Clotho: Hi! Thanks for your very kind words! But hey, if you feel you'd
like to argue w/ the ending of any episodes, please feel free to do so. I
value your judgment. :-) QED. But thank you for the information as well.
I'm really looking forward to more of your incredible writing.
A/n: Once again, if you see something awry here, or if you really dislike this story attempt, please feel free to let me know. I'm not thin-skinned. Critical feedback is golden. :-D Of course, if you'd like to say nice things, I wouldn't mind that either. ;-)
I hope you enjoy...
DISCLAIMER: Horatio Hornblower is not my intellectual property. I'm in no way associated with whoever owns the rights to Horatio Hornblower. I do not earn, nor seek to earn, compensation for writing this.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Lieutenant Eccleston rubbed his eyes upon returning above. His lack of sleep, occasioned by last night's cutting-out, the morning's battle, and the concomitant repairs made the late afternoon brightness abovedecks all the more piercing, especially in comparison to the dulling darkness below.
He was completely fagged, yet he dared not retire, not yet. As the senior lieutenant, he alone was in command here. He alone should see to all the repairs and receive the division heads' reports. Captain Pellew would have done no less, so neither could his first lieutenant.
It was a credit to Captain Pellew that, even as he lay incapcitated in his cabin, his crew labored relentlessly--indefatigably--at the necessary repairs. It would have taken the old Justinian just about double the time to effect the same repairs--and these were mostly the same men! Still, a layer of doubt lingered at the periphery of Eccleston's mind: somehow, in some way, the Captain would have set the Indefatigable to rights much more rapidly than he had managed.
Later Pellew would likely review his missteps in excruciating detail-- not as the dismissive "dressing down" he would have received under Keene, but instead under the guise of "advice" for when Eccleston earned his own command. So be it. He felt flattered, awed almost, that the Captain would devote so much attention to a lieutenant originally imposed upon him by the Admiralty. He only hoped that someday he might live up to the man's confidence in him.
If the Captain would only awaken! Or, more to the point, *stay* awake!
More petty officers requested his attention, among whom was one of the younger midshipmen, Mr. Worthington. Despite the lad's relative youth and inexperience, Mr. Cleveland had done a good job in making the young gentleman useful. The boy was obviously nervous, but when it was his turn to speak, he relayed the necessary information well enough. Eccleston thanked the youth man and dismissed him, but for some reason the lad lingered as though he wished to say something.
Captain Keene, or Lieutenant Chadd, or he himself might have dismissed the boy brusquely, but Eccleston remembered some of Pellew's advice. "Is there anything more I can do for you, midshipman?" he asked in a gentler tone than he might once have employed.
The boy hesitated, then said, "Yes, Lieutenant Eccleston, sir." He gulped. "Begging your pardon, sir, but Mr. White, Mr. O'Neil and I, we were wondering who was senior, sir."
The lieutenant's eyebrows arched upwards as understanding began to dawn on him.
The anxious boy spoke more hurriedly, "I mean in the Midshipmen's berth, sir. No offense, Lieutenant; we all were reporting to Mr. Prim, but now that he's on Papillon, and there's the new mid--"
Ah. He had to give the boy credit for daring to ask. "Perhaps I should clarify. Mr. Simpson is here as a...courtesy; the Captain has not granted him an official position on this ship as yet, and nor do I have the authority," or desire, Eccleston added silently, "to do so."
Was he mistaken, or did Worthington look a trifle more at ease? Damn! For not the first time, Eccleston found himself wondering what the blazes had gone on aboard the Justinian.
He stared seriously at the youth. He was navigating between Scylla and Charybdis now: he could neither place the boy under Simpson's authority, but nor could he turn the older mid into an object of derision. Discipline must be served, after all. "I would *suggest* that you treat Mr. Simpson with the respect and deference befitting his years at sea," the midshipman wilted minutely, "but for the time being you will be reporting directly to Mr. Cleveland."
Once again the relief was almost palpable. "Aye-aye, Lieutenant. Thank you, Lieutenant."
Worthington seemed ready to dash off, but Eccleston held his hand aloft. "Mr. Worthington. If anything...*untoward* were to occur, I trust you would bring it to my or Lieutenant Bracegirdle's attention. Is that understood?"
The lieutenant peered intently at him and would not let the lad look away. Finally the midshipman swallowed and nodded. "Aye, Sir; I promise."
"Very good." The lieutenant allowed himself a smile. "You are dismissed."
The boy saluted and scampered belowdecks.
