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On board the Renown, the two young lieutenants had gone up on deck to take over for Bush and Buckland much to the superiors' relief. The days seemed hot when in the sun carrying full uniform, so it was always great appreciated when an officer was able to step below for a moment. Buckland, who wasn't on deck much in any case was quick to go back to his cabin, but Bush remained to talk to the younger officers, idly.
"A barber, was it, Mr. Hornblower?" William asked, giving Harold an actual smile. The man didn't smile a great deal on the Renown, for the ship always seemed to carry a cloud of oppression above it, but it was a fine day and a lazy breeze... despite the heat, the atmosphere was actually pleasant enough.
"Yes, sir," Lowe answered, a bit of a smirk stealing across his face. "A very good barber."
Kennedy leaned against the railing and bit his tongue to keep himself from laughing, merely listening to the two converse.
Bush smiled a bit wider for it, taking the opportunity to show that he did have a sense of humor beneath the weathered features and stoic attitudes of a senior lieutenant. "I'm rather amazed that he managed to not only get the tail, but to square off the back and sides so neatly."
Lowe refrained from shooting the senior officer a look, but not by much. Instead he cleared his throat, his face going a little red in a manner that had nothing to do with the sunlight. "Indeed, sir."
"How did your reading go, Mr. Kennedy?" William asked, looking over at Archie. He wasn't going to push the hair issue too badly, for sake of not losing what camaraderie he had established in his short time on the Renown.
"Quite well, sir," the Fourth Lieutenant grinned, thinking back to the play that he had been reading when Lowe had come in. "Very informative."
Bush nodded, looking out over the water for a moment before looking back between the two juniors. "Well, it's not much of a wind, but we have the tops'ls rigged to make use of it." He nodded to them. "I'll leave you gentlemen to it."
"Thank you, sir," Harold answered, touching his hat.
Kennedy followed example, smiling despite himself. "Have a good evening, sir."
"I'm hoping to," Bush chuckled, returning the salute before making his way down below.
Waiting until William had left, Archie then looked over at Harold and then back out over the ship. "Well, he seems to fit in all right despite just transferring here."
"Which side of the rail does he ride in regard to the Cap'n?" Lowe asked, dropping his voice to a near whisper and leaning close enough to Archie to avoid having it overheard.
Letting his voice grow quiet as well, Kennedy let his eyes trace over the small crew that still remained on deck. "I'm not completely sure yet. He seems very strict; very much akin to taking orders well and following them perfectly."
"Doesn't allow for a good deal of judgment..."
"He seems a little less stiff now, though... like he's settled in. I think maybe we should wait before deciding what to think of him." Interlocking his fingers, Archie remained leaning against the rail with no intentions of leaving his friend to fend for himself on such a misguided ship.
Lowe nodded to himself and to Kennedy. "Well, we're not making the best time right now, so I have a feeling that we'll have plenty of opportunity to figure it out."
"You're right." Looking up at the sails with a squint, the younger man shook his hand and took his hat off. "I haven't seen winds this bad in a long time."
"Tops'ls seem to be picking it up, but the mains'ls are dead," Harold commented, shaking his head and eyeing the lines up. "We can't be doing more than one or two knots."
"Not very glorifying for a ship commanded by the hero of the Nile." Archie smirked, looking down at his worn hat. "Of course, if man could control the winds, then there would be no need for any of us. Why work to harness the wind when you can tell it which way to come from?"
"Good point," Lowe conceded, then added, "Wait for the days when a bunker of coal will let you decide when the wind can't, though, and you'll want to be back where everything depended on it."
"I suppose you're right. I certainly can't imagine such a fate, and I know damned well that I'd never work on anything but a ship like this."
"You're lucky to be here, then."
Kennedy chuckled lightly and looked over at Lowe, caught off guard by the fact that he had a kindred spirit to talk to, even if they were supposed to know each other. "What made you take the jump?"
Lowe caught his gaze for a moment before looking back at the sails above. "I suppose it was a good career move at the time... to get in young on the steamers before they became the entire ocean so that I wouldn't be left behind." The older man frowned. "I enjoyed the steam at first, but it didn't take long to miss this."
"Good career move? What's that, then?" Shaking his head, Archie chuckled and straightened up, still fidgeting with his hat.
"Wish I would've said that," Harry chuckled himself.
"No, I think that working on the ocean is something that could never go too terribly wrong for a person. They know that if a storm blows up on them they're just as likely to die as if they were to be thrown over the side to drown. Likewise, they know that if they do their job right and follow orders, they'll collect pay, even if it's less than the woman of 'questionable character' in port make most of the time." The younger man laughed. "It's all so cruel, yet so appealing."
