The Young and the Stormy

Part 1


Ned stretched his long legs and leaned back in his seat. He hated coach trips. They were always so dull. Perhaps it was time to have a little fun. He nudged Clive's foot with his own and when he had his friend's eye he grinned and licked his lips slowly. Clive, seated opposite, blushed and squirmed in his seat. He turned quickly to the man beside him.

"May I open the window please Mr Kennedy?" Clive asked, his breathing a little faster than it should be. "It is very warm in here."

Archie frowned then cast a glance at Ned who smiled back innocently. He knew exactly what Ned Grayson was up to. "It's the middle of winter Mr Hayworth, we will all freeze. Perhaps you too are coming down with something?"

"Coming down with something, hmm yes...that could be the problem." Ned murmured.  He continued to stare at Archie holding the older man's eyes. His small red tongue darted out and made another quick circuit, leaving his lips glistening. Clive squirmed again and even Archie had to admit the coach was becoming rather heated.

Without breaking contact with Archie's eyes, Ned asked, "Jonathan would you mind if I rested my head in your lap? I am so tired. A little nap would do me wonders."

"Perhaps you would be more comfortable using my coat as a pillow Mr Grayson." Archie offered. The thought of seeing that fair head in Jonathan's lap was more than he could stand at the moment.

"I don't mind Archie," Jonathan replied, oblivious to his travelling companion's discomfort. "Come Neddy, rest your head here." Jonathan patted his lap and Ned reclined, his fair hair spread like a wave across Jonathan's thighs.

"Thank you Jonathan. I hardly had any sleep last night, you know. You had me up all night."

It was easy to make Jonathan blush. Ned looked up and smirked in triumphant. It was Jonathan's turn to squirm now. He ran one hand lightly along Jonathan's leg. "You'd best keep still sir." Ned whispered and Jonathan froze.

Once more Ned Grayson raised his blue eyes to catch Archie's stare. He opened his lips just wide enough to show his tongue and slowly ran it back and forth along his bottom lip. Archie crossed his legs. Beside him, Clive let go a little strangled sound and pushed up the window. The cold blast of air made them all catch their breath.

"Lord Clive! Close it." Ned demanded. "You will blow us all away!"

"I think YOU might be doing that all on your own Mr Grayson." Clive replied through gritted teeth.

Archie screwed his eyes shut and rested his head against the back of the seat. It had been wrong for him to watch Clive and Ned at play earlier. But the image of young Clive, face flushed with carnal pleasure had been alluring to say the least. Archie had only meant to watch for a moment, to see Clive enjoy what Archie himself could never offer. Once started though, it had been impossible to look away. Clive's moans and cries had tied him to the spot as surely as any anchor line. But it had been the image of Ned Grayson bent over Clive's groin that had fired Archie's own lust. It was an image Archie couldn't seem to banish from his mind's eye.

How ever was he going to survive two years at sea with Clive Hayworth and Ned Grayson? It was hard enough having Clive around everyday, holding his desire in constant check because of his own connections to the boy's father. But he had no such safeguards with Grayson. And damn it, a body could only take so much. Archie needed companionship as much as the next man. A least he had Horatio on board the Medusa. Horatio might be able to put Grayson in his place. If not they would all be sailing towards disaster.

JJ

Part 2

Archie observed that Ned had not closed his eyes. He breathed with his mouth open slightly, his tongue darting out from time to time to moisten his lips. Archie blinked. He had the awful thought that Ned was akin to a viper dozing yet watchful for prey. The lad did have a sinuous nature. He curled about his guardian as if to squeeze the life from him.

Archie had known sycophants and seducers, from both sides of the bed, as it were. He remembered his first shipmates fawning around their master, offering Jack the most tender cuts of meat, sometimes human meat. Archie remembered how smooth Jack could be, how sincere. He remembered his own deceptive ways. His stomach lurched. The guilty hollow feeling grew. He had enjoyed Riley before he had been old enough to voice protest. And now there was Ned Grayson. Was the lad offering himself?

Clive shifted in his seat next to him. He glanced at the young man. Clive smiled openly, joyfully. How different his smile seemed, not a hint of artifice, guile or ingenuous spirit. This smile would launch ships and sink them. Archie smiled dotingly, and yawned.

Loving arms reached to him, and pulled him against a bony shoulder softened by a thick wool jacket. Spectacled, soft eyes gazed down into his eyes, and a long thin arm slipped over his chest pulling him closer. Archie felt the stroke of fingers on his hair. Chaste lips touched his forehead. Under him, he felt the oceanic swell of a long contented sigh. Archie closed his eyes and forgot about Ned for a while.

Archie woke to the soft sighs of fellow sleepers. The air of the coach was close and fairly warm with their body heat. The rolling had stopped and the odd noise that had pierced his sleep seemed to be coming from the horses who were shaking their harness, making the characteristic jingling sound faintly recalling to his mind the sound of ship's bells. At the same time, he heard their huge metal shod hooves clopping on cobblestones. They were impatiently waiting to be piped to supper.

The Lamb was a fine old inn; a favourite of sea officers since it was built a hundred years ago. A fine kitchen, they boasted having a French cook. Archie hoped Horatio had seen to the menu and the wines. Saddle of mutton they had agreed. A poached turbot, two removes, a hearty soup to warm the travellers, fresh bread and butter and of course, a splendid pudding.

Archie's mouth watered thinking of the food. He smacked his lips and woke Clive. The youth accidentally kicked Ned when he stretched his long, coltish legs. Ned's head rose and fell sharply into Jonathan's lap waking him with a start.

"I see we've arrived more or less safely," Jonathan commented helping Ned to sit up.

"And I'm ready for supper," Archie said rubbing feeling back into his limbs.
The coachman opened the door and announced, "The Lamb, sirs."

"Thank you kindly," Archie replied nodding in a gentlemanly way to the man and handing him a silver coin. "Be so good as to rouse the folk of the inn and see that our dunnage is carried inside."

"Aye, aye, yer honour," the man said in a seaman like fashion.

"You answer like a man 'o war's man," Archie commented.

"I were a sailor aboard Justinian, sir. I remember yer and the fine Captain 'Ornblower when 'e were a mid. Broke my leg when Papillon sunk us. 'Twas yer boat that pulled me from the sea."

There were tears in the man's eyes. Then he tapped his right leg. "She ne'er 'ealed right an' I could go no more into the tops. No, sir. So I were beached. 'Een so, I earn a good living 'ere at the Lamb. My Louisa and I and the babes ne'er go awanting."

Throughout the reminiscence of the old sailor, Ned stood leaning on the side of the coach stamping his feet like the impatient horses. Clive nudged him.

"Quite a tale, wouldn't you say?" Clive asked.

Ned smirked. Then he said dryly, "Do you believe a word of it? Mr. Kennedy's boat took him from the sea. How likely was that?"

Clive blinked. He shrugged his wide shoulders.

Ned continued, "How much will you bet that your softhearted officer gives him another coin?"

Now, Clive frowned and hissed, "He's your officer too, and for my part, I'm happy he's softhearted. He could have been very stern with us this afternoon. And you, in the coach, what were you thinking?"

HiH

Part 3

Ned smiled sweetly. "I was enjoying myself Clive! What were YOU doing? Teasing poor Mr Kennedy again? At least I'm willing to follow through on my offers."

Clive's face reddened with anger. "Sometimes, Mr Grayson, you have the manners of a cheap whore!"

"You had no trouble with my manners earlier Clive," Ned replied through gritted teeth. "In fact I would say you rather enjoyed them!"

"Come along Gentlemen," Archie moved to intervene. "See to the dunnage if you would!"

Nearby, Jonathan stood stretching and watching. He spun around as a hand touched his sleeve gently. "At last! We thought you had quite forgotten." Peter Crittenden smiled up into Jonathan's startled eyes. "Pleasant trip?"

"Rather hard actually, I'm afraid I am quite stiff."

Peter raised an eyebrow in speculation and quickly surveyed the others, his eyes moving from one man to the other and then on to the midshipmen scrutinising, analysing and making conclusions. Finally he looked back to Jonathan waiting for clarification.

Jonathan blushed and tried to banish the remnants of sleep from his brain. "I've just spent the last two hours with Ned's head in my lap!"

Peter gave him a wicked grin. "I know a remedy for that Jonathan," he whispered leaning closer. "But it will have to wait until after we dine."

Oh dear. "Peter, I'm sorry but..." Jonathan opened his mouth to begin his apologies but his attention was stolen by the tall dark haired figure who emerged from the Inn. Horatio Hornblower.

He watched as Hornblower and Kennedy embraced, watched the joy that lit each face, the way their hands lingered longer than was necessary on shoulder and arm. They stood close together in a way that spoke of deep intimacy. Their attraction to each other was unmistakable.

"What were you saying Jonathan?" Peter asked lightly. He too was watching the reunion taking place.

"Umm, I was saying that I had already arranged to spend tonight with Archie," Jonathan turned back in time to catch Peter's expression turn sour.

"Oh? This IS a surprise! I had thought perhaps Ned, but Archie?" Peter folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. "I don't mind sharing you Jonathan but this is the last time I will stand in line, do you understand!"

The words stung and Jonathan bit his lip. "Yes Peter, I AM sorry but you see I promised Archie. It's for old times sake, you know. We never did get to have that night together all those years ago and we have been thinking of it ever since."

Peter cast a pointed glance towards Horatio and Archie before looking coolly back to Jonathan. "If you honestly think Archie has spared a thought for you whilst he has been with Hornblower then you are a bigger fool than I imagined, Jonathan." With that Peter turned on his heel and went indoors.

JJ


Part 4

At the Door of the Inn

The door of the inn flew open and a tall, beautifully uniformed man ran toward the coach. Kennedy's head lifted to the sound of Horatio's welcome voice and the two men embraced warmly. Every inch of Horatio's face shone with his joy at seeing Mr. Kennedy. Clive sighed and believed he knew no more handsome men in the world. Yet, if he had to choose between them, then Captain Horatio had won his heart first, when Clive was only five years old.

Clive remembered the tall, very serious young man leading a wounded soldier whose eyes were bandaged. A stab of painful memory. No one had known at the time if Lord Edrington would ever recover his sight. Clive recalled his mother's silent tears. She told the children their father would be fine. Clive knew his mother was dreadfully afraid.

Then the doctor and his tall, slim son comforted them. Mr. Horatio had taken
Ross and Clive to his room where he kept all his marvellous scientific wonders; a telescope, an aquarium and books by the dozens. Not great thick gilt-edged books like Father's, but rather slim books with drawings and coloured plates. The sort of books boys read on summer evenings when they dreamed of joining the Royal Navy.

