Skirmish

The skirmish was minor, as such things go. Of no importance in the outcome of the war. It was a trivial encounter, really. Except for one small incident that occurred during the brief fight. Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower moved a foot to his right, into the path of a musket ball.

They had been ashore to get fresh water, a simple task. The boats had pulled up on the beach under cover of a moonless night. The men were Hornblower's division; he himself had been leading them, as always. The barrels had been filled at a stream and were reloaded into the boats.

It should have been easy, they were almost home. Then the pistol had accidentally discharged without warning and the alarm had been raised. The shore sentries had opened fire. There had only been one casualty.

Hornblower felt detached from what had happened to him, time slowed down to a dreamlike state. It was almost as though he was watching what was happening from a distance, as if he were just an observer. The moment he felt the thud of the bullet hitting his body he had known that he was badly hurt, but surprisingly felt no pain. All he felt was numb. He noted that his men were upset and that they were concerned about him. He felt them lift him into the boat and he vaguely heard the shouts to clear away and to be quick about it. Someone was cradling his head on his lap and someone's jacket had been placed over his chest. One of the men might have been holding his hand, but he wasn't really sure. He thought it very kind if they were. He found it unusual that he was still conscious, with the amount of blood he seemed to be losing. He wondered, without really caring, how long it would be before he passed out.

Suddenly through the mental fog that was closing in Horatio realized that he must ask something of his crew, they must do something for him. Opening his eyes he struggled to make out the face of Styles above him. So, it was his lap he was in. Talking was such an effort, but he had to get this out. It was important. "Styles, you mustn't let the Captain see me like this... He can't see this… I'm ordering you not to let him see the blood."

Even with the darkness, he could tell that Styles was looking down at him with what might have been pity. Hornblower felt a connection with the burly seaman, ever since he had discovered his then new division gambling in Indy's hold three years ago. He had stopped them, but Styles was the one who seemed to take the challenge of being worthy of his trust to heart. "Perhaps because no one has ever trusted him", Hornblower had thought. Styles would do anything for him…all of his men would. He knew that and was humbled by the knowledge.

They would do anything for him…even protect his lover from seeing him as he was, in all likelihood, dying.

"Rest easy, sir. Don't you be worrying about that now. We'll take care of it for you." That was Matthews's voice. So that's who was holding his hand and rubbing it so that he'd be sure to know that he wasn't alone.

God, they were good men.

His mind drifted back to an idle conversation he'd had with Matthews a few months ago up on deck. They were both off duty and it had been a beautiful day, they had fallen into an easy round of talk. Normally the Second Lieutenant and the Bosun wouldn't have cause for socializing, but Mattie had been a shoulder for him to lean on almost from his first day at sea. If there was anything he didn't know about sailing, Hornblower had yet to discover it. He was a kind man, and a generous one. Horatio liked him tremendously.

The Indy had been ordered back to England for rest and resupply and they would be in Portsmouth in just a few hours. Naturally, their talk had turned to leave time. Hornblower had asked if he had a family.

"Oh, yes, sir. I've me wife, Mary and the two girls. Beauties, both of them. Just like their Mum. I'm hoping that they'll be waitin on the dock when we drop anchor. What will you be doing with yourself, sir, if you don't mind my askin?"

" I have plans to stay with a friend. We'll just relax for a few weeks, I suppose." Hornblower smiled at the decadent thought of no work for weeks on end…and other things.

There was something about the expression on Matthew's face that made Horatio look at him closely. Quietly, so as not to be overheard, he said, "You know."

"Sir?"

"About me and the Captain. You do. How did you find out?"

Caught, and looking down at the ships wake, Matthews answered "Well, sir, you might want to be a mite more careful about your leaving his quarters when you've no reason to be there in the first place. And, beggin your pardon for saying so, but sound carries through that skylight in his cabin, if you're catching my meaning, sir."

Hornblower looked at him in horror, his face redder by several shades.

