Windfalls, Chapter Eleven
Things start heating up now...
TITLE: Windfalls, Ch. 11
RATING: PG to be on the safe side.
WORD COUNT: 1,826
PAIRING, IF ANY: Eventual Horatio Hornblower/Captain Amelia
SPOILER WARNING: None
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing here.
SUMMARY/NOTES: The battle is on, and things get…complicated.
Hornblower did not pass a pleasant evening. A few drinks and a lot of vigorous mental denial did nothing to shake the odd fascination he’d had with Captain Drake that afternoon. Finally, as he prepared for bed, he looked at himself in the mirror and allowed himself to face facts. It may just be because I’ve spent so much time with her, he thought, but it appears that I’m fascinated by her. It does me no good to ignore that; all I do is lose focus on my ship. When I next see Captain Drake, I’ll find a way to bring up the topic with her. Then we’ll see where we go from there. It didn’t entirely satisfy him, but it seemed the best course of action. And at least it allowed him to push Drake from his mind as he climbed into bed.
When he awoke at eight bells the next morning, he called for Bush and asked for a report. “No sighting of the Vacarme as yet,” Bush said, shaking his head, “Although it would be hard to spot her, the weather being what it is. I suppose this area suffers from foggy mornings.”
“Well, keep a sharp ear out,” Hornblower said, accepting a cup of coffee from Polwheal, “The last thing we want is for the Vacarme to slip by us.”
“Aye-aye, sir.” Bush said, touching his hat and leaving the cabin. Hornblower quickly finished his morning preparations and came up on deck, wanting to be present should the Vacarme show herself.
Bush hadn’t been exaggerating. He could only see about half-way down the deck before things were shrouded by grey clouds. Making his way to the quarterdeck, he found Bush once more. “Perhaps we should contact the Legacy,” he said, “The fog may be clearer on their…”
At that moment, a gunshot echoed across the deck, and Hornblower jumped backwards as splinters of wood rained down from the topsails. “Those cocky bastards!” Bush growled, grabbing onto the railing and peering uselessly forward, “They’re trying to get the drop on us in the fog!”
“BEAT TO QUARTERS!” Hornblower yelled, “I want the men with the sharpest eyes up in the masts! We need to figure out where they’re coming from!”
The crew sprang into action, their movements a little less orderly than usual; fighting blind wasn’t something they were used to. Hornblower swore quietly and ran for his cabin to fetch his pistols. When he reemerged, he could tell that the cannons had been rolled out. “Any sign of them?” he called up to the masts.
“A few glimpses of them off the starboard side, but we can’t be certain where they’ve gone!” came the response. Hornblower cursed again. Hiding in the fog was a popular trick by Frenchmen and British alike, but the Vacarme’s audacity was breathtaking. Weighed down with ill-gotten goods, probably outnumbered and outgunned, and they chose to attack the larger ship in the fog instead of quietly slipping by. He might have admired the tactic if he wasn’t so outraged.
Another cannon shot sounded, this one further off. Even without seeing who it was, Hornblower had the feeling that the shot had come from the Legacy. He managed a slight smile; at least his ally was doing her best to help.
Due to the lack of sun, Hornblower wasn’t entirely sure of the passage of time. All he knew for certain was that their shots weren’t landing, but the Vacarme’s certainly were. So far, there was no serious damage, but that was likely to change. His only hope at the moment was that the fog would lift and allow both the Sutherland and the Legacy a clear shot.
Suddenly, something thudded onto the deck. Hornblower looked up; through the fog, he caught sight of a set of masts. “The fool’s trying to board us!” Bush said, sounding both angry and amazed, “Men, cut the ropes!” But the order came too late. Just as the men reached the rope, others began landing on the deck, and Hornblower could see the Vacarme coming closer. They were going to have to fight at close quarters, it seemed. Hopefully the Vacarme wouldn’t be stupid enough to try to sink the ship.
With a shout, Frenchman jumped across the gap and drew their swords. Hornblower could hear the sounds of the marines springing to action. He cocked his pistol and fired into the crowd, hoping to at least hit one of them. Down below, his men were already tussling with the intruders. He knew his men had more training, but these men, despite their offensive stance, were the ones who were cornered. They had more fight in them, and much more motivation to stay alive. This was anything but an ideal situation.
If they wanted to have any hope of repelling the boarders, they needed every man they could get. Hornblower took a deep breath and drew his sword. “Come, Mr. Bush!” he called, “Let’s show these Frenchmen why it was a mistake to board a British vessel!” With that, he rushed down the stairs and managed to cut down the first Frenchman who ran up to him. He heard a ragged cheer from his men, but didn’t pay much attention; now, it was a matter of survival more than a matter of pride.