Clive smiled and felt a tear slip down his cheek. He brushed it away before Ned could tease him about it. He wiped his eyes and then he wiped his sweating palms on his sleeves. Captain Horatio was turning to him and opening his arms. Clive rushed at the man, flung himself into those beloved arms. He felt the rapidly beating heart beneath the thick wool uniform where he pressed his cheek. His own heart beat in the same rhythm, loudly and wildly enough to be near breaking.

Then the warm, soft eyes of the captain fell upon Clive. The young man blushed scarlet and felt faint from the rush of his emotions. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the raised eyebrow of Ned Grayson and the wicked curve of his hard mouth. The message was clear. Ned despised him for his sentimental behaviour. He thought he was a little foolish lapdog at the great captain's heels. Yet above all, Clive wondered if Ned hated him because he was lucky in his situation. Because he was rich and well educated. He bore no scars of battle. And, because he was beloved by two exquisite men, his officers, his Captain.

Then he was shaken out of his thoughts. He heard the Captain say, "There's our Clive. How are you, child?"

"Very fine, sir," Clive answered with a little cough. "I hope we find you well."

"Starved," Horatio said smiling. "And worried sick about the cold weather making you late. Oh, have you news of your father?"

"Nothing since I left home. He's in Spain with Ross, Mellors and Greene. All's well as far as I know."

Reaching into his jacket, Horatio handed him a white envelope with Clive's name written in a large well-rounded hand. "Well, this came for you last night,"

"It's from Mother!"

"Well, open it, boy," Captain Horatio said. "Satisfy our curiosity, if you please."

Clive tore at the white vellum envelope. The letter inside was brief, expressing love and pride. No word from Lord Edrington in Portugal, but news in the Times spoke of the siege of Lisbon. A five pound note fluttered out from between the pages.

"Mother wishes me to purchase champagne to toast the ship, officers and crew."

"With that amount, the ship could swim in champagne," Ned muttered just within hearing.

Clive looked sharply at Ned. Then his cinnamon brow rose. He rubbed his jaw.
"If there's money left after the champagne, I think I will spend the rest to improve the victuals in the midshipman's berth. If our Captain will allow me to do so."

"A fine idea, sir. A fine idea."

"Let's get inside. I see the innkeeper's pretty daughters are talking to
Captain Hornblower's table server. Wherever did you find him?" Archie asked grinning.

[Helen, this line from Archie seems out of place because Archie KNOWS where Tom Tyler comes from...remember? Am I just misunderstanding the exchange? Do you want to change?]

"I must thank Captain Crittenden for the young man. He is quiet, sober and diligent. I think I can make a bosun of him some day. What do you think, Mr.
Kennedy?"

"He's a fair hand in the small craft. Your coxswain in a few years?"

"A bit weedy at present. For muscle and good bone he needs to eat. And so do we."


HiH


Part 5

Ned lingered as the others entered the Lamb. He was still fuming from Clive Hayworth's words. Whore indeed! Who was Hayworth to make such accusations? The young man was such a hypocrite! Ned felt tears prick his eyes and dashed them angrily away. He wouldn't let mere words upset him like this.

"Ned? Are you all right?" Jonathan waited by the door of the Lamb looking concerned.

Ned nodded, not trusting himself to speak for the moment. Jonathan crossed to stand beside him and placed his arm around Ned's shoulder. "What's wrong Neddy-Love?"

"I..." He met Jonathan's clear blue eyes and couldn't go on.

"Let's walk a while, we need to talk." Jonathan steered them around the back of the Inn to the stables. It was quiet except for the horses and a couple of stable boys who were busy about their work.

"Jonathan, I don't think I can go aboard the Medusa." Ned blurted out. "I don't know these men and Clive hates me and I ...I ...You have always been there beside me, Jonathan. How will I manage without you?" The words were rung from the heart, simple and honest.

"Neddy, you will be fine. This is you chance to shine on your own. You can not live forever in my shadow. You must make your own way. This voyage offers such opportunities. Captain Hornblower is a great man. Do your best and he will be pleased." Jonathan paused and considered his next words. "It may be wise if you put a little...distant...between yourself and Clive Hayworth. Things are different at sea you know, Neddy. You have only known him a few days and you seem to either be in each other's arms or at each other's throats. Let it cool a little before you both find yourselves in hot water."

Ned nodded. "Yes Jonathan, I will." It was good advice. In a sudden flash of introspection, Ned discovered that Clive's greatest weapon against him was the power to hurt his heart. Such vulnerability was something that Ned had tried so long to banish from himself. He'd hardened his heart and soul against all outside influence, or so he had thought. Was Jonathan responsible for this breaking down of his defences or had Ned simply been fooling himself into believing he was untouchable. Jonathan's hand on his cheek roused him from his thoughts.

"Ned, we will see each other again, I promise you. You will always be here in my heart." Jonathan brought their linked hands to rest on his chest. He leaned close and placed a chaste kiss on Ned's lips.

"I do not know when your Captain intends to sail, so we might not have another chance to see each other alone, but know this Ned, I love you. I love you dearly and always will."

Ned smiled as the warmth and magic of Jonathan's words embraced him once again. "I love you too Jonathan."

"Now come along, we will be missed," Jonathan declared, breaking the spell. "And there is someone else waiting to see you, I am sure." Jonathan grinned and winked. "Tom Tyler!"

JJ


Part 6

The Supper

The men filed into the dining room and took their seats. Captain Crittenden sat at Horatio's right. Archie took the foot of the table and the midshipmen filled in the seats along the sides. Clive Hayworth sat at Horatio's left. Ned sat at Archie's right next to Clive. Across the table next to Crittenden sat Laddie Blakeney and Henry Wellard. All fine, handsome young men if one cared to believe the flashing eyes of the innkeepers daughters as they carried in the turtle soup.

The dishes were passed happily, and the mutton carved by Captain Hornblower himself all the while telling of the first time he carved the roast at Lady Dalrymple's banquet given in honour of his capture of La Reve. He grew somber only a moment later when he recalled his own capture. With a sigh he cast a look of deep affection at his friend at the opposite end of the table. Finding Archie Kennedy was the silver lining inside the storm cloud days of his Spanish captivity. His heart lurched and his chest tightened at the mere thought of losing his closest friend again.

The sweet wine poured like mountain freshets, cold and bubbling in their upraised glasses after the magnificent puddings. Toast after toast soon had the young men tipsy. Then Laddie threatened to sing a bawdy song. Clive gave the younger boy a harsh look that provoked a spray of claret. Hearty laughter burst from Ned Grayson. Horatio turned his attention their way.

"Mr. Wellard, be so kind as to escort Mr. Blakeney back to the ship. Mr. Hayworth and Mr. Grayson will follow shortly. Those of us with our wits about us may yet play a few hands of cards tonight."

"Aye, sir. To the ship it is, sir," Wellard said softly, folding his napkin and draining his glass.

Horatio added, "And see that Blakeney is well-aired on your way. I'd hate to see him fall overboard while the ship is still moored."

The others smiled.

Clive glanced at Ned. Then he covered his mouth with his hand and yawned widely. Captain Hornblower saw the wordless communication. He nodded.

"Yes, you two may run along now too, if you please. Take my servant with you.
He needs his rest."

The young men got to their feet. They thanked their senior officers for the fine meal. They smiled at the serving girls.

Horatio muttered, "I suppose no gang of thieves will dare accost so many."
Then he added, "And Mr. Wellard, since you are senior, you may dismiss the gig crew once you are back aboard. Mr. Kennedy and I will beg passage in
Captain Crittenden's shore boat."

HiH

Part 7

As Wellard half carried Blakeney along the rutted road towards the harbour, Ned, Clive and Tom followed along behind. No one spoke for a moment until Ned nudged Clive with his elbow. "Be a dear, Clive and go ahead and help Mr Wellard while I have a quiet word with Tom, if you please." He gave a little smile, thinking Clive was more likely to respond to enticement than assertion. Clive, merry from the wine he had consumed with dinner, gave both Ned and Tom a grin and a wink and trotted off. Ned slowed his pace and slipped his arm around Tom quickly. "I have missed you," he whispered into Tom ear, catching, as he did so, a whip of soap. "You've had a bath and someone has trimmed your hair." Ned became more daring and stole a quick kiss.

"Here, stop that!" Tom pushed him away forcefully.

"What?" Ned stopped, withdrawing his arm and staring at his companion. The boy looked changed. Gone were the long straggly locks, now trimmed and tied in a small queue. He was dressed in ships slops, courtesy no doubt of Captain Hornblower, but they fitted Tom far better than any of the hand-me-downs he had previously worn. Tom folded his arms and stared back at Ned, his face serious.

"I said stop that, Ned. It's not allowed. I been told, yer see. Told about what yer may and may'nt do on board and that's one of the things they hang yer for!"

Ned stared, opened mouthed, not knowing what to say.

Tom continued. "I knew'd it was wrong. Knew'd it all along, but I let yer do those things cause they felt good. But that was the devil working, yer see. Anything that good has to be the devil's work...me father was right. And the Captain knows it! I heard tell that he tells the crew every Sunday and he'll hang a man if he's caught being unclean!"

Ned took a deep breath and fought to hold his temper in check. "Tom," he began patiently, "What you are referring to are the Articles of War. They are read aboard every ship once a month. I KNOW what they say, but you will find that some things are overlooked if both parties are willing and discreet. Things don't have to change between us if we are careful. Besides," and here Ned smiled and moved closer to Tom again, embracing him with both arms, "I know the right way to do it now, so that it doesn't hurt. Jonathan showed me."

Tom pulled away, his eyes unreadable in the near darkness. "No! I don't care what you say. I'm not willing no more and I won't do it."

"But why Tom?" Ned asked, hands spread wide in bewilderment. "Why now? I though we were friends."

"We ARE friends," Tom insisted, his voice wavering for the first time. "But it is wrong, a sin and we will be damned if we keep at it." Tom held out his hand to Ned in a gesture of reconciliation. "The fault was as much mine, for I didn't stop yer, so I'm not saying as it was you who was guilty. I like yer Ned and I want us to be friends. Yer done a great thing for me, getting me this place on the Medusa and promising to teach me how to read." Hopeful eyes waited for Ned's reply.

Ned's anger melted to be replaced by despair. "Of course we will still be friends and I will teach you Tom. I promised, didn't I?" He reached for the hand and shook it firmly. What more could he do? The pain of Tom's rejection ran like ice through his veins and Ned bitterly regretted the loss of their intimacy. Tom had been his one hope of true comfort aboard the Medusa; the one person to whom he could turn when the world became too hard; the one person with whom he did not have to put on a brave front. Now, he was all alone.

But it was far better to have Tom as a friend, Ned decided, than to lose him altogether.

