Disclaimer: I do not own Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (book or film) in any way, shape, or form. In other words, don't sue me! Thanks!

Author's Note: Hello, this is my first Master and Commander fic, focusing primarily on Mrs. Horner, a vital female character cut from the film. This is her story, taken from the book and broadened, so that we can get her side of the story. This fic is a combination of the book and the film, and I've tried to keep it as close to both as possible (as hard as that is in itself, seeing as how I don't own either), but if you find any discrepancies feel free to tell me and I'll make sure to get them fixed. Enjoy!

The port of Gibraltar was bustling with people: natives, traders, adventurers, rogues, and sailors. It was barely even noon yet and the sun was already blazing from its throne in the sky. Claire Horner wove through the crowd, her hands filled with baskets of food and fabric. She had long since grown accustomed to scurrying about amongst the thick crowds that filled the town, and the heat that differed so from her indigenous land. She didn't mind so much anymore; there was a chance in Gibraltar to be free and let down her long, brown hair whenever she pleased; a privilege women did not have back in Britain. The harbour town had been frightening to young Claire when she first arrived; what with the new culture, the dissimilar language, the natives, the lonely sailors, and the whores, but since that time life in Gibraltar had become her only life. She still longed for the old days of a life long past - a life in Britain. She was not born to be confined in a cage for the rest of her years, she had youth yet - and it was being wasted on her aging, drunken husband.

She could still remember clearly the day she was promised away to a man all but three times her age. The pain and horror and misery were still fresh in her mind. His velvety words had seduced her mother into a stupor. He played the charming, yet forlorn sailor who called the ocean his home. Claire had immediately found him foul, and wanted nothing to do with him, but her mother would hear none of it. She was bent on sending her only daughter into a good, solid marriage - and thought she had. Claire had been the only one to see through his deceit.

Nevertheless, Claire Weldon, aged sixteen, was married off by her mother to a burly man who claimed to be a rather well-to-do sailor, and was also nearing forty-seven years of age. Charles Horner was not too terrible a person, but came very close. Aside from his ability to charm most anyone, his horrible temper and jealousy had become eminent very soon. Claire maintained a somewhat happy appearance, and he knew that she did not love him. He promised that, in time, she would grow to. How could she? She would ask herself, how that would happen, when he had only married her for her body, nothing more. She kept her loathing for him quiet. After about two months of "wedded bliss", Claire was uprooted from her family, her friends and her home by Horner and relocated to Gibraltar in his hopes of finding a job there for the Royal British Navy. This only strengthened her loathing for him. It was on the way to the small town in the south of Spain that Claire learned the truth about her husband - he was, in no way, what he had claimed to be. He was not a sailor, only a gunner, and had not been on a ship in nearly two years. She was reassured, though, that his luck would change in Gibraltar. That had been three years ago.

After several jobs on various ships over the past years, Horner's "luck" was beginning to ever so slowly fade away. Every ship that he stepped foot on either sent him back to Gibraltar, or sunk. Over those three years he acquired a lover by the name of rum. Some nights, he would return to the pair's measly home drunk as hell, other nights, he never came back. When he would eventually sober up enough to find a job, he would set sail for some far off destination halfway across the world such as Africa, or India. Every once in a great while he would insist about bringing Claire along the journey, but few ships acquiesced to his wishes. When they did, Claire was stuck attending to the small children and young officers for the duration of the journey. For the majority of the time, Horner went aboard without her, leaving Claire behind for months on end, fantasizing about the man that would come and save her from the pathetic existence in which she lived.

Claire felt as though this day was going to be different somehow. Horner was home for once, and sober, to top things off. The daily shopping had gone by rather fast for a Wednesday morning, especially on a market day. What had really brightened her day was that she had caught the eye of a naval officer that was in port with the, what was it, HMS Surprise? Something like that. Though shy about the wandering eyes of other men, much thanks were due to Horner's incredible jealous streak (even he couldn't deny how exquisite she had become), Claire looked at many newcomers to Gibraltar as possible means of escape. Anyone was better than Horner, who was nearing his forty-seventh birthday. Claire had just recently turned nineteen.

