Spit Head, June 1802
They would weigh anchor before noon. Set their sails and bid farewell to Spit Head and England although no one yet knew of their destination.
Peter Crittenden stood on the main deck quietly watching the final preparations. The crew seemed happy, some sang as they worked. No doubt they considered themselves lucky not to be cast ashore like so many of their fellow tars now that the war with France was over. Lucky, yes they were all lucky to be aboard the Nightingale, but some were luckier than others.
Peter glanced upwards, his gaze drawn towards a familiar red haired figure climbing the ratlines with the rest of the top men. Jonathan Riley; familiar, yet strangely different. No longer did Riley wear the blue jacket of a midshipman. Now he was dressed in ship's slops like the rest of the ratings.
Ordinary Seaman Jonathan Riley; Peter was shamed by the words. Shamed because he had told Jonathan he would secure him a place on board as midshipman. Shamed because Captain Robert Bell had refused to honour Peter's word. Shamed because Jonathan had meekly accepted the inferior position of a common rating, a decision that only confirmed the desperation of Jonathan's situation and his lack of options. Peter had been unable to help.
"Mr C Sir, the Captain has requested you in his cabin, Sir."
Peter tore his eyes away from the sunlight glinting off Jonathan's hair. "Thank you Smith," he murmured as he walked aft. Perhaps Bell was going to apologise? And so he should, Peter mused. Bell could have taken Jonathan on if he had a mind to; plenty of Captains were happy to squeeze in an extra middy or three.
Was it jealousy that had prompted Bell's refusal? Perhaps it was pay back for the one time Peter had gone behind his back. He'd been foolish to think that Robert would not find out about the secret meeting he had arranged between Jonathan and Jack Kerrison. Corporal Ferguson was the captain's man first and foremost despite the little tryst they had enjoyed whilst Jonathan had been locked in the store room with is lover. Robert Bell had said very little, but the incident had cast a shadow over their friendship.
The arrival of a new first Lieutenant, Mr Macquarie had only added to the strain. Discretion, Bell had advised, yet he still demanded Peter's company every night. But where as before they had slept the night in the great hanging bed, now Bell seemed content to take him over the table and when finished dismiss Peter to his own lonely berth.
Macquarie would have had to be blind not to work out what they were doing. They had been at sea scarcely a week when Peter noticed first the looks, then the snide comments. He didn't mind them, Peter told himself, for Robert would stand beside him should the need arise.
He'd intended to speak with Bell about it during their brief shore leave in London a month ago but Peter had not had the chance. One masquerade ball after another. The endless parade of friends and ex-lovers calling on the modest rooms that Bell kept just off James Street. Peter had been swept up into a world of sycophants and deviants. He soon grew tired of all the young men eager to curry favour with Bell who was whispered to have connections at court. Many a night Peter found himself left alone in the drawing room to fend of the advances of one or other of Robert's friends who seemed to think he was fair game whilst Bell entertained some new young lover upstairs in his bedroom.
It had not been what Peter had expected. Admittedly no words of love had ever passed between them, but even so Peter had thought their friendship was far from casual. He had been wrong.
The marine sentry announced his arrival and Peter tried not to imagine the glint of something in the corner of the man's eyes. They all knew, everyone aboard ship. Peter hated it.
"Sir you wanted me?" Peter watched the familiar flash gleam in Bell's eyes. It had excited him once. Now it simply made him feel cheap.
"Yes Mr C. I thought this might interest you." Bell handed him a copy of the Naval Gazette, his big hand pausing a moment too long atop Peter's slender fingers.
Peter scanned the pages almost nonchalantly wondering what drama Bell was playing at now. He was unprepared for what he found. His heart skipped a beat. His mouth went dry. His eyes read and re-read the words trying to make them different.
Archie Kennedy was dead!
Slowly Peter raised his eyes in question. He knew he was pale, the blood drained from his face. Bell would wonder.
"I knew he was a shipmate of yours aboard the Indefatigable." That was all Bell knew for Peter never discussed his past lovers.
"This came also." Bell handed a sealed letter to Peter and once again his heart leapt as he recognised the writing. But his anticipation turned to cold stone in his gut. The letter was not for him.
'Mr Midshipman Jonathan Riley.'
"I thought you might be the best one to give him the news," Bell began, leaning back in his chair, his eyes on Peter like a hawk watching a mouse. "I've seen enough of Mr Riley's tears. I don't fancy another round." Bell cocked an eyebrow in speculation. "I take it they were friends?"
Peter forced himself to answer. "They were close but I do not think they were..."
"Bwahhh! Do you take me for a fool? Word gets around you know. Your Mr Riley may be young but he's had a colourful past. Kerrison wasn't the first to breach his arse."
"If I may be excused Sir, I shall deliver this before we sail..."
"Have you had him yet? Has he had you?" Bell snarled suddenly.
"NO!" Peter took an unconscious step backwards as Bell surged up from his chair and rounded the table.
"Do you think I don't know the real reason you wanted me to take him on?" Bell spat out, his face red with anger as he hovered over Peter like a squall. "Well you wont be having him! If my friends weren't good enough for you then a common rating won't be either. Do you understand. "
"Yes Sir." Bell's anger would pass. Peter had seen it before. It rarely lasted long and there were ways he could appease the captain when they had time together. Bell would forgive him, he always did.
