Author's Note: Sorry for the late update, but life's been dragging me down, so I've been slow to write. Haven't seen the third series yet, and I think I shall die knowing it exists and that I haven't seen it. Oh the horror!
Disclaimer: C.S. Forester is the mastermind behind everything Horatio Hornblower, I just attempt to expand on it. Also thanks to A&E for their expansion on our beloved Mr. Kennedy.
~*~
BLUE EYES AND BLOOD
Chapter 4
Waves on Clifftops
*
Mr. William Bush stood, his telescope to his eye, leaning a little over the railing of the foredeck, staring at the small fishing boat on the horizon. The last three weeks had been agonizingly slow, as they pulled in fishermen and tradesmen, trying to get some idea of the whereabouts of the privateers. In a later meeting with Captain Richardson, the blue-eyed man had said that the traders had almost deserted these northern waters, for fear of the pirates. The local fishermen still went out to catch the cod, but they kept close to the shores, and were reluctant to talk to either Hornblower, or the Privateer Captain. And through the three weeks Bush had heard a dozen rumours of Richardson's laziness, and it seemed that Hornblower himself was inclined to believe them. Bush, however, left the judgement to his Captain - it was not his to make.
The particular boat he was watching had evaded them for days, which had made the already grumpy Hornblower quite aggitated, and they were now hunting it like hounds on a fox. Not that Bush minded, it gave the men something to do. Gave him something to do.
Because they were so close to shore, a couple men here and there had deserted, as men this close to shore on this boring of a job tend to do.
Captain Rosser and the Poison had headed down to New York to snuff the pirates out, and were due back any day, to Bush's great relief. His Captain was stressed, and Bush heard more snaps than kind words these days, but he told himself that he understood and that his Captain was aloud to be angry at a situation that seemed not entirely under his control.
"We're making time on her, sir, will catch her 'fore the noon sun." The Second Lieutenant, Mr. Thorp, who was technically on watch.
"Thank you, Mr. Thorp. I'll go and report to the Captain." Which is what Bush did.
The rest of the day went rather dully, though they did catch up to the fisherman. It was the same thing they always heard. No, we don't know where they are, we can't really help you with that, but you go get the buggers, Mr. Hornblower, and would you like some fish in the meantime? Hornblower always bought just a little, and they'd smile, and Hornblower would glower at the fish when they left and give it to the officer's mess. It was until the sun and set, and Bush had retired to his bunk, that anything happened. Two of the men had gotten into a fight, and somehow had set a small fire in one of the cables, which had set the entire ship into an uproar until it was out, and had gotten Bush a very heated lecture in the meantime.
"Sir, the men are downcast..." Bush was saying in his own defence to Hornblower, who was only half in uniform and glaring at his Lieutenant with utter fury. "They're bored, sir, and the one must've knocked down the lantern - -"
Horatio scowled, shifting on his feet. Bush knew what was going through his mind - an example must be made.
"Very well, Mr. Bush, bring them both to my quarters immediately. And bring Mr. Thorp with you."
That discussion ended with both men being flogged, and even more glares and sideways glances from the men. The smarter ones could understand, but the others felt repressed - even if they'd seen the flames. Bush was getting worried. If moral carried on like this, they could be in danger...
Bush himself could feel how low his spirits were. He had taken to counting the smiles he got from his captain, and they were growing few and far between. Hope wasn't to come until after yet another agonozing half week, Mr. Dawson came jumping giddily down into the ward room.
"Mr. Bush! Mr. Bush, sir!" He sang, though his voice had within these last few weeks begun to crack.
"Mr. Dawson, you know very well you aren't to come in here without permission. What do you want?" Third Lieutenant Gracen snapped in the boy's direction - everyone was wearing thin these days.
"Sir," Dawson continued, partially ignoring Gracen and staring right at Bush, "It's the Poison, sir! She's here, sir!"
Bush didn't bother to excuse himself as he pushed past the midshipman, and half ran up to the deck, pulling the sleeve of his jacket on his loose arm. He came straight up to the railing, looking out onto the horizon where half the crew was looking. And there she was.
"By god!" He cried before he could stop himself, "Mr. Dawson!"
The boy had been running up behind him. "Sir?"
"Go fetch the Captain immediately. Look lively!"
"Aye aye, sir!" Dawson cried in return, and scampered down the hold.
*
At dinner that night, Hornblower had two guests - his First Lieutenant, and one Captain James Rosser. The latter looked giddy, if it was possible to describe the man like that, his iceberg eyes alight with silver flames. He seemed unable to keep still, and didn't eat as all as he laid out his story to the two naval officers.
