Chapter 19

A few weeks passed on, to be lost among the grains of sand in the hourglass of Time. With the good relations between Lorna and the forgiving Horatio greatly restored, the frigid silences between Archie and herself almost completely dispelled and the Indefatigable returned to its normal conditions as much as was possible under the circumstances, the atmosphere surrounding Lorna was greatly up lifted. At that was also partly due to the liberation from her bindings, and the natural return to her country's lilting strains. The freedom from the weight of her secret was an amazing release. A great storm cloud seemed lifted from the back of her mind, which was burdened enough in her opinion with the thoughts of her ever-approaching mission.

She had always been well-liked by the crew, especially by her division, and well recognised as an able seaman, so after the initial shock she was readily re-instated as a member of the ship's great hierarchical community. The men spoke to her with the same ease as they always had done, and with the same respect as had always been due to her rank. But they were soon, much to Lorna's undeniable relief, to stop halfway through their lewd joking when she was around, and were men enough to even look a trifle abashed. Every soul seemed completely unaware that she had listened to much the same as a boy, without any major discomfort or displeasure. The absence of these obscenities were hardly missed for their humour, as they were now confidently replaced by those braver souls who wolf-whistled, much to her consternation, when sure no other officers were in the immediate vicinity. She, herself, hadn't the heart to stop them.

Every man would chivalrously step aside to create a passage, where before she had to fight a way to the mids' birth and every morning as she walked out on deck, the assembled crew would greet her with courteous hailed choruses of "Good morning, miss" and "Mornin' ma'am!" To which she would grin a reply, and then move on to supervise her division. They now invariably stopped at her approach trying to look as neat as possible and to give her their greetings with every man's hat in their hands, before they were told, somewhat firmly, to: "Look lively! About your work!"

There was still a considerable amount of gossip and speculation, but none of it unkind or unjust. The crew simply looked on, knowing winks and smiles to be found on every face, as they watched the slow reconciliation between Archie and Lorna. The story about the tavern had spread fast, though none were presumptuous enough to think that anything had actually happened between the two. Yet nevertheless they watched Archie's face light up with happiness whenever she had spoken to him and how he surreptitiously watched her as she worked with her division, or walked the decks to deliver some message. But none of the men knew how he was feeling; to have his hearts rent into parts, and as the fragments sprang together at her every smile, the constant reminder that she was out of reach ever-threatened his bruised muscle's newly-formed fragile bonds.

The mess table was soon back to its gossiping, jocular self, and with much encouragement from the other mids, Lorna was forced once again to recount her tale. Heather even made a dramatic of pulling a stool out for her, upon which, playing along, she graciously seated herself to unanimous guffaws. But as she seated herself the laughter faded from her eyes, as she realised that Archie, and not Heather, should have been the one to make such a gesture. It was just another reminder of the barrier that was still raised between them.

Archie just stood in silence, leaning against the partition wall, it seemed to her almost trying to envelop himself in the shadows. As it was half his face was hidden in the darkness, enough so that she couldn't see the white mark left on his lip from where he had bitten down to keep it from trembling. He watched her, almost transfixed as laughed and joked, to him it seemed wholeheartedly with others. He shut his eyes to shut her out from his mind - but even then her image swam mockingly before him in the blackness.

He knew that he was daring to love her, a Lady, of wealth and Property - no matter what she tried to pretend to herself. In her heart she was a Lady, no one can wholly escape her birth. And should she look at him in the way that he had prayed she would, she would find him unworthy as he found himself every night as he dreamt of her. "The daughter of a Lord and the scum of London's most disreputable alehouses." It was enough to turn sour said from even the most liberal of mouths.

But at least they had started to re-build their friendship, though the attack of her friendly indifference was almost more painful then her running from his sight. Because now he was tortured by Hope. He cursed her under his breath, he cursed that one night of revelation, he cursed anything and everything and not least himself. Cursing himself for falling in love. Of all the women, the girls: There she was, sitting just before him, so innocent as not to realise that without her jacket the flimsy home-spun shirt did little to protect her modesty. Not realising that all the men in the room had eyes darting downwards before looking away in embarrassment.

