Holly Jolly Hornblower--Belated Drabble
It was December, and the wind coming off the Channel was practically Arctic. On some ships, moods were high, leave was granted, and a reprieve from the endless gray monotony of blockade assured. Sails and rudders beat a merry path back to English shores, and while many aboard the Indefatigable watched them vanish with ill-concealed envy, Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower was not among them. Having not much family to speak of, and no money with which to make merry even had he the opportunity, he was contemplating the approaching holidays with so much equanimity that it could be surmised he’d forgotten them entirely.
Therefore, Pellew’s summons came with a surprise.
“Sir?”
“Kindly convey my invitation to the rest of the wardroom, Mr. Hornblower, that you should all join me this evening for a Christmas dinner. Formal dress required.”
“Certainly, sir.”
“Oh, and Mr. Hornblower?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Oakum pads in your stockings are to be considered entirely optional.”