A World Exclusive (remix for Sarlania)
Remix for Sarlania
Title: A World Exclusive
Author: mylodon
Remix of: Times of Change
Author of original: sarlania
Rating: PG 12
Length: 1281
Author's note: As I was going through Sarlania’s work to find a piece to remix (so much choice!) I came across this wonderful piece again and got struck by one of my mad ideas. What if a tabloid journalist had handled that article?
Usual disclaimers apply in re who owns the Hornblower characters (not me).
Hello Sailor! Horatio Hornblower shows that there’s more to sailing than running out your cannon.
By Charlie Cochrane
They call him “the Nelson of Kent”, although Horatio Hornblower, 62, has both arms, both eyes and, presumably, both of the other things. Smallbridge may be the name of his Manor but I’ve been assured-by those who should know-that there’s nothing small about the man in question.
Admiral Sir Horatio Hornblower, or “Horry the horse” as he’s known in the molly houses of London, joined the Royal Navy at the age of eighteen, in spite of not having any connections or influences. He quickly rose to the rank of captain solely due to his courage, intelligence and daring efforts in the war against Revolutionary France. That’s the official story. An unofficial source, who asked not to be named, said it was more likely a case of rewards for services rendered.
I was ushered into Lord Hornblower’s study by his manservant Brown, 56. When asked about Hornblower’s relationships with a certain Archie Kennedy and William Bush, Brown said, “No comment.” He then winked and made lewd gestures, which speaks for itself.
Admiral Hornblower, is tall, lean and appears to dye his naturally white hair. He was dressed in immaculately cut and tailored civilian clothes, thought to have been provided by his Bond Street tailors as part of his endorsement and sponsorship contract for the “Dress like a Sailor” range of attire. Given his well cut suit and too tight breeches, one could definitely believe this was the man who not only captured frigates as if they were chessmen, but drank Portsmouth dry, not once, but twice. I asked him about the time he and Mr. Kennedy had caused such havoc in the Spice Island taverns.
“Harrumph. Lieutenant Kennedy and I were enjoying a quiet evening out. It was misreported.”
“You would describe yourselves as just friends at the time?”
“Yes. We were just good friends in Ferrol prison. Then we were just good friends during our years together on the Indefatigable. Finally we were just good friends on Renown. It was a...friendly time.”
“Friendly enough to share a bed as well as a room?”
Hornblower declined to comment.
Readers may remember the controversy and rumours surrounding the death of the Honourable Captain James Sawyer of the Renown in West Indies in the year 1801. I pressed Hornblower on the subject. “You mentioned Renown. Is it true that the captain was mad as a box of bosuns?”
“Captain Sawyer was a good man, if a touch vertiginous.”
I asked him to clarify.
“He wasn’t very good with heights. It made him rather unsteady on ladders or the like.”
“And at the top of open holds?”
“Harrumph. I couldn’t possibly say.”
“And the stories of mutiny amongst the crew and accusations against officers?” I watched him keenly, but he seemed cool as a cucumber.
“There were one or two minor disagreements about how many hours the men were allowed to spend each day on reading improving literature and the like. And how much time Mr. Kennedy and I were spending...being friends.” Hornblower looked shifty but I kept some of my powder dry for the moment.
“Sawyer died in action.”
“That’s correct. A heroic death, fighting off the Spaniards.” Hornblower smiled enigmatically. “Who knows what really happened? The official report said one thing and Forester’s narrative said another. Perhaps the truth will come out one day, but I won’t be the one to tell it.”
“Not even for an exclusive contract and one thousand gold moidores?”
“Not for all the coffee in the Kingdom!”
I changed the subject. “You’ve been quoted in another article as saying it would’ve been better for some officers you’ve known to have died in combat, rather than having to eke out an uncertain and unfamiliar existence ashore. Was Captain Bush one of those?” I leaned back and watched; with any luck Hornblower would collapse of apoplexy on the spot and I’d have the world exclusive rights to the story.
No such luck. To my surprise, the Admiral stood up at a speed I would’ve thought impossible for a man of his age, and started chopping the air with his hands. “I can safely say I’d never seen another man fight like Mr Bush. The men, they may not have loved him for his strictness and attention to detail, but by George were they inspired by his example! Mr Bush’s death, was a tragedy.” Hornblower produced a handkerchief the size of a small sail. “I was plagued with guilt and remorse.”
“Would it surprise you to learn that Mr. Bush is indeed alive, well and making his living as an actor?”
“Do not mock me, sir!” He looked over the top of his hankie; he knew I wasn’t lying, alright.
“It’s every word of truth,” I rummaged in my case for sketches of Bush, 68, in his finest roles. “He’s made his name as the first peg-legged Hamlet.”