"Friends, Tom. You are very dear to me."

Tom Tyler smiled at the words and they turned to catch up with the others.

JJ


Part 8

Cards after Supper


Archie stood up and moved down closer to the remaining company. He poured another glass of wine for each of them and toasted the King. Then he called to the pot man for another light and a deck of cards.

The girls cleared the table while the men stood for a few moments stretching their legs. Crittenden begged pardon and excused himself for a call of nature. After he returned, the others took a necessary private moment too.

Finally the table was ready and they were bid to sit again. On the way to the table, Archie took Horatio by the elbow and steered him to the curved window so like those of a captain's stern cabin. They gazed out at the ships in the harbour illuminated by a sliver of moonlight on the water. Archie's hand squeezed Horatio's arm.

"Eager for a kiss, Archie," Horatio asked breathlessly, glancing around to see that they were hidden from view.

"I've come to beg a favour, my dearest friend," Archie whispered.

"Anything, love. Just ask," Horatio breathed into his cloud of golden hair.

Archie took in a deep breath and exhaled noisily. "Horatio, I'd like to spend the night with Jonathan, here at the inn." He felt his Captain stiffen. Archie's heart beat faster. He looked up into dark, smouldering eyes.

"I've missed you, Archie," Horatio said softly. "I wanted you tonight."

"You'll have me forever, after tonight," Archie said. "As long as you want me."

"Then you won't mind if I entertain Captain Crittenden?" Horatio asked, arching his eyebrows.

"If you are trying to make me jealous, it won't work. I know you too well.
And you know me. I would never prevent you from spending time with another."

"Why did you ask my permission to bed Riley then?"

"For once you are mistaken, dear heart. I merely stated my plans and hoped for understanding. Moreover, I would never have you taken unawares sitting at cards. We must admit that Captain C can be a little waspish." Archie was pleased when he saw Horatio's mouth twitch into a hint of a smile. He went on sincerely, "I was afraid for your pride, Horatio. Peter stung me at Rose Cottage. And Jonathan has always had a loose tongue. Yet, I love those men in the same way I love roses. I drink in their beauty and fragrance while remaining quite mindful of the thorns."

Horatio looked downcast. He murmured, "And now I've pricked your heart too, old friend."

Archie shook his golden head. His bright eyes were shining when he said, "Never in life, brother."

Horatio squeezed his shoulder. "A walk in the garden before we part?"

"Agreed," Archie whispered. He turned and led Horatio toward the others.
"Now, a few hands of cards," he said brightly.

As always, Horatio was a master of the cards. He lost only one hand to Crittenden and Peter shouted so that it sounded to the rest of the people in the room, like a Frenchman had just struck to him. Jonathan rolled his eyes and Archie chuckled. Horatio, unruffled, shuffled the deck and asked if anyone wanted another game. No one did.

"A walk in the moonlight, Archie?" Horatio asked. "Jupiter has risen above the housetops."

"I'll be up directly, Jonathan," Archie said. Then he added to Crittenden, "You will wait for Captain Hornblower, will you not?"

"Of course I will, Archie. Horatio and I will enjoy a few more hours together, I trust."

"A quarter hour, if you please, Captain Crittenden," Horatio said. "I beg your indulgence. And, allow me to pay our passage in the shore boat."

"If you insist. Yet it is my pleasure to do you the service, sir. We are brother captains, after all."

There was a twinkle in Peter's eye meant to sting Kennedy. With relief, he took Horatio's arm and walked out into the garden.

They both wore their boat cloaks since the damp night air of Portsmouth was cold. The stars twinkled and the moon smiled, low and orange in the sky.
Horatio slipped his arm around Archie's waist. He pointed out Jupiter holding his friend close so he could sight down the long raised arm. Soft breath in Archie's ear made him shiver. Horatio held him closer. A firm squeeze and a brushing of their hands.

No kiss. Too many eyes at an inn. Warmth and tenderness was enough for now.
They returned with reddened faces to the blazing fire.


HiH

Part 9

Jonathan watched Horatio and Archie don their boat cloaks and seek the garden together. He felt cold inside. Throughout their card game Hornblower had all but ignored him. Peter, of course, had kept up a lively banter with his fellow captain. Jonathan could do little more than sit and watch and try to remember which cards where which. Once or twice Archie had tried to draw him into the conversation, but whether by accident of design, either Hornblower or Crittenden had somehow stolen the lead again and Jonathan had remained on the outer like a midshipman waiting on his superiors.

Peter Crittenden leaned back in his chair and stretched.  He let go a little laugh and nodded towards the door. "There you go, Jonathan. Captain Hornblower is even warming our dear Archie up for you so you won't have to wait too long when you get him upstairs!"

Jonathan pursed his lips and said nothing.

Crittenden continued. "So much for Archie's longing for you. I hope you realise now that you are little more than a momentary diversion for him! He can't even do you the courtesy of appearing to be besotted with you." Peter snorted, his voice turning cruel. "I dare say he'd take more notice if I made a play for Hornblower!" Peter turned and grinned at Jonathan, sly and sneaking. "Now there's a thought! I'll seduce Hornblower whilst you and Archie are at play. I'd like to know what Archie sees in the man; sample that which he holds above all else. What say you to a wager, Jonathan? I'll bet my share of our next prize that I can bed the great Captain right under Archie's nose!"

Jonathan looked up, shock and disappointment in his eyes. "But Peter, he means nothing to you! Is it always just a GAME with you?" Was that all I was too? The final question remained unspoken. Jonathan hid his hurt by downing another glass of wine.

"A game, sometimes, but this I do also for revenge, Jonathan." Peter's eyes glittered with a cold green light. "Revenge on Archie for what he did to me and for what he is doing to you; revenge for what else he will do to you this very night." Suddenly he shook off the somber mood and laughed again. "Besides, I like a challenge and I feel like a bit of distraction for the night." Peter turned towards Jonathan again, his eyes playful now. "And you must admit that Hornblower is a fine figure of a man. Lighten up, Jonathan, you hardly look like a man about to embark on a night of passion."

Jonathan poured another glass of wine and drank it down. He watched as Horatio and Archie returned, watched as Hornblower bid his farewells, with a wink towards Archie. Watched as Peter Crittenden hastened to Hornblower's side and the two left together, deep in conversation. Then there was only Archie and himself left staring at each other across the table. Jonathan drank one more glass of wine and followed Archie up the stairs to their room.

JJ


Part 10

On the Medusa

"Stow your dunnage here, Mr. Grayson," Wellard said cheerfully despite the gloom of the midshipman's berth. "Then be so good as to help me get Laddie boy into his hammock."

"Aye, sir!" Ned said man o'war fashion, trying to take stock of his newest acquaintance, his new home and the unsettling, jerking roll of the ship at anchor.

Clive whispered in Ned's ear as they pushed his heavy chest into place, "Henry was aboard Renown during its ill-fated voyage to the West Indies. He's a sober young man. Best not to ever cross him."

Just after the young men heaved Laddie into his hammock, he promptly got sick. Wellard tapped Hayworth lightly on the shoulder. Clive nodded, snatching up the wash basin. Ned watched, disgusted with the child, while Clive patiently held the basin. Then gently, Clive began to clean him up.

"Give a hand there, Mr. Grayson, if you please," Wellard said. "He's your shipmate now. A squeaker, 'tis true. But, we were all young and foolish once."

Wellard brushed back Laddie's hair and felt for his pulse under his jaw. The older midshipman was due up on deck, yet he didn't want to leave an unconscious boy with inexperienced attendants. He sighed and patted the boy's head. Apparently satisfied that the boy would not lapse into coma, Wellard left them.

Then, Ned stepped closer. He handed Clive a fresh shirt from the boy's sea chest. The shirt was soft as down and embroidered along the collar. Must be his Sunday shirt, Ned surmised. Oddly, he regretted not finding an ordinary one.

"Thank you, Ned," Clive said taking the dry shirt and throwing the soiled one in the wash basin. He handed the basin to Ned. "Take it up on deck and beg a hand for sea water to rinse it."

Ned's stomach churned as he walked up the companion ladder to the deck. A seaman fetched him a bucket of seawater and rinsed the shirt for him. The man smirked and chuckled, handing it back to Ned wrung out. Ned shook out the fine fabric and saw that this shirt too was beautifully embroidered.

"So he's another rich little bastard," Ned thought. "He'll have a sore head in the morning. Let's see his money cure that."

Laddie was sleeping peacefully now when Ned entered their cramped berth. Clive was undressing, a basin of water in front of him. He glanced at Ned, squinting because he'd taken off his glasses. He raised a finger to his lips and jerked his head toward the sleeper. Ned nodded and hung the shirt on a peg to dry.

Ned undressed and slipped into a nightshirt. The berth was damp and cold. So, he went back and found a pair of warm stockings. After he'd settled, Clive padded over on bare feet without a word, and laid a second woollen blanket over him. Ned frowned, somewhat suspicious of the motive. Then Clive clumsily climbed into his own hammock. Ned grinned and nearly laughed at his awkwardness.

Only moments later, Laddie began to cry and call out. Clive reached across and quieted the boy with a soft stroke upon his arm. Ned marvelled at how quickly the little boy calmed and went back to sleep.

Ned rolled to his side and by chance, Clive rolled to face him. Their eyes met and Ned fell into the deep blue waters of his shipmate's gaze. He felt as if he were drowning. He was alone and he did not dare call out for help because help never came. Better to die silently, he thought darkly, than to sense abandonment again. Ned closed his eyes tightly and shut out the deep blue gaze.

Sleep evaded him, or so he thought. His mind wandered. He smelled the scent of roses and thought of Jonathan. Bitterly he regretted his coldness to the man. He was a decent sort and really he was not responsible for what Ned had endured. A hand seized his shoulder, he shot upright with a hoarse shout.

"Easy, Mr. Grayson," Wellard said, restraining him with both hands. "You were calling out to someone. Are you unwell?"

A huge sigh escaped him. Ned settled back and shook his head. He heard the sound Wellard's shoes going up the companion ladder. He rolled over again and met the blue gaze of his companion. There was a longing in those eyes, a wantonness to the parted lips. Clive said nothing. He only watched and waited. Ned sensed that his own breathing was faster than it should be. He felt unusually warm.

Clive's pale hand reached out from beneath the blankets. He tossed his golden hair back away from his long white neck, exposing his throat and the pulse that beat strongly beneath the delicate skin. Ned watched him as he swallowed. He watched him breath. He watched the heavy lids slide over the deep blue oceans of his eyes. There was a slight twitch under his blankets. It occurred again. He was touching himself. Ned's eyes widened when he understood.

