Chapter 1

Flashback

"It's over sir, we're surrounded from all sides!" Mathews tried to make himself heard above the impetuous roar of the men and cannon fire.

"Her crew are preparing to board." Shouted a young and inexperienced officer – evidently shaken by his first experiences of war. He was pale with fear and tinged green with seasickness. He shivered discernibly, although whether through nervous panic or due to the bitter cold of the murky night it was not immediately clear. "Maybe we should surrender now whilst we still have the chance." He dared to suggest.

"That's mutinous talk." Mathews shouted, although not unkindly, before rounding on the young man – barely a boy. His young features were haunted by a knowledge which should only have belonged to a man four times his age.

"Come on lad…" he smiled, "control yourself. Mr Hornblower will see us right, and if not better to die a man then suffer the hangman's noose a coward hey?" He said, before turning back to the rest of the crew and speaking more generally to the men on either side of him, "We will await the Captain's orders."

"Our duty is to both our Captain and our ship." Horblower shouted, "If we are to be boarded then so be it, but let us not be so easily turned from our course."

"The Captain orders that the ship to be prepared for battle sir." A young messenger came running up from the portside of the ship. "We are to fight."

"Aye aye." Mathews spoke.

Away and out of sight from the rest of his crew Captain Pellew drew his pistol with a heavy heart. There was a grave expression upon his face, for he knew their situation was an impossible one, and an assault on their part futile, but there really was nothing more left for them to do now but stand and fight.

"Brace yourselves men." Hornblower addressed the men calmly in an attempt to reassure his crew – and if he was entirely honest with himself to try and steady his own nerves. He tried to tell himself that their well-being was secure despite the fact that they were critically outnumbered. "Let's show the French what the British are made of! Mathews get those cannons loaded!"

With a brief nod of his head in Horatio's direction Mathews was gone, taking a few of the more experienced crewmen with him to assist.

The crew of the Indefatigable were still very much in a state of shock, through the soupy and impenetrable mist of the cloudy night it had been impossible to see the French ships creeping up on them – although judging by the sheer number of French ships which now surrounded them it was obvious to all that their mission had been doomed from the start onset, they had been betrayed.

"Je souhaite parler avec votre Capitaine!" As a small group of the French crew began to row in closer to the Indefatigable Hornblower began to notice certain features about the French Captain that had previously gone unobserved. He noted that he was a tall, middle-aged man – possibly in his early forties – with only a slight tinge of grey to his hair, and a youthful, if not somewhat stony glint in his eyes, which gave him an air of some malice.

"Le Capitaine est indispose," Hornblower explained, "Je suis Lefttennant à bord de ce bateau, vous pouvez dire que vous me souhaitez."

Hornblower hoped that he could distract the French Captain and his men long enough to give Mathews enough time to secure and ready the cannons for battle.

"Excuse me Sir…" Styles asked, "But what is he saying?"

"He wants to speak to the Captain." Horatio explained.

"And?"

"I have told him that the Captain is indisposed." Horatio grinned. "If he wants to say anything he will have to speak to me directly."

"By God that's clever of ya sir." Styles praised, "So he actually thinks you're…"

"Acting Captain of this Ship Styles?… Yes." Horatio turned to face his old friend for just a second and as their eyes locked in mutual understanding a smile spread over both of their faces.

"I only hope you can pull this one off Sir." He turned to see that it was Mathews who had whispered over his shoulder. Surprised to see him return so soon he assumed that many of the cannons had already been firmly secured. Mathews was an extremely experienced seaman – now in his fifties he had started out at sea a mere boy. He had not the education to rise in the ranks but he knew his job and he was extremely efficient at it, and was still a more valuable crew member to have on board a ship than many a distinguished officer.

"So do I," Hornblower commented, a little less confidently this time. "For all our sakes, so do I." He whispered quietly to himself, under his breath.

"Nous vous avons et vos hommes ont entouré." The French Captain continued, "Nous vous conseillons de vous rendre paisiblement ou nous prendrons votre bateau par la force"

"Then we are forced to fight you Captain." Hornblower responded with resolve, reverting back to his native English tongue. He certainly wasn't going to surrender and let the Indefatigable be taken so easily, and neither were the rest of his men – he could see that written all over each one of their unfaltering expressions.

"Then so be it." The French Captain's thick accent almost completely masked every carefully thought out word of his English. He was evidently not so fluent in English as Hornblower was in French.

"Mathews are those canons ready?" Hornblower hastened to ask.

"Yes sir."

"Good man. Take as many men as you need, let's see if we can't take out a few of their ships before they take out too many of us… you men stand your ground." He ordered, noticing out of the corner of his eye the nervous twitch of a few of the younger crewmembers, not entirely sure they wouldn't make an attempt to run – although quite where to he had no idea.

"Stand your ground!" Archie Kennedy commanded, echoing the words of his best friend. "Otherwise it will be the hangman's noose you'll be facing, and that is an even more formidable enemy!"

With one last glance at the acting Lettennant Mathews took about twenty of the men and took up his place on deck, ready to await his signal. Hornblower's whole body tensed as he heard the clatter of the French crew's feet as they prepared to board the ship and he realised that bloody battle was an inevitability now.

Suddenly the French captain appeared before him on deck, followed by twenty or so of his men, each of them fully armed. "You will surrender Captain." The man demanded in his rich accent.

"Oh I don't think so." Horatio bluffed.

"Then you leave me no choice."

In one swift, bold, and almost liquid movement the Captain drew his sword, as did many of his men.

