DISCLAIMER: Horatio Hornblower does not belong to me, nor do any of the
other cannon ;-) characters, stories, books, etc. I.e., *NOT* my
intellectual property.
The Lieutenant automatically cycled through the reports and gave the appropriate orders while his mind grappled with another matter: who to send aboard the Papillon as prize master.
For a vessel that size, Eccleston would've preferred to assign a lieutenant, but with Chadd's demise and the current state of affairs on the Indy, Eccleston could not go, and he certainly could not spare Mr. Bracegirdle...which left the mids.
Hornblower was the obvious choice, the lieutenant conceded, but he dared not send the lad and suffer Captain Pellew's ire. The Captain would likely want to resolve the Hornblower-Simpson situation as expeditiously as posible...which wouldn't be possible if Hornblower was off sailing a prize vessel in the middle of the Atlantic!
Simpson? Tempting though the prospect was, if Hornblower's accusations--and the Captain's conjecture--were true, Eccleston would never entrust a ship's well-being to Simpson. Heh, not that Simpson could navigate his way down the Thames, mind!
Oh, if only Kennedy hadn't been lost! This would have been the ideal opportunity to test his mettle! The Captain had been after Eccleston to devise some such "tests" for the young man, and now that an opportunity had arrived-- The lieutenant shrugged. What a waste!
Then there were Cleveland and Hether, virtually mirror images of one another, diligent enough he supposed, but with mediocre navigational and non-existent leadership skills. The had already surpassed their performance whilst aboard the Justinian, but Eccleston felt they still needed some more seasoning before they were ready to assume command of a sea-going vessel. If only the Captain had spared more concern for their own development instead of concentrating on Hornblower and Kennedy! Oh well, that was a broken reed.
Then there were the mids Pellew had acquired from elsewhere, mostly too young and inexperienced, except...
"Pass the word for Mr. Prim."
No one questioned the blocky young man's capability; indeed, he'd once made acting lieutenant on another vessel. No, the midshipman's problem was his ambition, or rather his lack thereof.
"Lieutenant Eccleston, sir!"
The lieutenant forebore to comment on the midshipman's tar- bespattered uniform--probably involved in the repairs, he realized. "Mr. Prim, you are to take command of Papillon as her prize commander and sail her back to the closest British port. Mr. Bowles will be able to provide you with our current coordinates."
"Aye, sir," the youth said cautiously as his eyes swept the deck.
Sudden comprehension pulsed within the acting captain. "Mr. Bowles and Lieutenant Bracegirdle are on the Papillon. The latter will assist you in assembling a prize crew. Understood?"
"Aye, sir."
"Very well; on your way, then."
Coincidentally the jolly boat arrived from the Papillon at this moment. The stocky midshipman waited for the more slender man to disembark and climb up, then himself descended into the jolly boat.
"Sir, Lieutenant Bracegirdle told me to report, sir."
"At ease, Mr. Hornblower." The shoulders relaxed only marginally. Eccleston sighed. If only he could undo those first months aboard the Justinian! "I wanted to inform you that the captain has been temporarily indisposed." The youth's eyes widened. "He should be fine, and once he's conscious I'll make him aware of your 'complaint.' But in the meantime..."
Hornblower's face fell, but he didn't say anything. Likely he suspected it was not good news. God, how Eccleston hated to say this! But did he really have a choice? "...in the meantime we're short on watch- keeping officers, and-- C'mon man, don't look at me that way! The Captain isn't well, Lieutenant Chadd's dead, Mr. Kennedy's lost, Mr. Prim's commanding the Papillon, and the Indy's in a very sorry state of repair. You and Simpson will just have to set aside your antagonism temporarily for the good of the ship, until the Captain can decide on the matter."
"The man tried to kill me, sir--and it wasn't the first time either! And somehow I'm just supposed to work with him--"
This insolence infuriated the lieutenant. "You're *just* supposed to follow your superior officer's orders! Is that clear, midshipman?"
"Aye aye, sir." Hornblower infused his words with the greatest reluctance.
Eccleston sighed. He could understand the youth's displeasure, as the lieutenant wasn't too thrilled with the situation himself. If only the Captain were sensible! "If it makes you feel any better, Mr. Hornblower, I will be instructing Mr. Simpson to keep his distance from you as well," he murmured low. "But first I want you to report to the ship's surgeon and have that head wound checked out."
"Aye, sir."
"Dismissed."
And what to do with Simpson? He couldn't clap the man in irons without definitive proof. Indeed, his transferring command to Hornblower aboard the Papillon was highly irregular in and of itself and would likely raise the eyebrows of his superiors. And in Hornblower's current state, Eccleston dared not allow him and Simpson to berth together; the younger man likely could not defend himself from Simpson when shipshape, but with a head wound? He'd stand no chance. The lieutenant hoped that Hepplewhite would keep the lad in sick berth overnight, but the surgeon never liked to coddle his patients (especially when it entailed extra work on his end!) and, frankly, Eccleston's luck just wasn't running that good recently.
There were Lieutenant Chadd's quarters, though.
But to billet Simpson in a lieutenant's quarters? The crew would draw false conclusions from this fact...as would Simpson himself. No no, that would never do; best to lodge Hornblower there and berth Simpson with the other mids. It wasn't as though Simpson were terrorizing the other mids, was it? Nonetheless Eccleston felt as though he were missing *something*, something important.