HiH


Part 11


Archie and Jonathan at the Lamb

It was like plunging backwards in time. Once again Jonathan felt the pain and uncertainty of youth, the awkwardness, the hesitancy, the inadequacy. It gave him pause. For so long he had dreamed of this moment, dreamed of holding Archie again in his arms, of making love as they looked into each other's eyes. But now that it was his, he wondered if reality would be a bitter disappointment.

Archie opened the door to their small room and stood smiling, waiting for Jonathan to enter, warm invitation in his eyes. No need for Archie to regret his decision to grant Jonathan this bounty tonight. Horatio was his; now, tomorrow and for many nights more.

Did Archie feel magnanimous and agree to this for old time's sake? Did he do this out of pity knowing Jonathan had been grieving firstly for Kerrison and now for Ned? Did Archie feel sorry for Jonathan and think him to be always the loser of love?

Too much to drink to fuddle his senses; too much wine to make Jonathan suspicious of everyone's motives? Too much heartache and jealousy was probably closer to the truth, Jonathan decided. Once more he felt the sting of Peter's blatant announcement to seduce of Horatio Hornblower. How could Peter DO such a thing?

"What's wrong Jonathan? You seem far away?" Archie was behind, helping him with his coat, slipping it over his shoulders with a surety that Jonathan suddenly found unnerving.

"Nothing, too much wine perhaps?" He turned and captured Archie's lips in a quick kiss. "I always feel like a child when I am with you, Archie."

Archie's laugh told him how ridiculous that sounded. It made Jonathan feel cold inside.

"Jonathan we have both come a long way since those first fumbling experiences we shared aboard the Mistral. You don't have to worry. I'm not that...fragile anymore. Nor do I expect you to do me some horrendous injury in your haste to show me what you know."

Jonathan tried to smile. "I was rather a silly little fool, wasn't I." He looked away suddenly but Archie caught his chin and forced him to meet his eyes.

"You were never that to me Jonathan." They stared at each other long and hard, until Archie released him suddenly. He stepped away. "What is wrong Jonathan? I thought you wanted this? Have I offended you in some way?"

Jonathan licked his lips and moved over to the bed. He sat down, wearily. He suddenly thought of Clive Hayworth. Perhaps in Archie's eyes Jonathan was simply as a substitute for young Hayworth who was the real object of Archie's lust and love but far too sacred and pure to touch.

"I have been thinking Archie, a dangerous occupation I know. I can't help but wonder at your actions of late. I know you want Clive Hayworth, I can see it in your eyes when you look at him and yet you resist him and refuse to act on your desires. Is he so very different from me? I was under your command aboard the Mistral, I was far younger, far more innocent than he is and yet you had no qualms in taking me as your lover? What is the difference now? Was I less...worthy of your protection, your care? Or have you come to regret what we did, to see it as something shameful and vow to never repeat the act?"

The words were wrung from him and contained all the hurt that Jonathan had never shown. The hurt that had simmered in his heart after Archie had chosen Horatio's company over his own. Perhaps this was the real reason he had so long wanted this night; the final chance to question Archie as he had been unable to do as a hurt sixteen year old boy.

JJ



Part 12

"Do you remember the first thing I wrote to you in my letter before coming to Rose Cottage? I told you how old I felt. Gads, Jonathan, I'm nearly 30. I'll be a father myself before the year is out. When you and I were aboard Mistral we were both so young. It was my first command. I was drunk on authority.

I wanted to share my feelings. I was in love with myself for the first time in my life. I was a success on my own. I wasn't subordinate to anyone. I made the rules. So, I broke the rules too. I thought you were very attractive. You were wild and daring. And you were a little bit dangerous. Most of all, you were not afraid to love me.

I had always been afraid of older men touching me, ever since Jack Simpson. Horatio managed to get past my guard. He and I are nearly the same age. But, you and Peter were not older men. I did not have to be defensive with either of you. And with you, I felt the most comfortable. You loved everything I did and I cherished you because you seem so happy with me. I never thought of you as someone who needed my protection, least of all protection from me. I believed that you wanted me then, and that you wanted my company tonight.

As for Clive Hayworth, I love him as I love my own unborn child. I am godfather to his little sister, for Heaven's sake. He was placed into my safekeeping because his father was my lover for a time. So, if I wish to call myself a man of honour, I dare not touch young Clive.

Jonathan, you must believe me. I have never had regrets about our relationship. I am still very fond of you. I'm here tonight because of our old friendship. Please, come sit down. Let us not be on bad terms. It hurts me to see you angry.

Archie's great blue eyes were misty with unshed tears. His voice grew softer and softer. His shoulders seemed to slump as he sat on the bed. He looked older too, his bright gold hair turning silver in the lamplight.

Can you forgive me for whatever I've done that injured you? How can I make compensation to you?

HiH


Part 13

"Oh Archie, it is I who should ask your forgiveness." Jonathan quickly assured. He found it impossible to remain angry with Archie. He loved him as he had when he was younger. Archie was his hero and if left to himself, Jonathan would always overlook his faults. He shook his head. "I do not know where these dark thoughts come from at times." In his heart he knew that Peter Crittenden was to blame for many of them but he refused for the moment to assign any further blame to Archie.

Archie reached up to brush the red curls that glowed in the candle light. "You have been hurt Jonathan, that is all. Healing takes time. You must allow others to help you like you helped young Ned."

"Then love me Archie, take me and make me yours for one night. Help me to forget the hurt of losing both you and Ned tomorrow."

Archie obliged by taking Jonathan in his arms and kissing him soundly. He suddenly remembered that Jonathan had only seen the hesitant side of him in lovemaking. He'd learned a lot since then. With a surety that left Jonathan gasping, Archie pushed him down onto the bed and proceeded to undress them both. Jonathan whimpered and Archie bit his neck, suddenly remembering that wild streak that had seemed so out of place in one so young. It had frightened him back then, that reckless side of Jonathan that was always pushing for more. But Archie had learned a lot in the intervening years and he no longer feared the furthermost reaches of his own passion. He suspected Jonathan would welcome it too.

Their coupling became rougher. It was often like this between men, a chance to show their strength and courage, a time to use aggression as they never could with women. It made it different, it made it exciting.

Jonathan rose to Archie's challenge. They were equals now, well matched and they pitted their strength against each other, testing, trying, each waiting for the other to give in. It was Jonathan who yielded suddenly, who rolled into submission and whispered through gritted teeth, "Fuck me!"

And then they were both crying out, lost in lust as they had been aboard the Mistral, oblivious to the shaking of the bed, oblivious to the shouting voice from the next room threatening to call the land lord if they didn't keep quiet. Oblivious to everything but each other and the pleasure that coursed through their veins, setting them aflame until they exploded in a bright hot light that left them scorched and weary.

They rested momentarily, chests heaving, bodies limp until Jonathan struggled up to lean over Archie in a tumble of curls and eyes that showed more life than Archie had seen since their reunion.

"Do it again, Archie. Do it again!"

JJ



Part 14

The Shore Boat

"I'm really obliged to you, Captain," Horatio said again as the shore boat began the long pull out to the anchorage.

The two captains sat in the stern side by side. The waters were calm. The orange slice of moon was setting in the western sky. Stars twinkled brightly in the chilly air. Husky girls rowed the swift little boat, happy to be carrying gentlemen instead of rough seamen.

"Oblige me a little longer, Captain Hornblower with a visit to my cabin,"
Crittenden said as he pointed the girls to the Wasp. "I have a fine port or a delightful sherry you may enjoy sampling. Both fresh from Lisbon."

Horatio glanced at the Medusa and his fine features contorted in worry.

"They'll be fine with Wellard to shepherd them. He's a steady lad," Peter whispered. "You have no one waiting for you on board. Kennedy's with Riley."

Horatio turned toward Peter and nodded, his face solemn, almost sad. Peter lunged under Horatio's wavering guard.

"Did I ever tell you about my collection of fossils? Kennedy told me you are quite a naturalist yourself. No wonder you jumped at the chance for a voyage of discovery."

"Where did you find fossils?" Horatio asked seeing the baited trap but unwilling to avoid it all together.

"Captain Bell has many friends. They collect curios from around the world. I have a modest collection of oddities. No shrunken heads, of course. I'm not a ghoul like some."

Horatio looked side long at Peter, in the manner of a horse passing an unfamiliar object. Then he rolled his eyes and exhaled loudly. His curiosity would one day kill him as it killed the proverbial cat.

"Fine," Horatio said. "I'll come aboard for a drink and a look at your curios."

"Wonderful," Peter exclaimed, patting the broad back of his handsome companion.

Crittenden ordered the girls to approach the leeward side of the Wasp. Quietly, with no shrill of bo'sun's pipes, they scurried up the side and melted like shadows into the captain's beautiful stern cabin.

HiH

Part 15

Inside, Crittenden showed his guest a pitiful collection of Caribbean seashells, Polynesian coral and a stuffed wombat. Horatio yawned when Peter brought out a collection of old bones he said were from a true Arabian roc. Picking through the pile, Horatio did see a horse's femur and many hollow bones of possibly an African vulture.

Pushing the bones aside, Horatio turned and asked, "Peter, what do you really want of me?"

"Your company tonight," Peter replied sadly, head down and eyes heavy-lidded.
Then he reached out and stroked Horatio's chestnut curls, moving quite close to his guest. "Please stay," he begged. "You have no one to go to. Remember?"

In his unsettled mind, Horatio could not discern the difference between art and true feelings. Yet, what did it matter? He had no one waiting. Peter was handsome and winsome and wanting. Horatio swallowed. He beat down the ever present guilt within his heart. He blinked and nodded.

"You are right, Captain," he said. "I have more reason to stay than to go."

Utterly cheerful now, Peter busied himself a few moments, haphazardly tossing his curios into his sea chest. He hummed a light air. Then he turned like a slinking predator toward his guileless guest. Horatio stood fingering the brass buttons of his uniform. He looked like a startled deer when he realised Peter was about to undress him.

Recovering, Horatio found his tongue. "How do you like it, Peter?" he asked shyly as the other man removed his jacket and rubbed his shoulders.

Peter grinned wickedly, and whispered into Horatio's ear, "Oh, no tediously sweet seduction, for me, if you please. I'm not at all like Kennedy. With someone like you, a forceful, daring captain, I favour being boarded and carried. I'd fancy a few moments of hot fighting and then complete capitulation and the raising of your pennant."

Horatio frowned and gasped, "I can't even pretend to rape you, Peter. I simply couldn't do it."

"Not rape, you silly goose! A little schoolboy wrestling, just rough enough to get the blood running hot. Warm the guns, as it were," Peter replied kissing his long neck and burrowing his hands beneath the linen shirt.

"You don't like being tied, I hope," Horatio asked looking nervous, blushing and returning light kisses.

