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It felt like a tug, one that made Horatio's stomach leap and plummet as he stood on the port side Officer's Promenade. He thought to panic, but by the time he finished that notion, it was over. The feeling of being pulled faded, along with the light, and he saw himself to be in his cabin on the Renown. Relief flooded through his mind, as he took in the smell of his own quarters, and then puzzlement as he picked his strewn uniforms up from where they had been left on the floor.
It didn't take him long to tidy up, or to find Lowe's White Star uniform. He smirked to himself as he realized that Harold was now down two uniforms and only had three left, but he folded it very precisely in hopes to return it to it's rightful owner. Then, with a frown, Hornblower realized he was down two uniforms himself.
In the room across the hall, James woke up in a bed that wouldn't stop moving. It rocked back and forth, instantly interrupting his steady flow of mind. Opening his eyes, he looked around the small room with a bit of a foreboding feeling. He certainly wasn't on Titanic anymore, and he wondered if he was still with Horatio or if he once again was with his old shipmate. Climbing out of the hammock and opening the door, Moody was surprised to come face-to-face with Horatio.
"Once again, Mr. Moody, a pleasure." Hornblower grinned slightly, but it faded as he looked to both sides and stepped into Kennedy's room. "I can only assume that both Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Lowe were here before us, judging by the state of my room."
"This isn't good," Moody said, quietly, looking around the room again. "You may be able to pass as Harry, but I can never pass for Archie."
Nodding, Hornblower paced back and forth a few steps. "Maybe we could say that he fell ill and you could just stay here..."
"We may have to." James stood, running his hands through his hair. He didn't even have a uniform -- he was stuck on a strange ship in nothing but his pajamas, with the chance of being hanged as a stow-away.
Striking on a thought, Horatio began digging through the bookself.
Jimmy watched for a second, frowning. "What're you doing?"
"Archie has a journal he writes in every once in a while. Let's hope he found the day's events interesting enough to write about them."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Moody asked, a little uneasy about going through someone else's private thoughts.
Digging out the book, Horatio looked over the faded leather with somewhat of a frown. "I think that perhaps he wouldn't mind if he understood the circumstances."
"Perhaps not," James agreed, though there was definitely some trepidation in his voice when he did.
Sitting on his friend's hammock, Hornblower flipped to the last page that had been written on and began reading, not wanting to venture any farther into Archie's mind. As he read, his jaw managed to knot around the same moment that his face went pale and he began to sweat. "Trousers...?"
"What do you mean?" Moody asked, moving over to read over Hornblower's shoulder. It didn't take him more than a second to realize why Horatio had gone so pale so quickly, and he gasped himself, "Dear God."
Closing the book very slowly, Horatio shook hs head. "This isn't exactly what I expected to come home to..."
"No... this isn't exactly what happened in history, either." James sat down on the chair, rubbing his eyes in tension. "We're headed back to port then? Do you remember how far out from harbour you were when we vanished?"
"Three or four days at most, I'd say, but we're working with the wind now, so it shouldn't be too long before we're spotting land again. Especially with the Renown running as well as she is right now." Looking down at the deck, Hornblower nodded to himself and laid Kennedy's journal on his shelf. "Maybe we should use this to communicate back and forth... assuming all of this insanity even happens again."
"It couldn't hurt to try, one way or another." James leaned back in the chair, wondering to himself what time it was. "Once we're back in port, it may be easier to cover for Archie... or harder. I suppose we'll have to wait to see which."
"Well, with any luck, we can say that he's taken ill until we get back to port. I'll have to take his watches, but they're right after mine, so it shouldn't be a problem. We'll just have to be sure that no one sends Dr. Clive to check on him." Pondering, Horatio sat down on the hammock and rubbed his eyes. "I don't understand what could have happened. Captain Sawyer with his trousers down, presumably taken to his ankles by Mr. Lowe, but why?" Frowning to himself, the Third Lieutenant looked to James and brightened his mood with somewhat of a grin. "Leave it to Archie to be brief about something so important."
