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It was a flood to the senses to say the least, as Harold Lowe opened his eyes to find himself on the main deck of a square-rigged frigate. The planking rolled beneath his feet in a motion he had known when he was younger, and certainly hadn't forgotten -- he had no trouble balancing smoothly, for it was something a man never lost. The smell of salt water flying up in spray, lightly flecking across his face, as the sails boomed and flapped from the wind above was somewhere between enchanting and promising. Had he not been more worried about how and where, he might have taken a long moment to appreciate those things, as both a sailor, and as a man who had left that phase of his life.
But, instead of letting the feelings drag him off, he turned his attention to the immediate area, a nervous feeling crawling into the pit of his stomach.
Down the deck, not too terribly far away, Archie Kennedy leaned against the railing of the quarterdeck, his head dipped low to his chest. With his hat leaning precariously over his eyes, one might have figured him to be dead, but his light breathing told of other things. Merely sleeping, the young lieutenant was unaware that he had been brought back home and was to be the officer of the watch, despite the fact that he hadn't spent the last day or so on board ship... as far as he knew, anyway.
As the spray washed over the side of the ship, and the Renown moved with the swell of the waves, so did Kennedy, quite adept to keeping his footing even when he wasn't awake. Movement was a constant on board the frigate, and he did nothing more than sleep in the sunlight, his eyes covered from the harsh rays by the shade of his cocked hat.
For a long moment, Harold searched for a familiar face, though he didn't see anyone nearby he even remotely recognized. Looking down, he noted he was still in his White Star uniform, and that there was someone of higher rank heading in his direction. In a moment of well-thought panic, he leapt into the shadows of the raised quarterdeck, holding his breath.
Pronouncing himself in a commanding air by the way he strolled onto deck, Captain Sawyer looked around at his crew. Happy to see them working to their potential, he then looked to the quarterdeck for his officers. Noting the leaning officer of the watch, he frowned and narrowed his eyes in a glare, then making his way over to Archie, he slowly slid his sword from the scabbard at his hip and rested it under the young officer's chin, allowing the side of the blade to lift the other man's head.
Awakened slowly by the feel of cold steel on his chin, Kennedy groggily opened his eyes and lifted his head allowing the Captain to move the sword back against Archie's throat.
"Ah, asleep on deck, just as I figured, Mr. Kennedy." Sawyer smirked, watching the blade scrape against the Fourth Lieutenant's neck as he swallowed.
"No, s-sir..." Clearing his throat, Archie composed himself as well as he could, rising to full height at attention. "Merely resting my eyes, sir."
Shaking his head, Sawyer followed his moves. "Were you, really? And yet you did not hear me pull my sword?"
Lowe's eyes widened at the sight, and before he was even thinking about his actions, he was across the deck and standing beside Sawyer. It was not his wisest move, but he would rather have the Captain's wrath on him than Archie. "Captain, sir!"
"Yes, Mr. Hornblower?" Sawyer seethed, not letting his eyes move from the younger officer.
"Sir, it was my fault, sir," Lowe said, quickly using his sharp mind to come up with a (hopefully) plausible story. "I was making certain that my musket was loaded, and I lost my grip on the powder, thereby... thereby getting a small amount in Mr. Kennedy's eyes, sir."
"You weapon should have been loaded since you put on your uniform," the Captain replied, moving the blade away from Archie's neck and causing the young man to give a bit of a sigh for the relief of the situation. "Do see that you are careful, Mr. Hornblower, or I will have both of your heads for neglecting your duties. However, until then, I think perhaps you might do well to explain your attire."
"Unfortunately, the powder did more damage to my uniform than it thankfully did to Mr. Kennedy, sir." Harold stood at attention -- he was in the Royal Navy Reserve and knew well the formalities it entailed. "I have yet to clean it sir, and my others are in need of mending. As I would rather take to my duties, sir, I thought it best to wear the next best thing so that I might continue to work."
Sawyer looked over the smartly dressed Fifth Officer, believing him to be one of his own. "And your hair?" Leaning over to look at the short hair, he growled slightly.