"You're dismissed." Bell turned away and Peter headed for the door. He refused to meet the sentry's eye knowing he had probably heard everything; one more piece of scuttlebutt to share with the marines.
Archie was dead. Peter stumbled onto the deck as reality sank in. Captain Bell's outburst seemed almost trivial by contrast. Archie was gone.
Peter set his small shoulders and raised his chin. No time now to think of his own grief. He gripped the letter a little tighter in his hand and something stabbed at his heart.
It was only right that Archie should write to Jonathan. There was no reason to feel this unreasoning jealously. The time for that was long past.
He and Archie had shared one night. One special, sacred night where they had both found a reason to go on, to keep searching for that elusive dream called love. Peter bit his lip. Just one night...nothing really. Jonathan had given Archie much more.
Dear God, how will I tell him? Peter searched the deck for Jonathan and found him sitting near the bulwark under the stack of hammocks. He approached slowly. Only six months since Kerrison's death, six months since his mother's. How would Jonathan react to this new loss?
"Mr Riley, may I have a word with you?"
A thin face and tired blue eyes looked up. A timid smile grew on the red lips. "Aye Sir." The look was one of genuine delight. Peter smiled back.
They walked to the forecastle and found a quiet spot near the bow.
"How is it going?" Peter asked. Jonathan had been aboard for two days but Peter had avoided him until now. He couldn't afford to show favouritism.
"Fine...Sir. Ben Fowler...I mean Flower has taken me under his wing and has been showing me the ropes." Jonathan grinned. Flower, as the boy was now known, was not yet 16. "Most of it is not that different really. But I miss the navigation and even the studying. I never thought I would hear myself say that!"
"This came for you." Peter held out the letter. Jonathan's eyes lit up when he saw the writing.
"Archie is dead Jonathan. I am sorry."
The words resounded around them like the echo of a cannon blast...on and on and on. Jonathan seized the letter and tore it open, his face a mask of anger and disbelief.
Peter waited. Watched and waited for the outburst that would herald the oncoming storm. It did not happen. Instead, Jonathan's face softened his eyes filled with tears and a small smile touched his lips. He nodded and closed his eyes for a moment then opened them and read on.
Peter felt bereft. He longed to know what magic Archie had spun with his words. For rather than crumpling in a heap of tears, Jonathan sniffed them back and wiped his eyes, folded the letter and held it to his heart.
"To think, Archie knew he was dying and yet he thought of us and sought to offer comfort." Jonathan sighed. "That is love, Peter."
Peter frowned, not understanding for a moment. Then it dawned; Jonathan thought Archie had written to him also. The irony of it! Now he could not even ask Jonathan the details of Archie death. To do so would be to risk breaking Jonathan's faith in the man who had been his first lover.
"We should all aspire to be like that Jonathan. Unselfish, thoughtful, caring for those we love." The last word was followed by a stifled sob.
"Yes, and what love Archie must have held for Captain Hornblower! To think I was once jealous of what they shared. Now it seems so petty in the face of Archie's sacrifice."
Sacrifice? Peter's mouth went dry. What sacrifice? What had Archie done? Perhaps tonight he could ask Robert Bell for more details. Bell liked to talk as they lay in the dark, sweaty and sleepy.
Jonathan looked around at the ratings who were watching them. "Thank you sir, I'd best get back to work."
Peter nodded. He didn't want to be the cause of Jonathan coming under the same sort of criticism that he himself received. The Captain's little crumpet. It was an apt description.
Peter watched as Jonathan rejoined his division with a sudden pang of regret. He remembered the nights Jonathan had shared his berth, crying in his arms, warm and hurt and alive. It was so easy to love him. It would have been very easy to take him too. Easy and sweet and satisfying and wrong.
What Jonathan needed most now was a friend not a lover. Peter hoped he could somehow fill that role.
His thoughts turned back to Archie again. Another lost chance...lost forever now.
Sacrifice, Jonathan had said...and something about Horatio. Peter had long been aware of Archie's affections for their older berth mate. Peter had always found it easy to see such things; perhaps it was his own ready acceptance of his nature while others fought against it. Whatever the reason, Peter had realised early on that Archie Kennedy was drawn to Horatio Hornblower like a moth to a flame.
Hornblower was attractive, there was no denying it. Strong, brave, a leader among men. He'd already carved a name for himself by his heroic deeds. Peter would have happily fallen into his hammock if the offer had ever been made.
Archie Kennedy was different. Soft, gentle, almost vulnerable when they had first met. Yet he too had a strength that let him bend rather than break before the storms that always seemed to beset him. He was a hero too, though his victories were smaller, more personal. Not measured on the grand scale of war but on the smaller scale of humanity.
He had such a capacity to love! And he kept on loving despite what life threw at him. He looked out for those weaker than himself, always ready to help, to care, to love. Was it this that had finally defeated Archie? This strength of love?
Peter shook his head. It was useless to ponder it now. He would hear in time perhaps. He wiped a stubborn tear from his eye and looked around the main deck. Not long now until they weighed anchor and put to sea again. Another cruise, another round in the game of life and love.
Peter cast one last look at Jonathan Riley and sighed.
JJ May 2001