Chapter Fourteen
Darkness covered the deck of Indefatigable as she gently rocked at anchor. Stars lit the heavens, their faint glow lighting the spotless deck of the ship, washing everything with a gossamer glint of silver, while the full moon kept a watchful eye over her. Aboard her, silent wraiths also kept watch, quietly performing their rituals that kept the ship afloat, striving not to disturb those who might rest below them.
Archie paced the deck, watching. So far tonight everything had gone as planned, nice and smooth. Once Malley and Fuller had gone below, tension abovedeck had eased, and the few remaining crew members had gone about their duties, content in the knowledge that all was well aboard ship. The others were having a meal below, prepared for them by the cook's assistant, as even the cook had been allowed to go ashore for his pleasure this time. Captain Pellew should be returning in a few hours, thought Archie, and he'll see that he can still trust me. I'll not fail him again.
As he turned aft again, preparing to make another trip around deck, he stopped. What was that smell? Food from the galley? Or...
"The ship's on fire!" came a scream from down below, and the sounds of panic filled the air. Men came running up on deck, yelling and cursing, the smell of fear even stronger than that of the smoke, as they shoved their crewmates out of the way in order to save their own skins.
Archie raced over to the hatchway, his heart pounding. The greatest fear of a sailor at sea aboard a wooden ship was fire. Even though they were lying at anchor in the harbor, it still created panic.
"Hold, men," he called, his voice carrying over the din of the frightened men. The men, terrified, kept pushing and shoving their way to the railing. Fear and terror were in their eyes and in the very air itself, overcoming what would be their natural inclination to save their ship.
"Hold, damn you!" roared Archie as he grabbed at fleeing seamen, holding them back. Walters appeared at his side.
"It started b'lowdeck, sir!" he yelled over the din.
"Did you see where?" Archie yelled back.
Walters shook his head. "Didn't see nothin' sir, jus' smelled the smoke."
"All right," said Archie. "Get your men to the fire buckets, and get some water down there. Check the galley first."
"Aye, aye, sir!" said Walters as he dashed off, grabbing Whitney and Haversham as he passed them. "Come on men, the ship's in danger!"
Archie spun around to take in the chaos reigning over the deck. Luckily, since there were so few crewmen left aboard, it should be easy to evacuate, if that became absolutely necessary. However, he had no intention of doing that. Trying not to breathe in the smoke that now was floating over the deck of the Indy, he ordered the men to beat to quarters, the drum quickly sounding over the quarterdeck where he stood. His eyes took in the sight of several young sailors, yard and stay-tackles in their hands, preparing to lower the boats.
"You men," he called, his voice echoing commandingly across the deck. The men stopped and looked at him, fear on their faces. "Put that down. We are not abandoning the Indy."
"But sir!" cried a young midshipman. "We'll die, we'll all die here! Burned up alive, sir! I don't wanna die like that!"
"No one is going to die," said Archie, his voice strong and confident. "Not as long as we all work together. If every man here will do his duty, we can save our ship." He took the stay-tackles out of their hands and returned them to their proper place. "Now each of you help Walters in fetching water. We'll put this fire out."
The men, inspired by Archie's self-confidence and complete lack of fear, did as they were told. Soon a line of fire buckets and waist-hammocks, soaked overboard and brought back up, was run down into the galley. Archie stripped off his jacket, rolled up his shirtsleeves and pitched in, keeping bucket after bucket of water moving. Still, the smoke poured up the hatchway, choking the men on the line.
Archie took a moment to wipe the sweat and soot from his forehead, and glanced around. What he saw made his blood boil. All the men were working feverishly, putting their lives on the line to save their ship, but over there was Malley, perched on the railing, preparing to jump overboard. Furious, Archie strode across the deck.
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Malley?" he roared.
Malley looked up at him. "Ain't gonna die here, not burnin' up like some piece o' meat that got left on too long. I'm gettin' outta here."
"No, you're not," Archie ordered. "Now get back here, or I'll have you charged with desertion."