Lowe gave Archie a brief, affectionate look, breaking into a smile. "Kennedy on Sailing Philosophy. I say, Archie, you should write a book to that effect so lads like me have some guidance when we run away at fourteen to jump aboard a schooner."
Archie raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the wooden rail and letting his elbows support him. "Good God, running away? It couldn't have been that bad at school."
"No, it wasn't that," Harry explained, still smiling slightly. "My father didn't want me to take to the water... he insisted that I apprentice under a carpenter or metal worker. I insisted that I wanted to be paid for my labours, and that I wanted to sail. We fought over it until I took matters into my own hands."
"And I'll bet you don't regret it," Kennedy smiled, looking Lowe over.
"Not in the least." Lowe shrugged, then returned the look. "What about you?"
Archie laughed slightly, returning his hat for the sake of relief from the bright sun. "Me? I was the first in my family to take to the water, and they were basically happy to see me go. Youngest of the kids and certainly a burden, so they happily afforded me the money for school and practically packed my bags."
"Leaving us both drifters, eh?"
"Certainly. Of course, I didn't really have trouble at home; just wanted to get away for a while, which managed to turn into a long while. Used to get letters from mum all the time, but not anymore so much. I think maybe they get lost on the way to port."
"Hm." Harold shook his head, looking down at the crew. "Lost or 'misplaced', likely." He frowned, looking over at Archie. "When's the last time you saw Hobbs?"
Raising an eyebrow, Kennedy turned and looked behind him. "I haven't seen him. Want me to find him?"
"I've got it," Lowe answered, looking about himself for a moment. "I'll be back as quick as possible." Turning, the acting-Third Lieutenant made his way to the stairs for the maindeck, just reminded of his little plan again.
Frowning at the thought of the officer of the watch running around below decks, Archie turned and straightened his uniform, ready to cover for Lowe.
Hobbs sat in the galley, slowly nursing at some rum while a good amount of the crew mulled around him, dancing and singing like they had nothing better to do. The gunner grinned, watching the happens and glad to be off the deck and out of sight of the officers.
It took Harold longer than he would have liked to find his way into the Mess, but he knew that would be the best place to find Hobbs if he hadn't turned in for the night. Setting a keen gaze on the crew, he singled out the gunner and made his way over slowly, taking a way to prevent his approach being seen. Once at the gunner's shoulder, he leaned down near level to his ear. "Mr. Hobbs, if I might have a word with you."
Jumping, the large man turned and looked at who he believed to be Hornblower. "Sir? Yes, sir..."
Lowe gave him a grin, nodding his head towards the stairs that would lead back on deck. Without another word, he made his way up the steps, not looking back, and was soon back on the quarterdeck. Hobbs followed behind, doing his best not to growl and wondering what menial task he would have to perform next.
Harold led him back to the rail, out of earshot of anyone else and leaned in close. "Relax, I'm only going to ask a small favor."
"A favor, sir?" The older man looked somewhat suspiciously at Lowe.
Lowe sighed, rubbing his eyes in what most would take for upset. "I'm sure it's come to your attention by now that I've been... well, deprived of my hair."
"Yes, sir. The captain was looking for the man earlier this evening."
"There was no man," Harold sighed, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness. He looked at Hobbs with an imploring look, near desperation. "I quite foolishly slipped with my razor, and then had to do what I could to save myself from ridicule... afterall, it wouldn't look good for a lieutenant to lose a chunk of his tail because he was careless, would it?"
"No, sir, I suppose not..."
Lowe gave him a look, smiling slightly and resting an arm across the other man's shoulders. "Tell me, have you ever considered being a barber?"
Hobbs frowned and looked over at Harold, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I follow you, sir."
Lowe turned the charm up another step. "Well, you and I both know that Cap'n Sawyer has no love for me. You, however, are much esteemed in his eyes. Now, were you to claim to be the barber who jumped me, you would likely be commended and I... I would be saved the embarrassment of being found out."
Light seemed to dawn on Hobbs and he looked down at his drink. "I'm not sure, sir..."
"A month's worth of my rum rations," Harold persisted, writing off the booze as something he wouldn't touch anyway, "and privileged duty on my watch." Lowering his voice, he put on a slightly pleading aire, "Hobbs, man, I'm desperate here."
"A month?" Hobbs smiled and looked around for a moment. "I've always had a fondness for sheers, sir."
Lowe's face broke into a bright and surprisingly sincere grin as he briefly tightened his grip around the taller man's shoulders before stepping aside. "I'll find a way to pay you back aside from the rum." He nodded. "And I have your word, good sir?"