"We snuck right into port, clean as you can be. The American's don't care, see, so they didn't give us much trouble, but one of the pirates got whiff of us, I think. Sent a crew over to try to burn the ship as we sat in the bay! The poor suckers, we caught them before they could light a single torch. But one of them had enough wits about him to talk, so let's just say we held a little inquiry. He told us that the pirates don't keep to New York, 'cause the authorities once got in a bit of trouble with them. So they keep to this bay, up in the North, during the summer, and head down to one closer to New York in the winter. 'E said that they should be switching up soon, the night's are getting too cold to keep in the North, but they're taking their time because they don't want to run into you, see? Holding with me, so far?"
"I'm with you, Captain Rosser." Hornblower said slowly.
"Good. So, my mate Lizzy hired us a small boat, a cutter as you'd say, and she's parked with a quarter of my crew in the bay. She's going to wait there till they come in, and I'm going to come up from behind them and lock 'em in."
"Do you know how many of them are there?"
"About four ships, schooners, so I've heard.Can't have more than 40 guns each."
"But you have only 72." Horatio replied, "And am I right in suspecting that we are allowed to join in this adventure?"
"Allowed, sir? You're invited! There is, of course, just one thing that we must settle out before hand, of course." The grey man's voice suddenly took on a very different tone.
"Go on, Captain Rosser."
"You must understand, Mr. Hornblower, that I'm not out for glory, or even King and Country. I'm as loyal a man to my king as any I know, but I'm even more loyal to his gold. We're after prize money, Mr. Hornblower, and I'm well aquainted with the Navy's hogging of it. I think that you're a good man, if I may say so, sir, but there are... some... that might think a privateer is below his own good standing." His grey eyes flashed with something indistinguishable. "I mean no offence, Mr. Hornblower, just looking out for my interests and my crew." He paused, his eyes locked on Hornblower's own.
Slowly Hornblower nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course. You shall have your fair share of the prize money, Captain Rosser, if not more than you deserve."
"Good!" Rosser said, cheerfull once again, and grinned, "Very good! I think we shall have a very profitable relationship, eh, you and I? Good, good, good. Now, I better get back to my own ship, and if ye'd be so kind as to follow me, I'll show you our net made of cliffs!" He laughed, and Bush felt a darkness creep into his heart.
~*~
Disclaimer: C.S. Forester is the mastermind behind everything Horatio Hornblower, I just attempt to expand on it. Also thanks to A&E for their expansion on our beloved Mr. Kennedy.
~*~
BLUE EYES AND BLOOD
Chapter 4
Waves on Clifftops
*
Mr. William Bush stood, his telescope to his eye, leaning a little over the railing of the foredeck, staring at the small fishing boat on the horizon. The last three weeks had been agonizingly slow, as they pulled in fishermen and tradesmen, trying to get some idea of the whereabouts of the privateers. In a later meeting with Captain Richardson, the blue-eyed man had said that the traders had almost deserted these northern waters, for fear of the pirates. The local fishermen still went out to catch the cod, but they kept close to the shores, and were reluctant to talk to either Hornblower, or the Privateer Captain. And through the three weeks Bush had heard a dozen rumours of Richardson's laziness, and it seemed that Hornblower himself was inclined to believe them. Bush, however, left the judgement to his Captain - it was not his to make.
The particular boat he was watching had evaded them for days, which had made the already grumpy Hornblower quite aggitated, and they were now hunting it like hounds on a fox. Not that Bush minded, it gave the men something to do. Gave him something to do.
Because they were so close to shore, a couple men here and there had deserted, as men this close to shore on this boring of a job tend to do.
Captain Rosser and the Poison had headed down to New York to snuff the pirates out, and were due back any day, to Bush's great relief. His Captain was stressed, and Bush heard more snaps than kind words these days, but he told himself that he understood and that his Captain was aloud to be angry at a situation that seemed not entirely under his control.
"We're making time on her, sir, will catch her 'fore the noon sun." The Second Lieutenant, Mr. Thorp, who was technically on watch.
"Thank you, Mr. Thorp. I'll go and report to the Captain." Which is what Bush did.
The rest of the day went rather dully, though they did catch up to the fisherman. It was the same thing they always heard. No, we don't know where they are, we can't really help you with that, but you go get the buggers, Mr. Hornblower, and would you like some fish in the meantime? Hornblower always bought just a little, and they'd smile, and Hornblower would glower at the fish when they left and give it to the officer's mess. It was until the sun and set, and Bush had retired to his bunk, that anything happened. Two of the men had gotten into a fight, and somehow had set a small fire in one of the cables, which had set the entire ship into an uproar until it was out, and had gotten Bush a very heated lecture in the meantime.