"Ain't desertion," Malley said as he threw his leg over the railing. "Called self-pres'vation."
"For god's sake, Malley," Archie said with disgust. "You can't even swim. Now get back here."
"Rather drown than burn," Malley argued, preparing to jump.
Swearing under his breath, Archie grabbed the man's arm. "I'll not let you do either, you great fool," he said, dragging him forward. "Now get back here and..."
"NO!" Malley cried, wrenching his arm from Archie's grasp. As it tore lose, he lost his balance, teetering on the rail, his arms windmilling wildly, then fell over, to land with a splash in the water beside Indefatigable.
"Help!" he cried, his arms flailing above him. "Can't swim! Help!"
"Bloody hell," swore Archie as he gazed in disbelief. Was the man really that stupid? Cursing the idiocy of the sailor, he climbed atop the railing, then smoothly dove into the water.
*****
Captain Sir Edward Pellew leaned back in his chair, blotting his mouth with his napkin. Across the table from him, his first lieutenant did the same.
"A fine meal, aye, sir?" Bracegirdle said happily.
"It was indeed, Mr. Bracegirdle," replied Pellew. "It is a rare treat for the two of us to be able to dine together ashore, and it has been most enjoyable. Perhaps it is something we should attempt more often."
"Yes, sir," agreed Bracegirdle with a smile. "And you've nothing to fear with young Kennedy at the Indy's helm, sir. She's in good hands."
"I have no doubt of that," replied Pellew as he dug in his pocket for some coins. "In fact, I think we should take our time and have a nice glass of claret to top off this fine meal. I seem to have misplaced a bottle of my best aboard ship."
"Captain Pellew, sir!"
Pellew and Bracegirdle looked up, to see the sailing master, Mr. Bowles, hurrying across the room. Exchanging looks, the two men watched him make his way to them.
"Begging your pardon, sir," Bowles said breathlessly. "But there is a problem."
"What sort of problem, Mr. Bowles?"
Looking around at the other diners, Bowles lowered his head and whispered in his captain's ear. Bracegirdle watched with alarm as Pellew's face completely drained of color.
"Good god!" Pellew said, rising instantly to his feet. He took off, Bracegirdle and Bowles trailing after him.
"Mr. Bowles!" whispered Bracegirdle as they exited the building and headed toward the dock. "What has happened?"
Bowles regarded him gravely. "The worst thing you could imagine, sir." He gestured toward the harbor, and Bracegirdle turned to see, his insides instantly turning to stone as he saw the smoke drifting across the water.
Indefatigable was burning.
*****
"No, Mr. Kennedy!" It was Walters, just arrived at the rail in time to see Archie's dive over the railing.
Archie surfaced, shaking his head to get his wet hair out of his eyes. Looking around, he could see no sign of Malley, could hear no panicked cries. Damn. He'd gone down. He took a deep breath and dove under.
It was black, so black he couldn't see a thing. The lanterns from the Indy didn't penetrate below the waterline, and he couldn't even make out his own hands in front of him, much less have hope of spotting a body. At least the water wasn't cold, he thought. Blindly, he swam toward where he had last seen Malley, keeping his hands out in front of him in hopes of stumbling across him. Lungs bursting and crying for air, he kept searching with no results, until he began to feel woozy. Pushing himself to the surface, he drank in a huge gasp of air.
"Mr. Kennedy!" Walters cried in relief, as he and Haversham bent over the railing.
"Walters!" Archie called up to him. "Can you see him anywhere? Can you see Malley?"
"No, sir!"
"Get a rope," Archie ordered. "I'm going back to look some more." Taking as deep a breath as he could, Archie once more dove below the surface, following the path where he knew the slight current ran. Malley was big, he couldn't have drifted far, not in this small current. Desperately, Archie searched, his lungs bursting, his head feeling as if it was about to explode. He'd not lose a man like this.
