Chapter Four - Reprisal
Archie knew what was coming.
He had known when Simpson fell on him in the berth with calculated brutality, beating him just short of unconsciousness. He did not suppose it was the full punishment, merely the first instalment. Simpson wanted him helplessly subdued, in pain but awake for the next part of his revenge.
Simpson wanted to be sure there was no repetition.
Clayton was dead drunk tonight. He supposed Simpson had had something to do with that, most probably driving him to it. No chance of help there.
The only hope was the officer's promise. Trust had already been half- killed in him, but he clung to that promise because it was all there was. And when Simpson finally left him, choking on pain, on the floor of the mess, he made himself be ready.
Simpson, he knew, was waiting for Horatio. Waiting for him to come off watch, so he could complete what he had attempted before. With added interest, no doubt.
Simpson could move with great speed when he wanted. There was no toying with his victim this time, just raw violence. Horatio's head was slammed twice against the wall before he could even react. "You didn't think I'd forgotten, surely?" Simpson hissed as he twisted the boy's arms behind him.
Archie was ignored. As Simpson shoved Horatio outside he dragged himself up, and, summoning the bloodied shreds of his courage, drove himself towards the officers' mess.
He stumbled in without knocking, heedless of punishment. Although Simpson had left his face unmarked he was ashen and shaking. Someone was indignantly demanding why he had barged his way in, but Lt Pellew took one look and answered the insistent grab at his sleeve by a boy beyond any coherent explanation.
He knew where Simpson would have taken Horatio. Oh yes, he knew.
They were in time. Simpson had battered the strength out of Horatio, got his hands tied and a gag pushed into his mouth, but he had not had time to do any more. As Edward forcibly dragged him away Simpson turned and lashed out, catching the lieutenant on the jaw. Edward, drawing on his old battle experience, kicked Simpson in the stomach, hard enough to wind him, then stooped to free Horatio. Archie's hands were shaking far too much. Horatio was gasping and shuddering, but making a valiant effort to fight off hysteria.
"You're safe." Edward gripped the boy's arms to steady him. "You're safe. It's over. He won't hurt you again." He looked over to where Simpson crouched, coughing, his eyes murderous. "He'll hang for this."
#
Edward knew that, little though he wanted to, he had to talk to the boy. And having a honest soul, Lt Pellew admitted to himself that some of his reluctance was undoubtedly due to guilt. He was an officer aboard this ship and he had been blind to what was going on. He had failed to protect the young men he should have guarded.
The boy must have guessed why he had been summoned for he looked ready to pass out from terror. Edward was as gentle as he could be.
"Mr Kennedy, it is plain that Mr Simpson has been abusing his position and inflicting violence on other members of the mess. But after last night, I am compelled to ask – it went further did it not?" The boy simply stared back at him, as if frozen. This was a terribly difficult thing to put into words. "There were violations of the Articles?" Edward persisted softly. "Of one Article in particular? Violations that should have been punished by death?" He would not have thought it possible for the boy to grow paler, yet he did. "No blame attaches to you." He was not sure those words were heard. "But I must know. Before last night – had he inflicted more than beatings upon Mr Hornblower?" A silence, then at last the boy mutely shook his head. "Was he about to – the time when you attacked him before?" This time a faint, reluctant, nod. Yes, that had been it, and he had been far too slow to see it. Until last night he had guessed at nothing worse than brutality, though that would have been bad enough.
Edward was not a man to shirk from uncomfortable admissions. "Mr Kennedy, I owe you an apology. On two counts. First that I did not observe what was happening earlier, and take steps to put a stop to it. Second, that I have misjudged you. What you did took great courage." He'd been all wrong about this boy. Well, perhaps not all wrong, but he had certainly had no idea that the apparently light-headed youngster could be capable of acting to protect another in the middle of such suffering of his own. A remarkable youth, after all.
Kennedy merely shook his head at the well-meant words, although whether in denial Edward could not tell. Then he whispered, "What will you do?"
"There is no need to do anything, unless you so desire it. Mr Simpson signed his own death warrant when he struck me in the hold. But I wanted you to know, if ever any trouble of that kind should arise again, then you can turn to me for help. I would not wish you to suffer such a thing in silence ever again."
"You won't report me?"
"No," Edward said gently. "In any event, what is there to report on your side of things? You were innocent here. Did he tell you otherwise?"
A long struggle, then the boy choked out, "He said, if anyone learned, then I would hang. I didn't know.... I thought for sure the captain would not want me aboard his ship...."
Edward frowned, he could not reassure young Kennedy that no captain would ever consider the victim of such a crime to be tainted, for he knew it to be possible though hideously unfair. "The captain need not know if you do not wish it. No-one need know. It is over now."
"Horatio.... He must have guessed."
"And I am sure he knows that you protected him." The boy's face was working now, for all his efforts at control. Hesitant, not sure if this was right, Edward crouched down, and put an arm around his shoulders. "No man worthy of respect would think the less of you." The boy held stiff for a moment, then suddenly seemed to give way in the embrace, shuddering convulsively he clung to the officer's coat, wordless in his pain.