Lowe swallowed hard, still at attention with his eyes forward. "I was jumped, sir."
"Jumped, Mr. Hornblower?!" The Captain glared at the young officer, incredulously, sword still at his side.
"By a barber, sir," Harold said, jumping on the first idiotic thought that crossed his near-locked mind. "I'm a dead man," he found himself thinking, more than once and very rapidly.
"Yes, sir," Archie jumped in, nervously frowning. A barber?! Nevermind, try to salvage the story. "Attacked from behind."
"You as well, Mr. Kennedy?" Sawyer turned from one lieutenant to another, shaking his head.
Kennedy, biting at his lip, nodded and clenched his fists, catching the Captain's attention who noted the cut up knuckles. "And where was this attack, gentlemen?"
Lowe nodded in the direction of the main deck below, thankful suddenly that he and Archie had scrapped the hardest on their sparring what seemed like an eternity ago -- he still had red knuckles himself, and a nice bruise that wasn't too dark but noticeable alongside his nose and under his left eye. "There, sir. We were speaking of the weather, and he got the jump on us, sir."
"Who, Mr. Hornblower?"
"We're not sure, sir. All we can be sure of was that he was a barber, and quite a skilled one."
"Yes, sir," Archie continued. "He was able to struggle Mr. Hornblower to the deck after catching us both by surprise, and before I was able to pin him down, he snipped the tail from your Third Lieutenant's head."
Sawyer smirked slightly. "Where did this man run off to, then?"
"Sadly, sir, he seems to have run off with my hair. It was so quick and furious that we didn't have much time to assess who he was, sir," Harold tried to explain, feeling very much like a man digging his own grave.
"Do be more careful then," the Captain frowned, less out of concern than of finding the man and commending him.
"Absolutely, sir!" Lowe offered, still standing as rigid as a board.
Waking aft, the Captain disappeared from view, allowing Archie to finally breath again, though not moving to comment.
"Bloody Christ, that was too close," Lowe muttered, his stance relaxing as he leaned on the railing. He fought down a snicker and said, very quietly, "None too bright, is he?"
Kennedy, quickly looking around, inched closer to Harold, shaking his head. "Hold your tongue, man," he ordered, though mildheartedly. "Cap'n Sawyer has eyes and ears everywhere."
Harold shot him a look of slight annoyance, but then just shook his head. "Well, somehow we've managed to get mixed up, haven't we?"
"Quite right. I think it would be safer if we got you below before anyone else wondered about your uniform. Perhaps Mr. Bush will relieve me early so I can take you down." Rubbing his eyes for a moment, he tried to get his tension to leave him, and finally he sighed. "Thanks for helping me back there... You didn't have to."
"If I hadn't, we'd both be in hotter water than we already are."
"Right you are." Standing and straightening his uniform, Archie nodded to his friend. Turning, he barked out his words, "Mr. Wellard!"
A young midshipman came bounding from below, full of energy, and quickly snapped to attention in front of Archie. "Sir?"
"Go below and give Mr. Bush my compliments and ask him if he would be kind enough to join me here on deck."
"Aye aye, sir," Wellard managed, his brown hair tossing behind him as he turned to go below.
"Who?" Lowe asked, watching the midshipman leave.
"Midshipman Wellard," Kennedy offered, aside to Lowe. "Here, I'll point out who I can, if you'll have me, sir."
"By all means, Mr. Kennedy," Harold said, as formally as he could.
"Well, you've met Cap'n Sawyer and Mr. Wellard," Archie continued, quietly. "The bosun's Mr. Matthews, a friend of Horatio's from his time on the Justinian. The bosun's mate is Styles, who you'll instantly be able to pick out from Matthews. The largest example of the Captain's eyes and ears that I was speaking of is Mr. Hobbs." Pointing down the deck, discreetly, he made sure Lowe noted the large, blond man that stood overlooking the work. "He's a gunner and has to answer sir to even Mr. Wellard, but he has a strong pull with the Cap'n."
