Fanfiction: Horatio Hornblower (G)
Title: E is for Epistle
Pairing/Characters: Archie Kennedy
Rating: G
Fandom: Horatio Hornblower
Word Count: 1,126
Spoilers: For Duchess and the Devil.
Summary: Archie writes a letter home.
Notes/Warnings: Written for the Alphabet Soup challenge lokei is hosting. The character of choice for this round is Archie. This directly inspired K is for Kennedy. Beta by mylodon.
E is for Epistle
Dear Mother and Father,
I'm very sorry for how late this letter is in coming. I was captured by the French and they refused to let me write home. You have no idea how much it hurt to think that you would be mourning me when I was still alive. Since they wouldn't let me write home, I did the next best thing I could think of. I tried to escape. Unfortunately, that only succeeded in sending me to prisons further and further away from home until I was sent to a Spanish prison in El Ferrol. After my attempt to escape from there failed, I just resigned myself to spending the rest of the war rotting away in my cell, however long it might take. I didn't like the idea much, but there seemed to be nothing else I could do. Every request to write home was denied and every escape attempt had been thwarted. I was well and truly stuck.
Then, just as I'd sunk to my absolute lowest, who should be shoved into the cell with me but my old messmate, Horatio Hornblower? I'm sure I mentioned him in my previous letters to you. Though, he's moved up in the world since I'd last seen him. Then, he'd been a mere midshipman. When he was shoved into that Spanish prison cell, he'd been promoted to acting lieutenant. I later found out that he'd sat his examination, but it hadn't gone very well. At least, that's what I inferred from the fact that he changed the subject every time it came up. He told me he'd been sailing a captured French ship to England when he'd somehow lost his way in a bank of fog, only to sail right into the midst of a Spanish fleet. Naturally, he and his crew were captured and sent to El Ferrol.
Some of the crewmen I remember from when I'd served aboard the Indy: Matthews, Styles, and Oldroyd at least. The midshipman who was supposed to be Horatio's second mate must have joined the Indy after I'd been lost: Silas Hunter. Notwithstanding the fact that he tried to sit on me when he first arrived in the cell, I didn't like him from the first. Hunter was far too hotheaded and bloodthirsty to make a good officer. It's thanks to him that we lost a couple crewmen in a foolish escape attempt, charging straight ahead. Horatio, being the noble, heroic prat that he is, insisted on taking the blame for the attempt. It was obvious that Massaredo, the commandant of the prison, didn't believe him, but he had no choice except to punish Horatio. So he did.
Though, it's due in part to Horatio's nobility and heroism--much as it drives me mad sometimes--that I'm writing this letter now. After he'd recovered from his punishment, Horatio was allowed to walk along the beach and he watched with Massaredo as the Indy chased a Spanish ship onto a formation of rocks called the Devil's Teeth. My friend requested permission to go out in a jolly boat and rescue the poor souls stranded on the ship. I'm not sure I fully understand his reasoning, but it led to this, so I am not about to complain. After we'd saved the few men who'd clung to the wreck, the storm that had come up made it too dangerous to attempt to return to shore. So we passed the night in a jolly boat tossed about by a dying storm.
In the morning, after the storm had died, we were picked up by the Indy. When Captain Pellew saw me, an officer he'd thought dead for months, he showed remarkable fortitude. I'm sure I saw surprise, shock, relief, and joy cross his face in rapid succession, all before he opened his mouth to address me. When he did, though, all he did was order me below so I could change into dry clothes and get warm. Lieutenant Bracegirdle, who'd been promoted from third to first since I'd last seen him, welcomed me back with such a clap on my shoulder that it nearly sent me tumbling to the deck. I wasn't as strong as I used to be. Even the most robust health deteriorates when faced with months of prison food and inactivity.
It was a pleasure to peel off my wet clothes and put on dry ones, to drink grog to warm my insides while the galley fire warmed my outsides. Just when I thought I'd fall asleep standing there, a marine came to me to tell me that my presence was requested in the captain's cabin. Naturally, I went to see the captain, wondering what he would have to say to me. I'd really only spoken to him once before, when I'd first transferred to the Indy. All he'd really said was that he wanted me to be aware that my birth would do me no good if I did not learn my duties and perform them properly. I assured him I had every intention of pulling my weight. I had no doubts that this interview would be very different from the previous one.
Once I'd reported to the captain, he took my hand and shook it warmly. 'It is good to see you alive, Mr Kennedy. I have often regretted your loss these past months.' I thanked him for the compliment. I'd often wondered if anyone missed me after I'd gone. The captain waved it away. 'I trust you would like to inform your family of the premature declaration of your death.' I told him it had been my chief object during my months of incarceration, as well as escaping it completely. He looked pleased to hear it. 'Excellent, because I'm to sail to England and will bear any letters you wish to write to your family and loved ones.' I thanked him profusely for the honour and he waved that off as well, gruffly muttering something about duty to the men under his command and so forth.
I was dismissed shortly afterwards and immediately sat down to pen this letter. I deeply regret any pain my supposed death caused you. I hope to see you soon, but something tells me that Horatio had to give Massaredo his parole in order to rescue those Spanish sailors, as well for the rest of us. If that is the case, I will return to the prison with him, until the war ends or we are exchanged or we escape. I want you to know that I love you very much and hope to one day be able to tell you both as much with my own voice and not simply my pen.