"We should be happy that he wrote anything at all. It would've definately caused a problem if you didn't have any clue what had happened." Shrugging, Jimmy did his best to relax in the stiff wooden chair. "Of course, I still don't feel right knowing that we've read Mr. Kennedy's personal thoughts..."
Laughing slightly, Hornblower managed to look relaxed for once. "If it'll ease your mind, James, I'll write him an apology. Until then, though, I think it would be best if I reported to the officer of the watch and informed them that Mr. Kennedy is indeed ill in his room."
"Good luck," Jimmy chuckled, smiling to himself. "Hopefully they'll all be so concerned about the Captain's little mishap that they won't care about poor Archie."
"We can only hope." Standing, Horatio touched his hat and moved out of the room to get changed.
James watched him go before leaning further back in the chair and crossing his arms. He wasn't uncomfortable in the least with the motion of the frigate... like Harold, he had spent a good deal of his boyhood on such ships. In a way, it was almost comforting to feel the lulling gait of a good wind and a rolling sea.
He glanced around the room once again. It actually wasn't much smaller than his cabin on the Titanic, so he didn't feel claustrophobic in the mildly confining space. It reminded him of Archie, as well... not as neat as James would have kept the room, but neat enough. The sea-chest was under the hammock, the books were obviously much loved and cared for, despite their age, and somehow it didn't surprise him that most of them were Shakespeare. Kennedy might have seemed to be quite a firebrand, just like Lowe, but Moody had no doubts he was also more sensitive and well-read than immediately apparent.
Which brought his thoughts back to his best friend. Like Horatio, he couldn't understand why Harold would do something so crazy as to take the Captain's pants down. It was such a wild and uncharacteristic thing that there couldn't have been a great deal of planning and thought put into it. But Jimmy knew Harold, and knew him better than most. Whatever had prompted him to take such an action had to have been that natural instinct the Welshman seemed to be afflicted with -- whether it got him into trouble or not.
With nothing else to do, James tried to replay what must have happened in some sense, and more importantly, what Harold must have been thinking when he did it. The most immediate notion, which brought a grin to Jimmy's face, was that Lowe had lost his marbles, but he discarded that even as it made him chuckle. Then he tried to come to another conclusion... history said that Sawyer had fallen down into the hold and suffered a head injury. Though it was a few days earlier than intended, it had almost repeated itself so far. Sawyer had drawn a gun on Harold and Archie. Harold had lunged after the gun, and probaby bowled into the Captain. Then he'd taken his pants down for God only knows what reason.
Why? Why hadn't he and Archie just left the room and pretended to be elsewhere? Because Sawyer would have woken to blame them anyway, just as he had in the history books. James still couldn't figure out what the entire ordeal with the trousers had to do with it, though.
Until, that is, he thought again about Lowe. Harold was intelligent, but that act hadn't had anything to do with him using his mind. It was an act of desperation, brought on by the knowledge that he and Archie could and would hang for attacking the Captain. How else to draw attention from the fact that Sawyer was laying on the ground unconscious besides putting him in such a shocking and compromising position that it would leave everyone reeling?
Moody couldn't help but grin to himself. He highly doubted that Lowe would have thought out the ramifications in quite so much detail, but as Jimmy did, he could see where it was bordering a mad sort of brilliance. Sawyer was literally caught with his trousers down, and the senior officers and surgeon had to have seen it. Even were he to wake up and scream that Hornblower had been the one to do it, no one would likely believe him. Why? Horatio wasn't capable of that sort of act. He just wasn't... anyone who put him on a stand would see that immediately, and Sawyer would have been deemed even more senile than he already was. In essence, it was like an actor known for comedies switching abruptly to a tragedy, sweeping the stage, then returning to the comedies without ever having blinked. Unless someone saw it for themselves, they wouldn't believe it.
So now they were heading back to port, undoubtably to tell the admirality what had happened. Sawyer was a hero... they would want to keep it quiet, so it wasn't likely they would even hold an inquiry. They would probably try to remedy the situation as fast as they could -- send Sawyer home to his wife and children, with all honors he had coming and with the excuse he had suffered some wound or another in battle, give the Renown to the next Captain or Commander in line, and send everyone back out as quickly as possible.