"Does he now?" A mischievous light entered into Lowe's eyes as he called down to the deck, squaring his shoulders and putting on a sea-voice Horatio might have envied. "Mr. Hobbs!"
Hobbs, thrown off-guard by the order, looked up at the man he believed to be the Third Lieutenant and squinted in the sunlight. "Sir?"
"That deck looks to be in need of cleaning! Get to it man, and make it snappy!"
Blinking, the gunner looked around him once, then looked back up. "But, sir..."
"'But, sir?'" Lowe's eyebrows raised at the challenge. "But sir what, Mr. Hobbs?"
Defeated, Hobbs nodded and turned to go about his new duties.
Whistling in admiration, Archie couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, I must admit that's something I never thought I would see."
"You say he's in with the Captain?" Lowe asked, quietly.
"I'm not sure those words would even be appropriate. They're as close as father and son, I'd say."
"That could come in handy," Harry murmured softly, nearly to himself, "if used properly."
Grinning at the words, Archie looked below once more, before frowning slightly. "Now, where did Mr. Wellard get himself off to? I suppose he should be back soon. It might be better if you waited below so we don't raise his suspicions as well."
"Probably, yes." Harold made his way down along the side of the quarterdeck and beneath it, hoping not to get himself too terribly lost in the process.
Waiting up on deck, Kennedy smiled in the sunlight, glad in some ways to be back on his own ship, but missing both Horatio and James. Placing his hands behind his back in the usual manner, he paced the deck quietly, waiting for Bush or Wellard.
The Second Lieutenant, William Bush, arrived not more than two minutes later with Wellard at his heels. He gave a quick glance around, then set his gaze on Archie. "Mr. Kennedy."
Somewhat startled by his superior's presence, Kennedy turned and touched his hat in reply. "Good to see you, sir."
"You requested my presence?" Bush asked, leaning momentarily on the quarterdeck's railing. He blinked once or twice at the sight of Hobbs scrubbing the deck, and frowned.
"Sir, I did," Archie replied, putting his hands behind his back once again. "I was wondering if it might be possible to go below a little early and attend to some studies."
The older man nodded, still a little bemused at the spectacle below. Finally curiosity prompted him to ask, "Why is Mr. Hobbs swabbing the decks?"
Kennedy, barely able to keep himself from grinning, promptly replied, "He's following his orders, sir."
Bush turned and looked back at Kennedy, only a ghost of his own smile making it through his facade. "The Captain's, or someone else's?"
"Mr. Hornblower's sir."
Bush nodded, still hiding a smirk, but his eyes twinkled at the thought anyway and he made no move to disrupt the gunner in his labors. "Very good. You're relieved, Mr. Kennedy, and may your studies be fruitful."
"Thank you, sir," Archie smiled, touching his hat. "And may your watch be uneventful." Turning, he made his way below in search of Harold.
Harry was wisely staying out of sight, tucked back in shadow that worked with his black uniform. When Archie walked past, he reached out and touched his arm, hoping not to startle him too much.
Turning, Kennedy would have probably punched the person grabbing his arm if he hadn't recognized Lowe so quickly. Life on board a ship was nothing to take lightly, and after bullying officers in Archie's past, he wasn't going to allow himself to be pulled into such problems again. "Thank God you weren't seen here..."
"The uniform, or just my charming presence?" Harold asked, joking slightly.
"Both would have given anyone a clue," Kennedy laughed, motioning for Lowe to walk with him as he made his way towards the officer's quarters.
Lowe fell in behind him, not saying another word for the time being as he tried to memorize where he was and what halls he was turning.
Easily finding his way through the bowels of the ship, the young Fourth Lieutenant did what he could to avoid the other crew members, and stepping into Horatio's room, he immediately began to dig through his friend's clothes.
Harold looked around, appreciating how much larger his cabin was on the Titanic, and that didn't say much at all. Frowning, he leaned against the wall, watching Archie for a moment before commenting, "Rather cramped."
