The Ties That Bind

by Kathy Kirchner

Chapter One

"What the bloody hell does the fool think he's doing?"

As First Lieutenant of Indefatigable, Anthony Bracegirdle knew from long experience that his captain did not want an answer, but instead was merely ranting against their opponent. The very capable officer had served with his captain for many a long year, and knew the man better than any other, and he had learned when to speak and when to remain silent. Right now, silence was the correct course to take. The captain was not at all happy about the ship they were chasing, and Bracegirdle shared his captain's opinion. This was a most unusual foe. He braced his legs as Indefatigable shuddered, but still she held her course. His eyes narrowed as he studied the ship on their lee.

The Intrépide. They'd come across her while on patrol deep in the Atlantic. She was small - absolutely no match for the power of the Indy, but she'd insisted on trying to flee while firing the few guns she had at them. Bracegirdle shook his head as he watched the ship try to outmaneuver the Indy, her captain obviously intent on the strategy of striking quickly and often, but it was doing no good. Out of the corner of his eye, he stole a glance at his own captain.

Captain Sir Edward Pellew was furious. He stood atop the quarterdeck, his rage coming off him in waves, and his dark eyes glaring across the sea. How dare such a puny ship presume to think it could overpower his Indefatigable? It was almost an insult, or would be, if it weren't so entirely laughable. By god, she'd pay for her impudence! He glanced down at the deck below.

"Mr. Hornblower!" he bellowed. "If you please, sir!"

The young lieutenant looked up at him, a lock of curly dark hair falling over his eye. "Aye, aye, sir!" he responded, then turned his attention to the men of his division. "Styles, Matthews. Oldroyd, pull!"

The three men, already hot and sweaty from their exertions in the hot sun, stepped up their efforts a bit more. Matthews, the senior member, primed and aimed the gun, while Styles turned and raised the barrel, and Oldroyd loaded the shot. Powers, whose job it was to damp down sparks before reloading, and Savage, who moved the gun barrel and passed ammunition, rounded out his division. Now, powder loaded and primed, the gun run out, they completed their jobs with the ease of long years working as a team, each man instinctively knowing how the others would respond.

"Fire!" yelled Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower.

With a roar and a gasp of smoke, the gun spewed her deadly cargo across the azure sea, unerringly finding her mark. The men of Indefatigable could see the hit, pieces of deck splintering and flying into the air, and could even hear the screams of some of the men wounded in the strike.

"That's much better, Mr. Hornblower!" yelled his captain. "Continue! Mr. Kennedy! I expect the same results, sir!"

Acting Lieutenant Archie Kennedy threw a quick salute to his captain. "Aye, sir!" he responded, his face lighting with a wide grin. "I shall endeavour to do my best, sir!" He turned to his own division, his twinkling eyes catching Horatio's on the way. Horatio couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes slightly. Archie, his shipmate and best friend, sometimes had an irreverent streak that ran very deep, and though he was proving himself an excellent officer, he sometimes drove Horatio to despair with his ability to find humor in even the bleakest of circumstances. No doubt it came from Archie's overcoming his own tormented past, and conscious decision to make the best of whatever life chose to throw at him. Horatio, who tended to be a brooder, was always looking for the reasons for why things happened, or how he could have done something differently, or better, or how he could turn something that appeared to be a disadvantage into an advantage. Archie merely went about the business of living and took things as they were. Sometimes he wondered how they could be such close friends, but close they were. It was the shared experiences that had done it - being locked together in El Ferrol, the futile mission at Muzillac, the bullying by Midshipman Jack Simpson, the fact that both had endured time in the oubliette while in prison - it had brought the two men together in a way totally unexpected for Horatio. He'd never had a friend before. Archie was also a fine officer, and Horatio could think of no one else he would want at his side, in wartime or peace.

"Fire!" Horatio's thoughts were interrupted by Archie's command, and he silently cursed himself. How could he possibly have allowed himself to become distracted during battle? Good god, he could have cost lives! Mentally flogging himself and shaking his head, he turned back to his own men.