"Now, don't you be worryin about that, sir. The lads are happy for the two of you; you'd probably be surprised how much! The way we see it is that you're both good men and if that's what makes you happy, then more power to you. The fact is, I've never seen two people who were more like peas in a pod that you and the Captain. You'll have no trouble with the lads, mark my words on that score!"

As Matthew's moved away to help with some cable Horatio looked after him in amazement. God! The men knew and were happy about it? Edward would never believe this!

So the men understood why the Captain couldn't see him covered in blood. Good. Horatio closed his eyes. He knew that he would, somehow, be taken aboard without Edward seeing what he dreaded more than anything else. He gave in to the dark that was surrounding him.

The men rowed the boats to the darkened Indy, moving around to the offshore side for protection from any sharpshooters who might still have them targeted. Matthews quickly made his way up the ladder and whispered to the men standing at the entry port, ready to load on the water barrels.

"We need a stretcher for wounded, and look lively about it. Mr. Bracegirdle, sir, if I might have a word."

"Yes Matthews, did you get the water?"

"Aye, sir, that we did, but we need your help, sir…. y'see, it's Mr. Hornblower. He's been hurt and he'd rather that the sight of him being lifted aboard doesn't upset the Captain. You understand, sir. I thought that you might be able to do something about that."

Bracegirdle realized exactly what Matthews was saying and also what he was asking.

"Yes, Matthews. Is it serious, do you think?"

"Aye, sir, I do."

Lieutenant Bracegirdle was the one man aboard the ship who Horatio and Edward had taken into their confidence about the true nature of their relationship. He knew how deep the bond between the two men was, and he knew how distraught the Captain would be to learn that his lover was injured. He had served with Pellew for over twenty years and was, in his way, as devoted to him as he could be to anyone. There was no one who he respected or loved more. He turned to the Officer of the Watch.

"I need to discuss ships business with the Captain, Mr. Kennedy. Please see to the loading of the water barrels and whatever else may need doing."

That last was an odd enough remark that Archie turned to look at Bracey's receding back

As he turned to the nets which had been prepared to hoist the heavy barrels he saw a stretcher being raised from one of the boats and noted Dr. Hemplewhite just arriving beside him. As usual, the Doctor's hair was askew.

"How many were wounded, Mr. Kennedy?"

Before he could answer, Matthews quietly said, "Just this one, sir. We have him ready to lift up now."

Suddenly Archie realized that the man who should have been directing this load-in was missing. Horatio would never allow anyone else to attend one of his men………

"…Horatio." Archie looked up to see the plank that served as a stretcher being lowered. It was hard to see in the dark, but he could make out his friend's form as the stretcher was gently settled on the deck. Lord! The blood was dripping out from under him.

Hemplewhite immediately moved to see how bad it was and, turning to the Loblolly boy next to him said "Get him down to the sickbay. Quickly. Don't jar him on the way down. We need light to see what it is that we're dealing with."

The men swiftly and gently lowered Horatio down the companionway and out of Archie's sight. Remembering that he had been given charge of the deck, he oversaw the stowing of the water barrels and the rest of the cleanup of the action when he saw the stain on the deck. Horatio's blood.

"Styles, please see that the deck is scrubbed clean before the Captain sees it. And be sure that the jolly boat is cleared out, too"

"Aye, aye, sir." Styles turned to, Oldroyd joining in. Neither man said a word.

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Sir Edward had been slightly surprised when Lieutenant Bracegirdle had knocked at his cabin door with a request to discuss the next day's charting and course changes. They were really quite simple and could have easily waited until the next morning. However, he wasn't one to discourage one of his officers from being diligent and so had gone over the information. After fifteen minutes of some repetition, though, he was starting to wonder just what it was that Joss was trying to distract him from. After twenty years together, he knew the man too well to be taken in for long.