"Heavens no," Peter said laughing. Then he added, "Do you?"

Raising his eyes and then returning his gaze, Horatio admitted, "I was persuaded to try it once. I'll never forget it. I was blindfolded too."

Peter replied in awe, "I didn't think Archie had such imagination!"

The blush deepened. Horatio whispered, "I wasn't with Archie."

"Who then, my dear Horatio?" exclaimed Peter. "Who was it?"

"Unlike some people, I don't kiss and tell," Horatio replied, warming to the action.

"So you have had a few lovers. Less than five, I'll wager."

"You are right. Less than five," Horatio said, agreeably hoping to move away from the subject.

"Let me guess then," Peter said tilting his head to the side and rubbing his chin. "Archie was one. Captain Pellew?"

"I will not name names," Horatio said kissing him harder.

Peter returned the kiss with another broadside, "Don't tell me you've had only two lovers!"

"More than two," Horatio said through his teeth as he bent the other man back.

It was becoming warmer than a chess match. More like a cutting out action than a cerebral check and check mate. Horatio backed Peter against the bulkhead. There he fought like a wild cat. Even so, Horatio was the tiger, more than his match in height and weight. They slid down to the deck, Horatio atop the smaller man, wrestling upon Peter's thick Turkish carpet. Clothes flew and limbs tangled.

HiH


Part 16


Amid Chinese silk sheets and African animal skins Captain Hornblower accepted the surrender of the Wasp's captain. Crittenden had struggled valiantly. Yet, at no time did Horatio believe the man wanted to win the encounter. Too often he let slip his hold. Time and again, he failed to take full advantage of openings in his attacker's guard. Finally face down, Hornblower's big hand on the back of his neck, Crittenden ceased all movement. He lay defenceless, his body a prize of war.

"All right, Peter," Horatio wheezed. "I trust I've warmed you sufficiently.
Now, where do you keep the oil?"

"Don't stop now," Peter cried out, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Horatio pinched the snowy left buttock under his left hand. Peter yelped.

"I asked you for oil. Now where is it?" Horatio said firmly.

"You can't let me go. I'll escape," Peter said coyly.

"Then I'll just have to get your parole," Horatio replied. "Do I have it?"

He reached his left hand under Peter's midriff and tickled along his ribs.
The man convulsed, but did not yield. Horatio shifted his grip. He caught one of the neat legs and ran his nails down the sole of Peter's small foot.

"Horatio!" Peter wailed. "Do you know how hard it is to get oil out of these sheets?"

Smack! Down came the big hand onto the small quivering roundness of Peter's backside. Smack again!

Peter groaned in pure pleasure. Horatio glanced at the door and then remembered that Captain Crittenden did not post a marine guard at the entrance to his cabin. Horatio brought his hand down again with a sharp slap. Peter was rubbing himself into the sheets beneath him. He was enjoying himself to the fullest.

Horatio's mind wandered. He did not enjoy such coarse games. He'd heard of some that went wrong and caused great suffering. He mused about Edrington's rule of three that begged the company of a vigilant friend whose presence insured the players' safety during rough sport. The thought brought Archie to mind. Archie, who slept in Jonathan Riley's supple young arms.

Anger flared. Horatio seized Peter's slim hips and lifted him. Without another conscious thought he thrust into the man's body. Peter cried out. Something in the sound pierced the darkness of Horatio's mood. He pulled back and turned Peter over, staring into features twisted in pain.

"Peter, I am so sorry," Horatio whispered, half sobbing and rocking the smaller man in his arms. "Please, forgive me."

Peter blinked and his features relaxed. He reached up, lacing his arms around
Horatio's neck. "Shhh," he said. "I'm no worse for the wear."

Horatio threw back his head and stared at the deck head a moment. He drew in a great breath of air. Peter's hands twined in the dark curls and drew Horatio's face down again. Peter kissed him softly now.

"We'll proceed gently now, eh?" Peter said. "I'm a poor host if I don't please my guest."

"You please me, Peter," Horatio whispered into the silky skin below his companion's ear.

Peter's frame shuddered and he gripped Horatio with all his strength. He shifted his position and threw his leg over his companion. He lifted himself up and came to rest upon Horatio's lap, straddling him, belly touching belly. Peter bent to suck the swollen bud above Horatio's heart.

Horatio's cock mounted its own assault into the breach that gaped above.
Peter sucked the other nipple and eased himself down upon the shaft that entered him. Horatio lifted his lover's face and sucked at his mouth. Their bodies were slick with sweat and their hands slipped over muscle and bone. Peter's teeth grazed Horatio's shoulder. Horatio's arms threatened to crack Peter's ribs. They sobbed and trembled in their exertions until they crested the waves and wallowed in the valley between passion and sleep.


HiH


Part 17

Peter rolled onto his side and placed his head on Horatio's chest. He trusted that the older man would not mind, but waited patiently for the fidgeting to start. Some partners he had known were not fond of such intimacy afterwards. They found it sentimental. Assured at last that Horatio was not going to turn away or push him off, Peter brought up his hand to rest against the strong chest too. He felt warm and comfortable.

"How is Tom Tyler working out?" Peter asked softly.

"Hmmm?" From the muffled reply it was obvious that Horatio had been close to sleep.

"Tom Tyler, the young lad I brought you. Has he found his feet yet?"

"Yes, he seems to be fitting in. I asked Matthew's to keep an eye on him." There was a slight pause before Horatio asked cautiously. "Is he...special to you? You never did say why you asked me to have him aboard."

Peter listened to the heart beneath his ear, gauging the beats, the pauses, the sound of Horatio's breathing. He smiled. It was so much easier to talk like this, lying naked in the darkness in one another's arms. You could always judge far better what a man really thought of what you were saying.

"He's a local boy from Havant, brother to Jonathan's housekeeper. Seems he struck up a friendship with Ned Grayson and wanted to follow him back to his ship."

"Really?" Horatio sounded shocked.

"Yes. At first I thought it was madness, but the boy has a rather violent father who had already beaten him black and blue because of their...friendship."  Peter snuggled a little closer into Horatio's embrace. "I'll admit I felt sorry for him, for them both, if I am honest. Lord knows young Ned has had a hard enough time and he did seem to respond to the lad. Tom had no future in Havant and I knew you were wanting seamen. Archie was in agreeance of course."

Horatio smiled when that name was mentioned. He laughed a little. "Archie is always sentimental! But I can see that there could be problems between our Mr Grayson and Tyler. Has anyone had a word to them about their behaviour?"

"I'm sure Jonathan will have said something to Ned and I had a long talk with Tyler on the journey from Havant. He really is very eager to learn to read and write." Peter paused, at war with himself in a way that was strange to him. "I have no evidence, in fact I am almost certain I am wrong, but it DID occur to me that Ned Grayson might have...somehow made Tom agree to certain things with the promise of teaching him to read. I am sure I am wrong, but it would be remiss of me if I did not pass this on to you. I would never forgive myself if I found out Tyler had been...abused...and I might have prevented it."

Horatio had gone very still, almost holding his breath. "I see. And what of Grayson? What can you tell me about him?"

Peter sighed. "Ned, well, his story is long and ugly. He was a midshipman aboard the Indy when it was taken by mutineers. The records of course don't tell the whole story. He survived, along with Jonathan, but he was raped and it has had a lasting effect on him. Twice he has tried to kill himself." Again Peter paused weighing his own feelings towards Grayson and trying to be impartial.

"I would not like to give you the wrong impression of Ned of course. He has come a long way in the four years I have sailed with him. He needs a break, from Jonathan mainly, for he...coddles the boy something fierce."

"Jonathan Riley!" Horatio sighed. Clearly Jonathan was NOT on Hornblower's list of favourites. Peter smiled to himself.

"Archie knows something of the boy's history and I am sure he will provide any more details should you require them. I simply wanted to make you aware of the situation, that's all."

"Hmmm, thank you Peter. It's a long time since I shared the middies berth with you and one tends to forget the 'passions' that run high in there at times. I'll have an eye to Grayson, you can rest assured."

"Good." Peter smiled and closed his eyes. It was time to sleep.

JJ



Part 18


Aboard the Medusa


"Clive!" Ned hissed. "Wellard may be back at any moment."

"I can't sleep," Hayworth whispered. His eyes seemed half closed yet the twitching of facial muscles suggested bodily activity rather than restful slumber.

"He'll be down here again when you cry out. You'll be caned, you fool," Ned warned angrily.

A rapid blinking of big eyes, then a bright smile lit Clive's face. He brought both arms up and folded them under his head. His body relaxed. The eyes closed finally and in a low whisper Clive said, "I appreciate your concern for me, really, Ned. Sleep well, eh?"

Ned could not reply. Now he was in a state of turmoil. Had he been cozened into something not of his own design? His genitals throbbed restlessly, heavy against his thigh. He was steaming under the blankets. The wool socks itched. Damn Hayworth's eyes, he thought. Damn him to Hell.

The odd creaking of the ship was a frightening sound within his restless memories, reminding him of the cruel hours he'd been held captive by the mutineers. The chime of the ship's bell, on the other hand, soothed him. The rebels had not maintained the watches. Wellard's shoes sounded on the ladder again. The rustling of clothing, the bump of a hammock against his own. Soft breathing on both sides of him.

Something disturbed Laddie and he jerked violently upright. His eyes were closed yet he babbled nonsense. Clive stirred in his sleep, thrusting out his hand to quiet the boy. Laddie shrieked to wake the dead. All three older midshipmen sat up at once.

Ned was in a fury. He was close to striking the boy. Then he saw Clive's patient features and he merely shook his head.

"He's dreaming, I suppose," Clive whispered apologetically to the others. "He's away from home and among strangers for the first time."

"We haven't even weighed anchor yet. Is he going to act like this for months?" Ned asked, his voice brimming with exasperation.

Wellard answered him. He said calmly, "He'll settle soon enough because he has nothing to fear. Our captain is a kind man. Our officers are fair."

"How long did it take YOU to "settle", Mr. Wellard," Ned asked sarcastically.

"Immediately, sir," Wellard replied evenly. "I was fortunate to have Mr. Hornblower as the officer of my section. Strict, but fair, his ways were never capricious. I understood him from the first moment."

Ned paused a moment before commenting further. He'd tasted the acid of his reply and for once, good sense stopped him. The momentary lull gave Clive his chance.

"I'm looking forward to our voyage, and I hope we can become good friends,"
Clive said, grinning and swinging his hammock, bumping Ned who bumped
Wellard. "See how close we are already?"

Wellard huffed, choked back a laugh and leaned over Ned to slap Clive's shoulder. "That will be quite enough merriment from you, Mr. Hayworth. Now, if you please, take Laddie up to the head before he wets himself. See he don't fall over board. Understood?"

