Chapter Seven

Portsmouth at the end of a sunny day, thought Archie as he and Horatio wound their way through the streets, was a fine thing to behold. Indefatigable was one of more than a dozen ships in port, and the streets were full of sailors, laughing and drinking and chasing women. Archie was thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere around the two of them as he followed Horatio into a small shop. Stopping before he entered, he looked up at the sign above the shop. Griffith's Bookshop, it spelled out in green letters on a creamy ivory background, with an open book on either side. Proprietor James B. Griffith.

A bell rang softly as they entered. Their shoes left prints in the fine layer of dust on the wooden floor, and Archie sneezed slightly as they made their way inside, for dust lay everywhere, coating books and tables alike.

"Good god," he mumbled to Horatio. "Can you imagine if the Indy was this dusty? Captain Pellew would have our heads!"

Horatio shot him a glance. "You've never minded it before, Archie."

Sighing, Archie looked around him, taking in the stacks of books piled seemingly haphazardly everywhere the eye could see. "Well, maybe not. But I should have."

"Lieutenant Hornblower! Mr. Kennedy!"

Archie and Horatio turned as they were greeted by a small, gnome-like man scurrying through the stacks of books. Bald on top, he had long, stringy hair hanging down to his shoulders, and a pair of filthy spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. Watery blue eyes peered delightedly at the two men.

"Good day, Mr. Griffith," Horatio said with a warm smile. "And how are you this day?"

"Delighted, Mr. Hornblower, absolutely delighted to see the two of you again. Why, it's been months! If I remember, you were here to buy Mr. Kennedy a present, as he had just been made acting-lieutenant." He turned to Archie. "Did you enjoy the book of poetry, Mr. Kennedy?"

"Poetry," Archie said slowly, stealing a glance at Horatio. "You bought me a book of poetry."

"Yes, I did, Archie, don't you remember?" Horatio hurried to answer. "It was by one of your favorite poets - Scott, was it?"

"Er, yes, that was it. Wonderful book. Thank you, Mr. Hornblower." The two men had decided they would be careful about revealing anything of Archie's memory loss to just anyone they happened to run into, so as not to create problems or confusion.

"I knew you would like it," Horatio said smugly. "Cost me quite a bit, you know."

"Oh, Mr. Hornblower, I have just the thing for you," said Griffith eagerly in his squeaky little voice. "Come, come, you must see it!" He took Horatio's arm, and Archie slowly followed them across the crowded room. "Look here. It's the very newest edition, just published. A merchant brought it over from America." He picked up a book from beneath the counter, holding it reverently in his hands as he passed it to Horatio.

Horatio ran his hand along the fine lettering on the cover. "Moore's Practical Navigator, amended and corrected by Nathaniel Bowditch," he said with awe. "I'd heard tell of this, of his work, but I didn't know it would be available here in England."

Archie groaned quietly as Horatio buried his nose in the book. Good god. They were wasting the rest of the beautiful day trapped in a dusty old bookseller's shop. This was not the way he wanted to spend his shore leave.

"Ah, and Mr. Kennedy," said Griffith knowingly. "I have just the thing for you. Newly arrived edition." He scurried into the interior of the store, disappearing between the stacks. Archie sighed and turned around, surveying the shop. Cluttered, he thought as he brushed dust from the jacket of his uniform. Books are so expensive - I wonder if he sells enough to live.

"Here we are!" exclaimed Griffith, popping up suddenly under Archie's nose. Archie jumped.

"Good god, sir, give a man some warning!"

"Sorry, sorry," the man said, brandishing a book in front of Archie. "Here it is, Mr. Kennedy. Henry IV. One of your favorites, is it not? A truly beautiful edition, don't you agree?"

Archie took the book and leafed through it. "Yes, sir, I'm quite certain it is. Very fine." He glanced over at Horatio, who was perched precariously on a stack of books that threatened to fall over at any moment, a look of pure bliss on his face.

