Part One
Chapter One - The Meeting
The dark-haired lieutenant was at a loose end. Quite simply he had no ship, could not get a ship and possessed no immediate prospect of getting a ship. He could have given up, returned home with his half-pay, but something, pride, stubbornness, hope, something kept him trying, touring the ports in search of a place. And it was on the Folkestone streets he met the boy.
It was the cry he heard, cut off abruptly. In the darkening light he stood for a moment, uncertain if it had just been his imagination, then he wheeled, and plunged into the mouth of the dark alleyway behind. They were not far inside, the man with a knife held to the boy's throat. The lieutenant had his sword out in a second, a single glance was enough to send the man fleeing.
Feeling rather pleased with himself, the lieutenant sheathed his sword and turned to the boy. "Are you hurt?"
"No." The boy was trying very hard to seem brave, and the lieutenant remembered enough of his own boyhood to let him do so.
"Did he manage to rob you?"
"No. He was just searching my pockets -" the bravery wavered a little, but the boy mastered himself quite fast. "T-Thank you, sir. He would have, if you hadn't come along."
"I'm glad that I did come along. These villains are all cowards at heart, you know. May I see you to your home?"
"I haven't one," the boy said, "that is - I'm here to join a ship."
"Are you indeed?" The lieutenant wondered what sort of people would dispatch a boy as young as this to a port town, alone. "Are they expecting you tonight?"
"No, that is, not tonight particularly." For some reason the boy flushed. "I'm looking for the Justinian, sir, Captain Keene's ship. Do you know where to find her?"
"No, but I can help you do so. But not, I suggest, tonight. You probably would fail to get a boat at this hour. If you come back with me, then I will see that you get a meal and a roof over your head."
"To your ship?"
"To my inn room," the lieutenant corrected. "I am looking for a ship at the present time."
"Oh." The boy seemed to hesitate, then said, "Thank you, sir."
Far too trusting a young man, the lieutenant reflected. But very young. Aloud he said, "That will be settled then. Now you had best tell me your name."
"Horatio Hornblower, sir."
Sounded like a book title, the lieutenant reflected. "And I am Lieutenant Edward Pellew. Pleased to meet you, Mr Hornblower."
#
Not exactly a communicative boy, Edward reflected, watching young Horatio demolish his breakfast next morning. Getting information from him bore a strong resemblance to pulling teeth. He had established, however, that Captain Keene had some sort of connection through marriage with this young man, and had promised him a midshipman's berth in consequence. His father, it transpired, was a badly-off country physician, his mother dead. Not an unusual story, but some quality about the boy's reluctance to talk aroused his curiosity. That, and the obvious fact that he was no more fit to be out alone than an new-born babe, made Edward resolve to accompany the boy to the Justinian.
Besides, one never knew. Making Captain Keene's acquaintance might prove useful.
At first encounter that seemed unlikely. Edward was not overly impressed by Captain Keene, who struck him as a man who should have been at home with his feet on a stool rather than commanding a ship of war. When it swiftly became obvious that Keene was not expecting a new midshipman, Edward's first reaction was to assume the captain had forgotten. It seemed all too likely.
"Hornblower, sir," the boy insisted, "Dr. Hornblower's son. You said that you would take me."
"Oh yes," Keene harrumphed, "I do recall. But, good heavens, boy, I thought your father meant for you to finish schooling first. Do you mean t'say he changed his mind and never wrote me?"
Edward gave a sharp look at young Horatio, whose expression was quite patently torn. Wisely he opted for the truth.
"No, sir. But I thought... if I'm to join the Navy in the end, what's the point of more schooling? There's an old sailor man in our village, and he said I needed to start at twelve if I was to get on in the service. And my father won't mind. I'm away all the time anyway."
"Humpf," Keene said - or something of the kind. "I've never thought it makes much odds what age a man joins at. But d'y'mean t'say your father didn't send you here?"
"No, sir," Horatio replied. "I, well, I chose to come myself."
"In other words, you ran away. Well, can't have that, can't have that at all. Can't have a midshipman on board without his father's consent, boy."
"I'm willing to work hard," the boy insisted. "You won't be sorry, sir."
Edward looked at Keene, who was harrumphing beneath his breath, and decided that nothing would be lost by a bit of intervention. He had taken quite a liking to the boy. Running off to join the service was bold indeed!
"Might I suggest you write to the doctor, sir. Tell him what has occurred. It might not be wise to dispatch young Mr Hornblower home upon the stage in any event."
"Hmmm," Keene said. "You've certainly got a point there. Who knows where the young varmint would get to. Well, boy, you can stay here while I write your father and tell him what you've done."