How in the world was the Intrépide still afloat? She was mocking them, he decided angrily. They'd come across her yesterday at dusk. She'd claimed to be a merchant ship on a run to Marseilles, carrying only linen, but as night had fallen over them she had slipped away, only to reappear this morning, guns blazing. It was a futile, suicidal move, and Horatio could not figure out what her intentions were. She'd obviously studied the Indy last night, and had to have seen the power of her guns and the men that crewed her. Perhaps her captain was mad, he decided. He'd heard of ships afloat, with mad captains at their helm, and he wished no part of that. He could only pray that he would never have the misfortune to serve aboard such a ship. Returning his attention back to his own men, he soon lost himself in the mechanics of battle, appreciating the efforts of his own crew.

Matthews, Styles and Oldroyd had been with him for several years, ever since he had come aboard his first ship, Justinian. They'd all transferred over to Indefatigable together when war broke out, and he had been placed in charge of that division. He'd only lost two men in the time he'd been in charge - Finch, a good man who'd saved his life, and Davy Williams, killed in action. They'd been replaced by two strong, honest, and likeable men named Powers and Savage.

Archie, on the other hand, had not been so fortunate. After his return from their time as prisoners in El Ferrol, he had inherited the division of the former midshipman Hunter, and they were a mixture of good and bad. Walters, Haversham and Whitney were adequate, and had, under Archie's tutelage and guidance, become fine seaman, although they still had some way to go before they reached the level of Hornblower's division. Archie had proven to be a fine teacher and leader, though, and they were slowly coming around. It never failed to amaze Horatio how incredibly patient Archie could be with the men, and it was finally beginning to pay off.

Not coming around, however, was Seaman Malley, a bitter man who despised his life aboard ship. Malley had been pressed into service, and had never adapted to shipboard life, instead complaining and sulking, drinking and fighting his way through life. His bitterness especially extended to all the officers, and Archie in particular. He lost no opportunity to belittle the man who led his division, and the two of them had seriously clashed on more than one occasion. Malley constantly challenged Archie's authority. He'd convinced another man from his division, Fuller, to join him in his fight with the officers, and the two of them were notorious for being what Pellew termed an "undisciplined rabble."

"Dammit, Malley, do your duty!" Archie's voice roared across the busy deck, and Horatio glanced over at him. Archie may be patient, but he did not suffer fools gladly, nor would he accept anything less than the very best from his men, for if he didn't, he knew that he would be the one to suffer the wrath of Captain Pellew, and that was something no one wanted to witness.

Horatio, again busy with his own crew, couldn't hear Malley's response, but he caught the disdain and disrespect in the man's voice, and looked again at his friend. Archie's face was flushed from the heat, and no doubt from anger at his recalcitrant seaman. Horatio watched as Archie physically pulled the man away from the cannon, and shoved him back.

"I'll not hear that from you, Mr. Malley," he responded. "Now fetch us some fresh powder."

Malley's mouth dropped open. "Powder? I ain't no damn powder monkey."

"You are now," Archie snarled, and took Malley's place at the gun, removing his jacket as he did. Malley still remained on deck, glaring at Archie with pure hatred on his face. None of the other men would dare to look at him, and finally he threw down his linstock and left the deck, returning shortly with a fresh can of powder. Archie took it from him, meeting his angry gaze with a determined one of his own.

"She's firing, sir." Bracegirdle's calm voice carried down to the men on deck, and all turned as Intrépide fired her guns. The shot splashed ten feet short of Indefatigable, and Pellew slammed his fist on the rail.

"Get her, by god, or no rum rations for any man!"

So inspired, the men quickly set about their duties, and cannonballs flew across the sea, but the French ship, still quite maneuverable, easily avoided them. Horatio soon forgot the confrontation across the deck, and returned to his duty, driving his men harder. They responded magnificently, and shot after shot rained down on the enemy ship, but still she kept going, returning fire against them.

The crew of Indefatigable continued their assault, with many of her shots finding their target. Horatio stole a glance across the deck to where Archie still worked the cannon. Both of their shots were true, but they could not defeat the tiny ship.

How is she doing it, he thought in amazement as he looked across the sea. Her sails are aflame, her forward cannon silenced, but still she keeps firing! It's as if the demons of hell themselves power her.

