Fic: A Final Salute
Title: A Final Salute
Words: 535
Summary: Hornblower stands a lonely vigil.
Author’s Notes: Ficlet inspired by Turner’s ‘The Fighting Temeraire,’ and the possibility that Bush served on her. It is set in 1838, and what happened in Lord Hornblower, happens. Probably influenced by the fact it’s nearly Halloween too! Thanks to hotspur18 for the encouragement and the beta.
The passage of time had not been kind to the Temeraire, but then, thought Hornblower with a grimace, and a look at his own physique, time had wrought unwelcome changes in all those who remained. Hornblower was not entirely certain of what had brought him to bear witness to this sad demise of a once powerful warship.
Hornblower shook his head, and harrumphed quietly. Age had left him impatient with his fits of self delusion. He knew exactly why he was here. He was here to say goodbye. He was here in a lonely and horribly belated wake for a man whose absence had only loomed larger with the passing of the years. Twenty four years he had been gone, and some days it felt like one hundred, and other times only yesterday.
There were other ships on which Bush had left his mark even more strongly than on this one, and on many of them, he had served with, and under Hornblower. It might have seemed odd to some that Hornblower chose this one to mourn. But Hornblower knew why he had to come here today.
In his later relationship with Bush, there had been very few truly unguarded moments. That fact was something that Hornblower had mourned in more recent years, and ever since he’d read of The Temeraire’s fate, a memory had haunted him.
He had arrived at Sheerness, six months into Bush’s tenure, and had sought Bush out with a level of impatience. He had found him staring out at one of the receiving ships, his face stricken with a painful and unexpected grief.
It had taken Hornblower a few moments to register the sad hulk was The Temeraire, and even then, he had winced at her state- although she had been less of a travesty of her former self than she was now. He had not known how to respond to Bush’s emotion, and Bush had not appeared to expect him to say anything, and the moment had been lost.
Nothing more was said about it, until much later, when he and Bush had sat sharing a drink at his lodgings. Bush had fallen silent, and then raised his glass in a solemn salute, his voice slightly slurred.
“To The Temeraire, from one useless old hulk to another.”
Bush had finished his drink in one swallow, and thumped his leg, not even wincing from what must have been a painful blow. He had slammed the glass down and talk had moved onto other things.
It was only later as they lay in bed, that Hornblower had realised what Bush had meant. It had been then that Hornblower, only half realising it at the time, had decided he would ensure Bush’s return to the sea.
And now, twenty six years on, it was what brought him to say goodbye to The Temeraire. It seemed unfair that she had survived in such a poor state, that Bush had been taken from him, while he had all that he’d ever strived for.
As the steam tug took The Temeraire away to her death, Lord Hornblower saluted her and said another silent goodbye to a man he had never quite got used to living without.
Words: 535
Summary: Hornblower stands a lonely vigil.
Author’s Notes: Ficlet inspired by Turner’s ‘The Fighting Temeraire,’ and the possibility that Bush served on her. It is set in 1838, and what happened in Lord Hornblower, happens. Probably influenced by the fact it’s nearly Halloween too! Thanks to hotspur18 for the encouragement and the beta.
The passage of time had not been kind to the Temeraire, but then, thought Hornblower with a grimace, and a look at his own physique, time had wrought unwelcome changes in all those who remained. Hornblower was not entirely certain of what had brought him to bear witness to this sad demise of a once powerful warship.
Hornblower shook his head, and harrumphed quietly. Age had left him impatient with his fits of self delusion. He knew exactly why he was here. He was here to say goodbye. He was here in a lonely and horribly belated wake for a man whose absence had only loomed larger with the passing of the years. Twenty four years he had been gone, and some days it felt like one hundred, and other times only yesterday.
There were other ships on which Bush had left his mark even more strongly than on this one, and on many of them, he had served with, and under Hornblower. It might have seemed odd to some that Hornblower chose this one to mourn. But Hornblower knew why he had to come here today.
In his later relationship with Bush, there had been very few truly unguarded moments. That fact was something that Hornblower had mourned in more recent years, and ever since he’d read of The Temeraire’s fate, a memory had haunted him.
He had arrived at Sheerness, six months into Bush’s tenure, and had sought Bush out with a level of impatience. He had found him staring out at one of the receiving ships, his face stricken with a painful and unexpected grief.
It had taken Hornblower a few moments to register the sad hulk was The Temeraire, and even then, he had winced at her state- although she had been less of a travesty of her former self than she was now. He had not known how to respond to Bush’s emotion, and Bush had not appeared to expect him to say anything, and the moment had been lost.
Nothing more was said about it, until much later, when he and Bush had sat sharing a drink at his lodgings. Bush had fallen silent, and then raised his glass in a solemn salute, his voice slightly slurred.
“To The Temeraire, from one useless old hulk to another.”
Bush had finished his drink in one swallow, and thumped his leg, not even wincing from what must have been a painful blow. He had slammed the glass down and talk had moved onto other things.
It was only later as they lay in bed, that Hornblower had realised what Bush had meant. It had been then that Hornblower, only half realising it at the time, had decided he would ensure Bush’s return to the sea.
And now, twenty six years on, it was what brought him to say goodbye to The Temeraire. It seemed unfair that she had survived in such a poor state, that Bush had been taken from him, while he had all that he’d ever strived for.
As the steam tug took The Temeraire away to her death, Lord Hornblower saluted her and said another silent goodbye to a man he had never quite got used to living without.