Oh well; everything would sort itself out once Captain Pellew recovered.
Wouldn't it?
The Lieutenant automatically cycled through the reports and gave the appropriate orders while his mind grappled with another matter: who to send aboard the Papillon as prize master.
For a vessel that size, Eccleston would've preferred to assign a lieutenant, but with Chadd's demise and the current state of affairs on the Indy, Eccleston could not go, and he certainly could not spare Mr. Bracegirdle...which left the mids.
Hornblower was the obvious choice, the lieutenant conceded, but he dared not send the lad and suffer Captain Pellew's ire. The Captain would likely want to resolve the Hornblower-Simpson situation as expeditiously as posible...which wouldn't be possible if Hornblower was off sailing a prize vessel in the middle of the Atlantic!
Simpson? Tempting though the prospect was, if Hornblower's accusations--and the Captain's conjecture--were true, Eccleston would never entrust a ship's well-being to Simpson. Heh, not that Simpson could navigate his way down the Thames, mind!
Oh, if only Kennedy hadn't been lost! This would have been the ideal opportunity to test his mettle! The Captain had been after Eccleston to devise some such "tests" for the young man, and now that an opportunity had arrived-- The lieutenant shrugged. What a waste!
Then there were Cleveland and Hether, virtually mirror images of one another, diligent enough he supposed, but with mediocre navigational and non-existent leadership skills. The had already surpassed their performance whilst aboard the Justinian, but Eccleston felt they still needed some more seasoning before they were ready to assume command of a sea-going vessel. If only the Captain had spared more concern for their own development instead of concentrating on Hornblower and Kennedy! Oh well, that was a broken reed.
Then there were the mids Pellew had acquired from elsewhere, mostly too young and inexperienced, except...
"Pass the word for Mr. Prim."
No one questioned the blocky young man's capability; indeed, he'd once made acting lieutenant on another vessel. No, the midshipman's problem was his ambition, or rather his lack thereof.
"Lieutenant Eccleston, sir!"
The lieutenant forebore to comment on the midshipman's tar- bespattered uniform--probably involved in the repairs, he realized. "Mr. Prim, you are to take command of Papillon as her prize commander and sail her back to the closest British port. Mr. Bowles will be able to provide you with our current coordinates."
"Aye, sir," the youth said cautiously as his eyes swept the deck.
Sudden comprehension pulsed within the acting captain. "Mr. Bowles and Lieutenant Bracegirdle are on the Papillon. The latter will assist you in assembling a prize crew. Understood?"
"Aye, sir."
"Very well; on your way, then."
Coincidentally the jolly boat arrived from the Papillon at this moment. The stocky midshipman waited for the more slender man to disembark and climb up, then himself descended into the jolly boat.
"Sir, Lieutenant Bracegirdle told me to report, sir."
"At ease, Mr. Hornblower." The shoulders relaxed only marginally. Eccleston sighed. If only he could undo those first months aboard the Justinian! "I wanted to inform you that the captain has been temporarily indisposed." The youth's eyes widened. "He should be fine, and once he's conscious I'll make him aware of your 'complaint.' But in the meantime..."
Hornblower's face fell, but he didn't say anything. Likely he suspected it was not good news. God, how Eccleston hated to say this! But did he really have a choice? "...in the meantime we're short on watch- keeping officers, and-- C'mon man, don't look at me that way! The Captain isn't well, Lieutenant Chadd's dead, Mr. Kennedy's lost, Mr. Prim's commanding the Papillon, and the Indy's in a very sorry state of repair. You and Simpson will just have to set aside your antagonism temporarily for the good of the ship, until the Captain can decide on the matter."
"The man tried to kill me, sir--and it wasn't the first time either! And somehow I'm just supposed to work with him--"
This insolence infuriated the lieutenant. "You're *just* supposed to follow your superior officer's orders! Is that clear, midshipman?"
"Aye aye, sir." Hornblower infused his words with the greatest reluctance.
Eccleston sighed. He could understand the youth's displeasure, as the lieutenant wasn't too thrilled with the situation himself. If only the Captain were sensible! "If it makes you feel any better, Mr. Hornblower, I will be instructing Mr. Simpson to keep his distance from you as well," he murmured low. "But first I want you to report to the ship's surgeon and have that head wound checked out."
"Aye, sir."
"Dismissed."
And what to do with Simpson? He couldn't clap the man in irons without definitive proof. Indeed, his transferring command to Hornblower aboard the Papillon was highly irregular in and of itself and would likely raise the eyebrows of his superiors. And in Hornblower's current state, Eccleston dared not allow him and Simpson to berth together; the younger man likely could not defend himself from Simpson when shipshape, but with a head wound? He'd stand no chance. The lieutenant hoped that Hepplewhite would keep the lad in sick berth overnight, but the surgeon never liked to coddle his patients (especially when it entailed extra work on his end!) and, frankly, Eccleston's luck just wasn't running that good recently.
There were Lieutenant Chadd's quarters, though.
But to billet Simpson in a lieutenant's quarters? The crew would draw false conclusions from this fact...as would Simpson himself. No no, that would never do; best to lodge Hornblower there and berth Simpson with the other mids. It wasn't as though Simpson were terrorizing the other mids, was it? Nonetheless Eccleston felt as though he were missing *something*, something important.
Oh well; everything would sort itself out once Captain Pellew recovered.
Wouldn't it?