Ficlet: Slates in the morning
Because I have a ton of things to do, I'm sitting writing silly ficlets, of course...
"How go the lessons, Mr Bowles?" Captain Pellew towered over his midshipmen, like Jove inspecting Greece's heroes, except these weren't the product of his loins, nor of his seductive powers while in the form of bulls, showers of rain or umbrella stands.
"Very well, sir. There's a chance that at least one or two of them will eventually not seek to emulate Cloudesly Shovell." Bowlesy swept an affectionate arm towardshis charges.
"What's this on your slate, Mr Hornblower?" Pellew smiled indulgently.
"It's our position, sir - now and in an hour's time if we progress at this speed..." Horatio held up the offending item, his sleeve carelessly covering the corner. "I hope it is accurate."
Pellew's eyebrow shot up. "Hope? I would like to hear you say that you're confident, sir. A lieutenant can't rely on hope, but on his charts and accuracy." He took the slate from a slightly reluctant hand. "Yes, this seems to be what I'd be expecting, just as..." Pellew's voice faltered. He looked again at the slate, seemed to rub something with his finger, frowned, took a deep breath and continued. "A little mistake there, Mr Hornblower, but one you'll soon learn to amend in future." He returned the slate. "The rest is accurate." He passed along to Archie, sitting in his usual place at Hornblower's left elbow. "Mr Kennedy, what do you have to show me?"
Horatio was left contemplating his slate, ears burning and a flush up the back of his neck as Pellew found a slight mistake in Kennedy's multiplication. And so with all of them, the captain taking notice of their efforts, inspecting the calculations, praising here and chastising there. The inspection ended, Bowles was praised, he and the middies were dismissed, but Horatio was caught by the elbow - and the lee - before he could take his embarrassment elsewhere. "A word, Mr Hornblower, about your little error."
"Yes, sir?" Horatio addressed a point slightly to the right of his superior's ear.
"There are only two r's in 'rogering', sir - one at the start and one in the middle. And if you're suggesting you employ the verb with Mr Kennedy in the particular place you suggested, you'll end up with sciatica, if not a spell in the rigging."
"How go the lessons, Mr Bowles?" Captain Pellew towered over his midshipmen, like Jove inspecting Greece's heroes, except these weren't the product of his loins, nor of his seductive powers while in the form of bulls, showers of rain or umbrella stands.
"Very well, sir. There's a chance that at least one or two of them will eventually not seek to emulate Cloudesly Shovell." Bowlesy swept an affectionate arm towardshis charges.
"What's this on your slate, Mr Hornblower?" Pellew smiled indulgently.
"It's our position, sir - now and in an hour's time if we progress at this speed..." Horatio held up the offending item, his sleeve carelessly covering the corner. "I hope it is accurate."
Pellew's eyebrow shot up. "Hope? I would like to hear you say that you're confident, sir. A lieutenant can't rely on hope, but on his charts and accuracy." He took the slate from a slightly reluctant hand. "Yes, this seems to be what I'd be expecting, just as..." Pellew's voice faltered. He looked again at the slate, seemed to rub something with his finger, frowned, took a deep breath and continued. "A little mistake there, Mr Hornblower, but one you'll soon learn to amend in future." He returned the slate. "The rest is accurate." He passed along to Archie, sitting in his usual place at Hornblower's left elbow. "Mr Kennedy, what do you have to show me?"
Horatio was left contemplating his slate, ears burning and a flush up the back of his neck as Pellew found a slight mistake in Kennedy's multiplication. And so with all of them, the captain taking notice of their efforts, inspecting the calculations, praising here and chastising there. The inspection ended, Bowles was praised, he and the middies were dismissed, but Horatio was caught by the elbow - and the lee - before he could take his embarrassment elsewhere. "A word, Mr Hornblower, about your little error."
"Yes, sir?" Horatio addressed a point slightly to the right of his superior's ear.
"There are only two r's in 'rogering', sir - one at the start and one in the middle. And if you're suggesting you employ the verb with Mr Kennedy in the particular place you suggested, you'll end up with sciatica, if not a spell in the rigging."