"I thought so," said Griffith with satisfaction. "I know you like Hamlet the best, but this is a wonderful play, also. Such characters! Prince Hal is a wonder to behold!" He peered at Archie. "I've often envisioned you playing him, as well as Hamlet."

Horatio drew himself from his enraptured reading for just a moment. "Oh, Mr. Griffith, please do not mention Hamlet to him. He will go on forever: 'Oh, good Horatio, what a wounded name.' Or 'I am dead, Horatio.' You should see him drape himself ever-so-dramatically over his bed as he utters that line. Or the one I like the least; 'there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy' - I truly despise that one. He uses it on me constantly."

"Huh," snorted Archie. "I could certainly use it right now."

Griffith bounced down another aisle, muttering to himself as he peered over the top of his spectacles. "Anything in particular you want to see, Mr. Kennedy? I've dozens of new pirate stories. Ladies are fascinated with those, for some reason. Can't understand it in the... Oh, here's a nice little romance, or maybe one of these books that just came in from America..."

"Thank you, Mr. Griffith," Archie broke in, walking over to stand next to Horatio. "But I am afraid that Mr. Hornblower and I shall have to return another day. We have business we must attend to."

"Hmm?" said Horatio distractedly. "Business?"

"Yes, business," Archie said with a meaningful glance. "You remember. The fact-finding mission we are on?"

"Oh, yes, of course," said Horatio, rising to his feet. A sorrowful look on his face, he reluctantly handed the volume back to Griffith. His feet dragging a bit, he started to follow after Archie as they exited the shop.

"Oh, for mercy's sake, Mr. Hornblower," said an exasperated Archie. "You don't want that blasted book anyway. It's full of errors."

"How can you say that, Archie? Bowditch is a navigational genius! He's corrected scores of errors in Moore's original book."

"And missed scores of others, or at least so I understand. Perhaps someday he'll publish his own book on navigation, and you can sit around in dusty shops and read that one." Archie turned and made his way down the darkening street, Horatio, with his long legs, easily catching up to him.

"I'll wager he will write his own, Archie," Horatio said firmly. "The man's methods of celestial navigation are extraordinary, and he'll be famous the world over. You mark my words."

"Hmm," said Archie as he looked around. "Yes, perhaps. For an American, he has potential. Ah," he said, a smile brightening his face. "Now that is more like it."

Just down the street from them was a pub - The Smiling Mermaid, Horatio noted with dismay. Laughter, light and music flowed out the open door and into the street, followed shortly by a sailor being thrown out on his arse. The drunken man landed in the street, howling obscenities at the men inside, but then he rose to his feet, made a great show of brushing the dirt off his clothing, and staggered down the street, singing at the top of his lungs.

When up the shrouds the sailor goes
And ventures on the yard
The landsman who no better know
Believe his lot is hard
Bold Jack with smiles each danger meets
Weighs anchor heaves the log
Trims all the sails belays his sheets
And drinks his can of grog

If to engage they give the word
To quarters he'll repair
Now winding in the dismal flood
Now quivering in the air
When waves 'gainst rocks to rend and roar
You'll n'er hear him repine
Though he's on Greenland's icy shore
Or burning beneath the line

When sailing orders to arrive
Bold Jack he takes his leave
My dear sweetest Pol he cries
I pray now do not grieve
Thy Jack will take his daily can
Of grog and drink to thee
In hopes that thou will n'er forget
Thy sailor who's at sea

But should thou false or fickle prove
To Jack who loves thee dear
No more upon my native shore
Can I with joy appear
But restless as the briny main
Must heartless heave the log
Shall trim the sails and try to drown
My sorrow in cans of grog

Horatio regarded the drunk with distaste, watching him as he stumbled and fell, then got to his feet, still bellowing "Cans of Grog". "Oh, not here, Archie," he pleaded with his friend. "This is not one of the places we usually go. Why do we not head over to our favorite tavern?"

Archie frowned. "We always go to the same one?"