Pellew could hear the barrels being loaded into the hold and was glad when Bracey had told him the mission had gone off smoothly. It was odd that Horatio hadn't reported to him immediately upon return, but he was probably busy with the loading…He looked up sharply at the face of his first Lieutenant.

"What's happened? It's not like you to keep something from me, Joss."

The Captain saw the answer before Bracegirdle got the words out of his mouth. The color drained from his face as Pellew asked, "He's dead?"

"No, he was brought aboard alive. He's been shot, they somehow alerted the shore patrol. He's been down to sickbay. The Doctor is with him now. We don't know any more than that yet, …Ned…he ordered his men not to let you see him wounded. His concern was for you."

"So like him…"

Pellew brushed past Bracegirdle and headed down to the sickbay to see for himself. As he entered the door the air of tension in the room struck him. He approached the area of light in the center of the small space and saw Horatio lying upon the table. His clothes had been removed, cut off of him, from the looks of them. He was motionless and as pale as death ("Don't think on it, Edward" he told himself). H e was unconscious and seemed to be barely breathing. He lay in a small pool of his own blood. The Doctor was holding an instrument and seemed to be probing the bloody ("God!") hole in his chest, close to where his heart was.

"That's it, that's got it." Hemplewhite held up a small object. The bullet. "Pack the wound with that poultice and bandage it. Be sure that he has enough laudanum so he won't wake before tomorrow. If he starts moving he'll be bleeding again."

"Doctor."

"Ah, Captain, I was just about to report to you. The bullet has just been removed, and seems to have missed his heart by the Grace of God. Mr. Hornblower has stood the surgery well, He's lost a good bit of blood, but he's young and strong. As long as there's no major infection, he should be with us again before long. I'll know more tomorrow." Hemplewhite, with a last look at his patient and a nod to Pellew, retired to his cabin, closing the door behind him

"Fool", thought Pellew. Infection was exactly what usually killed in cases like this. He watched as two boys carefully moved Horatio over to the cot that was used for officers. At least he wouldn't be slung in a hammock. He was covered with one of the scratchy ships blankets and left to sleep. The boys moved away from the Captain, not wanting to be in his way. They generally had little reason to have close contact with him and were happy to keep it that way. He scared them. He wasn't like Mr. Hornblower here, now he was always good for a kind word or an encouraging smile. They hoped that he wouldn't die.

Edward pulled a chair over to the cot and sat down. He took Horatio's lax hand in his own, gently massaging it. Horatio's hands were the first things about him that had really drawn Edwards's attention. They were beautiful hands. Long fingered, slender, graceful, elegant…well suited to the holding of a pen or navigational tools. His thoughts drifted back to other things that Horatio had used those hands for. Caressing Edward's body until he couldn't stifle the moans of pleasure they were capable of wringing from him. Stroking his lover's arms and legs and organ until he had begged for release. Exploring the inside of his body, sometimes gently, sometimes roughly, always arousing. Gently curling around his genitals as both men drifted to sleep, holding him safely and warmly.

"Stop this, Edward," he thought to himself, " he'll be fine. He is young and he is strong as Hemplewhite said. And he's stubborn, too. He'll not surrender easily."

He looked into Horatio's face, his beautiful face. Yes, of course he was handsome, but he was more that just merely that. There was intelligence there, and expression. If Horatio didn't decide to drop his mask over his features, he was an open book. Joy, sorrow, anger, amusement, boredom, passion, love… all those and more played across his features, as changeable as clouds. When they made love, Edward almost always insisted that he be in a position so that he could see his lover's face. It fascinated him so to see the happiness and tenderness, the passion, the urgency and then the final calm after they were finished. It had embarrassed Horatio to know that he was being watched and studied as he came, but he had accepted it as something Edward enjoyed. There were times when he had turned his head away or had asked that the candle be extinguished and Pellew always agreed, knowing that sometimes he wanted to have some measure of solitude when they made love. He understood this. So long as he could watch the rest of the time.

