"Ship of Fools" by romanticalgirl - Hornblower
TITLE: Ship of Fools
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING: Buckland
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: He knows very well how they see him
DISCLAIMER: Horatio Hornblower and all the characters therein belong to people who are not me. Lord Byron belonged to himself. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
CHALLENGE: O Captain, My Captain challenge
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks to nolivingman for the beta
He is acting Captain; a title he knows is cause for ridicule on every level of the ship. His men don’t trust him and he doesn’t trust himself, so they all move together in a careful dance, though none of them seem to hear the same music.
He watches his lieutenants as they move across the ship toward each other and away. Hornblower seems the focal point of the orbit of both Bush and Kennedy, and the thoughts Buckland himself dare not think are centered around the young man as well. No one speaks of mutiny save Hornblower and Sawyer, and Buckland fears that Hornblower suffers from a kind of madness as well. It is the same kind that Buckland has known all great men to have - the madness of certainty. Buckland is well acquainted with greatness. He has found himself surrounded by it his entire life. Surrounded by it, but never once touched by it.
Listening to Sawyer’s mad ramblings reminds him that greatness has a price. He is safer in mediocrity. Let others lead the charge and he will follow, safe and sure, as a true leader should be. Let the brave and the reckless push the first advance and he will hang back and oversee.
Hornblower makes bold decisions, but they are rash. Buckland must see all sides; hear all arguments to choose the right path. He is meant for smooth seas, not stormy skies. When the rest of the men think he doesn’t listen or cannot hear, he can hear the whispers. There is no fear with his name, just the lack of respect. The young boys dream of glory, not realizing that there is no true glory in death. He has fought, though they think he has not, but better still he has lived.
Bush says nothing, wisely keeping his own counsel unless forced to speak, and even then he says as little as possible. Kennedy fails to hold his tongue at all. Only Hornblower - always that damned Hornblower - earns Kennedy’s silence, and of all the things that Hornblower has said and done, it is that that earns Buckland’s actual gratitude. Hornblower and Bush may think him a true fool, but only Kennedy actually despises him for it.
Buckland sits at the table as Clive administers laudanum to Sawyer and wine to himself, anesthetizing them both. The grape tastes bitter with Sawyer’s vicious words, souring them with snide digs. Buckland makes Clive increase the dosage until he’s afforded silence, and then he sits and stares out at the ocean, knowing that Kingston grows closer with every moment, every wave, every breeze.
There is no rhyme or reason to the plan when it comes. Perhaps it is Hobbs unswerving devotion to Sawyer that plants the seed as Buckland watches Hornblower’s feigned deference to him barely mask his unspoken disregard. He is a master, Hornblower is, of manipulation. Knowing that his lieutenant sees him as nothing but an obstacle to overcome sets Buckland’s wheels to turning.
It is the final battle with the Spaniards that truly solidifies the idea as a plan. The long hours of impotent fury, trussed like a Christmas turkey, not even granted the redemption of defending his ship - his, not Hornblower’s - shows him he has nothing at all left to lose.
Even still, it isn’t until he walks the deck slick with red that he realizes not only does he have nothing left to lose; he may actually have an opportunity to gain.
The droplets of rye spilled from the glass in Clive’s shaky grip expose rivulets of skin on his blood-soaked hands as he speaks, reciting a litany of dead and dying to lay at Buckland’s feet. The final names on his list still the glass of wine halfway to Buckland’s mouth.
Sawyer and Wellard dead. Kennedy as good as and Bush uncertain. A skeleton crew for the short remainder of the journey, but more than that, Hornblower will command La Gaditana and Hobbs, left bereft a hero, will be at Buckland’s side. Men need heroes. Buckland knows that better than most, having never been one to anyone, so he will offer the chance of making sure the blame for Sawyer’s death lies on the shoulders of the man who truly killed him, with no one to remind the court that had he not, Sawyer would surely have killed them all.
Buckland watches the wind fill the sails. His life has been spent at sea, and his hope has always been to remain undistinguished. His aspirations never elevated to dreams, and the dream of his own ship has become a nightmare.
He sees La Gaditana in the distance, pacing them at Buckland orders, all of them to arrive in Kingston together. There will be a trial and, true to Sawyer’s words, someone will pay the price for what they’ve done. Buckland is the Captain, acting or not, and the only thing he knows for sure is that he will not, at any cost, be the man who hangs.