For the second time since he had boarded this ship Edward felt a violent surge of protectiveness. A brave, loyal boy like this one shattered by such motiveless malice. He swore in that second that if there was anything he could do to heal the damage he would do it, not just for the sake of Horatio, who Kennedy – Archie – had protected, but for Archie's own sake, for it would be a thousand pities if he were to be ruined by this.
Archie was still shuddering in his hold. If Simpson were not already doomed Edward felt he would have killed the man himself, with bare hands if he had to. In that moment he would have killed without hesitation any man who laid a hand on either of the boys – his boys. Yes, he thought with fierceness: his boys. "It's alright," he soothed, knowing that it was not and might never be, "It's all over now, it's over, he will never hurt you again." He wished that Archie would let out his pain in weeping, but he seemed to have gone far beyond tears, "It's alright. I'll help you. I won't let it happen again."
#
The entire crew was on deck for the hanging. Captain Keene had insisted on it, although Edward had argued hard that the boys should be excused. Punishment should be witnessed, Keene had said, and that had been the end of it.
The man deserved this, and worse than this, but it was an ugly business all the same. Ugly to drag a man near unconscious with terror to the noose, ugly for all the formality of ceremony. But it was meant to be ugly of course, it was meant as warning as well as punishment. If Simpson had truly been condemned for a blow given in an unguarded moment then there would be no redemption here, but the man's crimes were far worse and probably far more numerous than even Edward knew. Looking at those faces he could see, he thought that many of the crewmen knew it. There was not a soul living who would mourn for Jack Simpson. Some might even celebrate his passing, and if that was an uglier matter than the hanging it was an ugliness that Simpson himself had made.
Horatio, he saw, brought his eyes down to stare at the deck at the moment of execution, but Archie – when Edward saw Archie's face he thought perhaps Keene had been right after all. Archie's gaze never wavered, and the look he bore was not of triumph or even relief, it was something deeper and more vital. Perhaps purgation.
When it was all over and the crew had been dismissed he saw the two of them walk over to the rail side by side, not touching, as far as he could see not speaking, just standing and looking out to see.
He had not expected this to happen. He had not anticipated anything like this when he stepped aboard Justinian, but once again he felt the surge of strangely violent affection for them both. They were both his boys now, and he would protect them to the last drop of his blood, for as long as life should last.
Archie knew what was coming.
He had known when Simpson fell on him in the berth with calculated brutality, beating him just short of unconsciousness. He did not suppose it was the full punishment, merely the first instalment. Simpson wanted him helplessly subdued, in pain but awake for the next part of his revenge.
Simpson wanted to be sure there was no repetition.
Clayton was dead drunk tonight. He supposed Simpson had had something to do with that, most probably driving him to it. No chance of help there.
The only hope was the officer's promise. Trust had already been half- killed in him, but he clung to that promise because it was all there was. And when Simpson finally left him, choking on pain, on the floor of the mess, he made himself be ready.
Simpson, he knew, was waiting for Horatio. Waiting for him to come off watch, so he could complete what he had attempted before. With added interest, no doubt.
Simpson could move with great speed when he wanted. There was no toying with his victim this time, just raw violence. Horatio's head was slammed twice against the wall before he could even react. "You didn't think I'd forgotten, surely?" Simpson hissed as he twisted the boy's arms behind him.
Archie was ignored. As Simpson shoved Horatio outside he dragged himself up, and, summoning the bloodied shreds of his courage, drove himself towards the officers' mess.
He stumbled in without knocking, heedless of punishment. Although Simpson had left his face unmarked he was ashen and shaking. Someone was indignantly demanding why he had barged his way in, but Lt Pellew took one look and answered the insistent grab at his sleeve by a boy beyond any coherent explanation.
He knew where Simpson would have taken Horatio. Oh yes, he knew.
They were in time. Simpson had battered the strength out of Horatio, got his hands tied and a gag pushed into his mouth, but he had not had time to do any more. As Edward forcibly dragged him away Simpson turned and lashed out, catching the lieutenant on the jaw. Edward, drawing on his old battle experience, kicked Simpson in the stomach, hard enough to wind him, then stooped to free Horatio. Archie's hands were shaking far too much. Horatio was gasping and shuddering, but making a valiant effort to fight off hysteria.
"You're safe." Edward gripped the boy's arms to steady him. "You're safe. It's over. He won't hurt you again." He looked over to where Simpson crouched, coughing, his eyes murderous. "He'll hang for this."
#
Edward knew that, little though he wanted to, he had to talk to the boy. And having a honest soul, Lt Pellew admitted to himself that some of his reluctance was undoubtedly due to guilt. He was an officer aboard this ship and he had been blind to what was going on. He had failed to protect the young men he should have guarded.