He studied the mouth, lips slightly parted. Occasionally twitching and trembling slightly in pain. He thought of them pressed against his own, opening to allow the entrance of his lover's tongue so that his mouth could be fully explored, or so that he might know Edward's mouth completely. He had watched them as Horatio called out his name as they made love, Edward's own mouth doing things to the younger man's body which he was too shy, too self conscience to ask for with words, asking only with the guidance of his hands…guiding Pellew's mouth where he wished to be kissed or suckled, then Horatio's mouth returning the favors granted him. Those lips had been the subject of his dreams on more than one occasion when they had been unable to be together.

Horatio's eyes were closed in a drugged sleep. Ah, those eyes! Were they walnut or chestnut colored? Sometimes they held the stillness of a leaf under a pond in winter, brown and liquid. At other times they sparkled with happiness or burned with passion. They could be centers of calm or flash in indignation when their owner was angered. At night, as they lay together in bed, they seemed as black as coal, on a bright day they could blaze with fire. And they held the warmth of love whenever Horatio looked at him. They were always different, always beautiful. Sometimes when Horatio thought that Edward wasn't looking, the Captain would see a look of confusion in his lover's eyes. Asking once what it was about, the answer has amazed Pellew. Shyly, Horatio had admitted, "It's…I just can't believe that you could really want…me." "Oh, Love! How could I not?" Edward thought as he looked down at the closed eyes before him. Rimmed by the long lashes that could tickle Edward's cheeks or any other part of his body. Pellew never tired of looking into them. Mirrors of the soul, indeed. They were magnificent.

The blanket had slipped down Horatio's shoulders slightly and as Edward pulled it back up to Horatio's chin, he noticed the scar on his left shoulder. The reminder he carried of his duel with Simpson. It had become their custom that Edward would kiss and caress that scar as part of their foreplay. It served to never let Edward forget how close he had once come to losing the young man his life increasing revolved around. For Horatio it was a constant mark of their love. Had it not been for Pellew's intervention, he would have been killed, not simply alive with a scar to show for his troubles.

The Captain sat back in his chair, his hand lightly grasping the limp forearm of his lover.

He couldn't lose him. Not now. Not after all the decades he had been looking for him. They were going to grow old together. That was their agreement. Horatio was supposed to become one of the great Naval heroes. He would be a Commander within a year, two at the outside. He'd have his own ship. He was one of the special ones. He was marked for greatness. He wasn't supposed to die in a sickbay because of a soldier's lucky shot.

God, this nightmare couldn't be happening. It was so simple. Get water and return to the ship. Under the cover of a moonless night. It should have been nothing. Horatio wasn't even to have gone. If Cleveland hadn't slipped on that wet patch of decking and sprained his ankle…they had looked forward to making love after Horatio returned.

He heard a sound behind him, a quiet voice, Bracegirdle's, said, "Forgive my intruding, sir, but the men are asking how he is and, begging your pardon for saying so, but you need to rest. I'll stay here if you want me to keep watch. Captain, if the French know that we were ashore getting water, they'll know that we might still be about in the morning. We may well see action then."

Edward nodded.

"You can tell the men that the bullet is out and he's alive and resting, Joss. I know that I should rest, too ... Oh, God, look at him…" Captain Sir Edward Pellew reasserted himself. "Yes, you're right. I'll go. If there's the slightest change, I want to be informed immediately."

Edward stood to leave. Bracegirdle was right; he needed to rest to be able to do his job. Horatio would expect nothing less of him. With a sigh and a gentle hand caressing Horatio's cheek, he left the sick bay to return to his own quarters.