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING: Buckland
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: He knows very well how they see him
DISCLAIMER: Horatio Hornblower and all the characters therein belong to people who are not me. Lord Byron belonged to himself. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
CHALLENGE: O Captain, My Captain challenge
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks to nolivingman for the beta
He is acting Captain; a title he knows is cause for ridicule on every level of the ship. His men don’t trust him and he doesn’t trust himself, so they all move together in a careful dance, though none of them seem to hear the same music.
He watches his lieutenants as they move across the ship toward each other and away. Hornblower seems the focal point of the orbit of both Bush and Kennedy, and the thoughts Buckland himself dare not think are centered around the young man as well. No one speaks of mutiny save Hornblower and Sawyer, and Buckland fears that Hornblower suffers from a kind of madness as well. It is the same kind that Buckland has known all great men to have - the madness of certainty. Buckland is well acquainted with greatness. He has found himself surrounded by it his entire life. Surrounded by it, but never once touched by it.
Listening to Sawyer’s mad ramblings reminds him that greatness has a price. He is safer in mediocrity. Let others lead the charge and he will follow, safe and sure, as a true leader should be. Let the brave and the reckless push the first advance and he will hang back and oversee.
Hornblower makes bold decisions, but they are rash. Buckland must see all sides; hear all arguments to choose the right path. He is meant for smooth seas, not stormy skies. When the rest of the men think he doesn’t listen or cannot hear, he can hear the whispers. There is no fear with his name, just the lack of respect. The young boys dream of glory, not realizing that there is no true glory in death. He has fought, though they think he has not, but better still he has lived.
Bush says nothing, wisely keeping his own counsel unless forced to speak, and even then he says as little as possible. Kennedy fails to hold his tongue at all. Only Hornblower - always that damned Hornblower - earns Kennedy’s silence, and of all the things that Hornblower has said and done, it is that that earns Buckland’s actual gratitude. Hornblower and Bush may think him a true fool, but only Kennedy actually despises him for it.
Buckland sits at the table as Clive administers laudanum to Sawyer and wine to himself, anesthetizing them both. The grape tastes bitter with Sawyer’s vicious words, souring them with snide digs. Buckland makes Clive increase the dosage until he’s afforded silence, and then he sits and stares out at the ocean, knowing that Kingston grows closer with every moment, every wave, every breeze.
There is no rhyme or reason to the plan when it comes. Perhaps it is Hobbs unswerving devotion to Sawyer that plants the seed as Buckland watches Hornblower’s feigned deference to him barely mask his unspoken disregard. He is a master, Hornblower is, of manipulation. Knowing that his lieutenant sees him as nothing but an obstacle to overcome sets Buckland’s wheels to turning.
It is the final battle with the Spaniards that truly solidifies the idea as a plan. The long hours of impotent fury, trussed like a Christmas turkey, not even granted the redemption of defending his ship - his, not Hornblower’s - shows him he has nothing at all left to lose.
Even still, it isn’t until he walks the deck slick with red that he realizes not only does he have nothing left to lose; he may actually have an opportunity to gain.
The droplets of rye spilled from the glass in Clive’s shaky grip expose rivulets of skin on his blood-soaked hands as he speaks, reciting a litany of dead and dying to lay at Buckland’s feet. The final names on his list still the glass of wine halfway to Buckland’s mouth.
Sawyer and Wellard dead. Kennedy as good as and Bush uncertain. A skeleton crew for the short remainder of the journey, but more than that, Hornblower will command La Gaditana and Hobbs, left bereft a hero, will be at Buckland’s side. Men need heroes. Buckland knows that better than most, having never been one to anyone, so he will offer the chance of making sure the blame for Sawyer’s death lies on the shoulders of the man who truly killed him, with no one to remind the court that had he not, Sawyer would surely have killed them all.
Buckland watches the wind fill the sails. His life has been spent at sea, and his hope has always been to remain undistinguished. His aspirations never elevated to dreams, and the dream of his own ship has become a nightmare.
He sees La Gaditana in the distance, pacing them at Buckland orders, all of them to arrive in Kingston together. There will be a trial and, true to Sawyer’s words, someone will pay the price for what they’ve done. Buckland is the Captain, acting or not, and the only thing he knows for sure is that he will not, at any cost, be the man who hangs.