"MATHEWS!" Horatio ordered as he prepared to do the same.

"Aye aye sir." Mathews, fully alert as always, responded swiftly to his orders."FIRE!" he shouted as he ran along the length of the ship's deck, echoing the order to every man in turn.

A series of deafening explosions ensued as the French ships around them splinted. Glass and wood shattered as they were hit with the full force of the heavy metallic shells – the terrified cries and shouts of their many injured survivors ringing out into the nights sky. It was strange, Hornblower thought, that not one of them appeared to be prepared for battle. Maybe they had come up against a different enemy earlier that same day and been forced to retaliate at the cost of their ammunition? He thought. Or maybe they had just assumed that they had got them so totally surrounded that they had no choice but to surrender, rationalising that to fire on them unnecessarily would be futile? Either way they had been caught completely off guard.

"I fancy our chances are now both even Captain," Hornblower mused as the French Captain raised his sword in defence of his life, and his liberty. Angered, he suddenly struck out at Hornblower, who dodged his unprecedented attack with characteristic agility before all hell broke loose on deck. The opportune moment had been ceased by both sides – each man eager to get at their adversary neither needed convincing twice to advance. Horatio reached for his pistol, taking aim as his adversary did the same, when suddenly and without warning Horatio's uneasy finger slipped off the trigger and the gun went off. The Captain staggered backwards clutching at the gaping hole in his chest, before overbalancing and toppling over the side – he was dead before he hit the water. Men were falling all around him, some dead, some of them mortally wounded – French and English alike – but for a split second all Horatio could do was stand, leaning over the side of the ship stunned and transfixed by the sight of the dead captain's body floating prone in the water. He hadn't meant to kill him – at least not at the moment the gun had gone off.

"SIR!" He heard a shout from behind him and turned to see the blur of a blue uniform as one of the French seamen ran towards him, sword raised ready to strike. Within an instant Horatio's survival instructs took over and he drew his second pistol from his belt and fired – for real and with intent to kill this time – and the man fell to the ground instantly at his feet, dead. It was only then that he noticed the man who had just saved his life.

"You alright sir?" Styles asked him, concerned and panting slightly, and spattered with blood.

"Yes, fine. Thank you Styles." He hesitated.

"That's ok sir." Styles smiled, and the next moment he was gone – swallowed up by the blur of men on deck.

Horatio drew his sword. Many of the French fleet had already fled, jumping overboard as they preferred to take their chances in the depths of the salty water below rather than remain on deck and be cut to pieces. A fare few still remained, although their numbers were slowly dwindling as it quickly became obvious to everyone on board that they were now the ones who were outnumbered.

Suddenly the crew let out a joyous cry of victory as the remaining Frenchmen scrambled to the sides of the ship and threw themselves over the side. Seeing that their cause was lost and crippled by the loss of their Captain they realised that their efforts were in vain. Witnessing the renewed high spirits of his men and the obvious pride outlined in every single one of their smiling faces Hornblower couldn't help but join them in their small celebration of victory. They had done themselves and their Captain proud this evening.

It was without warning that the explosion of gun-fire rang out in the night's sky, silencing the men in an instant. Horatio didn't notice anything at first, only the sensation of the pressure as the bullet penetrated his abdomen, then a sudden eruption of pain. His legs buckled from beneath him as he fell to his knees, an expression of shock reflected in his pained face.

"HORATIO!" Archie cried and he was beside his friend almost immediately. A movement a few meters away caught the crew's attention and suddenly they were all looking in the direction from where the bullet had been fired. One of the French officers lay bleeding from a severe head wound, his pistol raised, black blood staining the hand that had fired the potentially fatal shot. He laughed maliciously at this new scene of devastation he had caused.

"Not so smart without your Captain now are you?" He snarled with what was to be his final breath. In a fit of rage Styles drew his sword and, marching across the deck, his face full of hatred, he ran the man right through.

The wound didn't bleed seriously at first, only a small patch of blood spatter betrayed the bullets point of entry, and even when the blood sis begin to flow there was relief to see that it did not pour with the crimson bodily liquids. Even so it was still with a heavy heart that the crew of the Indefatigable viewed their commander's current state – they all realised that the probability of internal injury was just too great to be ignored.

"We need to inform the Captain!" Archie informed the crew above Horatio's cries of pain – even more audible to the men then the moans of those still lying fatally injured scattered around them about the deck. Their bodies already broken it was now up to the strength of their souls as to whether they were to live or die.

"I'll stay with him lad." Mathews offered - himself deeply pale and still in shock. "You go inform the Captain."

Archie wiped away the tears that were rapidly beginning to well up in his eyes, almost blinding him. He tried to say something of comfort to his wounded friend - to let him know that help would be prompt – but he found that every time he opened his mouth to speak he felt physically sick and had to close it quickly again.

"For God's sake lad!" Mathews pleaded, and with that Archie turned tail and made his way rapidly to the Captain's cabin.

"You're going to be OK sir." Mathews tried to reassure him, taking the young officer's head in his hands whilst the crew stood around them – some of them in shock, and others unsure of how to handle the situation. For some of the younger crew members this had been their first experience of battle.

Suddenly Horatio's cries quietened as he began to slip into unconsciousness and became the sedate and disorientated sobs of a dying man. Mathews looked up, desperate to see signs of help arriving, fear embedded itself deep within his soul – but the deck suddenly seemed unusually silent and empty tonight. "Everything u'l be alright."