When he arrived in his cabin he realized that to try to sleep would be a waste of time. It would be impossible tonight. He needed to tell someone of his fears about what might happen, what he might lose. He was terrified and knew that there was little he could do to change what might occur. He walked over to the windows across the rear of his cabin. The moon was just now starting to rise and he could make out the swell of the water below. He needed to talk to someone, but there was no one in whom he could confide his fears. That was Horatio's doing. He had gotten used to talking over his problems with his lover, to listening to his opinions and to hearing his calm counsel. He had become dependant on it. He had never been dependent on another person in his adult life, and the realization was a shock to him. He needed Horatio. Oh, God…if he died…

Edward poured himself a glass of port and stood looking out his windows. His mind wandered back to times he and Horatio had spent together. The water and the now rising moon carried him back a year to the coast of Spain. Indy had put into a secluded bay to affect repairs after storm damage. The weather had cleared to a beautiful, hot day and the repairs were finished handily. Having been assured that there were no Dons about, Pellew had permitted the men to swim. As he stood watching them from up on the quarterdeck, Horatio appeared beside him and said "I don't suppose that I could convince you to join me in a swim, sir?"

The look in his lover's eye was unmistakable and, throwing caution to the winds, answered, "Why, Lieutenant, I believe that you could."

Smiling and quickly going below to shed their clothes, the two reappeared in only towels. Removing them to the cheers of the men, the two officers dove from the entry port into the clear water, coming up laughing and splashing. After the initial high jinks and catcalls had calmed down, the two men quietly stroked to an area of the cove hidden by a rock outcropping. They were standing waist deep in the water. Horatio was leaning against a large boulder worn smooth by the waves and warmed by the sun. Lord! It was lovely here. The water lapped about them. He put a hand to Edwards's wet hair, pushing it from his face. His hand was quickly caught in a kiss that deepened as Edward drew each of his fingers into his mouth, one by one, gently sucking and licking.

The combination of warm water, hot sun, seclusion and nudity under a blue sky was a potent one and they were both more than aroused. They knew that the men wouldn't dare to interrupt or intrude on them. Horatio pulled Edward against him, still supported by the large rock. They were kissing each other deeply, exploring each other's mouths, their hands rubbing and stroking, caressing skin and muscle and hardened organs. They rubbed against each other's bodies, lubricated by the water, hard body sliding easily against hard body. Mouths glued together, they came quickly and explosively, still leaning against the large rocks that hid them from view. They clung to each other afterwards, gently soothing skin and stroking hair from eyes. The embraced for long minutes like this, each feeling the other's pulse slow and breathing return to normal. Finally, Horatio smiled into Edwards's neck, "Thank God for storm damage. sir". "Indeed, Mr. Hornblower, indeed."

The sound of voices coming through his skylight drew Edward back to the present.

"Cor, did you see his face when he was laying in the boat? I never saw anyone that white who was still alive."

"Knock that off, Oldroyd you blithering idiot. You know the Captain won't let anything happen to Mr. Hornblower. He'll be all right. You heard Lt. Bracegirdle."

"Right you are, Styles. I've said it before and I'll say it again, Mr. Hornblower has the Devil's own luck. He'll be right as rain, you mark my words on that."

"Yeah, well, he was sure bleedin like a stuck pig, that's what I know."

"Oldroyd!" followed by the sound of a smack.

"Hey…just because he's been bonking the Captain, don't mean that he can't get killed, that's all I'm saying."

"You watch that talk, or I'll do you myself…."

"Yeah, I know, big secret."

"That's right, laddie and don't you be forgettin it. He's saved your sorry arse enough times you can do that much for him."

"Yeah, well, I don't worry about what's not my business. All's I'm saying's that he was bleedin buckets…"

"He's come through worse scrapes than this just fine. He came through that duel with Simpson and the Fire ship."

"That's right, and prison and the quarantine, too. It'll take more than a scratch to get him, you'll see."

"Yeah, some scratch."

Pellew heard the sound of another smack and the voices moved off.

That was Horatio's division he'd been listening to. Yes, Horatio had mentioned that they knew about them being together and didn't mind. Well, thank God for small favors.

Edward went up onto the Quarterdeck. If the French might be about in the morning, he would like to make sure that they were headed in the other direction so as to not walk right into their open arms.