The boy must have guessed why he had been summoned for he looked ready to pass out from terror. Edward was as gentle as he could be.
"Mr Kennedy, it is plain that Mr Simpson has been abusing his position and inflicting violence on other members of the mess. But after last night, I am compelled to ask – it went further did it not?" The boy simply stared back at him, as if frozen. This was a terribly difficult thing to put into words. "There were violations of the Articles?" Edward persisted softly. "Of one Article in particular? Violations that should have been punished by death?" He would not have thought it possible for the boy to grow paler, yet he did. "No blame attaches to you." He was not sure those words were heard. "But I must know. Before last night – had he inflicted more than beatings upon Mr Hornblower?" A silence, then at last the boy mutely shook his head. "Was he about to – the time when you attacked him before?" This time a faint, reluctant, nod. Yes, that had been it, and he had been far too slow to see it. Until last night he had guessed at nothing worse than brutality, though that would have been bad enough.
Edward was not a man to shirk from uncomfortable admissions. "Mr Kennedy, I owe you an apology. On two counts. First that I did not observe what was happening earlier, and take steps to put a stop to it. Second, that I have misjudged you. What you did took great courage." He'd been all wrong about this boy. Well, perhaps not all wrong, but he had certainly had no idea that the apparently light-headed youngster could be capable of acting to protect another in the middle of such suffering of his own. A remarkable youth, after all.
Kennedy merely shook his head at the well-meant words, although whether in denial Edward could not tell. Then he whispered, "What will you do?"
"There is no need to do anything, unless you so desire it. Mr Simpson signed his own death warrant when he struck me in the hold. But I wanted you to know, if ever any trouble of that kind should arise again, then you can turn to me for help. I would not wish you to suffer such a thing in silence ever again."
"You won't report me?"
"No," Edward said gently. "In any event, what is there to report on your side of things? You were innocent here. Did he tell you otherwise?"
A long struggle, then the boy choked out, "He said, if anyone learned, then I would hang. I didn't know.... I thought for sure the captain would not want me aboard his ship...."
Edward frowned, he could not reassure young Kennedy that no captain would ever consider the victim of such a crime to be tainted, for he knew it to be possible though hideously unfair. "The captain need not know if you do not wish it. No-one need know. It is over now."
"Horatio.... He must have guessed."
"And I am sure he knows that you protected him." The boy's face was working now, for all his efforts at control. Hesitant, not sure if this was right, Edward crouched down, and put an arm around his shoulders. "No man worthy of respect would think the less of you." The boy held stiff for a moment, then suddenly seemed to give way in the embrace, shuddering convulsively he clung to the officer's coat, wordless in his pain.
For the second time since he had boarded this ship Edward felt a violent surge of protectiveness. A brave, loyal boy like this one shattered by such motiveless malice. He swore in that second that if there was anything he could do to heal the damage he would do it, not just for the sake of Horatio, who Kennedy – Archie – had protected, but for Archie's own sake, for it would be a thousand pities if he were to be ruined by this.
Archie was still shuddering in his hold. If Simpson were not already doomed Edward felt he would have killed the man himself, with bare hands if he had to. In that moment he would have killed without hesitation any man who laid a hand on either of the boys – his boys. Yes, he thought with fierceness: his boys. "It's alright," he soothed, knowing that it was not and might never be, "It's all over now, it's over, he will never hurt you again." He wished that Archie would let out his pain in weeping, but he seemed to have gone far beyond tears, "It's alright. I'll help you. I won't let it happen again."
#
The entire crew was on deck for the hanging. Captain Keene had insisted on it, although Edward had argued hard that the boys should be excused. Punishment should be witnessed, Keene had said, and that had been the end of it.
The man deserved this, and worse than this, but it was an ugly business all the same. Ugly to drag a man near unconscious with terror to the noose, ugly for all the formality of ceremony. But it was meant to be ugly of course, it was meant as warning as well as punishment. If Simpson had truly been condemned for a blow given in an unguarded moment then there would be no redemption here, but the man's crimes were far worse and probably far more numerous than even Edward knew. Looking at those faces he could see, he thought that many of the crewmen knew it. There was not a soul living who would mourn for Jack Simpson. Some might even celebrate his passing, and if that was an uglier matter than the hanging it was an ugliness that Simpson himself had made.
Horatio, he saw, brought his eyes down to stare at the deck at the moment of execution, but Archie – when Edward saw Archie's face he thought perhaps Keene had been right after all. Archie's gaze never wavered, and the look he bore was not of triumph or even relief, it was something deeper and more vital. Perhaps purgation.
When it was all over and the crew had been dismissed he saw the two of them walk over to the rail side by side, not touching, as far as he could see not speaking, just standing and looking out to see.
He had not expected this to happen. He had not anticipated anything like this when he stepped aboard Justinian, but once again he felt the surge of strangely violent affection for them both. They were both his boys now, and he would protect them to the last drop of his blood, for as long as life should last.