"Aye, sir! To the head it is, sir," Clive said, wrapping himself and the boy in a blanket and slipping on his shoes.

After the youngest midshipmen departed, Wellard sighed and shifted in his hammock. Then he said, "I'm sure you know that I too, was aboard a mutinous ship. Therefore, we may have experiences in common. Let us agree to discuss those events only in private. What occurred still brings me pain."

"So you know what happened to me? Does everyone know?" Ned snapped.

"I am senior here. It is my duty to know my subordinates. It is my duty as a gentleman to be discreet."

"I see. I'm sorry for speaking hastily," Ned replied.

Wellard went on, "Did you know that I still feel abject terror when ordered to the captain's cabin. Can you imagine that?"

"But why? You love Captain Hornblower," Ned whispered.

"It is the place. It remains like the scaffold itself, a place of terror."

"Boys are caned everyday in the Royal Navy. Was the pain so terrible?"

"I endured the pain. I withstood the shame of it. The man who ordered it terrified. It was his relish of my suffering and shame that caused my self-loathing. By cold reason, I know the poor man was mad and not to blame.
Yet, the events cannot be erased from my unconscious self. Sometimes, I am still troubled by nightmares."

"How do you manage?"

"You mean, how do I remain sane?"

"Yes," Ned breathed.

"I thank Heaven each day that my Captain is a good man. And, I beg Fate for my chance to die for him."

Wellard's eyes gleamed in the flickering glow of the dim lantern. They heard the sound of shoes on the ladder again. Laddie was in Clive's arms, the blanket draped over them both. The boy's arms were wrapped around Clive's neck. His head rested against the older boy's wide, bony shoulder.

HiH


Part 19

Snug in their hammocks again, Clive leaned closer to Ned. He whispered, "Laddie's like a little brother to me. I like to imagine that he looks up to me in the same way I look up to Ross."

"Did you cause your brother so much trouble?"

"Oh, when I first came to school, I was small for my age. The bullies tried to get me cornered but I was sly. Then, one night after an ill-timed trip to the privy, I ended up in Ross's room. My nose was bleeding and I was weeping. He guessed what had occurred."

"What did he do?"

"Ross gave me a hug and escorted me back to my room. He spotted the bullies and glared at them. The next morning, I noticed his knuckles were skinned and he had a bruise on his cheek. The bullies never bothered me again."

"He seems a marvel."

"I was the better student. He was good at sports and the clash of weapons."

"You've been close to him all your life, haven't you?"

"Yes, I suppose I have. I am a lucky one."

"Never forget how lucky you are, Clive. Pray your luck never runs out."

Ned rolled over and pulled up his blanket. Clive lay flat on his back, arms folded under his head. He gazed at the deck above his head. He felt the nearness of his companions and the distance from his family. His eyes itched. He squeezed them tight and brushed away the tear. His heart was suddenly aching in his chest. He felt trapped between longing for the familiar and the rushing excitement to explore all things new. He sat up and met Mr. Wellard's gaze.

"We are all lucky to have this cruise, Mr. Hayworth," Wellard said. "When next your write your father, give him my compliments and my thanks."

"I will, sir," Clive said.

"Now go to sleep, Hayworth," Wellard whispered. "Our Captain will expect us fresh in the morning."

"Aye, sir," Clive replied. "G'night, sir."

HiH

Part 20

Despite a deep weariness, Ned could not sleep. Wellard's words circled in his head like a whirlpool dragging him down to places dark and cold. The captain's cabin...abject terror. What did Wellard know of true terror? Did he really know what had befallen Ned during the mutiny? Did he imagine that what Ned had endured in the Captain's cabin aboard the Indy could be compared to a simple caning?

Ned wiped his face, surprised to find it wet. Let it go, he told himself. It wasn't Wellard's fault that he could not comprehend the horror of what evil men might do to hapless boys. Such darkness should not be thought upon or pondered for fear it might infect an innocent mind. Ignorance was sometimes a blessing.

He watched the older midshipman as he slept. Dark of hair, like Captain Crittenden, but his complexion oh so pale. Ned wondered how he managed to stay untouched by the sun? Deep red lips gave Wellard's face an almost feminine appeal. Ned caught himself wondering what it would be like to taste those lips. They looked soft and delicate and warm.

Would Wellard be partial to a little mutual comfort? He'd been a mid for longer than Ned so he must have some knowledge of what frustrated young men resorted to once the light went out in the cock pit. It would be interesting to see if Wellard remained so aloof after they had been at sea a month.

He seemed to be another worshipper of both Hornblower and Kennedy. One who was willing to die for his heroes.

That last sentiment was foreign to Ned. How could a man lay down his life for another? Unbeckoned, the spectre of Jack Kerrison rose like a phantom reminder of what a desperate man would do to save a loved one. A chill passed down Ned's spine and he shivered, suddenly afraid. He looked at Wellard again, a dark angel, seemingly innocent. Yet Ned knew better than most that a man's darkest demons were always hidden deep inside.

He rolled away and found himself gazing on the sleeping face of Clive Hayworth. Now there was a contradiction if ever there was one. A face and countenance so seemingly innocent and yet Ned knew better. It was a different set of words that now played over in Ned's head. 'Manners of a whore'. As if Clive Hayworth could cast the first stone! Clive's earlier actions had left a faint lingering scent in the stuffy berth that Ned could still detect. He breathed deeply again, inhaling the scents, letting them inflame his blood. He closed his eyes and slid his hand beneath his blanket, thinking of Jonathan and Tom and even briefly of Charlie Witherspoon. He imagined himself cradled in Jonathan's arms again, stretched out beneath him, pressed into the mattress, Jonathan's hand upon his cock the last anchor holding him to reality.

He bit down on his lip to keep silent as he came, his semen hot and sticky in his own hand. Then rolled over again to face Wellard with a sigh. Two dark eyes peered at him from a ghostly face. Ned jumped and gasped. Wellard licked his lips quickly as if he meant to speak, but just as suddenly turned away, saving Ned further embarrassment.

Ned stared at the silent back for a long time, wondering if it was just his imagination or if Wellard's blanket too now moved in a rhythmic rustle. It was the sound of Wellard's breathing that finally lulled him off to sleep.

JJ


Part 21


Peter was full of himself in the morning, like Alexander after he'd conquered the world. Horatio was quiet and subdued. He drank his tea thoughtfully and ate his breakfast of soft tack and strawberry jam politely. He seemed always on the brink of making a profound statement.

Finally Peter said, "I beg you, Horatio. Be at ease. And please, don't ask for my forgiveness."

"How did you know I wanted to apologise?"

"Because you are kind, and you thought you hurt me."

"But, I did hurt you. And I did it in anger. Not at you. At Archie."

"There, there," said Peter softly, stroking the back of Horatio's long slender hand. "I have to admit that I was out of sorts too, when Jonathan told me of his plans. Even so, I won the greater prize, I think. The wealth of your company. And you are prime company."

Peter stared into the depths of Horatio's soft dark eyes. He wanted to express all that was in his heart. He wanted to extol Horatio qualities: his vigour, his compassion and his sweet gentleness. Peter nearly began admitting that some men had used him with less care than they had for the pillows on the bed. Horatio wasn't that sort at all. The deep gaze was wordless for many strong heartbeats. Then Peter sighed.

"So we, the jilted lovers, have found a little solace in one another's arms, eh?" Peter said.

Horatio returned a shy smile that banished his somber thoughts. He nodded, bouncing his curls, making them irresistible to his friend's fingers. Peter ruffled Horatio's hair. He drew him close and kissed the strawberry flavoured lips. Horatio returned the favour and lifted Peter nearly off his seat.

"Oh!" Peter exclaimed. "Fancy another brisk engagement this morning?"

"I like you, Peter," Horatio said. "You must visit us aboard Medusa when you can. We'll send Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Riley to the Gunroom and we'll share my cabin. What do you say?"

"I would not be the only man with green eyes, Horatio!" Peter exclaimed. "Truly we must surprise our lovers someday, in the same way they took us aback."

"Agreed," Horatio said, sipping the last of his tea and rising from his seat.
"Now I must beg the loan of your gig and boat crew. I pray Wellard survived the night with his charges."

"Hah! Rather explosive charges they seemed to be too," roared Peter, falling into a fit of laughter. "Pardon me, dear fellow, please. I'll have my coxswain lower away the boat immediately."

Peter was still laughing when he shook Horatio's hand and bid him adieu. Horatio sat stiffly in the stern sheets hoping to look imposing and cold when he met his own crew. The coxswain shouted and the Medusa answered with a shrill of pipes and scurrying side boys. Captain Hornblower thanked Peter's coxswain, begged the man to give his compliments to Captain Crittenden and then leaped for the accommodation ladder. Nimbly he climbed into his own ship and surveyed the spotless decks and gleaming guns. He nodded to Mr. Wellard who looked as if he'd been on watch the whole night.

"How are the rest of the midshipmen, Mr. Wellard?" Hornblower asked.

"Awaiting orders, sir," Wellard replied. "Mr. Blakeney is rather pale, but I think it will pass."

"Give the young gentlemen my compliments and inform them that navigation lessons will commence in my day cabin in a quarter hour."

"Aye, aye, sir," Wellard said. "Navigation in the Captain's cabin it is, sir."

Finally, Horatio softened his look. He said mildly, "And you, Mr. Wellard, are to rest until dinner."

"I'm not tired, sir," Wellard exclaimed.

"Be so good as to obey orders, sir," the Captain said. "You may give me your report at dinner. Have I made myself clear?"

"Aye, sir," Wellard said with admiration shining in his eyes. "Perfectly, sir."

HiH

Part 22

It was a bad omen. Ned Grayson blinked as Henry Wellard delivered his message. Navigation in the Captain's cabin...the captain's cabin...abject terror. Even Wellard's face seemed paler than usual as he said the words. The Captain's cabin.

As soon as he stepped through the door held wide by the marine sentry, Ned knew he was entering a nightmare. Hornblower's day cabin had an uncanny resemblance to that of Captain Pellew aboard the Indefatigale. Of course it was to be expected, Ned rationalised. Hornblower had sailed with Pellew and might well have fashioned his own cabin on that of his mentor and hero.

"Be seated Gentlemen, we will begin the lesson."

Ned's hand shook as he opened the new journal he had purchased, it pages clean and white, unblemished. Beside him Clive was busily cleaning his glasses and young Laddie Blakeney was looking around the cabin like a child in a candy shop. Ned followed his gaze unsuspectingly. There it was...in the corner, huge and black and hulking. Ned turned his head quickly and picked up his pencil. Hornblower was speaking and he tried to focus on what the captain was saying.

