigate broadside, but did little more than to form a hole in the ship's side. The two vessels could have scraped together as the frigate drew in.
Crewmen almost instantly overran men from both sides from the opposing ship. Horatio drew his saber and immediately slashed a young midshipman. He felt Mr. Kennedy at his back and, comforted by the thought of having someone there, focused his attentions in front of him and fought in earnest.
All around men were being wounded and maimed. Kennedy ran a young officer through with his blade. Two Frenchmen advanced on Horatio. He shot one with his pistol, blocking the other with his sword. The man, although proficient, was not a match for the English officer. He made a wild slash at Horblower's side, leaving his right side open for attack. He clutched his side and fell to the deck, howling with pain.
It was not long after that Horatio saw the Captain being advanced upon. He fought as well he could, but his back was against the wall and he was facing three Frogs all on his own. Horatio bounded through the fighting fray, knocking two Frenchmen down as he ran. He speared one man through the back. Another he slashed, the Captain finishing him off. Horatio held off the last as Captain Pellew (is it Pellew?) ran to a point of more strategic advantage.
The battle, for all its blood and gore, was short lived. Within ten minutes the French were streaming back on board the Frigate and it was getting ready to set off from the Indy. Horatio watched as Styles chased a Frog from the hold. He didn't hear the man sneaking up behind him. All he felt was the sharp pain in the back of his head and the sensation of pitching toward the deck.
--
Kennedy shackled the last Frog beside his brethren and stood back to revel in the ship's handiwork. Five men were strung together, all looking angry and rather pitiful. The frigate had limped away from the fight, leaving fifteen of their own behind, only five of which were still alive. The Indy however, was not in much better shape, and the Captain refrained from giving pursuit.
The main sail was torn nearly in half and would take several days to fix. They would have to use the smaller, replacement sail for the time being. Only three of the British men had been killed in the raid and five had minor scrapes and other injuries to take care of, the least of which was a broken toe received by Mr. Bush.
The Captain and his Lieutenants stood in the officer's quarters. "That frigate did not happen upon us by accident gentlemen," the Captain stated gravely.
"They were after the officers we have locked away sir," Bush supplied. "This is the testimonial I have received from one of the imprisoned."
"It seems then that the frogs may try again. We must be ready for them. Drill the crew for the next few days and place double watch at night. I do not wish to have a repeat of last night's debacle. Mend the main sail as quickly as possible. And where the devil is Mr. Hornblower?"
Kennedy's eyebrows shot into the heavens. Thinking back upon it, he did not remember seeing Horatio after wishing him luck and being boarded. "Go check with the Doctor Mr. Wellard. And be quick about it."
There was no mistake. Horatio was nowhere to be found on the Indy. He was not in the hold with the crew or interrogating the prisoners. He was not in the sick bay being treated. So the question remained, where was Hornblower?
--
~Two days later~
The young man was shoved hard into the cold jail cell. His knees did not seem able to hold him, and he fell roughly to the cell's dirt encrusted floor. The foul stench of human excrement filled his nostrils and a sizeable rat skittered into its den.
The man's dark hair was matted and tangled, both by blood and dirt. He had been stripped of his coat, the only truly warm piece of clothing he possessed and the damp, chilly air sank deep into him. A hideous, dark purple bruise covered the right side of his face.
The man's eyes blazed as he pushed himself up from the floor. Gingerly, he wiped the excess dirt and grime from scraped palms. His captor muttered something to another man in French and slipped him a wad of bills. The second man, unshaven and slightly heavy through the middle, accepted with a smile. The smile revealed a set of yellow, twisted teeth.
The French officer locked his eyes onto those of the Lieutenant. He sneered and spat upon the floor by the cell. Then he turned sharply on his heel and left the jail. "Those French boys pay real well to keep the likes of you here," the jailer told the unresponsive Brit.
"And where," Horatio began slowly, "exactly is this Mecca you proclaim as 'here?'"
"You're on American soil now. Virginia to be more precise. But don't worry, you won't be here long. I'll have someone by to tend those bruises."
"Don't trouble yourself."
"It's no trouble. Those Frenchmen pay for me to keep you in good health, and I will too, just so long as you don't start trouble."
"And if I start trouble?" He goaded.
For the first time since coming in, the man frowned. "Make no mistake. You have no friends here. You start trouble and you will go back to the French as damaged merchandise. Now, someone will be along shortly."
Horatio sat himself on the one piece of furniture in the dismal place, a tiny, unbedded cot that had seen far better days. The straw mattress was shredded in places, leaving rotting twigs to poke out the holes. It was befouled as well, dark stains crusted and dried, reeking. He sat so that he was on the very edge of the bed, touching as little of it as he could.
He was alone. His section of the jail was far back from the others, out of sight of any visitors who might question the presence of an English officer. He squinted in the dark, peering out into the aisle. At the end off the cell block a door was propped open and he could sent he jailer gleefully counting his money with his feet propped up on a large oak desk.
The woman approached from the main jail. She knocked tentatively on the jailer's door. She clutched a small basket close to her chest. The jailer eyed her like a dog eyed meat, hanging close to her as he walked her to Horatio's cell.
"She'll fix you up right quick." He unlocked the door and ushered the woman inside. "Behave yourself though for I'll be right down there." He closed the door behind her, locking it securely and proceeding back to his office.
Horatio eyed the woman carefully as she worked. She was barely a woman, certainly no older than he or Archie. Her dress did not hide her lightness in build, nor did the dark cover the calluses on her hands. Her hair, which Horatio guessed was light brown, was pulled back away from her face, but a few unruly strands departed from her ribbon. She did not look at him or utter a single word as she readied her potions. She held her chin out at a defiant angle, the muscles in her jaw flexing.