Complete darkness threatened to overcome him, when his outstretched hand bumped something. Wanting to cry with relief, he grabbed hold of the shirt, pulling the two of them to the surface. They broke water just aft of the Indy, both men coughing and sputtering.
"Here, sir!" called Walters, throwing the rope to them. Archie, his arm still wrapped around Malley's massive chest, grabbed it and tied it under the near-unconscious man's arms. Haversham and Walters, with the help of a few other men, pulled him up to safety, Archie climbing up after them.
Malley collapsed on the deck, and Archie, completely exhausted, took a minute to lean back against the rail. When he was finally able to catch his breath, he called to Walters.
"The fire?" he asked.
"It's out, sir," answered Walters. "Mostly in the galley, jus' like you said. Weren't no need for no one to go jumpin' overboard." He glanced at Malley, a grin lighting his face. Malley glared at him, then turned his gaze to Archie, pure hatred blazing from his eyes.
Archie ignored him. "Very well, men, let's get this cleaned up, and then I want to find out just exactly how this happened."
"Well, sir, there's somethin' you might wanna do first," Walters said slowly.
Archie quirked an eyebrow. "And that would be?"
Walters nodded toward the shore, and Archie turned to look. A groan escaped him as he saw a shore boat headed toward them, the oarsmen rowing as if the devil himself were on their heels. In the bright moonlight, the gold-striped lapels and white vest on Pellew's uniform shown brightly.
"Thank you, Walters," he said as the boat drew aside the ship. "Have him piped aboard."
"Aye, sir," said Walters with a grin. Mr. Kennedy may be uneasy about what had just happened, but Walters knew that if Mr. Kennedy had not kept his head about him, had not been calm and professional and in charge, the Indy would be a smoking hulk right now. He'd taken charge so easily and led men who were frightened to death, to do their duty, and Walters was very proud of him. And then he'd gone and risked his life to save the life of a man who despised him, a man who would most likely have let Archie drown if the roles had been reversed. If Mr. Kennedy would not speak up for himself to the captain, Walters fully intended to. He owed it to him.
Archie stood at attention as Pellew was piped on board, followed by Bracegirdle and Bowles. Well, he'd enjoyed his time in the Navy, at least what he remembered of it. He only hoped he'd get a chance to say goodbye to Horatio before Pellew killed him.
Pellew stood in front of him, staring at the young acting lieutenant. "Mr. Kennedy," he began, his voice rough. "You are dripping upon my quarterdeck."
Archie glanced down, for the first time noticing how soaking wet he was. His frilly white shirt was torn, revealing his powerful chest, which glistened with water in the moonlight. His blue trousers clung to his strong thighs, and somewhere along the line he'd managed to lose his shoes. They're probably at the bottom of the harbor, he thought mournfully. I expect I shall be joining them presently.
"My apologies, sir," he said, meeting Pellew's eyes.
"You're out of uniform as well, sir," continued Pellew. He could see that the fire had been extinguished, so he could spend a little time dressing down his officer of the watch. His mouth quirked in a tiny smile. Kennedy was already half undressed - it wouldn't take much.
"Aye, sir," Archie said unhappily. Nothing to do but face it, he told himself, squaring his shoulders. "I regret that Indefatigable suffered a fire aboard in your absence, sir. I take full responsibility."
"Do you, Mr. Kennedy," Pellew said, raising an eyebrow. "And did you start the fire?"
"No, sir, but it happened on my watch, sir. That makes it my responsibility."
"And just how did it start, Acting-Lieutenant Kennedy?" He put a little stress on the first part of Archie's title, and Archie flinched a bit.
"I have not yet discovered the cause, sir."
"Then do so, sir, and report to me in my cabin. We'll discuss it then." With that, Pellew turned and walked the length of Indefatigable, inspecting the deck and sails. Archie's mouth dropped open slightly as he watched him leave.
Bracegirdle leaned in close to him. "I suggest you close your mouth and do as you are told, Mr. Kennedy. Captain Pellew does not care for dawdlers."
Archie snapped his mouth shut, and turned to look at the other two men. "I expected him to heave me overboard with an anchor around my chest."
Bracegirdle and Bowles laughed. "Oh, he will, Mr. Kennedy," Bowles chuckled, "if you do not present your findings to him quickly."
"Aye, aye," Archie said, throwing Bracegirdle a quick salute and disappearing down below. The two men watched him go, then began making their own inspections of any damage to the Indy.
It was negligible, thankfully. There had been much more smoke than fire, and there was nothing that the carpenter and his mates could not quickly repair. There was some damage to the fore, and the boom-cloths were demolished, and the beams in the galley charred, but overall, it had looked to be much worse than it actually was. Fire had gotten up to the main deck, but it had been extinguished before it caused any great damage to the masts or the sails. Word was sent ashore to all the crew to return to their stations, and the men began straggling in, some complaining, but all glad to see that the Indy and her crew were all right.
Archie spent time in the galley, calming down the frightened cook's mate and trying to discover just what exactly had happened. It took some time, but eventually he was able to come up with a probable scenario, and he headed to the captain's cabin, after taking a short detour to change into a more presentable uniform. All too soon for his comfort, he stood outside Pellew's door. Smoothing his uniform one last time, he knocked on the door.
"Come," barked Pellew.
Archie entered and stood at attention before him. "Acting Lieutenant Kennedy reporting as ordered, sir."
"Your findings, Mr. Kennedy?"
"The fire started in the galley, sir. Apparently, a kettle of pitch was left to warm on the fire, but whoever put it there neglected to notify the cook's mate that it was to be watched carefully. He was out serving some of the men, and the pitch boiled over into the fire. The mate smelled the smoke and ran back into the galley. Not aware of what had started the fire, he threw a bucket of water on it, which of course caused the pitch to fly out, where it landed on some nearby rags and started the fire."
"A plausible explanation, sir," Pellew said as he faced Archie. "An unfortunate series of incidents, aided by an inexperienced cook's mate."
"I don't believe him to be completely at fault, sir," Archie said. "He had never been left alone before, and was not informed of the presence of the pitch."
"You do not think he should be punished, then."
"No, sir," Archie said emphatically. "Even though he was frightened near to death, he never left his post, and in fact stayed there at great personal risk. The fire would never have been extinguished without his help, sir."
"Very well, Mr. Kennedy. We shall put it down to an accident and be done with it. There was no serious damage to the ship, after all."
"Thank you, sir," Archie said gratefully. "If that's all, sir, I'll just go help with the repairs the carpenter is doing."
"No, Mr. Kennedy, that is not all."
"Sir?"
Pellew faced him, his face stern. "A serious charge has been leveled against you, sir."
"Charge, sir? What sort of charge?"
"You have been charged with attempting to drown a seaman by pushing him over the side."
Astounded, Archie could only stare at Pellew for a moment. "Drown?" he finally asked, disbelieving. "You speak of Malley, sir?"
"I do," Pellew nodded. "He came to see me while you were inspecting the damage."
"Sir, I swear to you, I did not push him over the side. He was on the railing, sir, and I attempted to help him back safely to the deck, when he overbalanced and fell. I did not push him into the water."
"And would you admit it if you did?" Pellew's voice was sharp.
Archie's chin came up. "I'll not lie, sir, there have been times when I wished to push him overboard, for the good of the ship. If I had done such a thing, I would tell you so. And I am not lying now when I tell you he fell."
Pellew dipped his head for a moment. There was such passion in Archie's voice right now, such authority, and just for a moment, he wondered if the man that Archie Kennedy had become since his accident could be capable of pushing a man overboard in order to protect his ship. It was an interesting question, and one he would take time to consider. Someday.
"Very well, Mr. Kennedy. I have already heard the true accounting of the incident from Seaman Walters. He spoke of your heroism in saving Mr. Malley, who apparently fell overboard during all the confusion."
Archie smiled slightly. Walters. A good man, he thought warmly. I was well blessed to have him in my division.
"So, Mr. Kennedy," Pellew said as he turned to face the skylight, hands clasped behind his back as he looked at Archie out of the corner of his eye. "Your ship afire, the men in panic and confusion, sailors falling overboard - quite an eventful evening for you."
"Aye, sir," Archie said dryly. "Not exactly what I was hoping for to restore your faith in me."
"Oh, Mr. Kennedy," Pellew said softly, looking out into the night. "My faith has been restored a hundredfold. Walters told me of your cool-headedness in the face of what could have been a disaster, your leadership in inspiring and calming the men. He spoke of great skill and courage and a resolute leadership, one that inspired the men to follow you without question." He turned to face Archie. "It was well done, sir, very well done. And you have my gratitude for saving my ship."
"Thank you, sir," Archie said with wonder at receiving such high praise from his captain. "I was merely doing my duty."
"And doing it damn well, sir," said Pellew brusquely. "Now you go and get some rest. I'll expect you on the forenoon watch, as usual."
"But sir, I had planned on assisting the carpenter…"
"Mr. Kennedy," Pellew said with a trace of irritation. "That was not a request."
Archie swallowed. "Aye, sir," he said, tendering a crisp salute. "Rest it is, sir." He left Pellew's cabin, breathing a sigh of relief. Everything had happened so quickly that evening that he had not had a moment to feel fear, but now it was beginning to hit him just how close they had come to losing the ship, to suffering a loss of lives that he had been responsible for. What if he had not been able to stop the men from panicking, what if they had all abandoned the ship, and left her to burn in the harbor, what if they had drowned while fleeing her? What if... Enough, he reprimanded himself. That didn't happen. The ship is safe, the men are unhurt, and you have just been given praise from your captain. Those are what matters, not all the 'what ifs' you can create in your mind's eye.
He made his way through the ship, stopping several times to accept the congratulations and thanks of members of the crew. News had spread quickly it appeared, he thought as he finally escaped into his cabin. He really had only been doing his duty. Any other man would have done the same.
He lit the candle in his cabin, regarding it with wariness for a moment. Right now, any source of fire was suspect, and not something he wanted to see. He watched the dancing flame for a moment before deciding that the candle was secure, and then he pulled off his jacket, hanging it on a hook beside his door. He kicked off his shoes, then unbuttoned his shirt and sat down on his bed, leaning against the bulkhead. He was really much too wide-awake to try to sleep. Reading might help to calm me down, he thought, and got to his feet again. He opened his sea chest and reached for his Shakespeare book, and as he picked it up, he caught sight of a smaller book beneath it. Putting aside the Bard for now, he picked up the book.
Sir Walter Scott. Ah, the book Horatio had purchased for him. He opened the front piece and caught sight of some spindly handwriting inside. Frowning, he tried to make it out in the pale candlelight.
To Archie,
The best friend a man could want, and
the finest officer I could ever hope to
serve with. The future holds great
things for us as we journey through
it together. From one future admiral
to another, I remain,
Yours,
Horatio Hornblower
Archie smiled as he re-read the inscription. How completely unlike the Horatio he had come to know, the undemonstrative, collected man who despised poetry or any romantic language. But as always, Horatio could bare his heart to Archie, and know that he would not be ridiculed. It was a testament to the strength of their friendship that they could each reveal sides of themselves to the other, sides that no one else would ever see, and not be ashamed. I'd do anything for him, Archie thought fiercely, surprising himself. I would give my life, or anything he asked, for him.
He closed the book and replaced it in the sea chest. Whether he was tired or not, he had been ordered by his captain to get some rest, so rest he would. He blew out the candle and crawled beneath his blanket. In a matter of minutes he was asleep, a soft smile gracing his face as he dreamed of ships sailing the sea, with himself in command, and nary a worthless sailor or lick of fire in sight. And always at his side was the man who was his other half, the man he knew as his brother. Horatio.