Hornblower took the first sketch then swooned dramatically, although he made sure he landed in his chair. “If you say it’s so, I must believe you.” The handkerchief made a reappearance. “I’ve had the opportunity to look critically at my past actions and to reconcile with the ghosts of my past. Yes, it sounds melodramatic,” he said in reply my raised eyebrow. “But there you have it.”
“Do you miss the Navy?” I lulled him into a false sense of security. He droned on about naval battles he’d been involved in until he had to draw breath and I saw my chance. “And has it been easy to normal life? Whatever that might be?”
“What indeed?” He sidestepped the question. “Times are changing. Such rapid advances in technology and wonderful scientific discoveries!”
I asked if his Lordship has been in contact with his fellow officers, particularly Mr. Kennedy.
“I do not employ a Ouija board, sir!”
“As I understand from my sources, you wouldn’t need to. A quick shout up the staircase should suffice.” I never thought I’d see the great man lost for words, but the blow had hit home. “Do the words ‘scapegoat’, ‘cover up’, ‘smuggled home’ and ‘paramour’ mean anything to you?”
“Libel!” Hornblower leapt to his feet again. “I have a half a mind to call you...”
A greying but still tawny head appeared around the door. “Do keep the noise down, Horatio. Some of us are trying to get forty winks.” I was given a smile and a flash of blue eyes and the apparition departed.
“Ah. Um. Would you like me to tell you about Admiral Pellew?” Sir Edward Pellew, or “Old wobbly chops” as Hornblower was known to have referred to him, was the Captain of the frigate Indefatigable when Midshipman Hornblower was one of several bright young officers serving aboard her.
“If you must.” It would act as a suitable lead in to my piece de resistance.
“Lord Exmouth and I have remained in contact,” said his Lordship. “Lady Hornblower and I would often go down to Teignmouth to visit him.”
He’d played into my hands! “Can you confirm the rumour that ‘Lady Hornblower’ is really a drag artist from Deptford who plays the part on official occasions?”
Hornblower pulled himself up to his full height, evidently enraged that I’d exposed every one of his secrets. “You, sir, are a scurrilous knave. I’ve a mind to horsewhip you!”
I made my excuses and left.
Charlie Cochrane is an independent journalist who regularly contributes to ‘Ackermann's Repository, ‘The Observer’ and ‘The Tatler’.
Don’t miss next week’s article, featuring a world exclusive interview with ex-Lieutenant Archie “Crumpet” Kennedy, 63, where he gives his side of the story!
Title: A World Exclusive
Author: mylodon
Remix of: Times of Change
Author of original: sarlania
Rating: PG 12
Length: 1281
Author's note: As I was going through Sarlania’s work to find a piece to remix (so much choice!) I came across this wonderful piece again and got struck by one of my mad ideas. What if a tabloid journalist had handled that article?
Usual disclaimers apply in re who owns the Hornblower characters (not me).
Hello Sailor! Horatio Hornblower shows that there’s more to sailing than running out your cannon.
By Charlie Cochrane
They call him “the Nelson of Kent”, although Horatio Hornblower, 62, has both arms, both eyes and, presumably, both of the other things. Smallbridge may be the name of his Manor but I’ve been assured-by those who should know-that there’s nothing small about the man in question.
Admiral Sir Horatio Hornblower, or “Horry the horse” as he’s known in the molly houses of London, joined the Royal Navy at the age of eighteen, in spite of not having any connections or influences. He quickly rose to the rank of captain solely due to his courage, intelligence and daring efforts in the war against Revolutionary France. That’s the official story. An unofficial source, who asked not to be named, said it was more likely a case of rewards for services rendered.
I was ushered into Lord Hornblower’s study by his manservant Brown, 56. When asked about Hornblower’s relationships with a certain Archie Kennedy and William Bush, Brown said, “No comment.” He then winked and made lewd gestures, which speaks for itself.
Admiral Hornblower, is tall, lean and appears to dye his naturally white hair. He was dressed in immaculately cut and tailored civilian clothes, thought to have been provided by his Bond Street tailors as part of his endorsement and sponsorship contract for the “Dress like a Sailor” range of attire. Given his well cut suit and too tight breeches, one could definitely believe this was the man who not only captured frigates as if they were chessmen, but drank Portsmouth dry, not once, but twice. I asked him about the time he and Mr. Kennedy had caused such havoc in the Spice Island taverns.
“Harrumph. Lieutenant Kennedy and I were enjoying a quiet evening out. It was misreported.”
“You would describe yourselves as just friends at the time?”
“Yes. We were just good friends in Ferrol prison. Then we were just good friends during our years together on the Indefatigable. Finally we were just good friends on Renown. It was a...friendly time.”
“Friendly enough to share a bed as well as a room?”
Hornblower declined to comment.