"Thank you, sir." Horatio said seriously. "You won't be sorry, sir."
"Well, well, I'd better call a man and see you stowed somewhere. How old are you, boy?"
"I'll be twelve in four months, sir."
"Twelve in four months? Well, for now you can make yourself useful. Another ship's boy doesn't come amiss. You'll likely have had enough of the life before your father writes back." That seemed to end the matter as far as Keene was concerned.
With Horatio dispatched under the care of a petty officer, Keene turned to Edward.
"And how much did you know about this, eh?"
"Nothing at all, sir," Edward said, taking care not to appear flustered. "I met the boy exactly as I told you. He said to me that he was here to join Justinian, and I had not the faintest idea that he had not been sent by his parents."
"Can't blame you there," Keene said, "Who'd have thought of a thing like that. Now, what ship did you say you were with?"
"No ship at present, sir."
"No ship, eh? Care to join this one? We're a lieutenant down since Rotherwood came into that estate of his and who knows how long before the Admiralty get round to sending a man."
Edward was almost stunned. Could it really be that easy?
"I would be honoured, sir."
"Glad to hear it." Keene said. "Hope you can join at once."
It was that easy.
#
It turned out that the duties of a ship's boy assigned the young Horatio incorporated performance of the less menial tasks associated with waiting on the lieutenant's mess. It would not be true to say that the boy enjoyed that occupation, but he was a stubborn youngster, and told himself firmly that this was merely an apprenticeship for the life that he must lead, and as such infinitely more useful than the Greek and Latin texts with which he had been expected to cram himself at school. Another blessing was that he was largely spared the company of boys his own age. Horatio, precocious, not especially gregarious, and accustomed to the society of adults, had found being surrounded by other boys far from pleasant; the more so because the boys had not hesitated to visit on him all the torments which children are accustomed to aim at those who do not fit in. In many respects waiting upon lieutenants was much more to his taste, especially given the presence upon board of Edward Pellew.
Edward had never regarded himself as a man who greatly cared for children, but the young Horatio had decidedly caught his interest. He had lost no time in extracting from the boy a full account of his exploit, and the fact that Horatio was clearly embarrassed by his questions engaged Edward's liking all the more. Horatio had been fortunate, obtaining a lift in a carrier's cart most of the way to Folkestone, however Edward did not doubt that he would have got there somehow or other by any means. He was certainly a boy of considerable determination. He was also intelligent and eager to learn. With Justinian laid up in harbour the lieutenants' duties were relatively light, and Edward fell into the habit of talking with the boy during his free time. Horatio, he discovered, was set on learning all about the life of a naval ship, driven, it seemed, by a dogged conviction that here was his future that had Edward simultaneously amused and admiring.
"Surely it must be very different in an open sea, sir?" Horatio ventured one morning, as Edward was advising him on some of the broader points of life at sea.
"It can be," Edward told him, "depending greatly on the weather. And warfare, of course, will change things all the more."
"Then how can we be prepared for such things?" Horatio asked, frowning.
"In one sense, Mr Hornblower, one can never be prepared. I'll wager you'll not forget your first taste of them. But that is all the more reason for learning your duties to the letter. When you can perform the normal business of a ship without thought, without doubt, that is when you are ready for the extraordinary."
"I see, sir." Horatio did look as if he was concentrating on the words.
"No good thinking too much on such things beforehand though," Edward warned. "An officer who broods too much can be a danger."
"How so, sir?" Now that was a hard one, he had spoken as he would to a much older and more experienced individual. Horatio's intelligence and gravity made it easy to forget how young he was.
"You will learn one day, Mr Hornblower," he said eventually, adding a mental promise to make sure of it if he could.
It seemed only right and reasonable to encourage the boy. Not that that was altogether easy, for Horatio was decidedly shy about asking questions, or even answering them for that matter. He had to press the boy to accept such help as he could give, and he liked young Horatio the better for it. Yet he was a boy still, for all his precocious gravity and independence, he was a boy, and when in the intervals of instructing him on naval life Edward would tell tales of long ago battles, or recount some of his own more exciting past experiences, Horatio's eyes would shine.
In short, Edward was getting very fond of the youngster whom chance had thrown across his path, and he was secretly pleased when, in the third week of Horatio's time aboard a letter arrived from the doctor father saying that if his son really wished to begin naval life at once he might as well do so. Horatio showed no open signs of elation - what an odd, closed in youngster he was in some ways - but Edward thought he could detect a little more confidence as he went about his duties.