"Harold, you're either a stupid bastard or a lucky one," James said, softly, smirking and wishing he could tell that to Lowe face to face. "We'll have to wait for it all to play out and find out which."
Moving up on to deck, Horatio tried his best not to squint in the darkness, and spotting the officer of the watch, he made his way over. Saluting crisply and somewhat sad about returning to his old uniform, he did his best to smile. Noting the quite alert Bush touching his own hat in reply, Hornblower smiled. "Sir, my compliments, and I regret to inform you that Mr. Kennedy has fallen ill and will doubtfully be able to perform his duties. If I may, sir, I'd like to take his watch for him."
Bush looked at the Third Lieutenant, one eyebrow going up unconsciously in confusion. Hornblower had just been dead on his feet, and now here he was, bright and wide-awake. Not only that, but he was speaking differently again, and Kennedy had been fine a moment ago. William's brow then creased in confusion, and he couldn't help but ask, "What's going on, Mr. Hornblower?"
"Just a small bout of fits, sir." Mentally wincing for having to lie and use such an excuse, Horatio continued on. "He'll be fine, I'm sure. I think he just needs some rest, sir."
William tried to believe that, but he didn't. Still, it wouldn't do him any good to claim that something was amiss without more evidence. "Should I send Clive to look in on him?"
The Third Lieutenant thought for sure that Bush knew he was lying. Damn, if only he were a better actor then no one would suspect a thing. "No, no, sir. I believe rest is what is needed for Mr. Kennedy at the moment. Disturbing him in his sleep might prove to extend his recovery."
"Would it?" Bush murmured, looking the junior officer in the face for a long moment. "I'm amazed at how quickly you recovered from your own bout of exhaustion."
"Seeing my best friend in such a state tends to be quite unnerving, and certainly something that would wake me quickly, I assure you, sir."
"I see." William frowned, feeling a stab of guilt. He hadn't intended to be harsh, but there was something very odd about Horatio's manner between when he had all but staggered below and how he was acting now. "Well, offer my best wishes, if you'd be so kind."
Nodding and touching his hat, Horatio did his best to smile and soften any worries in the Second Lieutenant's mind. "I would be happy to, sir. I'm sure he will be glad to know that you offered them."
Bush nodded, going back to the railing and his watch without another word. As much as he would have liked to have been concentrating on his job, though, he felt as though something was desperately not right. With any luck, it would be better after they got back into port and went through all of the troubles dealing with Sawyer.
With a somewhat long, but quiet sigh of relief, Hornblower made his way back below in an attempt to get some sleep before heading up on deck again for a double shift. Taking off his hat, he rubbed his brow and made his way down the hallway to the officer cabins. Knocking on Jimmy's door quietly, he looked around before opening the door and slipping inside. "Mr. Bush knows that Archie's sick now, so all you'll have to do is stay here. I'll be sure to bring you your meals and maybe a book to keep you busy."
James nodded, now that he was over the brief panic attack brought on by the knock. "Let's hope Mr. Kennedy's not absent for too terribly long."
"Agreed. For now, however, I fear I must retire. If you need anything, I'll be just across the hall." Grinning slightly, Hornblower lightly tucked his hat under his arm and glanced around the cabin. "I just hope you can find some way to keep yourself busy, Jimmy. This place isn't exactly like the Titanic. No worried passengers, no gourmet food, and no bad coffee."
"I can live happily without the first and the last, Horatio, and survive fine without the middle." Moody smirked slightly, unable to resist teasing, "Or should I call you Horry?"
"You shouldn't." Wincing slightly, Horatio gave the Sixth Officer a jokingly scolding look before nodding to him and moving back out of the room.
"Wait until you're married," Jimmy snickered under his breath, once the Third Lieutenant was gone. There were some wicked advantages to knowing Hornblower's life story before Hornblower himself did, though he could never be certain if it would remain the same, or if the tampering had changed the course. Nevermind, though. For now, Moody would have to make due with being trapped below decks for an indeterminate amount of time, with nothing to really do. Shaking his head to himself, he picked one of Archie's books up gently and started reading.