Lieutenant Eccleston watched him go. Hopefully they had just prevented a reprise of the Justinian.
Or had he just made matters worse?
A/n: Once again, if you see something awry here, or if you really dislike this story attempt, please feel free to let me know. I'm not thin-skinned. Critical feedback is golden. :-D Of course, if you'd like to say nice things, I wouldn't mind that either. ;-)
I hope you enjoy...
DISCLAIMER: Horatio Hornblower is not my intellectual property. I'm in no way associated with whoever owns the rights to Horatio Hornblower. I do not earn, nor seek to earn, compensation for writing this.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Lieutenant Eccleston rubbed his eyes upon returning above. His lack of sleep, occasioned by last night's cutting-out, the morning's battle, and the concomitant repairs made the late afternoon brightness abovedecks all the more piercing, especially in comparison to the dulling darkness below.
He was completely fagged, yet he dared not retire, not yet. As the senior lieutenant, he alone was in command here. He alone should see to all the repairs and receive the division heads' reports. Captain Pellew would have done no less, so neither could his first lieutenant.
It was a credit to Captain Pellew that, even as he lay incapcitated in his cabin, his crew labored relentlessly--indefatigably--at the necessary repairs. It would have taken the old Justinian just about double the time to effect the same repairs--and these were mostly the same men! Still, a layer of doubt lingered at the periphery of Eccleston's mind: somehow, in some way, the Captain would have set the Indefatigable to rights much more rapidly than he had managed.
Later Pellew would likely review his missteps in excruciating detail-- not as the dismissive "dressing down" he would have received under Keene, but instead under the guise of "advice" for when Eccleston earned his own command. So be it. He felt flattered, awed almost, that the Captain would devote so much attention to a lieutenant originally imposed upon him by the Admiralty. He only hoped that someday he might live up to the man's confidence in him.
If the Captain would only awaken! Or, more to the point, *stay* awake!
More petty officers requested his attention, among whom was one of the younger midshipmen, Mr. Worthington. Despite the lad's relative youth and inexperience, Mr. Cleveland had done a good job in making the young gentleman useful. The boy was obviously nervous, but when it was his turn to speak, he relayed the necessary information well enough. Eccleston thanked the youth man and dismissed him, but for some reason the lad lingered as though he wished to say something.
Captain Keene, or Lieutenant Chadd, or he himself might have dismissed the boy brusquely, but Eccleston remembered some of Pellew's advice. "Is there anything more I can do for you, midshipman?" he asked in a gentler tone than he might once have employed.
The boy hesitated, then said, "Yes, Lieutenant Eccleston, sir." He gulped. "Begging your pardon, sir, but Mr. White, Mr. O'Neil and I, we were wondering who was senior, sir."
The lieutenant's eyebrows arched upwards as understanding began to dawn on him.
The anxious boy spoke more hurriedly, "I mean in the Midshipmen's berth, sir. No offense, Lieutenant; we all were reporting to Mr. Prim, but now that he's on Papillon, and there's the new mid--"
Ah. He had to give the boy credit for daring to ask. "Perhaps I should clarify. Mr. Simpson is here as a...courtesy; the Captain has not granted him an official position on this ship as yet, and nor do I have the authority," or desire, Eccleston added silently, "to do so."
Was he mistaken, or did Worthington look a trifle more at ease? Damn! For not the first time, Eccleston found himself wondering what the blazes had gone on aboard the Justinian.
He stared seriously at the youth. He was navigating between Scylla and Charybdis now: he could neither place the boy under Simpson's authority, but nor could he turn the older mid into an object of derision. Discipline must be served, after all. "I would *suggest* that you treat Mr. Simpson with the respect and deference befitting his years at sea," the midshipman wilted minutely, "but for the time being you will be reporting directly to Mr. Cleveland."
Once again the relief was almost palpable. "Aye-aye, Lieutenant. Thank you, Lieutenant."
Worthington seemed ready to dash off, but Eccleston held his hand aloft. "Mr. Worthington. If anything...*untoward* were to occur, I trust you would bring it to my or Lieutenant Bracegirdle's attention. Is that understood?"
The lieutenant peered intently at him and would not let the lad look away. Finally the midshipman swallowed and nodded. "Aye, Sir; I promise."
"Very good." The lieutenant allowed himself a smile. "You are dismissed."
The boy saluted and scampered belowdecks.
Lieutenant Eccleston watched him go. Hopefully they had just prevented a reprise of the Justinian.
Or had he just made matters worse?