Chapter One - The Meeting
The dark-haired lieutenant was at a loose end. Quite simply he had no ship, could not get a ship and possessed no immediate prospect of getting a ship. He could have given up, returned home with his half-pay, but something, pride, stubbornness, hope, something kept him trying, touring the ports in search of a place. And it was on the Folkestone streets he met the boy.
It was the cry he heard, cut off abruptly. In the darkening light he stood for a moment, uncertain if it had just been his imagination, then he wheeled, and plunged into the mouth of the dark alleyway behind. They were not far inside, the man with a knife held to the boy's throat. The lieutenant had his sword out in a second, a single glance was enough to send the man fleeing.
Feeling rather pleased with himself, the lieutenant sheathed his sword and turned to the boy. "Are you hurt?"
"No." The boy was trying very hard to seem brave, and the lieutenant remembered enough of his own boyhood to let him do so.
"Did he manage to rob you?"
"No. He was just searching my pockets -" the bravery wavered a little, but the boy mastered himself quite fast. "T-Thank you, sir. He would have, if you hadn't come along."
"I'm glad that I did come along. These villains are all cowards at heart, you know. May I see you to your home?"
"I haven't one," the boy said, "that is - I'm here to join a ship."
"Are you indeed?" The lieutenant wondered what sort of people would dispatch a boy as young as this to a port town, alone. "Are they expecting you tonight?"
"No, that is, not tonight particularly." For some reason the boy flushed. "I'm looking for the Justinian, sir, Captain Keene's ship. Do you know where to find her?"
"No, but I can help you do so. But not, I suggest, tonight. You probably would fail to get a boat at this hour. If you come back with me, then I will see that you get a meal and a roof over your head."
"To your ship?"
"To my inn room," the lieutenant corrected. "I am looking for a ship at the present time."
"Oh." The boy seemed to hesitate, then said, "Thank you, sir."
Far too trusting a young man, the lieutenant reflected. But very young. Aloud he said, "That will be settled then. Now you had best tell me your name."
"Horatio Hornblower, sir."
Sounded like a book title, the lieutenant reflected. "And I am Lieutenant Edward Pellew. Pleased to meet you, Mr Hornblower."
#
Not exactly a communicative boy, Edward reflected, watching young Horatio demolish his breakfast next morning. Getting information from him bore a strong resemblance to pulling teeth. He had established, however, that Captain Keene had some sort of connection through marriage with this young man, and had promised him a midshipman's berth in consequence. His father, it transpired, was a badly-off country physician, his mother dead. Not an unusual story, but some quality about the boy's reluctance to talk aroused his curiosity. That, and the obvious fact that he was no more fit to be out alone than an new-born babe, made Edward resolve to accompany the boy to the Justinian.
Besides, one never knew. Making Captain Keene's acquaintance might prove useful.
At first encounter that seemed unlikely. Edward was not overly impressed by Captain Keene, who struck him as a man who should have been at home with his feet on a stool rather than commanding a ship of war. When it swiftly became obvious that Keene was not expecting a new midshipman, Edward's first reaction was to assume the captain had forgotten. It seemed all too likely.
"Hornblower, sir," the boy insisted, "Dr. Hornblower's son. You said that you would take me."
"Oh yes," Keene harrumphed, "I do recall. But, good heavens, boy, I thought your father meant for you to finish schooling first. Do you mean t'say he changed his mind and never wrote me?"
Edward gave a sharp look at young Horatio, whose expression was quite patently torn. Wisely he opted for the truth.
"No, sir. But I thought... if I'm to join the Navy in the end, what's the point of more schooling? There's an old sailor man in our village, and he said I needed to start at twelve if I was to get on in the service. And my father won't mind. I'm away all the time anyway."
"Humpf," Keene said - or something of the kind. "I've never thought it makes much odds what age a man joins at. But d'y'mean t'say your father didn't send you here?"
"No, sir," Horatio replied. "I, well, I chose to come myself."
"In other words, you ran away. Well, can't have that, can't have that at all. Can't have a midshipman on board without his father's consent, boy."
"I'm willing to work hard," the boy insisted. "You won't be sorry, sir."
Edward looked at Keene, who was harrumphing beneath his breath, and decided that nothing would be lost by a bit of intervention. He had taken quite a liking to the boy. Running off to join the service was bold indeed!
"Might I suggest you write to the doctor, sir. Tell him what has occurred. It might not be wise to dispatch young Mr Hornblower home upon the stage in any event."
"Hmmm," Keene said. "You've certainly got a point there. Who knows where the young varmint would get to. Well, boy, you can stay here while I write your father and tell him what you've done."