Glancing around as he dug, Kennedy nodded. "You'd appreciate them a lot more if you were stuck in the Midshipman's berth. I don't understand how I put up with it." Tossing a uniform coat on the bed, he continued his work, making a quick mess of the room.
Lowe chuckled softly, with no small amount of irony. "Well, it had to have been better than where I slept when I first shipped out."
"Where was that?" Archie asked, curiously, then tossed a pair of pants onto the bed, followed by an undershirt, then an overshirt.
"Where they hauled the bodies of whichever idiot fell from the yard that week," Lowe commented quietly. "Along with a few others... rather cramped as well, and it reeked to boot if we were off shore too long."
Wincing, the younger man picked up the clothes and offered them. "No burial at sea, then?"
"Not at peacetime," Harold muttered, taking the proffered garments. "Usually had some old seahag come an' get them whenever we got to a port of call."
"Sounds rough, Harry," Kennedy shook his head in sympathy. "And it'll be rough for us if we get caught, so why don't you go ahead and get into that. I'll be across the hall if you need me." Offering the black cravat, the younger man couldn't help but smile reassuringly.
"Nothing that I couldn't take," Lowe said, offhand, as he took to figuring the complex uniform out. "Don't be shocked if you hear me yelling that I've gotten myself tangled in this mess."
Laughing lightly, Kennedy grinned, "Well, I'll be sure to come running if you do yell. Feel free to drop by when you're finished." Reaching back, he opened the door and slipped out quietly.
In all, it took Harold near a half hour to get into that uniform and make it presentable. He immediately didn't like the weight of it, and wondered how they could work in something so unbearably repressive, but by the time he had it figured out, he realized that it was a handsome setup, no matter how cumbersome. Searching the room, he could find no trace of a mirror, but figured that any gross anomalies would be caught by Archie before anyone else.
Looking both ways, he stepped out and slipped across the somewhat narrow hall, knocking very softly on the opposite door.
"Come in," came the distracted reply, from behind the door.
Lowe stepped in, closing the door behind him. "Does this pass inspection?"
Slowly glancing up from the book he was buried in, he looked Lowe over and grinned. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were Horatio."
Harry grinned back. "Well, that's the aim, isn't it?"
"You're right, it is." Standing, Archie set his book aside and carefully fixed the cravat around Harold's neck before stepping back once again. "So, how do you feel?"
"Like I've been wrapped up in a thick straight-jacket," Harold answered, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to make the uniform a little more comfortable.
Snickering, the young lieutenant motioned for his companion to sit in his own chair while he sat back on his hammock. "Exactly how you should feel."
"Is this thing designed to make an officer miserable?" Lowe asked, sitting down obediently. "It wouldn't surprise me."
"I think it was designed so poor souls like us will be too uncomfortable to sleep while on duty. Still, you got lucky with the Captain forgetting about watch and watch."
"Oh, I have a feeling he won't forget for long." Harold tossed a black look at the ceiling before sighing and settling into the chair a little more comfortably. "Tell me about Hobbs, would you?"
Relaxing back himself and laying in his hammock, Archie shrugged. "What would you like to know about him?"
"Anything that would give me an idea how to either win him over or scare him so badly that he will listen."
"I think perhaps it would take a lot to do both. Hobbs isn't the type of person who lets things pass him by, so whatever you choose to do, be careful." Yawning slightly, Kennedy moved his book from the table onto a small shelf he had managed to find room for. "He's a slick one, but I think for certain you could outsmart him."
"We, Archie," Lowe said, distantly. The gears were turning in his mind.
"I would almost say that you sounded too much like Horatio for that moment, Harold."
Harry chuckled, looking back at his friend. "Did I? Remind me not to do that again."
Snickering, the lieutenant nodded. "Will do. Anything else you need to know for now, though?"
"Any personal information I might need." Lowe shrugged. "Aside from that, nothing immediate."