But like a phantom that haunts ones dreams, Ned knew it was still there, hiding just out of his sight. It's twin was waiting too, waiting for his eyes to wander from the page, he need only to move his head and they would be in his range of vision, silent reminders of the deadlier side of mankind.

Defiant, he looked up and stared from one great gun to the other. They were harmless, inanimate and yet they aroused in him such terror that Ned had to look away.

There had been no guns in the Captain's cabins of the Nightingale or the Wasp, both ships being too small to warrant such. But here they were, aboard the Medusa and Ned would have to face them every day for the next two years. His pencil scratched over the page as he tried to concentrate on his work. But the memories came back.

At first he had thought the mutineers meant to cane him when they dragged him to the captain's cabin on the Indy and threw him against the gun. That was the usual punishment for wayward midshipmen and these men held a grudge against him for what had befallen Ben Fowler. They told him to take off his coat and drop his breeches, finally doing it themselves when his frightened fingers refused to co-operate. On Miller's order he bent over the gun hoping not to antagonise them any further. Drunken men could be dangerous. 

The gun, cold and hard, pressed into his delicate skin and he shivered. He'd seen both Jonathan and Charley Witherspoon caned and knew he would survive. But it would hurt, he had no doubt. He would cry out; Charley had cried and even Jonathan. Ned gritted his teeth so that they would not see that he was afraid. Cautiously he looked over his shoulder wondering which of them would weld the cane and met the leering face of Miller who was slowly unbuttoning his trousers.

He understood then and began screaming. Screaming and begging; crying for his mother, crying for Jonathan, crying for anyone who could save him. They grabbed his arms and legs to hold him in place and tried to cover his mouth. Their hands were rough, their breath hot and stale and reeking of spirits. He fought them until someone slapped him hard in the side of the head and he slumped against the cold metal, too weary to struggle anymore. But he kept on screaming until his throat became too hoarse and his mind too wracked with pain and fear. He did not know how long it lasted or how many of them there were. He didn't kept count. His screams had helped to drown out their laughter and their course words and in the end he didn't hear them anymore.

Ned's hand slipped across the page in shaky script as he worked out his calculations. He stopped to wipe the sweat from his palms. Suddenly he felt sick.

"Mr Grayson, is something the matter?" The Captain's voice dragged him from his nightmare. Ned licked his lips before speaking.

"No sir," he replied with a voice that sounded weak. Beside him Laddie Blakeney snickered under his breath.

"You look pale Mr Grayson, are you well?" Hornblower was staring at him now, one eyebrow raised in inquiry.

"I am fine Sir, just a little the worse for wear after drinking last night. I won't let it happen again, Sir." His breath was short and shallow, a cold sweat had broken out all over his body. The monsters waited just out of sight.

"DO you need to go on deck for some fresh air? You may be excused if you require it?"

Ned would have liked nothing more in all the world than to run away at that moment. Hornblower had given him the perfect escape too. But something held him back, something small and fragile, battered and old. He gathered the shreds of his dignity, his pride, his courage about him like a feeble cloak and sat up a little straighter in his chair. He would not give those bastards the satisfaction of ruining his life any longer. They were dead and they had no power over him. With a dry mouth he address his new captain. "No thank you Sir, I'll be fine. Thank you for your concern."

JJ

Part 23

"Do you know when you are sailing?" Jonathan asked as he watched Archie Kennedy dress. He was too tired, too comfortable to move and had resolved to stay abed a while longer. Besides, Peter Crittenden was no doubt occupied and would not be looking for him anytime soon. It rankled but Jonathan was determined he would not let such thoughts spoil what might be his last moments alone with Archie.

"I have no idea Jonathan, but I will let you know as soon as I find out. I doubt it will be today, however."

Jonathan's face lit up and Archie smiled sadly. "Jonathan, we CAN'T spend another night together. YOU know that as well as I. How would Peter and Horatio feel?"

"No doubt they could entertain each other again as they did last night!" Jonathan snapped back waiting for Archie's reaction. When it came, it was not what Jonathan expected.

"I spoke to you long ago about how men like ourselves must take love and companionship as and when we find them. Do you remember?" Jonathan nodded reluctantly.

"I am not jealous of whomever Horatio chooses to spend his time with. I am pleased that he offers me the same grace. If you and Peter Crittenden are to ever have a chance at a long close friendship then YOU had best learn that too, Jonathan." Archie finished pulling on his coat.

"Come Jonathan, let us not part like this. There are too many regrets that I have in life already. I do not want YOU to become one too."

"No Archie, never that. I thank you for all you have ever done for me. You have always had my best intentions at heart." There was a flicker of something behind Archie's eyes and he crossed the room to sit beside Jonathan and take him in his arms again.

"I hope that has always been true, Jonathan, I really do." He kissed the top of Jonathan's head, his forehead, finally reaching his lips. He rose, bid goodbye and left.

Jonathan lay down again and stared at the ceiling. Poor Archie, perhaps he is as confused as I am, Jonathan mused. Unbidden, Clive Hayworth came to mind again. That young man unsettled Jonathan. So seemingly innocent, yet Ned had told a different tale. He surely had Archie wrapped around his little finger. Hayworth was the son of an old friend and supposedly under Archie's protection. Yet it was painfully obvious that he was physically aware of the boy and attracted to him. 

Would Archie be so reluctant to make a move if he knew Hayworth was already well experienced in matters of the flesh, Jonathan mused? Slowly an idea began to form in Jonathan's mind. If HE were to initiate Hayworth, take him as a lover and show him what was needed, would that remove the obstacle stopping Archie from taking the young midshipman for himself?  If Hayworth were no longer an innocent would Archie feel less like a ravisher?

"I'll do it for you, Archie," Jonathan whispered as he sat up and reached for his clothes. What a perfect way to repay his friend. Archie would be so pleased!

JJ


Part 24

"You are going to do WHAT?" Peter Crittenden pulled his red silk robe tighter and planted his hands on his slim hips. "Have you gone completely mad Jonathan?"

Jonathan, studiously ignoring the tumbled appearance of the huge swinging cot and the faint bruises that could be glimpsed here and there on Peter's olive skin, set his shoulders and stared his Captain down.

"It's a perfectly fine idea Peter, although I admit it's not one I would have followed for it's own reward. I am doing this for Archie, nothing more."

"If you so much as lay a finger Clive Hayworth Archie will kill you! He'll call you out and shoot you on the hard right in front of half the fleet. It will be a spectacle!" Peter Crittenden poured two glasses of wine and shoved one at Jonathan. "Drink this and wait for the blood to return to your head. It's obviously still pooled in you prick!"

"Peter!"

"That's SIR to you." It was casually said, but a reminder of their respective positions all the same.

Jonathan moved the stuffed wombat off a chair and sat down angrily. If Peter had resorted to the wombat then Hornblower could not have been quite the easy prey Peter had expected.

As if reading Jonathan's mind Peter explained, "I really thought I was going to have to drug him and tie him to the bed at first. He's not very quick to catch on. But once inspired he does have a certain flare for it. Bit on the rough side, but then most of them are, aren't they."

"Archie wasn't," Jonathan smirked.

Peter reached his small hand across the table and peeled back the top of Jonathan's shirt to reveal a livid bite mark. He raised one eyebrow but remained silent.

"Well, he wasn't back then. He's a little more daring now."

Peter answered Jonathan's grin with one of his own. "I'll take your word for it, Love."

Jonathan reached across the table, caught Peter by the back of the neck and pulled him into a hard kiss. His hands sought purchase in the silk robe, pulling it down, running his hands along Peter's shoulders and back. "Get up on the table," he demanded breathlessly.

"Jonathan, not now." The words brought a halt to the clumsy seduction.

"Why not?"

Peter stood up and pulled his robe about him. "I was not joking when I said Horatio was rough. I'm afraid I am not up to it."

"Why that animal!" Jonathan started pacing. "What did he DO to you?"

"He apologised and in all fairness it was not entirely all his fault. We were wrestling and I wasn't...co-operating very nicely. No harm done really, but I would just rather not aggravate the problem."

Jonathan's face was set in a hard line. "The man is a bastard! He doesn't deserve Archie!"

"Archie?" Peter asked. That hurt...hurt more than anything Hornblower had done last night. He turned his back and walked to the small casement windows. He'd known from the start that he would regret this relationship. Jonathan was still too young, too flighty and simply didn't think. No better than me, Peter chided himself. Last night's seduction of Hornblower had been foolish to say the least. Peter had vowed to stop such casual liaisons, but old habits were hard to break. Perhaps men were simply meant to have numerous lovers but never find true love? True love...so elusive. He tried hard but it always remained just out of his reach.

But then Jonathan was behind him, chin resting atop Peter's dark hair, his strong arms encircling him, making him feel safe and secure. "He didn't deserve you either, Peter. And if I had a set of duelling pistols I would call him out."

It made Peter laugh and the tension between them broke. They stood like that for a long time, gazing out at the dull grey sea and sky, cold and unwelcoming. They were home.

JJ



Part 25

Ned stumbled his way to the bulwark and leaned over, afraid for the moment that he would be sick. He had managed to last through the long hour of navigation class only to be assaulted by nausea the moment he steeped on deck. Abandoned at his feet, the pages of his new journal fluttered in the wind.

"Ned? Are you all right?"

Ned straightened up and smoothed back his hair before turning to face Tom Tyler.

"I'll be fine in a moment Tom," he replied faintly. "I'm feeling a little sick."

Tom frowned slightly, looking concerned. "Do you think you will be well enough to start teaching me to read? I'm off at the moment and if you don't have any duties I thought we could start." Tom held out a small battered book towards Ned.

"Captain Crittenden gave me this. He said it wasn't new or nuffin', but that it was good to learn on. It's a bible!"

Ned blinked at Tyler, wondering why his friend could not see the distress that he was in. He thought of the comfort Tom had happily offered when they were back at Havant; how Tom's arms had become a haven for him where he could safely cry and talk.

But there was a different look in Tom's eyes now, one that made it hard for Ned to blame the young man for his insensitivity. It was a hunger for knowledge that lit a fire in the dark brown eyes, a thirst for learning that eclipsed all other thoughts. Bravely Ned pushed aside his own concerns, nodded and took the book, flicking absently through the pages.

"I am free until the afternoon watch. Why don't you come down to the Mid's berth? It will be warmer there."

Tom's eyes narrowed for a moment. "Yer just going to teach me reading and writing, aren't yer? I won't do nothing more!"

The words stung and Ned suddenly wondered if Tom somehow thought he had been coerced into their previous relationship. Had it really been so terrible?