Your alive and loving son,
Archibald Kennedy
End
Pairing/Characters: Archie Kennedy
Rating: G
Fandom: Horatio Hornblower
Word Count: 1,126
Spoilers: For Duchess and the Devil.
Summary: Archie writes a letter home.
Notes/Warnings: Written for the Alphabet Soup challenge lokei is hosting. The character of choice for this round is Archie. This directly inspired K is for Kennedy. Beta by mylodon.
E is for Epistle
Dear Mother and Father,
I'm very sorry for how late this letter is in coming. I was captured by the French and they refused to let me write home. You have no idea how much it hurt to think that you would be mourning me when I was still alive. Since they wouldn't let me write home, I did the next best thing I could think of. I tried to escape. Unfortunately, that only succeeded in sending me to prisons further and further away from home until I was sent to a Spanish prison in El Ferrol. After my attempt to escape from there failed, I just resigned myself to spending the rest of the war rotting away in my cell, however long it might take. I didn't like the idea much, but there seemed to be nothing else I could do. Every request to write home was denied and every escape attempt had been thwarted. I was well and truly stuck.
Then, just as I'd sunk to my absolute lowest, who should be shoved into the cell with me but my old messmate, Horatio Hornblower? I'm sure I mentioned him in my previous letters to you. Though, he's moved up in the world since I'd last seen him. Then, he'd been a mere midshipman. When he was shoved into that Spanish prison cell, he'd been promoted to acting lieutenant. I later found out that he'd sat his examination, but it hadn't gone very well. At least, that's what I inferred from the fact that he changed the subject every time it came up. He told me he'd been sailing a captured French ship to England when he'd somehow lost his way in a bank of fog, only to sail right into the midst of a Spanish fleet. Naturally, he and his crew were captured and sent to El Ferrol.
Some of the crewmen I remember from when I'd served aboard the Indy: Matthews, Styles, and Oldroyd at least. The midshipman who was supposed to be Horatio's second mate must have joined the Indy after I'd been lost: Silas Hunter. Notwithstanding the fact that he tried to sit on me when he first arrived in the cell, I didn't like him from the first. Hunter was far too hotheaded and bloodthirsty to make a good officer. It's thanks to him that we lost a couple crewmen in a foolish escape attempt, charging straight ahead. Horatio, being the noble, heroic prat that he is, insisted on taking the blame for the attempt. It was obvious that Massaredo, the commandant of the prison, didn't believe him, but he had no choice except to punish Horatio. So he did.
Though, it's due in part to Horatio's nobility and heroism--much as it drives me mad sometimes--that I'm writing this letter now. After he'd recovered from his punishment, Horatio was allowed to walk along the beach and he watched with Massaredo as the Indy chased a Spanish ship onto a formation of rocks called the Devil's Teeth. My friend requested permission to go out in a jolly boat and rescue the poor souls stranded on the ship. I'm not sure I fully understand his reasoning, but it led to this, so I am not about to complain. After we'd saved the few men who'd clung to the wreck, the storm that had come up made it too dangerous to attempt to return to shore. So we passed the night in a jolly boat tossed about by a dying storm.
In the morning, after the storm had died, we were picked up by the Indy. When Captain Pellew saw me, an officer he'd thought dead for months, he showed remarkable fortitude. I'm sure I saw surprise, shock, relief, and joy cross his face in rapid succession, all before he opened his mouth to address me. When he did, though, all he did was order me below so I could change into dry clothes and get warm. Lieutenant Bracegirdle, who'd been promoted from third to first since I'd last seen him, welcomed me back with such a clap on my shoulder that it nearly sent me tumbling to the deck. I wasn't as strong as I used to be. Even the most robust health deteriorates when faced with months of prison food and inactivity.
It was a pleasure to peel off my wet clothes and put on dry ones, to drink grog to warm my insides while the galley fire warmed my outsides. Just when I thought I'd fall asleep standing there, a marine came to me to tell me that my presence was requested in the captain's cabin. Naturally, I went to see the captain, wondering what he would have to say to me. I'd really only spoken to him once before, when I'd first transferred to the Indy. All he'd really said was that he wanted me to be aware that my birth would do me no good if I did not learn my duties and perform them properly. I assured him I had every intention of pulling my weight. I had no doubts that this interview would be very different from the previous one.
Once I'd reported to the captain, he took my hand and shook it warmly. 'It is good to see you alive, Mr Kennedy. I have often regretted your loss these past months.' I thanked him for the compliment. I'd often wondered if anyone missed me after I'd gone. The captain waved it away. 'I trust you would like to inform your family of the premature declaration of your death.' I told him it had been my chief object during my months of incarceration, as well as escaping it completely. He looked pleased to hear it. 'Excellent, because I'm to sail to England and will bear any letters you wish to write to your family and loved ones.' I thanked him profusely for the honour and he waved that off as well, gruffly muttering something about duty to the men under his command and so forth.
I was dismissed shortly afterwards and immediately sat down to pen this letter. I deeply regret any pain my supposed death caused you. I hope to see you soon, but something tells me that Horatio had to give Massaredo his parole in order to rescue those Spanish sailors, as well for the rest of us. If that is the case, I will return to the prison with him, until the war ends or we are exchanged or we escape. I want you to know that I love you very much and hope to one day be able to tell you both as much with my own voice and not simply my pen.
Your alive and loving son,
Archibald Kennedy
End