"Usually," Horatio said, taking Archie's arm and steering him away from the Mermaid. "You'll like the Black Swan, I promise."

"Black Swan, eh?" Archie said as he followed Horatio. "Doesn't sound like quite as much fun as a Smiling Mermaid."

"It's a wonderful place, honestly, Archie. We usually take a room there, and the meals are simply wonderful, and very affordable for two such impoverished young men as ourselves."

Archie sighed. "Money, or rather the lack of it. The lot of a sailor's life, and the bane of his existence." He checked his pockets, pulling out a few coins and inspecting them. "Well, at least I have enough for tonight. Very well, Mr. Hornblower. Lead on."

The two men continued down the street toward their lodging. Not far now, thought Horatio with relief. He really despised this part of town, with its drunks and its wanton women everywhere - it made him very uncomfortable. He would be very happy to reach the Black Swan.

"We're almost there, Archie," he said, then stopped as he realized Archie was no longer beside him. "Archie?" he said, turning around, then groaned at the sight before him.

Archie was conversing with a young lady - and Horatio used that term lightly - beside the entrance to an alley. The woman, dressed in a cheap dress, was running her hand up and down Archie's arm, smiling at him. Horatio hurried to Archie's side, just in time to hear the woman speaking.

"See? It ain't so much, sailor. You got the money."

"Archie," Horatio warned. "We must go."

Archie didn't even look at him. "You go, Mr. Hornblower. I'll be along presently."

"Archie..."

The woman looked at him, her smile widening. "You can wait, honey, and when he's done, you can have your turn. Same price for each." She wrapped her arm around Archie's, and pulled him into the alley.

Archie grinned back at Horatio. "We won't be long, Mr. Hornblower. Wait if you wish."

"Archie," Horatio protested, but Archie and the woman had disappeared into the darkness. Awkwardly, Horatio stood there, uncertain what to do. He didn't dare just leave Archie alone, but he felt ridiculous standing here while Archie...

His eyes widened as certain sounds began emanating from the alley, and he quickly turned and walked away, almost stumbling over his feet in his haste to get away. This was humiliating.

Damn. He couldn't leave Archie. Now what was he supposed to do? Sighing, he leaned back against the wall of a building, trying to look nonchalant, like he did this every shore leave, but failing miserably. Every time someone walked by, he felt as if they were sizing him up and laughing at him. Twisting his hat uncomfortably in his hands, he watched as a couple of young ladies-of-the-evening walked past. They ran their eyes up and down his body, and Horatio, embarrassed, turned and pretended to be intently inspecting the merchandise in the window of the shop. The girls giggled, and he realized with horror that he was staring into a dressmaker's shop, someone who obviously specialized in dresses and attire for the type of woman Archie was with at the moment. Face flaming, he turned back to the street.

"Ready for your turn?" It was Archie, straightening his uniform, with a silly grin on his face.

Horatio made a face. "I think not, Archie. Really, was that necessary?"

Archie laughed and clapped a hand on Horatio's shoulder. "Yes, Mr. Hornblower, it was. Now, where is this Black Bird we are looking for?"

"Swan, Archie," Horatio corrected him as they turned and made their way up the street. "The Black Swan. Don't you remember?"

Sighing with exasperation, Archie shook his head. "No, Mr. Hornblower, I do not remember. Don't you remember that I cannot remember anything?" A grin split his face again, and he laughed. "Well, there are some things I seem to recall quite well!"

"Well, you can just forget about them for now," Horatio said firmly. "We are here to try to restore your memory, not catch disease from loose women."

Archie choked. "Loose women? Oh, come now, Mr. Hornblower, haven't you ever...?"

"That is not the issue here, Archie. Ah, here we go," he said with relief. "The Black Swan, to be our home for the next few days. Shall we?" He opened the door to the inn, and the two men went inside.

And let's hope, thought Horatio, that this place will inspire memories in him. We must start somewhere. Time grows short.