Smoke from the cannons and shot covered the deck of Indefatigable. It was becoming difficult to see through the haze, but still the men kept on, refusing to let their pride be damaged by defeat at the hands of such an unworthy opponent.

Not quite so unworthy, Horatio thought wryly, as a shot from the enemy ship hit her mark. He heard screams from injured men, but ignored them as he studied the ship battling them. Quickly, he calculated her speed and extrapolated the trajectory of his cannon, and then turned to his crew.

"Matthews! Ten degrees and double shot! We'll get ahead of her."

The veteran sailor nodded, and expertly adjusted the cannon, raising the breech, and then glanced over at his commanding officer.

Horatio waited, until just the right instant. Indefatigable rose upon a swell, then dipped down into the trough, just as Intrépide tacked the wrong way. "Fire!" Horatio yelled, and the gun spat forth a lethal ball of lead. It found its mark, smashing into the hull of the Intrépide, whose guns immediately ceased firing. The men of Indefatigable let out a cheer as the enemy ship slowly listed over, and started to go down. There would be no chance of saving her, no prize money to be awarded, but none of the men cared. The Indy was safe.

Well, relatively safe, thought Horatio, as he surveyed the deck around him. That last hit had been pretty bad, especially on top of the other hits they had taken, but the Indy could take it. She could take just about anything, he thought proudly. He turned to speak to his men, to set them about their duties, then turned back to survey the ship.

Seaman Walters, from Archie's division, appeared at his side. "Sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Walters?" Horatio asked distractedly, his thoughts focused on what needed to be done to repair the ship. She'd suffered the loss of her mainsail, but that could certainly be repaired quickly enough. The other sails all appeared to be relatively unimpaired. The quarterdeck was also basically intact, and his eyes wandered further down, to where there had been a direct hit. He winced. The gun had been taken out, the remains blackened and smoking. Over there had been another…

Wait, his mind said urgently, and he turned back to the destroyed gun, his heart racing. No. The gun.

The gun that Archie had been working.

He spun around to look at Walters, noting now the paleness of the man beside him. "Walters?"

The man nodded. "It hit off to the side, sir. We lost the gun, but not the men. Mr. Kennedy got us away 'fore it hit, soon as 'e seen the loose powder."

Breathing a quick sigh of relief, Horatio nodded. "And Mr. Kennedy?"

Walters shuffled his feet a bit, then spoke carefully. "He weren't next to the gun when it went, sir - I seen 'im helpin' Haversham to 'is feet. It 'appened later, sir."

Horatio went cold. "What happened later, Walters?"

Walters looked at him helplessly. "I don't rightly know, sir. He were there one minute, checkin' things out, but when I looked back, 'e were flat on the deck."

Horatio clenched his jaw. No emotion, he reprimanded himself. Not in front of the men. "He's injured, then?" Please, not a fit, he thought. He's not had one in so long…

"Aye, sir," Walters said softly. All the men aboard ship knew how close the two officers were, all of them well remembered Archie racing across a bridge set to explode, to rescue Horatio. "Haversham an' Whitney brung him down to Doc Hepplewhite."

Nodding, Horatio looked back at his own men. "Thank you, Mr. Walters. Please see to getting that gun cleaned up and over the side. Take Oldroyd and Matthews with you until Whitney and Haversham return." He glanced back to the remains of Archie's gun, but could see no sign of Malley or Fuller. "And find out where the other two men of your division wandered off to. They should dispose of that gun themselves."

"Aye, sir," said Walters, knuckling a salute and moving back to his station. Horatio sent his men to assist him, all the while forcing his thoughts from his friend lying down in the sick berth. Brooding and worrying would do him no good.

It was several hours before things got back under control. The few survivors from the French ship were pulled from the water and locked up, with Marines guarding them, and the deck of the Indy was set to rights. She'd suffered more severe damage than Horatio had at first thought, including the loss of her mainsail and topgallant mast. They'd be here for awhile.

"It's looked better, eh, Mr. Hornblower?" It was the sailing master, Mr. Bowles, a favorite of Horatio and the officers, as well as the regular crew. Knowledgeable and genial, he was indispensable aboard the Indy.