"Come about, if you please, Mr. Bowles."

"Aye, aye, Sir."

With the ship safely settled on a new heading, Pellew went below in an attempt to lose himself in some necessary charting. To his surprise, he managed to succeed; as he was finishing he saw the first light of dawn coming in the great windows of his cabin.

He needed to see how Hornblower had fared through the last few hours. As he pushed open the sick bay door and entered he saw that Horatio was being watched over by Acting Lt. Archie Kennedy. The two were close friends and Edward knew there was some jealousy about their being together from Kennedy. He saw the worried look on the young mans face and approached the side of the cot.

"Any change, Mr. Kennedy?"

"No sir, he's barely moved since I've been here. I don't think that he's bleeding and there seems to be no fever, so that's good news."

"Yes, so we must hope."

There was an awkward silence.

"You're close to Mr. Hornblower, Mr. Kennedy. Very close friends, I understand."

"Yes, sir, we are. Since we were on Justinian. We've been through a lot together."

"Yes, so I've been told."

Archie looked directly at the Captain. "I believe that you and Horatio are also close friends, sir."

There was no mistaking the meaning. After a pause, " I would think that Mr. Hornblower values us both, each in our own way."

Archie looked down at Horatio then back to Pellew. "Yes, I suppose that he does, sir. I'm afraid that I haven't as much to offer as someone such as yourself would have, sir"

The implication was obvious.

"Whatever benefit Mr. Hornblower may see as a result of knowing me is nothing to what I receive from having an acquaintance with him, Mr. Kennedy. He is an exceptional young man whom I hold dear. I would never want him to be hurt or have his career held back by anyone, especially a friend, even if it were unintentional. Do I make myself clear?"

Archie looked at him for a long moment. He understood.

"Yes, sir, you do. Horatio seems to be very happy on the Indefatigable now, Captain. I'd wish nothing less for him. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have the watch shortly. I'll take my leave, sir."

With a nod, he left and Edward took the seat just vacated. He stroked the limp hand again, savoring the warmth it still held.

To his astonishment, he felt the fingers slightly flex. Looking closely into Horatio's face he saw that the eyelids were fluttering ever so slightly.

Speaking gently he said "Horatio."

The eyelids trembled slightly.

"Horatio, it's Captain Pellew, can you hear me?"

The eyes opened to about half way and looked in his direction, seeming not quite to focus. He tried to turn his head toward Edward, but recoiled as a jolt of pain coursed through him. Edward continued to stroke his hand and added another caress to the pale forehead and cheek, calming the injured man somewhat.

"Horatio, you mustn't move quite yet. Now…sshhhh…. You've been shot. Do you remember that? You were ashore to get water last night. Some sentries on the riverbank heard and you were shot. You've lost a bit of blood, but the doctor has the bullet out. You're in the sick bay now. I know that it hurts, but it's important that you don't try to move, or you may start bleeding again. Do you understand me?"

Hornblower's lips moved slightly in what may have been affirmation. They moved again in an attempt to speak. Edward placed his ear next to Horatio. He couldn't make out what he was trying to say and so made a guess.

"You want water? …Here, let me help you. Easy, lad, easy with this."

Edward tenderly raised his head slightly and held a cup to his mouth, tipping in a small bit of water. When it was swallowed he repeated until the entire cup and then another were finished.

Horatio looked at him, and seemed to focus for a moment, his eyes filling with tears that Edward gently wiped away. He looked indescribably sad before he drifted back to sleep.

The Captain heard a sound behind him and turned to see Doctor Hemplewhite stepping to the side of the cot. He took Horatio's hand from Edward, checking the pulse and feeling for signs of fever. He then carefully removed the bandage binding the wound and checked for signs of fresh bleeding. There was only a small amount, fortunately. All the while Horatio remained asleep, occasionally moaning quietly.

"He was awake for a few minutes, well semi awake, at any rate. I was just about to call for you when you appeared. He had some water, too."