He loved her and he was a fool to do so. But he would not be fool enough to let their friendship go too. The walls she had built between them still stood strong even though she had she had voluntarily spoken to him for the first time since that night; he couldn't bear her coldness any longer. Archie resolved to talk to her that night, and if she would not listen then so be it.

***

It was late, outside the moon's incandescent globe hung in the spectral clouds of darkness, and the inhabitants of HMS Indefatigable's midshipmen's birth stood in one yawning host to make their way to the sleeping birth. The girl had lingered behind slightly to snuff out the guttering candle on the table. It was when she too began to make her way through the dimly lit corridor to the hammocks that he stopped her; he reached out and snatched her arm, abruptly halting her advancement. She tried to struggle free, writhing in his grip but he pinned her to the spot. She was considerably smaller yet it still took all his strength to hold her still.

"Please Lorna, you must listen to me! I understand why you don't want to know me, but you must listen! I cannot bear to fight." She stopped struggling then, breathing hard from the effort, her grey eyes locked onto his. He almost could not speak as he saw her, so helpless in his arms, and with such a hurtful look on her bloodless face cutting into his very soul. He gulped and plunged ahead. "I'm sorry." The look did not change, reproachful and afraid. "I'm so sorry, Lorna. I took advantage of you and I betrayed our friendship and your trust. I wasn't in my right mind - a poor excuse I know…" He trailed off. "I just want you to know that you mean so much more to me than that." His face bore the honest low of a man speaking true to his heart.

Lorna had struggled so hard to avoid this confrontation; afraid that things would be said that could never be retracted, afraid that things would be said to shatter their friendship forever. Yet now she was here, alone with him and all the worry was apropos nothing. He had not condemned or obligated, just been the gentlemen he always was… Her mind went blank as she felt his cool assuaging lips upon her cheek.

"Friends?" The sound of his soft voice made her eyes widen to overwhelmed saucers. She couldn't manage more than a breathless murmur.

"Friends." He released her then, and together they went into the dormitory.

***

The sleeping birth soon hushed at her entrance, a nervous cough here or clearing of throat there. It took a few moments for her to realise what their discomfort was about. Her mouth formed a small 'o' before she spoke.

"Oh come on! It was just the same when you thought I was a boy!"

"Erm… not quite, Lorna." It was Horatio who had spoken, standing to one side looking just as uncomfortable as the rest. Though she was glad that he had used her given name, the others all seemed far to daunted by her title; a general obligation to call her 'milady' or 'ma'am'. But now even he stood awkwardly abashed.

"Oh for crying out loud, I'll change in the corridor! And pray a lobster doesn't come along!" Not all the expressions she could see looked entirely satisfied with this idea but it was grudgingly accepted as no alternative immediately presented itself. She grabbed her nightshift and went outside into the draughty passage.

During the considerable rustling and tumult inside, Horatio took advantage of their close proximity and unlikelihood of being overheard, to whisper in Archie's ear,

"I take it you've done your grovelling then?" Archie merely smiled and nodded. "Well it's about time!" After they had all changed into their night attire, and Lorna had hesitantly ventured that they were decent through the door, there was a widespread quest for respective hammocks.

Promptly, as it had been the same every night previous, the birth was muffled in gloom. The only sounds straying through the air were the prolonged creaking of the ship's timbers, the distant sound of the waves breaking on her hull, the irregular breathing that eventually settled into the harmonious cacophony of deep slumberous sighs, and the occasional snore. Whoever else lay awake gazing up to the shadowed timbers above she could not say, but once again Lorna found herself awake to the silence of her own thoughts. Even Archie, to her left, submitted to his agonising dreams.

Her thoughts, now tripping over themselves in their hasty trails through her mind, were more confused than ever. The implications of that kiss? Was she truly more to him than just a friend? More to him than the easy seduction she had at first feared? And even if he did… love her? She was hesitant to use the word even in her own troubled mind. No that kind of love, as a man loves a woman and she loves him in return, was something too foreign to her being; something she was not ready to even contemplate yet - not even in her dreams. How could someone feel and want to feel something so completely out of their own control? No, it was not for the present…

But eventually even she succumbed to the night and its host of fitful dreams, for the dawn would bring the start of a new venture