"That it has, Mr. Bowles," Horatio responded with a small smile. "She'll soon be set to rights, though."

"Aye," agreed Bowles. His eyes turned to Horatio. "Mr. Bracegirdle sent me to tell you that you stand relieved."

Confused, Horatio looked at him. "But there is still work to be done."

"Yes," nodded Bowles, "but you have a friend awaiting you in sick berth."

Guilt swept over Horatio. In all the repairs he'd been doing, he had truly forgotten about Archie and his injuries. He looked again at Bowles.

"Have you heard, sir, how he fares?"

A shadow passed over Bowles' round face. "No, I have not. I trust you will keep us all informed? The captain also wishes an update."

"Aye, aye," said Horatio, nodding briskly. Well, if the captain wished him to be in sick berth, that is where he should be. "I will find out how he is."

Bowles smiled a little as he watched Hornblower leave the deck. No matter how much the young man tried to hide it, the friendship between the two men was important to him, and Bowles never failed to be delighted by it. It was such a rare thing to see in His Majesty's Navy. Hornblower could be much too serious for his own good, and Mr. Kennedy somehow managed to keep him from being in a constant state of melancholy. The two lads were very good for each other.

It was almost quiet in the sick berth when Horatio arrived, with only a couple of sailors present. Good, he thought. No loss of life, and no major injuries. Except, of course, for Archie, and he had no idea if his friend's injuries were extensive. That was what he had been sent to find out.

Dr. Hepplewhite looked up at the sound of Horatio's arrival, and moved to meet him at the door.

"Lieutenant."

Horatio's eyes searched the sick berth, which was only dimly lit by the softly swinging lanterns. He caught sight of a familiar figure lying unmoving in one of the cots on the far side of the sick berth. "How is Acting Lieutenant Kennedy, doctor?"

Hepplewhite hesitated, and Horatio swung around to face him. "I asked you a question, doctor. How is Mr. Kennedy?"

The doctor shrugged. "I have found no evidence of serious injury. No splinters, no shot, no wound of any kind."

"And yet he lies in your care, doctor. What ails him?"

"He is unconscious."

Exasperated, Horatio took a step closer, and the doctor backed away slightly. "I can see that much for myself, sir. I asked you a question, doctor, and I require an answer, if you please."

Hepplewhite sighed. "I honestly do not know, Mr. Hornblower. He woke up briefly and we spoke. I think it best if you speak to him yourself."

Turning away from the doctor, Horatio made his way through the surgery, barely noticing the doctor following along behind him. Archie lay upon a bed, a bandage wrapped around his head, his face pale and his eyes closed. Horatio stood next to his bed, and looked across Archie's prone body, to speak to the doctor.

"I thought you said he had no injury. Why is there a bandage upon his head?"

Hepplewhite's voice was slow and measured, as if he were weighing each word before uttering it. "He appeared to suffer a blow to the head, though I do not know from what."

Horatio returned his gaze to Archie, noting the steady rise and fall of his friend's chest. "Well," he mused, "the gun exploded right next to him. I would imagine that something from the cannon flew off and struck him in the head. You did say he had regained consciousness?"

"Yes," Hepplewhite nodded. "I asked him several questions, to try to gauge the extent of his injury."

"And did he answer you satisfactorily?"

"No," Hepplewhite said, a tad bit uncomfortably. "Not exactly."

"And just what does that mean, doctor?"

Just then, Archie stirred slightly, and his eyes slowly opened. Horatio smiled and sat down at the foot of his bed, his hand resting on Archie's foot. Archie's blue eyes focused on Horatio, but he didn't say anything.

"Well, hello, Mr. Kennedy!" Horatio teased. "Taken to lying about on your bed, have you? What will your friend Mr. Malley think about that?"

Archie didn't answer, and his eyes shifted back and forth between Hepplewhite and Horatio. The doctor shifted his feet uncomfortably, not looking at either man, and Horatio began to feel uneasy. Something was wrong here.

"Archie? It's not like you to be so silent. Has your voice perhaps been injured as well?"

A puzzled look crossed Archie's face, and he drew himself to a sitting position, then looked again at Horatio.

"I'm sorry," he finally said very politely. "Do I know you?"