Searching through his mind, he began picking out the details of Horatio's life that would prove important, and resolving what he would tell, and what he wouldn't, he sat forward. "Well, your father was a doctor, but you decided that you rather go to sea, so you began as a midshipman on the Justinian under Captain Keene. We met there, and after a little while I disappeared," he muttered the last few words, distastefully. "You were transferred to the Indefatigable and after some brilliant acts you were promoted to a lieutenant while in a Spanish prison. From there, you ended up here on the Renown."
"Disappeared?"
Coughing slightly, Kennedy nodded, looking down at the floor absently. "I was left in a boat during a battle and ended up in French hands, then Spanish."
Lowe frowned, but didn't press the issue. There was something about Archie's look that Harold could most certainly relate to, and he knew without proof that there was more to the story than that. Nonetheless, Lowe knew better than to pry... he wouldn't appreciate it himself, and he doubted Archie would.
"It was actually an idiotic thing," the younger man continued in an unusual act of openness. "We were in the middle of a sneaking attack and I started going into a fit. Horatio must have knocked me over the head, but next I remembered, I was waking up with a bunch of Frogs around me."
The term Frogs didn't immediately click, but Harold pieced it together anyway. "A fit? That doesn't strike me as something that you'd suffer."
"An 'affliction' as Captain Pellew would call it," Archie explained.
"Affliction," Lowe echoed. "Like a persistent cold?"
"Not quite," the twenty-three year old frowned slightly. "Epilepsy, in medical terms, seizures in normals terms, and fits in seamen terms."
"And in basic human terms, damn bad luck."
"You could say that, yes. In any case, that's why I disappeared, but that doesn't do much for your story. Horatio was in a Spanish prison in El Ferrol where I had ended up, and after quite a time there on his own, we were all allowed to return to the ship."
Lowe nodded, making mental notes of everything said for later use. "Then it was here, was it?"
Nodding, Archie picked his quill off of his table and glanced up at Harry. "In so few words, yes."
"The fewer the better," Lowe chuckled, though more because he didn't know his role nearly so well as he would have liked. The thought of his own Welsh accent never crossed his mind.
"The First Lieutenant is Buckland... he's all right, really, but he's weak in the knees when it comes to standing up to the Captain. Second's Bush, who you'll meet when I take you up for watch. He's kind of his own man, but I think I like him better than Buckland."
"Is there anyone under us?"
Nodding, Archie picked at the quill. "Of course, but the only one you really have to worry about is Mr. Wellard. He'll do just about anything for you... Well, Horatio-- You, I mean."
"Horatio," Harry said, as way of putting an end to it, "who, as far as anyone other than yourself's concerned, I am."
"You're right," Kennedy grinned, setting the pen back down. "Shall we get up on deck? It would be an hour early, but if you're not enjoying this little box of mine I'm sure we could find something to do on the deck."
"Sounds like an idea," Harry agreed, standing in the confining space and confining uniform.
Standing as well, Kennedy pulled at the bottom of his uniform, then carefully retied his hair. Placing his hat on his head precisely, he nodded to his newfound superior and flashed him a grin. "After you, sir."
Lowe gave him a curt nod, replying very clipped and English, "Very good, Mr. Kennedy." Then he stepped out.
Snickering, the Third Lieutenant had a feeling that he might actually enjoy the switch between Lowe and Hornblower, as long as his best friend wasn't trapped somewhere else for ever.
The maindeck of the Renown was actually looking quite spiffy by the time Archie and Harold made their way back to the quarterdeck. Bush was pacing the lee rail, looking out over the water in his own watch for enemy ships, and he gave the younger men a nod as they walked to the railing before he went back to his observance.
It wasn't exactly quiet, as it was rarely quiet on the decks of a frigate, with it's constant motion and sound, but it wasn't unpleasant. Men talked quietly below as they went about their duties, and the sails rustled nearly in harmony with each other. Sunlight fell in patches where it could find an opening, making a normally dismal ship seem that much more alive.
Lowe briefly took in the scenes, the smells, the taste of salt and light before he made his way below to the maindeck. It didn't take him too long to come up with the next phase of the plan he was slowly formulating in his mind -- he had no way of knowing when or even if he was ever going to get back to the Titanic, but until then, he wasn't going to let his guard down.