"That's good, both are good signs. He's damn lucky that the bullet didn't shatter a rib or two. The sniper must have been a distance away, or had a poorly loaded weapon…the bullet wasn't nearly as deep as it could have been. When he was awake, did he seem to know you, sir?"

"Yes, I believe that he did. It was just for a second, though."

"That's really not surprising, sir. Between the shock of the injury itself and the laudanum, he'll not really be conscious for several more hours at the earliest, I would think. If you'd like to attend to your duties, sir, I'll see to it that you're informed of any changes."

Pellew, frightened and unsure, looked to the Doctor for some reassurance.

"It's natural that he's asleep. The body needs time to heal, even young bodies. I don't want to minimize the injury. It is serious, Captain. Infection may still set in yet, but he's doing well, sir "

"Thank you, Doctor. Send for me if you need me."

Edward made his way up to the quarterdeck. He desperately wanted to stay next to Horatio, holding his hand and caring for him, but knew that he simply couldn't do so any longer. He was the ship's captain and he had a ship to run, no matter that his lover was lying injured. Lord! It was a lovely day! Warm and with the most wonderful breeze. The sails were full and the ship was running as well as a ship could sail. Not a cloud. A perfect day. It seemed wrong to be surrounded by such beauty.

Pellew noticed that the other officers were giving him a wider berth than was usual. They always allowed him his privacy, of course, but today they seemed to be respecting that he wished to be left alone with his thoughts. No one approached him with questions or idle comments. "Well, good." He thought to himself.

One more time, as he had a hundred times since the water party had returned, his mind mulled over the realities of Horatio's condition. Although he was no doctor, he had seen enough injuries of this type to know what the dangers were. Shock, infection, uncontrolled bleeding. All of these would be made more likely on a moving ship and if they were to see action or happen upon a storm…dear God! There was nothing for it. Horatio would have to be put either ashore or transferred to a ship headed for England or a safe port as soon as was possible, one with decent medical facilities.

Unless he showed marked improvement in the next couple of days, that's what he would do. With any luck they would be in contact with the fleet soon, he would decide then.

Four more days passed much as the previous two had. Edward made a point of only visiting the sickbay twice on any given day. He still had to maintain the illusion that Hornblower was just another, if highly valued, officer. There was still no marked improvement and the lad remained, for the most part, unconscious. He had developed a slight fever. It wasn't high enough to warrant true fear, but it certainly raised concern.

The next day the flagship was sighted on the horizon. Pellew ordered that a message be hoisted as soon as they were in range. The messages were sent and the arrangements were made. Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower would be transferred by stretcher to a dispatch vessel and taken to Portsmouth. He would be accompanied by Hemplewhite's best Loblolly boy who would then return to the Indy as soon as possible.

Along with the official transfer and disabled paperwork to be sent to the Port Admiral and then on to the Admiralty, the Captain enclosed a personal letter to Horatio's father, informing him of his son's injury and letting him know what provisions had been made. Edward had never met Horatio's father and knew that the relationship had been strained for many years. He thought that the chance of Horatio's informing his father of the true nature of their relationship to be remote, at best. However, the man must be informed of his son's injury.

As Horatio was carried unconscious and strapped to a stretcher up onto the deck in preparation for transfer, Pellew saw that almost all of the crew, officers and ratings alike, had silently assembled to see him off. Hornblower was in a drugged sleep and was unaware that as he was slowly carried through the crowd of men, his arm and hand, brow and hair were all gently touched as if he were a good luck charm to be rubbed and cared for. The Captain heard soft comments made to the sleeping man. "You get well now, sir." "We'll be seeing you again right soon." "You'll be right as rain before you know it." "Don't you worry about nothing, now, Mr. Hornblower."

The raffle and hoist were fitted. Horatio was carefully raised up and then lowered over the side onto the waiting boat and was gone. Men lined the rail as he was rowed away.

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