By the time she had returned home from the morning errands, her husband was already gone - presumably down at the docks, trying to find work again. Somehow, Claire felt that today was the day that he would finally find his long desired work with the British Navy. She sighed to her lonesome self, it was, of course, only a young girl's fancy, a hope for a life better than the one she was living. The chances of Horner actually getting work on a Naval ship were slim to none, he had lost more jobs in the past three years than he had ever held in his life. Besides, why would any ship of Her Majesty's Royal Navy accept Horner in their crew? Yes, he was strong, and, yes, he had experience, but if he was put anywhere near those barrels of rum, everything would be lost after one cup. No one wanted to be around when Horner was drunk - no one. There was room yet for her to dream.

Once everything was settled and in its proper place, Claire turned to the necessary chores she performed daily, no matter how mundane she found them. Her routine was so automatic now that she barely thought about what she was doing. Everyday mending clothes and linens, washing the few dishes they owned, washing anything made of fabric not being mended, and attempting to sweep the floor, regardless of how pointless it was. No one came to call anyway, and even someone did come, they were Horner's near drunken friends with no place else to go. This was not the life she had envisioned for herself. She had wanted more than to become a simple housewife with a drunken husband that was barely around. How did this happen? How did she allow this life to shatter her dreams? How? Why? She had so many questions, but so few answers. In a sad effort to put herself in higher spirits, Claire brought to mind the officer from the dock that morning. He had watched her walk by so effortlessly, so serenely, it was as though she was one of the natives. She had averted her eyes almost immediately after making eye contact, and yet, a single image haunted her thoughts. The image of him standing there on the dock; she remembered how the sun had reflected in his blond hair . . . Oh, how she wished he would have taken her with him on his worldly voyages, no matter the dangers involved.

Claire shook the thought from her mind. She was better than that! Fantasizing of things that would never come true. Besides, the odds of her ever seeing him again were highly unlikely. She was being so foolish. The man probably was married, with children. But, then again, sailors and Navy men alike were not well known for their faithfulness to their wives. That only brought Horner to mind, had he betrayed his wedding vows? He assumed that she had, and had accused her of such, but he was always the one at some foreign port with exotic women . . .

"Claire!"

Claire looked up from her work. Horner was walking down the way, a little devilish smile gracing his husky features.

"What is it?" Claire asked, standing and setting her mending down on her seat.

"Claire, my darling," Horner continued. He always called her 'my darling' when he was in a good mood, even though she knew he didn't mean it. "Hurry up and pack your things, we leave soon."

"What?" Claire inquired, confused, "What have you done?"

Horner stopped before his young wife, towering above her; "I told you to pack your things. We are leaving aboard the HMS Surprise."

"The HMS Surprise?" Claire asked, "Do you mean the Navy ship in the harbour?"

Horner nodded, heading into the little house, "Now come on, pack your things."

"Me? My things?"

"Yes," Horner replied as he continued inside. Claire ran after him as his explained; "I have only just signed on as part of the crew. The captain hopes to depart later today. Now, hurry up."

"Is that where you have been all morning?"

"Yeah. They were in need of a gunner."

"And what of me?" Claire asked.

"The man I spoke to, a Mr. Mowett, I believe, 2nd Lieutenant, said you would be allowed aboard if you agreed to take care of the children. I agreed on your behalf."

"The children?" Claire asked, exasperated. She sighed silently. Again, she was to tend to the young ones. Again she would be expected to give them lessons, encouragement and a reassuring smile in times of need. She was to be a mother in replacement of the ones they left behind in Britain. Again, she was to be stowed away below deck, to be forgotten and ignored for months on end - to live hell at sea.

"What is the destination?" Claire asked quietly, gathering her things together.

"Brazil." Horner replied, "The Surprise is headed for Brazil."

Claire couldn't avoid the excitement that darted through her at hearing his words; "Brazil?"

"Yeah, you finished yet?" Horner insisted, tying his pack closed.

"Almost." Claire replied. There was a flurry of emotions rushing through her: excitement, fear, worry, curiosity. She was leaving this wretched place and going on an adventure of her own. Under any normal circumstances, it would have been too good, too exciting, to truly be real. Claire would have half expected to wake up at any moment to the brilliant sunrise bursting through the roof of their shack and disrupting her wondrous dream. But no. It was the same old story. One that wasn't any different than those before. She had no idea that this time, the story would be rewritten. She would embark on a journey that would lead to some places that she had only dreamt about, and others she had only feared.

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