Sure enough, Hobbs was still cleaning, though the look on his face could leech the warmth from even the brightest room. He stopped his quiet grumbling when he heard Harold's approach, but his face didn't soften in the least as he stood with his mop and said, stiffly, "Sir."
Harold nodded, looking down at the deck with a slight smile. "Mr. Hobbs. Doing quite a fine job on these decks."
The larger man didn't know whether to be confused or angry, so he opted for, "Sir?"
"A damn fine job," Lowe said, looking back at Hobbs with a half-smile and an almost admiring look. Noting the ambivalent expression the other man had, he turned the charm up a notch or two more. "Why don't you take the rest of your shift off? Go below, get something to eat and drink, relax for some time..."
Hobbs raised an eyebrow, but the prospect of time off definitely piqued his interests. He didn't know what the officer was planning, though, so he took a more careful approach. The last thing he wanted was Hornblower turning around and telling the Captain that he had left without permission. "I should finish out my shift, sir."
"If you like," Lowe commented, pleasantly. "Set someone else to keep on those decks, though." And with that, the Welshman headed back upstairs to stand with Kennedy at the railing. He didn't notice the baffled look that the gunner had given him, nor did he notice the near spring in his step as he shouted for one of his underlings to finish the job. Praise and authority went a long way with a man, though, and the seeds had just been planted.
Within the next ten minutes, Archie and Harry watched as a poor young seaman was set to swabbing the decks, and as Hobbs stood over him directing his movements. Lowe couldn't help but sneak a grin when the gunner showed him how to properly polish a deck, and then stood back and watched... Hobbs was enjoying his authority now, and making full use of it. After twenty minutes, he shot a look at the quarterdeck, half-challenging, half looking for approval, and Lowe gave him a nod. "One step at a time, I suppose," he said, lightly, aside to Archie.
"Wish I knew what was going through your mind," the younger man chuckled, his voice low. "It's usually easy to tell what Horatio's thinking, but you've got a whole different perspective, despite the resemblance." Leaning himself on the railing as well, Kennedy let his usual grin set itself in on his face, and shook his head. "She certainly is a beautiful ship when she wants to be."
"Yes, she is," Harold said, smiling to himself and perhaps the world in general. His dark eyes scanned the sails and masts, taking everything in -- every yard, every rigging, every line. "I think I did well when I sailed rather than cruised, but steam will be the ultimate end, so I suppose it's better to get adapted to it now." A sad expression crossed his face as he continued, "I'd say this was almost making me homesick, but that doesn't make much sense."
"Makes perfect sense, actually. I remember being homesick when I first started working on the ships, but now it's different. Always is, you know? If I'm ever homesick now, it's for the water, and the wood, and the sun." Taking his hat off with greater care than he normally would, Archie looked at it, then glanced over at Lowe. "Never thought I'd make it for a week on the water, and now here I am as a lieutenant in the middle of a war. That'll all change too, though, when this bloody fight's over. We'll all be back to sailing for the sake of food instead of sailing for the sake of England."
"Or, God forbid, not sailing at all." Lowe shook his head, a hint of bitterness flavoring his words, "I made it to Second Mate on a schooner before I went to steam, and I think what bothers me most is that you don't ride the waves so much as cut them. It feels different... Hell, it even tastes different."
Nodding, Kennedy looked back down to the deck to check the progress of Hobbs and his new protege, then traced his eyes across the horizon. "Maybe the advancement of mankind wasn't meant for the old seadogs like us," the Fourth Lieutenant teased, smiling.
"Ah, but we're supposed to adapt to the times! Go with the tides of change and not fight them!" Harry's voice had a false edge of glee on it until he dropped back to normal tones, "Or we'll just end up following the tides right into an iceberg."
"Well, they'll know about it now. I don't think you have anything to worry about," Kennedy offered, trying to keep the mood light.
"I hope so," Lowe said, reflectively. "I really do hope so."