"Sir, the men are downcast..." Bush was saying in his own defence to Hornblower, who was only half in uniform and glaring at his Lieutenant with utter fury. "They're bored, sir, and the one must've knocked down the lantern - -"
Horatio scowled, shifting on his feet. Bush knew what was going through his mind - an example must be made.
"Very well, Mr. Bush, bring them both to my quarters immediately. And bring Mr. Thorp with you."
That discussion ended with both men being flogged, and even more glares and sideways glances from the men. The smarter ones could understand, but the others felt repressed - even if they'd seen the flames. Bush was getting worried. If moral carried on like this, they could be in danger...
Bush himself could feel how low his spirits were. He had taken to counting the smiles he got from his captain, and they were growing few and far between. Hope wasn't to come until after yet another agonozing half week, Mr. Dawson came jumping giddily down into the ward room.
"Mr. Bush! Mr. Bush, sir!" He sang, though his voice had within these last few weeks begun to crack.
"Mr. Dawson, you know very well you aren't to come in here without permission. What do you want?" Third Lieutenant Gracen snapped in the boy's direction - everyone was wearing thin these days.
"Sir," Dawson continued, partially ignoring Gracen and staring right at Bush, "It's the Poison, sir! She's here, sir!"
Bush didn't bother to excuse himself as he pushed past the midshipman, and half ran up to the deck, pulling the sleeve of his jacket on his loose arm. He came straight up to the railing, looking out onto the horizon where half the crew was looking. And there she was.
"By god!" He cried before he could stop himself, "Mr. Dawson!"
The boy had been running up behind him. "Sir?"
"Go fetch the Captain immediately. Look lively!"
"Aye aye, sir!" Dawson cried in return, and scampered down the hold.
*
At dinner that night, Hornblower had two guests - his First Lieutenant, and one Captain James Rosser. The latter looked giddy, if it was possible to describe the man like that, his iceberg eyes alight with silver flames. He seemed unable to keep still, and didn't eat as all as he laid out his story to the two naval officers.
"We snuck right into port, clean as you can be. The American's don't care, see, so they didn't give us much trouble, but one of the pirates got whiff of us, I think. Sent a crew over to try to burn the ship as we sat in the bay! The poor suckers, we caught them before they could light a single torch. But one of them had enough wits about him to talk, so let's just say we held a little inquiry. He told us that the pirates don't keep to New York, 'cause the authorities once got in a bit of trouble with them. So they keep to this bay, up in the North, during the summer, and head down to one closer to New York in the winter. 'E said that they should be switching up soon, the night's are getting too cold to keep in the North, but they're taking their time because they don't want to run into you, see? Holding with me, so far?"
"I'm with you, Captain Rosser." Hornblower said slowly.
"Good. So, my mate Lizzy hired us a small boat, a cutter as you'd say, and she's parked with a quarter of my crew in the bay. She's going to wait there till they come in, and I'm going to come up from behind them and lock 'em in."
"Do you know how many of them are there?"
"About four ships, schooners, so I've heard.Can't have more than 40 guns each."
"But you have only 72." Horatio replied, "And am I right in suspecting that we are allowed to join in this adventure?"
"Allowed, sir? You're invited! There is, of course, just one thing that we must settle out before hand, of course." The grey man's voice suddenly took on a very different tone.
"Go on, Captain Rosser."
"You must understand, Mr. Hornblower, that I'm not out for glory, or even King and Country. I'm as loyal a man to my king as any I know, but I'm even more loyal to his gold. We're after prize money, Mr. Hornblower, and I'm well aquainted with the Navy's hogging of it. I think that you're a good man, if I may say so, sir, but there are... some... that might think a privateer is below his own good standing." His grey eyes flashed with something indistinguishable. "I mean no offence, Mr. Hornblower, just looking out for my interests and my crew." He paused, his eyes locked on Hornblower's own.
Slowly Hornblower nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course. You shall have your fair share of the prize money, Captain Rosser, if not more than you deserve."
"Good!" Rosser said, cheerfull once again, and grinned, "Very good! I think we shall have a very profitable relationship, eh, you and I? Good, good, good. Now, I better get back to my own ship, and if ye'd be so kind as to follow me, I'll show you our net made of cliffs!" He laughed, and Bush felt a darkness creep into his heart.
~*~