"Thank you, sir." Horatio said seriously. "You won't be sorry, sir."
"Well, well, I'd better call a man and see you stowed somewhere. How old are you, boy?"
"I'll be twelve in four months, sir."
"Twelve in four months? Well, for now you can make yourself useful. Another ship's boy doesn't come amiss. You'll likely have had enough of the life before your father writes back." That seemed to end the matter as far as Keene was concerned.
With Horatio dispatched under the care of a petty officer, Keene turned to Edward.
"And how much did you know about this, eh?"
"Nothing at all, sir," Edward said, taking care not to appear flustered. "I met the boy exactly as I told you. He said to me that he was here to join Justinian, and I had not the faintest idea that he had not been sent by his parents."
"Can't blame you there," Keene said, "Who'd have thought of a thing like that. Now, what ship did you say you were with?"
"No ship at present, sir."
"No ship, eh? Care to join this one? We're a lieutenant down since Rotherwood came into that estate of his and who knows how long before the Admiralty get round to sending a man."
Edward was almost stunned. Could it really be that easy?
"I would be honoured, sir."
"Glad to hear it." Keene said. "Hope you can join at once."
It was that easy.
#
It turned out that the duties of a ship's boy assigned the young Horatio incorporated performance of the less menial tasks associated with waiting on the lieutenant's mess. It would not be true to say that the boy enjoyed that occupation, but he was a stubborn youngster, and told himself firmly that this was merely an apprenticeship for the life that he must lead, and as such infinitely more useful than the Greek and Latin texts with which he had been expected to cram himself at school. Another blessing was that he was largely spared the company of boys his own age. Horatio, precocious, not especially gregarious, and accustomed to the society of adults, had found being surrounded by other boys far from pleasant; the more so because the boys had not hesitated to visit on him all the torments which children are accustomed to aim at those who do not fit in. In many respects waiting upon lieutenants was much more to his taste, especially given the presence upon board of Edward Pellew.
Edward had never regarded himself as a man who greatly cared for children, but the young Horatio had decidedly caught his interest. He had lost no time in extracting from the boy a full account of his exploit, and the fact that Horatio was clearly embarrassed by his questions engaged Edward's liking all the more. Horatio had been fortunate, obtaining a lift in a carrier's cart most of the way to Folkestone, however Edward did not doubt that he would have got there somehow or other by any means. He was certainly a boy of considerable determination. He was also intelligent and eager to learn. With Justinian laid up in harbour the lieutenants' duties were relatively light, and Edward fell into the habit of talking with the boy during his free time. Horatio, he discovered, was set on learning all about the life of a naval ship, driven, it seemed, by a dogged conviction that here was his future that had Edward simultaneously amused and admiring.
"Surely it must be very different in an open sea, sir?" Horatio ventured one morning, as Edward was advising him on some of the broader points of life at sea.
"It can be," Edward told him, "depending greatly on the weather. And warfare, of course, will change things all the more."
"Then how can we be prepared for such things?" Horatio asked, frowning.
"In one sense, Mr Hornblower, one can never be prepared. I'll wager you'll not forget your first taste of them. But that is all the more reason for learning your duties to the letter. When you can perform the normal business of a ship without thought, without doubt, that is when you are ready for the extraordinary."
"I see, sir." Horatio did look as if he was concentrating on the words.
"No good thinking too much on such things beforehand though," Edward warned. "An officer who broods too much can be a danger."
"How so, sir?" Now that was a hard one, he had spoken as he would to a much older and more experienced individual. Horatio's intelligence and gravity made it easy to forget how young he was.
"You will learn one day, Mr Hornblower," he said eventually, adding a mental promise to make sure of it if he could.
It seemed only right and reasonable to encourage the boy. Not that that was altogether easy, for Horatio was decidedly shy about asking questions, or even answering them for that matter. He had to press the boy to accept such help as he could give, and he liked young Horatio the better for it. Yet he was a boy still, for all his precocious gravity and independence, he was a boy, and when in the intervals of instructing him on naval life Edward would tell tales of long ago battles, or recount some of his own more exciting past experiences, Horatio's eyes would shine.
In short, Edward was getting very fond of the youngster whom chance had thrown across his path, and he was secretly pleased when, in the third week of Horatio's time aboard a letter arrived from the doctor father saying that if his son really wished to begin naval life at once he might as well do so. Horatio showed no open signs of elation - what an odd, closed in youngster he was in some ways - but Edward thought he could detect a little more confidence as he went about his duties.