Readers may remember the controversy and rumours surrounding the death of the Honourable Captain James Sawyer of the Renown in West Indies in the year 1801. I pressed Hornblower on the subject. “You mentioned Renown. Is it true that the captain was mad as a box of bosuns?”
“Captain Sawyer was a good man, if a touch vertiginous.”
I asked him to clarify.
“He wasn’t very good with heights. It made him rather unsteady on ladders or the like.”
“And at the top of open holds?”
“Harrumph. I couldn’t possibly say.”
“And the stories of mutiny amongst the crew and accusations against officers?” I watched him keenly, but he seemed cool as a cucumber.
“There were one or two minor disagreements about how many hours the men were allowed to spend each day on reading improving literature and the like. And how much time Mr. Kennedy and I were spending...being friends.” Hornblower looked shifty but I kept some of my powder dry for the moment.
“Sawyer died in action.”
“That’s correct. A heroic death, fighting off the Spaniards.” Hornblower smiled enigmatically. “Who knows what really happened? The official report said one thing and Forester’s narrative said another. Perhaps the truth will come out one day, but I won’t be the one to tell it.”
“Not even for an exclusive contract and one thousand gold moidores?”
“Not for all the coffee in the Kingdom!”
I changed the subject. “You’ve been quoted in another article as saying it would’ve been better for some officers you’ve known to have died in combat, rather than having to eke out an uncertain and unfamiliar existence ashore. Was Captain Bush one of those?” I leaned back and watched; with any luck Hornblower would collapse of apoplexy on the spot and I’d have the world exclusive rights to the story.
No such luck. To my surprise, the Admiral stood up at a speed I would’ve thought impossible for a man of his age, and started chopping the air with his hands. “I can safely say I’d never seen another man fight like Mr Bush. The men, they may not have loved him for his strictness and attention to detail, but by George were they inspired by his example! Mr Bush’s death, was a tragedy.” Hornblower produced a handkerchief the size of a small sail. “I was plagued with guilt and remorse.”
“Would it surprise you to learn that Mr. Bush is indeed alive, well and making his living as an actor?”
“Do not mock me, sir!” He looked over the top of his hankie; he knew I wasn’t lying, alright.
“It’s every word of truth,” I rummaged in my case for sketches of Bush, 68, in his finest roles. “He’s made his name as the first peg-legged Hamlet.”
Hornblower took the first sketch then swooned dramatically, although he made sure he landed in his chair. “If you say it’s so, I must believe you.” The handkerchief made a reappearance. “I’ve had the opportunity to look critically at my past actions and to reconcile with the ghosts of my past. Yes, it sounds melodramatic,” he said in reply my raised eyebrow. “But there you have it.”
“Do you miss the Navy?” I lulled him into a false sense of security. He droned on about naval battles he’d been involved in until he had to draw breath and I saw my chance. “And has it been easy to normal life? Whatever that might be?”
“What indeed?” He sidestepped the question. “Times are changing. Such rapid advances in technology and wonderful scientific discoveries!”
I asked if his Lordship has been in contact with his fellow officers, particularly Mr. Kennedy.
“I do not employ a Ouija board, sir!”
“As I understand from my sources, you wouldn’t need to. A quick shout up the staircase should suffice.” I never thought I’d see the great man lost for words, but the blow had hit home. “Do the words ‘scapegoat’, ‘cover up’, ‘smuggled home’ and ‘paramour’ mean anything to you?”
“Libel!” Hornblower leapt to his feet again. “I have a half a mind to call you...”
A greying but still tawny head appeared around the door. “Do keep the noise down, Horatio. Some of us are trying to get forty winks.” I was given a smile and a flash of blue eyes and the apparition departed.
“Ah. Um. Would you like me to tell you about Admiral Pellew?” Sir Edward Pellew, or “Old wobbly chops” as Hornblower was known to have referred to him, was the Captain of the frigate Indefatigable when Midshipman Hornblower was one of several bright young officers serving aboard her.
“If you must.” It would act as a suitable lead in to my piece de resistance.
“Lord Exmouth and I have remained in contact,” said his Lordship. “Lady Hornblower and I would often go down to Teignmouth to visit him.”
He’d played into my hands! “Can you confirm the rumour that ‘Lady Hornblower’ is really a drag artist from Deptford who plays the part on official occasions?”
Hornblower pulled himself up to his full height, evidently enraged that I’d exposed every one of his secrets. “You, sir, are a scurrilous knave. I’ve a mind to horsewhip you!”
I made my excuses and left.
Charlie Cochrane is an independent journalist who regularly contributes to ‘Ackermann's Repository, ‘The Observer’ and ‘The Tatler’.
Don’t miss next week’s article, featuring a world exclusive interview with ex-Lieutenant Archie “Crumpet” Kennedy, 63, where he gives his side of the story!