"My word, sir," Hobbs nodded.
Harold clapped him on the back in real and honest thanks. "Terrific! You're dismissed, and have a good evening."
The gunner grinned at the thought of extra rum rations, praise, and getting one over on the Third Lieutenant, then went below to find the captain and make himself known.
Harold watched him depart before making his way forward to the front of the quarterdeck, where Archie still paced. Quite pleased with himself, he gave the younger man a smile. "Well, that's one loose end tied up, then... or snipped off, as it were."
"How so?" The younger lieutenant looked at Lowe in the beginnings of sunset and raised an eyebrow.
Harold grinned. "A month's worth of rum, a desperate plea or two, and Mr. Hobbs has become a barber, my dear Mr. Kennedy."
Archie whistled, shaking his head. "A month of rum rations?"
"Well, it's not the biggest loss, I hope." Harold shrugged, watching the sunset now with a still happy smile. "But it certainly explains the hair and leaves one less thing to be used against us."
"You can say that again." Kennedy grinned, taking his hat off once again. The wind seemed to be picking up some, and he would be on shift sooner or later, so he decided staying with Lowe would be all right.
Harold picked his head up, taking in the breeze for a moment before looking to Archie. "Think we should re-rig 'er?"
"I don't think it will last, but if it does then I think so, yes."
"We'll give it a minute," Lowe murmured, eyeing the topsails. "We'd best make use of it if it shows to be favorable."
"Agreed." Kennedy nodded, watching the sails. "I'll go down and tell him if we do. I think I need a walk to keep me awake."
"Why not go to bed?" Lowe asked, glancing over at Archie in some concern.
"Because I won't make it through watch if I do. Better to be awake and on watch than groggy and on watch, old man," the young man grinned.
"I would take your watch," Harold pointed out. "I'm wide awake."
"Of course." Touching his hat in salute, Archie then moved down the deck towards the Captain's quarters.
Harold watched him go, then turned his attention back to the wind. The breeze wasn't really strong enough to warrant the mainsails, but he knew that the topsails alone were making it wasteful. Frowning, he paced down the quarterdeck railing, resolving himself that the jibs would probably be the best, particularly since they were running on a lazy port tack. Rigged right, they'd catch the wind, and the crew wouldn't have to do a whole lot of work when they switched to a starboard tack. He looked in the direction of where Archie had vanished to, waiting for the Fourth Lieutenant to return.
A good ten minutes later brought Archie back to Harold, somewhat redder than he was before he left. Sawyer followed behind him, looking up at the sails and judging the wind around him like any good Captain.
"Sir," Lowe said, respectfully, touching his hat to Sawyer in salute. He would have to tread carefully with the senile captain, no matter how badly it put his hackles up.
The captain looked at the Third Lieutenant. "Re-rig, Mr. Hornblower?"
"Aye, Captain. I was going to ask your permission to run up the jibs, sir, and make use of this fine evening breeze."
Eyeing the young officer, Sawyer paused his answer before finally nodding. "Then what are you waiting for?!" he snapped.
Lowe nodded respectfully again, though a spark of fire shot through his brown eyes as he turned back to forward and barked out sharply, "Hoist the jibs, men! Rig for starboard!"
Sawyer watched a moment longer and moved back to his cabin leaving the two lieutenants on the deck.
Harold watched the men work the lines, somewhere between angry and admiring of the way they worked. His only betrayal of his dislike of Sawyer was the set of his shoulders, typically defiant.
"He's bloody insane," Archie muttered quietly, putting his hands on the rail.
"You don't need to tell me," Harry agreed, likewise very quiet. He noted the motion of the ship pick up slightly as the jibs were rigged.
Nodding, the younger man then shook his head. "The damn bastard said that I was a disgrace to the Navy, that's what he did." Whispering somewhat harshly, Archie nearly growled, "Said that I should have ended up without my tail as well, and over the side of the ship. I have it in my mind to take that man and--"
Lowe shot him a look, his own voice a low growl from the insult and from worry, "Hold your tongue, Kennedy..."
Literally biting at his tongue, the younger man nodded and took a deep breath, pacing a few steps back and forth.
Harold leaned over, taking Kennedy's arm and getting up next to the younger man's ear, his voice apologetic, "His time will come, Archie. If it does you any good, however, I think that you're a far better officer than he or anyone else has given you credit for." Locking eyes with Archie for a moment, he then turned back to the rail.
Looking after Lowe, he sighed after a moment and nodded, stepping over to his friend. "Thank you."
"Lord help us both," Lowe murmured, aside, eyes on the maindeck. "And with any luck, we'll make it out of this mess in one piece."
"Yes, let's hope."