Hornblower’s mind seemed to shut off after that. He knew which men were his and which were the enemy’s, when to avoid blows and when to stab, but he lost track of everything else. He didn’t know what was happening to his men, if cannons were firing, or even if the weather had changed. All he knew for certain was that he was alive, and that he would be damned if he would surrender to these ruffians. So he kept up the fight.
Suddenly, a cheer rang out from the men surrounding him and brought him back to himself. Even as he ran through another Frenchmen, Hornblower became aware of still more men climbing onto the Sutherland. But these men were wearing British uniforms and black armbands. “The Legacy!” someone called joyfully, “They’ve got her surrounded!”
Hornblower’s men, who already had plenty of fight in them to begin with, redoubled their efforts. The Frenchmen, startled, appeared to be putting up less of a fight. Hornblower cleared a path to the nearest Legacy man. “Where’s your ship?” he called.
Even as he lashed out at a Frenchman, the man still had the presence of mind to salute. “She flanked the Vacarme, Captain! We boarded her, and Captain Drake sent some of us over to help you clear the decks!”
“Much obliged!” Hornblower responded, turning back to the matter at hand. Sparing a glance upwards, he noticed that the fog was thinning. Too little, too late, he thought angrily, before seeking out another Frenchman.
“Hommes du Vacarme!” A familiar female voice called out, voice distorted by a speaking trumpet, “Votre Capitaine rend votre navire à la Marine Angleterre! Baissez votre armes!”
The Frenchmen hesitated, then dropped their swords. “Put them in irons!” Bush roared, and the Sutherland’s crew sprang into action at once. Hornblower sheathed his sword and sought out his first officer. Bush was breathing heavily, but otherwise seemed unharmed. “Mr. Bush! Have some of the men look over to the damage to the ship. And give orders for the injured to be sent to the infirmary.”
“Aye, sir,” Bush said, touching his hat, “Are you all right, Captain?”
“Fine,” Hornblower said curtly, turning away to oversee the removal of the boarding hooks, “Give me a report of the dead and injured as soon as possible, if you please.”
Through the clearing fog, Hornblower spotted someone vaulting the gap between ships. Having an inkling of who it was, he came forward to greet her.
Drake landed on deck, face flushed and eyes glittering with triumph. “We got them, Hornblower!” She said, holding out her hand as he approached, “They won’t be bothering us again! Serves them right after such a cowardly action!”
As Hornblower shook her hand, he noticed a gash on her arm. “You’re injured. Perhaps you should return to the Legacy and have it seen to before we plan a course of action.”
Drake glanced at her arm and shrugged. “This? It’s nothing. One of the Frogs got in a lucky cut. It can wait a few minutes while I collect my men. How badly did they hit you?”
Hornblower glanced around his ship. “I won’t know for sure until the fog fully dissipates, but they did some damage to our masts and probably raked the sides with cannon shot. We should be able to repair it fairly easily.” He shook Drake’s hand again. “Thank you for coming to our aide, Drake. Your men arrived at just the right moment.”
Drake winced as she caught sight of a hole in the deck. “Not soon enough, I’m afraid. We had no idea the Vacarme was there until she fired the first shot. Even though we turned towards the sound immediately, they’d started boarding you by the time we arrived on the scene.”
“It couldn’t be helped,” Hornblower said, “They completely got the drop on us. They’ve learned how to be completely silent in the fog. Maybe we should ask the Captain for his secrets.”
Drake laughed. “He’s not going to talk to us for awhile. He’s livid. You should have seen the look on his face when he saw who was asking for his sword.”
Hornblower couldn’t suppress a smile. “That just makes the victory all the sweeter, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, yes,” Drake said, looking around the deck, “When he finally gets back to France, the other officers will never let him live it down. And he had such a good reputation too.”
Hornblower noticed a Legacy man leaning against one of his own crewmen. “Captain Drake, I offer you my infirmary for your injured men. It’s the least I can do after you came to our aid.”
“Much appreciated, Captain,” Drake said with a smile, “But I’ll still try to get those with minor injuries back to the Legacy. Your infirmary’s probably going to be full en…”
Her voice died in her throat. Hornblower looked back at her, startled. The color had drained out of her face, and her eyes were wide with horror. “Oh no. No.” she said in a whisper.
Before Hornblower could ask her what was wrong, she muttered a rushed “Excuse me, Captain.” and took off at a run down the deck. Hornblower followed her, heart pounding; what could possibly have terrified her? And then, as the sun finally made an appearance, he saw it.
Lying on the deck, in a small pool of blood, was a man wearing the Legacy’s black armband. Hornblower’s blood ran cold when he saw the blond hair. “Oh God…”
Drake had crouched down besides her first officer, hand on his chest, trying to find a heartbeat. “Kennedy? Kennedy? Archie!!”
TITLE: Windfalls, Ch. 11
RATING: PG to be on the safe side.
WORD COUNT: 1,826
PAIRING, IF ANY: Eventual Horatio Hornblower/Captain Amelia
SPOILER WARNING: None
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing here.
SUMMARY/NOTES: The battle is on, and things get…complicated.
Hornblower did not pass a pleasant evening. A few drinks and a lot of vigorous mental denial did nothing to shake the odd fascination he’d had with Captain Drake that afternoon. Finally, as he prepared for bed, he looked at himself in the mirror and allowed himself to face facts. It may just be because I’ve spent so much time with her, he thought, but it appears that I’m fascinated by her. It does me no good to ignore that; all I do is lose focus on my ship. When I next see Captain Drake, I’ll find a way to bring up the topic with her. Then we’ll see where we go from there. It didn’t entirely satisfy him, but it seemed the best course of action. And at least it allowed him to push Drake from his mind as he climbed into bed.
When he awoke at eight bells the next morning, he called for Bush and asked for a report. “No sighting of the Vacarme as yet,” Bush said, shaking his head, “Although it would be hard to spot her, the weather being what it is. I suppose this area suffers from foggy mornings.”
“Well, keep a sharp ear out,” Hornblower said, accepting a cup of coffee from Polwheal, “The last thing we want is for the Vacarme to slip by us.”
“Aye-aye, sir.” Bush said, touching his hat and leaving the cabin. Hornblower quickly finished his morning preparations and came up on deck, wanting to be present should the Vacarme show herself.
Bush hadn’t been exaggerating. He could only see about half-way down the deck before things were shrouded by grey clouds. Making his way to the quarterdeck, he found Bush once more. “Perhaps we should contact the Legacy,” he said, “The fog may be clearer on their…”
At that moment, a gunshot echoed across the deck, and Hornblower jumped backwards as splinters of wood rained down from the topsails. “Those cocky bastards!” Bush growled, grabbing onto the railing and peering uselessly forward, “They’re trying to get the drop on us in the fog!”
“BEAT TO QUARTERS!” Hornblower yelled, “I want the men with the sharpest eyes up in the masts! We need to figure out where they’re coming from!”
The crew sprang into action, their movements a little less orderly than usual; fighting blind wasn’t something they were used to. Hornblower swore quietly and ran for his cabin to fetch his pistols. When he reemerged, he could tell that the cannons had been rolled out. “Any sign of them?” he called up to the masts.
“A few glimpses of them off the starboard side, but we can’t be certain where they’ve gone!” came the response. Hornblower cursed again. Hiding in the fog was a popular trick by Frenchmen and British alike, but the Vacarme’s audacity was breathtaking. Weighed down with ill-gotten goods, probably outnumbered and outgunned, and they chose to attack the larger ship in the fog instead of quietly slipping by. He might have admired the tactic if he wasn’t so outraged.
Another cannon shot sounded, this one further off. Even without seeing who it was, Hornblower had the feeling that the shot had come from the Legacy. He managed a slight smile; at least his ally was doing her best to help.
Due to the lack of sun, Hornblower wasn’t entirely sure of the passage of time. All he knew for certain was that their shots weren’t landing, but the Vacarme’s certainly were. So far, there was no serious damage, but that was likely to change. His only hope at the moment was that the fog would lift and allow both the Sutherland and the Legacy a clear shot.
Suddenly, something thudded onto the deck. Hornblower looked up; through the fog, he caught sight of a set of masts. “The fool’s trying to board us!” Bush said, sounding both angry and amazed, “Men, cut the ropes!” But the order came too late. Just as the men reached the rope, others began landing on the deck, and Hornblower could see the Vacarme coming closer. They were going to have to fight at close quarters, it seemed. Hopefully the Vacarme wouldn’t be stupid enough to try to sink the ship.
With a shout, Frenchman jumped across the gap and drew their swords. Hornblower could hear the sounds of the marines springing to action. He cocked his pistol and fired into the crowd, hoping to at least hit one of them. Down below, his men were already tussling with the intruders. He knew his men had more training, but these men, despite their offensive stance, were the ones who were cornered. They had more fight in them, and much more motivation to stay alive. This was anything but an ideal situation.
If they wanted to have any hope of repelling the boarders, they needed every man they could get. Hornblower took a deep breath and drew his sword. “Come, Mr. Bush!” he called, “Let’s show these Frenchmen why it was a mistake to board a British vessel!” With that, he rushed down the stairs and managed to cut down the first Frenchman who ran up to him. He heard a ragged cheer from his men, but didn’t pay much attention; now, it was a matter of survival more than a matter of pride.
Hornblower’s mind seemed to shut off after that. He knew which men were his and which were the enemy’s, when to avoid blows and when to stab, but he lost track of everything else. He didn’t know what was happening to his men, if cannons were firing, or even if the weather had changed. All he knew for certain was that he was alive, and that he would be damned if he would surrender to these ruffians. So he kept up the fight.
Suddenly, a cheer rang out from the men surrounding him and brought him back to himself. Even as he ran through another Frenchmen, Hornblower became aware of still more men climbing onto the Sutherland. But these men were wearing British uniforms and black armbands. “The Legacy!” someone called joyfully, “They’ve got her surrounded!”
Hornblower’s men, who already had plenty of fight in them to begin with, redoubled their efforts. The Frenchmen, startled, appeared to be putting up less of a fight. Hornblower cleared a path to the nearest Legacy man. “Where’s your ship?” he called.
Even as he lashed out at a Frenchman, the man still had the presence of mind to salute. “She flanked the Vacarme, Captain! We boarded her, and Captain Drake sent some of us over to help you clear the decks!”
“Much obliged!” Hornblower responded, turning back to the matter at hand. Sparing a glance upwards, he noticed that the fog was thinning. Too little, too late, he thought angrily, before seeking out another Frenchman.
“Hommes du Vacarme!” A familiar female voice called out, voice distorted by a speaking trumpet, “Votre Capitaine rend votre navire à la Marine Angleterre! Baissez votre armes!”
The Frenchmen hesitated, then dropped their swords. “Put them in irons!” Bush roared, and the Sutherland’s crew sprang into action at once. Hornblower sheathed his sword and sought out his first officer. Bush was breathing heavily, but otherwise seemed unharmed. “Mr. Bush! Have some of the men look over to the damage to the ship. And give orders for the injured to be sent to the infirmary.”
“Aye, sir,” Bush said, touching his hat, “Are you all right, Captain?”
“Fine,” Hornblower said curtly, turning away to oversee the removal of the boarding hooks, “Give me a report of the dead and injured as soon as possible, if you please.”
Through the clearing fog, Hornblower spotted someone vaulting the gap between ships. Having an inkling of who it was, he came forward to greet her.
Drake landed on deck, face flushed and eyes glittering with triumph. “We got them, Hornblower!” She said, holding out her hand as he approached, “They won’t be bothering us again! Serves them right after such a cowardly action!”
As Hornblower shook her hand, he noticed a gash on her arm. “You’re injured. Perhaps you should return to the Legacy and have it seen to before we plan a course of action.”
Drake glanced at her arm and shrugged. “This? It’s nothing. One of the Frogs got in a lucky cut. It can wait a few minutes while I collect my men. How badly did they hit you?”
Hornblower glanced around his ship. “I won’t know for sure until the fog fully dissipates, but they did some damage to our masts and probably raked the sides with cannon shot. We should be able to repair it fairly easily.” He shook Drake’s hand again. “Thank you for coming to our aide, Drake. Your men arrived at just the right moment.”
Drake winced as she caught sight of a hole in the deck. “Not soon enough, I’m afraid. We had no idea the Vacarme was there until she fired the first shot. Even though we turned towards the sound immediately, they’d started boarding you by the time we arrived on the scene.”
“It couldn’t be helped,” Hornblower said, “They completely got the drop on us. They’ve learned how to be completely silent in the fog. Maybe we should ask the Captain for his secrets.”
Drake laughed. “He’s not going to talk to us for awhile. He’s livid. You should have seen the look on his face when he saw who was asking for his sword.”
Hornblower couldn’t suppress a smile. “That just makes the victory all the sweeter, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, yes,” Drake said, looking around the deck, “When he finally gets back to France, the other officers will never let him live it down. And he had such a good reputation too.”
Hornblower noticed a Legacy man leaning against one of his own crewmen. “Captain Drake, I offer you my infirmary for your injured men. It’s the least I can do after you came to our aid.”
“Much appreciated, Captain,” Drake said with a smile, “But I’ll still try to get those with minor injuries back to the Legacy. Your infirmary’s probably going to be full en…”
Her voice died in her throat. Hornblower looked back at her, startled. The color had drained out of her face, and her eyes were wide with horror. “Oh no. No.” she said in a whisper.
Before Hornblower could ask her what was wrong, she muttered a rushed “Excuse me, Captain.” and took off at a run down the deck. Hornblower followed her, heart pounding; what could possibly have terrified her? And then, as the sun finally made an appearance, he saw it.
Lying on the deck, in a small pool of blood, was a man wearing the Legacy’s black armband. Hornblower’s blood ran cold when he saw the blond hair. “Oh God…”
Drake had crouched down besides her first officer, hand on his chest, trying to find a heartbeat. “Kennedy? Kennedy? Archie!!”