The truth was that she had no need to look at the sailor again. She had already noted the characteristics of his face in her mind. He was young, but with eyes wise beyond their years. They were dark and soulful. His face was rather thin and his bones stood out from his skin, but not in such a way that made him unattractive. He was not husky or heavily laden with muscle, but had a rather athletic, if not thin build. He was like the others that had come before him, his fate still unknown to him. His eyes made her feel almost sorry for him, if only had he not been British.
She poured the last of her jar of water into a small bowl. She righted herself and wiped her hands on the front of her dress. "I've only two rules," she began authoritatively. "The first is that you do not speak unless to tell me where and how you hurt and the second is that you do not touch. Nod if you understand." Mildly amused by her demeanor, Horatio nodded.
"Good then, we understand each other. Now, I have a little laudanum for you to drink if you feel so inclined. I need to apply this salve to your bruises..." The entire application of care was rendered in a few minutes. The woman packed her things as efficiently as she had unpacked them and called for the jailer. "Stephen!" Keys rattled as he approached. An afterthought, she turned as she was readying herself to leave. "I'll be bye later with some food."
Horatio saw her several times in the hours following his arrival. She brought a plate of food to him in the afternoon. The food was barely edible, and the portions would be pressed to keep a dog alive, but Horatio ate it ravenously nonetheless. He spent the night drifting between a restless sleep and thinking of ways to escape. Not that he knew where he would go if he managed it at all. He had no idea where the Indy sailed at present and no way to know where in Virginia he was. Animosity toward the British still rang in many towns on the American seaboard.
The woman brought him food in the morning as well. He was starving then too, shoveling the thick gruel greedily into his mouth. And again, the plate was emptied far too soon.
She came back again in the afternoon, basket in hand to tend his wounds. Again she uttered barely a word though the entire process. But this time when she turned to leave, Horatio was ready. "Wait," he told her, grabbing hold of her wrist.
The woman pulled futilely against his grip. "Do you not remember rule number two?" she hissed. "I could scream to bloody hell right now and send Stephen running."
"You could, but I don't think you will," he responded. "What's your name?"
The woman ignored him. "What makes you think I won't?"
"Because I think you fear him nearly as much as you hate me. What I wonder is why?"
"You, are British. That makes you no better than a mongrel begging for scraps at a dinner table."
"At least it's not personal," he quipped. She didn't smile. "And you've taken a job in this wretched place because?"
"I need the money, not that it's any of your business. I learned a bit about healing from my mother, and Stephen is the only person that would hire me."
"But why am I here? A French frigate attacked my vessel. I remember being taken aboard, but everything after that is rather hazy."
The woman sighed. "We get a few like you every so often. The French officers bring you in the evening and pay Stephen. Stephen keeps you back here, away from the other prisoners while the Frenchmen go off and do whatever it is that they do. Since you are not present on the vessel the French can claim that you were never taken in the first place. They'll come back for you in a few weeks. Then they'll question you about everything you know about the British movements and battle plans."
"And how is it you know so much about all this?"
"The walls here have ears. But mark my words, you will not leave this place alive. Once they have all they need from you Stephen will take you out and slaughter you like a pig. You were never here, you never existed. And since no man deserves to die like that I do hope that God will take mercy on your soul."
"God, but not you?"
"Not I. In the war my mother watched as British soldiers raided her house and killed my grandmother. They raped her, and strangled her and then moved in on my mother. She was barely more than a child. My father says it destroyed her. She died a year after I was born. So no, you will get no sympathy from me. Now let go of my arm."
Horatio did as he was asked. The woman nodded. "Stephen!" The jailer unlocked the cell and let her out. Horatio sighed. Things looked more grim by the hour. He wondered if those on the Indy were even looking for him.
--
"But sir!"
"No Mr. Kennedy. And I will not repeat myself again. I will let that act of insolence slide simply because I know you speak out of loyalty to Mr. Hornblower, but my answer remains the same. We have our orders and we will carry them out."
The Captain stalked back into his quarters. Archie followed close on his heels, shutting the door behind him. "It's Horatio sir," he spoke plaintively.
"I realize that Mr. Kennedy," the Captain's words were still unfeeling, but the vehemence he had displayed in front of the crew was fast fading. He had always had a soft spot for Mr. Hornblower.
"One of the prisoners stated that he saw Horatio being loaded upon the frigate before he was captured. The ship was wounded sir. They would have had to go to the nearest friendly port to make repairs. That is in Virginia."
"We have our orders."
"And we both know that restocking the ship can't wait, but we also both know that it is not imperative for me to be present while doing it. The sail is almost set and ready. And we sail into friendly waters. You have no more need of me at this moment."
The captain reached up to rub his temple. His resolve was fading quickly. He leveled gray eyes at Kennedy. "We will be coming back through these waters in sixteen days Mr. Kennedy. Have you not found him by then I will still expect you to return. Otherwise I will list you a deserter."
Archie felt like shouting. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling like a Cheshire cat. "Understood sir. Thank you sir." He saluted and turned to leave.
"Mr. Kennedy," he paused by the door. "Take Mr. Wellard along with you. Bring him back Lieutenant."
"Yes sir." Wellard and Archie were set to get underway in a matter of hours. Styles and Bush wished them luck as they lowered the boat. They were dressed for the first time in months in something other than a uniform. The two would fit in fairly well with the locals, just so long as they kept their accents in check. And then they were away, rowing in the opposite direction of the Indy, toward what they hoped would be Horatio, and what they knew to be American soil.
End Chapter 1
I hope this was a decent first effort. Do tell me if I made any gross mistakes. Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks.