Archie Kennedy stood thigh deep in water, steadying the skiff as two of the women were lifted, carefully, into its body. He nodded graciously and extended his hand to help the women to sit. "Careful there. Mind your step."

Mary McMullen gave the lad a smile and sat primly on the bare wood plank. Several other passengers rested in the body of the small boat. The rowers climbed aboard. When the Fourth Lieutenant was pleased that all the passengers were properly seated, he nodded to the rowers. "All speed to the Renown. Matthew, Styles?"

"Aye, aye, sir," they acknowledged.

"You're next," Bush called out and Kennedy waved. "You and Hornblower on the next launch. Take the wounded, as many as you can. I'll follow on the last."

"We won't be able to take all of them," Kennedy voiced.

Hornblower shook his head and approached. "Captain Miller and the Midshipman will have to lay level as possible. Their wounds will be worse if not. The weather looks like it will take a poor turn as well. We should leave at the same time."

Bush squinted at the sky. "So it does. Let's not dally then." Turning, he nodded to his fellow lieutenants. Hornblower bellowed out several orders and was answered by his men. Within minutes, the remaining injured were lifted and carried to the waiting skiff.

Katherine finished securing a bind to her father's leg and gave a hard tie to the knot. Captain Miller released a grunt. "That's a hard twist, Katherine."

Hornblower squatted by them in the sand. "A good bandage. You've had medical."

"No, Mr. Hornblower, but when one travels during a war." she responded with a small shrug.

"My men should go in the first skiff," Captain Miller ordered. "As will my daughter."

"Father," Katherine warned. "Think with reason. We can fix more of the walking wounded in the first skiff if I stay behind and go in the last. I'm smaller than the men anyway."

Horatio nodded with a pleased frown. "She does have a point. I'll transfer two more of your officers onto our skiff. Miss Miller, you'll have to keep your father's leg level until Doctor Clive on the Renown can see him."

She gave the lieutenant a gentle smile and remained at her father's side. It wasn't until Hornblower and Kennedy had left and Bush returned from organizing the final burial of the dead that he noticed the addition of Katherine Miller to his skiff. There was little time to address the situation, however, as a rain began to fall. And the French Frigate that had done the damage to the Archangel was somewhere in the area.

"Captain Miller, sir? If you would allow Styles and myself to assist you to the skiff, sir." He plied and bent. "Miss Miller?"

She stood and waded a short distance to the skiff. Bush followed, holding the arms of the prone Captain. Between the two of them, Styles and Bush, the Captain was loaded onto the skiff. The Second Lieutenant, senseless with his head wound, was piled next to the Captain. Kate listed at the side of the skiff until the rest of the men waded out to join her. Even with most of the men on the other skiff, most of the seats were filled.

"If I may?"

The words rumbled in her ear and she felt an arm slip under her legs and back. Styles, a much taller man, levered her off the ground and aloft. She felt the hard wood of the skiff against her back.

Styles was startled by far off gunfire and Katherine was indecorously dumped to the deck. "Have a care," she hissed. Her outrage was cut short as the remaining men rocketed into the skiff.

"Man the oars," Bush roared, quietly. "The French are close. You can hear the off sound of the guns from here. Put your backs into it; we row for the Renown." He climbed over the side of the skiff and into the body. With a sigh, he reached down to aid Katherine to the seat at her Father's head. "Styles! I'll have your hands if you drop a lady like that again."

"I am fine, Mr. Bush," she reiterated as the rest of the men climbed into the launch.

"My orders are clear, Miss Miller," he commented.

The frown that she gave Mr. Bush fell on blind eyes. He reached behind, shifting his coat in the light rain, to hold the rudder. She shimmied to the side of the seat by her father's head and steadied him as the skiff moved further away from the beach.

**

"It's the French Frigate, sir," Styles stated.

Bush nodded grimly and waved the oars back into the water. "The Renown is west south west. We'll have to pull around the bay and into her from the north to avoid fire. Styles, pull oars and pivot."

"Aye, aye, sir," the sailor answered. Within moments, the small boat began to turn away from the firing Frigate.

"Is it the other launches?"

Bush raised his eyebrow and glanced down at the girl. "They fire on the Renown, Miss Miller."

Katherine glanced over the side of the launch to the far off British Frigate. She bit her lip, but Bush shook his head slowly at her visible lack of comfort.

"She can handle her own, Miss Miller," he remarked. "Styles, once we've completed the pivot, man the oars and pull."

The rain was still coming down hard and Katherine turned her attention to keeping Captain Miller's leg dry and elevated, away from the collecting moisture in the bottom of the hull. Thankfully, in her estimation, the attention of the senior officer from the Renown returned to the approach to the mother ship. The water that trickled into her eyes was not the blinding sea water that sprayed in her eyes often when at sea with her father, but it still darkened her vision.

"Katherine, daughter?"

She shimmied near her father and bent over him. But as still as she tried to be about her movement, the launch still tilted slightly. "Yes, father?"

"You're shivering."

"It's the rain; that's all," she breathed. "Your leg: does it pain you?"

He shifted and moaned from the movement. It was answer enough for Katherine. She edged her father's coat under his leg to elevate it more. She could see the warning in her father's eyes, but she ignored it. Her hem was covered in water and in her mind, putting a coat over her shoulders was a non issue. It better served the purpose under his leg.

The sudden stop of the skiff had her rocking forward over her father's leg. She felt a hand at her back to steady her. Bush pounded through the rest of the skiff to the front. "Blasted hell, we're a ground. Hobbs..."

"In the weather, sir. It's impossible to see."

As the several men began to talk, she righted her father and frowned. Aground, in the rain.with injured. The day was worsening.

"I don't want excuses, Mr. Hobbs." Bush warned. "I want two men to take the side and wade out. We'll feed line to them and we can be pulled off the bar. Now." he pointed at two men and watched as they got over the side. It became obvious, though, that the boat was stubbornly refusing to move. With a grunt, Bush shook his head. "Too much weight in hull. Styles, Randall.get the men over the side."

Katherine stayed where she was until she realized that the skiff was not going to move even with most of the men over the side. With a frown, she adjusted her father and shimmied to the side of the skiff. Bush had just splashed into the water when she quietly called his name. His turn was more in surprise at the sound of her melodious voice than in the inquiry. "If you would, Mr. Bush, I don't think I want Styles to catch me again."

"Catch." he barely had time to register her comment when she began to climb over the side. He reached out to catch her about the waist as she splashed into the water alongside him. He frowned and released her.

She moved away from the skiff. Her father glanced at her, his eyes barely open. She wiped at the hair in her eyes and shook her head slightly. If her being out of the skiff would allow it to be afloat more quickly, then she would stay out of it.

Mr. Bush took up a place alongside the skiff to push as his men waded and pulled. Katherine followed at a short distance as the boat keeled across the shallows to the deeper part of the bar. The gun fire grew louder and she winced at the sound of it. Soon, the launch was afloat and the men began to pile back in. The lieutenant waved her on and frowned as the deepening water slowed her progress. With a shake of his head, he reached for her when she was close enough, lifting her with an arm across her back and knees.

"Excuse me," he commented and lifted her to a man called Randall. When she was aboard, he climbed smartly alongside her and into the body again. "Man oars, and pull, Men. We need the Renown as much as she needs us. Put your backs into it."

**

It grew dark and the rain became colder as it fell. The breakneck pace of the rowing slowed as the skiff drew around the bay to approach from the north. It seemed to Katherine that the Second Class Frigate was just as far away as it had started out to be. The comment was made to her father.

"They're moving the ship, Kat," her father replied weakly. "They've taken on heavy fire."

"They're sinking?" she asked, plainly.

"No."

Bush had eased a little lower in the body of the skiff to lower the center of gravity. His voice rumbled near her ear in answer. "Far from it, but she took heavy fire, but can't take another round currently. She's moved out to deep water. We'll have to row to her. Captain Sawyer will wait for the Captain of the Archangel. Never fear."

She nodded and swiped at her hair again. "That's the way of it."

She lapsed into silence as she adjusted her father on the bench of the skiff. As the boat entered the unprotected water of the open sea, its rocking increased and the rain increased in falling tempo.

"A gale!" Bush shouted. "A full gale by tonight, no doubt. Captain Miller?"

"Quite," came the weak reply.

Katherine edged to the side of the boat and held onto the side as it began to rock earnestly. She felt a warmth at her shoulders and started as she realized that the Renown's Second Lieutenant had taken off his coat. It was the drape of the cloth about her shoulders that added the weight and warmth. "Mr. Bush, sir."

Bush lifted an eyebrow and looped his arm around the rudder lever. There was nothing else said.

Within a half an hour, the skiff edged to the side of the Renown. The patients were taken from the boat in slings and the rest were urged to climb on their own power. Katherine found herself propelled by Mr. Bush to the ladder first. His shouted order kept most of the men from following her. When she cleared the side, after she climbed the rungs, she saw that Bush was climbing behind her, by some distance. Her confusion was cut short as he gained the side.

"Why did you order those men to hold?" she asked, curious, her eyes looking to her father. "Sir." She added.

"For your modesty," he answered simply. He gave her a slight nod and turned.

She gaped at him as he strode across the rolling deck to his Captain. It was all soon forgotten by the time she located her father.

**

"All survivors aboard, sir," Bush answered with a slight salute. Captain Sawyer turned and gave a slight nod.

"I understand there were several casualties," Doctor Clive replied.

"Among the passengers, yes," Bush turned and addressed Mr. Hornblower as he approached. "Two of the officers are wounded the rest are dead."

"And the provisions? The supplies?" Captain Sawyer pressed. "They were earmarked for Kingston and the fleet, Mr. Bush."

"And they are safe as well, sir," Bush answered. "And should already be aboard. Mr. Hornblower?"

"Aye, sir, aboard."

Bush watched as the doctor swung about to glance over at the wounded. "With respect, sir, the Captain of the Archangel is badly wounded."

The doctor gave a frown and looked around for his mate. "Thank you, Mr. Bush."

The Second Lieutenant nodded to the doctor, took his leave of the Captain and retired to the Wardroom with Lieutenant Hornblower in tow. As the entered the room, he began to shed his vest and kerchief. When his companion had not said a word, he slowed disrobing. "Mr. Hornblower?"

"You are known to Captain Miller, Mr. Bush?" Hornblower asked. He set his hat down on the table and sank into a chair at the mess. He watched his superior finish taking off his shirt and watched him wash his face, arms and chest before the reserved older lieutenant answered. In the dim light of the wardroom at night, in the rain, William Bush looked dark. The white of his shirt as he donned it again was a stark change.

"My father is known to him. A friend, yes," Bush answered quietly. He wiped his neck and glanced at Hornblower. "This line of questioning, Mr. Hornblower?"

"And his daughter?"

"Katherine?" Bush stretched his neck to begin to retie his kerchief. "I knew her as a child."

Horatio nodded with a small smile. "And your coat, Mr. Bush?"

The officer glanced around in shock before he shut his eyes. "I left it with her."

"Ah." Horatio intoned. He smiled as Bush hurriedly finished his hygiene and turned towards the door. "Mr. Bush, I do believe the Captain has a standing order about full dress on the quarter deck."

"Indeed he does, Mr. Hornblower," the older man answered. He disappeared around the corner, his back straight. Horatio let loose a smile that Mr. Kennedy, as he entered the wardroom soon after Mr. Bush had vacated it, joined in readily.

**

Katherine stumbled after the doctor and his mate up the quarter deck to the sick bay. Mr. Bush's jacket slapped at her calves as she ran not nearly blindly as she would have thought through the cannons, loose rigging and splintered deck of a Ship of the Line that had seen action. It wasn't that different from her father's own ship, one that she knew like the back of her hand.

The sheer number of men was very different from what she was used to, however. She found herself clamoring over legs, ropes, men and stray rigging. It was hard not to step on anything, but she was determined to stay up with the doctor. The man she was following called orders for a sword and laudanum.

She knew why.

As she followed him in a door, she saw her father lying on a plank. "Doctor."

The officer stopped as he was slipping on his apron. "Miss."

".Miller. Katherine Miller." she breathed. "Sir.Captain Miller is my father."

"Your father's leg is septic," Clive called out. "It will have to be amputated."

She bit her lip and pulled at the coat around her shoulders. She had assumed that was the case. A glance at her father assured her that he was blessedly unconscious. "And your assistant?" She knew that an assistant was necessary to the clean and excellent removal of a limb. She also knew the odds of living once the limb was removed.

But she knew the odds of living was less if it remained attached.

"He was killed in action," the doctor replied, tying the apron. "If you would kindly."

Katherine sighed and walked forward to the bed. "I've helped occasionally with surgery on my father's ship. Not well.but I know what has to happen. I know you need your assistant."

The doctor grimaced, but nodded. He was indeed in need of assistance with the amputation. They could tie the patient to the plank, but someone needed to help with ligatures and turnicates. "You know ligatures and the like?"

"I do," she grimly answered.

"Then gather the articles, Miss Miller."

**

Mr. Bush had given what orders needed giving and had gone looking for either Captain or Katherine Miller and his errant coat. Avoiding Captain Sawyer was of top priority as he walked among his men and his guns on aft deck. He did indeed feel naked without his coat.

Matthews pointed out that he had last seen Miss Miller heading toward the sick bay, Bush nodded calmly, a bit too calmly for the boson, but he held his tongue. As he rounded the final corner and pushed open the door to the room that in his estimation smelled like death itself, he felt the weight of the door taken from him. Doctor Clive held the portal and gazed grimly at Bush before he glanced behind at the table. "You're known to Captain Miller, Mr. Bush? His leg has been removed; he'll hopefully mend."

"Good, good," the Lieutenant replied. "He is."

".unconscious. I am leaving orders to have him moved to my quarters."

"Good. I shall check in with your permission and leave my respects with him later. Have you seen Miss Miller?"

The door opened wider and a very young looking Katherine Miller stood behind the doctor with a grim look on her face. The blood that covered her front, her face and his coat was enough to make him take a deep breath. His eyes looked for a wound on her body, but then realized that it was her father's blood. She was covered in it.

"Miss Miller?" He asked, quietly, extending a hand. He could see the quiet, scared waif he had scooped up off of the quarter-deck when she was six in her eyes. Bush didn't know why it bothered him. Blood, death, lost limbs was a commonality on a Ship of the Line.

"Mr. Bush," she replied, equally as quietly weakly collapsing into the door jam.

It was the last thing she remembered for a few hours.