"I told you yesterday that we would just be friends," Ned replied wearily. He still felt sick and shaky. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into his hammock and hide but knew it wasn't possible. On impulse he held up the bible and said, "I give you my word Tom, on this bible. NOW do you believe me?"

Tom nodded and smiled, looking more like the old Tom that Ned remembered. He bent and picked up the journal that still lay on the deck. For a moment the younger name studied the intricate calculations and notes that Ned had written in the first few pages, scratching his brown hair in amazement. "Do you think I will even be able to do stuff like this?"

Ned shrugged. If he was truthful it was highly unlikely, but that was no way to encourage someone just learning his alphabet.

"You can do anything if you set your mind to it Tom," Ned said quietly, wanting to believe the words.

JJ

Part 26

Captain Hornblower dismissed them after an hour of mathematics. Young Tyler entered with Brown, the servant, and tidied up the cabin. Horatio located his hat and followed the younger men out, walking up the companion ladder toward the quarter deck, reflecting upon the studies he planned to accomplish with each of them. If the weather remained fair, they'd read Roman history in Latin for an hour or so after his dinner.

Most of all, Horatio hoped that each of his young gentlemen found a subject they truly liked. He worried that he might favour one youngster over the others. Wellard was a well-rounded young officer already, nearly prepared for his lieutenant's examination. Grayson had some sailing experience. He knew his mathematics and understood the rudiments of navigation. Hayworth was quick, eager to learn, and already well-grounded in the classics with a keen interest in natural philosophy. Even Laddie had his graces. He was a born linguist, tutored no doubt by Sir Percy himself. In less than a week, young Blakeney had picked up the nautical cant of the bosun and his mates. Horatio doubted the boy understood exactly what the strings of words meant, but that didn't stop him from reeling it off like a parrot from the Brazils.

True, all the young men had worthy qualities. Yet, something was wrong. What worried the Captain most was the strange behaviour of Mr. Grayson as he sat working out his navigation problems moments ago. He seemed physically unwell.
He appeared to have all the symptoms Horatio recalled in his friend Archie, when he was suddenly in the presence of his old tormentor, Jack Simpson. There was the odd laboured breathing, the sweat pouring down him inside the chill cabin, the vacant look in the eyes, as if he were living not quite in the present but rather in some long ago event. Surely the young man was not afraid of his new captain. Or, was he?

As Horatio set foot upon his quarterdeck, the officers of the watch politely moved to the leeward rail giving him his customary starboard solitude. He saw the glimmer of Archie's flashing smile. It said "welcome, pleased to see you,
my love to you," all in one brilliant token. Horatio felt his own features soften and reply without conscious effort. His body was responding for him. The attachment was strong between his flesh and Archie's.

"Report, Mr. Kennedy," Hornblower said as calmly as he could, calling his lieutenant to him.

"All is in order, sir," Kennedy said smiling widely. "I've said my good-byes and I'm glad to be safe aboard. The ship and crew are prime. We should complete our supplies tomorrow, sir."

"I'm pleased to see you safe, Mr. Kennedy," Horatio said softly. Then he added a little louder, "Dinner in my cabin if you please and be so good as to invite Midshipman Grayson."

"Aye, aye sir," Kennedy said crisply. "Will that be all, sir?"

In a whisper, Horatio said, "I know you want to hear of my adventure with
Captain Crittenden."

"Oh very much, sir" Kennedy said.

"You'll have to wait until tonight. In my cabin. Is that understood?"

"Aye, aye, sir," Kennedy said, nodding and grinning.

HiH

Part 27

Three sets of eyes turned to stare as Ned and Tom entered the Mid's berth.

"Sit down there Tom," Ned indicated the mess table where Clive and Laddie were busy giggling over some lurid drawings the youngster had sketched in his journal during their lesson in the Captain's cabin. Laddie glared at Tom Tyler who returned the look and poked out his tongue. The youngest Mid opened his mouth to protest but Clive kicked him soundly under the table.

Ned turned his journal over and opened the back pages. With a quick hand he wrote out the letters of the alphabet and handed the pencil to Tom. "Copy those first," he said absently.

Tom picked up the pencil as if it were something sacred. He looked about him tentatively. Once more Laddie Blakeney opened his mouth to speak, but Clive was faster. "Ned is going to teach Tom to read and write. Our Captain is very much in favour of the men bettering themselves." He turned to Tom and smiled in encouragement. "Go on Tom, you can do it."

Tom frowned at Clive but bent to work, slowly and carefully copying Ned's handwriting.

Like a lion sniffing out the weakest prey, Laddie turned his attention to Ned. "Feeling better now Mr Grayson? You looked quite ill in the Captain's cabin!"

"Much better thank you." Ned replied, not looking up. He still felt faint.

Laddie smirked seeking further amusement. "Do you always suffer so from drinking? Surely someone of your experience would be used to strong drink by now."

Ned looked up, his eyes cold and brittle. "I learnt long ago the dangers of overindulgence." He fixed Blakeney with a direct gaze. "It is a lesson you would do well to learn."

"Do tell, Mr Grayson, I am all ears!" Laddie taunted.

"One night I drank too much and ended up wearing nothing but my second best shirt and a pair of ladies drawers. It was a hard lesson, for not only did I make a fool of myself in front of my friends but the consequences of my actions resulted in two of them being caned and an innocent man being flogged." Ned looked at the sober faces around him and continued. "My one act of stupidity set in motion a chain of events that haunt me even to this day!  SO, I am always most careful of my conduct aboard ship now and you would do well to heed my advice."

"Well said, Mr Grayson" Henry Wellard murmured from his hammock where he was still reclining. He offered Ned a little smile and a nod. Their eyes met and Ned felt a rush of warmth in his heart. Perhaps he and Wellard truly did have something in common.

Just then the door was thrown open and Archie Kennedy burst into the cabin like a ray of sunshine, golden and warm. He looked about him, beaming a smile at the assembled midshipmen until his gaze came to rest on Ned Grayson.

"Mr Grayson, the Captain has requested your company at dinner in his cabin. I trust you will present yourself on time and suitably attired."

Ned nodded, too stunned to speak. Archie left as quickly as he had arrived and Ned slumped down onto his sea chest.

"Do you know our Captain, Mr Grayson?" Wellard inquired, a hint of something in his voice.

"No, I have never met him before last night." Ned knew how the others would perceive his being singled out to dine at the Captain's table; favouritism or worse. He briefly wondered if his father had something to do with it, but dismissed that thought. His father had long ago washed his hands of anything to do with Ned. He sent money, saw to his material needs but made no move to further his career. Edward Grayson senior was merely happy to ensure that his son stayed as far away from him as possible.

"I have no idea why he chose me," Ned declared fiercely. Even as he said the words a hundred thoughts began to tumble through his head. Had Captain Crittenden said something or perhaps Archie Kennedy?

Ned glanced at Clive, but the young aristocrat just stared at him with daggers in his eyes. Clive's full red lips pursed in warning and Ned remembered his friend's volatile temper. Had Hayworth said something? He knew Hornblower well and had confessed his love for the man.  Worse still, did Clive think that Ned had somehow manoeuvred this himself and that he was trying to win the captain's favour?

Laddie Blakeney was smirking and giggling again in a very unbecoming fashion and even Tom Tyler was looking at Ned in speculation.

"I haven't done anything!" Ned blurted out, his blood turning to ice water, the sick feeling returning to his stomach.

Finally he looked at Henry Wellard and his heart sank as he recognised the look in the oldest Mid's eyes. It was the look of envy.

JJ


Part 28

The Captain's Dinner

At four bells in the first watch, Archie Kennedy knocked at his Captain's door. He heard the table being set for the captain's dinner. Cutlery clicked against china. Kennedy sighed and recalled how thin the bulkheads truly were.
Then he turned and glanced at his companion who fidgeted with his cravat.

"Here, let me be of assistance, Mr. Grayson," Kennedy said solicitously.

Grayson glared at him. Kennedy frowned and was about to say something when he heard the Captain bid them enter. The servant and his helper bustled out. The smell of roast chicken filled Kennedy's nostrils. He felt his mouth water and his stomach growl. Kennedy's appetite was keen. His usual mess in the Gunroom had dined an hour earlier.

Oddly, Grayson was not hungry. Kennedy watched him stirring his soup until
Tom Tyler took it away. According to Jonathan, the lad was never seasick.
What could be wrong with him? At their captain's table, most midshipmen had to be restrained from devouring everything within reach of their long arms.
This day, Grayson merely nibbled upon a piece of soft tack.

The main course was set upon the table, roast chicken and biscuit dumplings in a golden sauce. The scent of sage was delightful. Although a simple meal, it offered Captain Hornblower a few moments of pleasure. Kennedy enjoyed seeing his oldest friend's face wreathed in a smile, his eyes dark and shining with delight.

Horatio poured their wine and carved the plump bird for his guests. He spooned dumplings and rich gravy onto their plates. He had never been wealthy enough to provide five courses and three removes at his dinners. Instead, he partook of plain dishes cooked with herbs and a little salt and pepper. Tasty and wholesome, the food satisfied Hornblower and he hoped it would serve for his guests too.

Grayson chewed a mouthful for an inordinate amount of time. He swallowed it and seemed to choke. Kennedy offered him a glass of wine, a light Spanish vintage the steward had purchased from a ship returning from Gibraltar. Grayson gulped down the wine and set his glass on the table with a trembling hand. Kennedy frowned. There was a familiar look in Grayson's face. A shard of ice pierced Archie's heart.

At that precise moment, Horatio looked up from his plate. He asked, "Is something wrong with the food?"

Archie glanced at Ned who froze wide-eyed like a criminal caught in the act.
Then Archie looked back at his friend and replied, "This is delicious chicken, Captain. And my compliments for inviting the only midshipman I've ever known not to devour the whole bird."

Horatio looked over at Grayson. The same trembling was there again. Puzzlement and a shade of exasperation crossed the Captain's features. He smiled finally and said, "Dear God, Mr. Grayson. You have no reason to be afraid of me. Not yet anyway."

The pale haired boy looked up at him. He was a pretty youngster who would carry his youth well into middle age, if Horatio was any judge. Horatio met the fearful yet defiant blue gaze of the youth and a thought crossed Hornblower's mind. Had another captain courted the youth? Had the boy been frightened into something unpleasant? Watching him suffer just sitting in his presence tore at Horatio's heart.

HiH

Part 29

Ned's hands gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles were white. Was Hornblower playing with him? He shot a quick glance towards Archie Kennedy. The Lieutenant looked uneasy. Perhaps he too was surprised by the Captain's directions. Until now Kennedy had given all the signs of a man of strong moral fortitude. But perhaps here, aboard his beloved captain's ship, things were different. Did he pimp for Hornblower? Seek out those who caught the captain's eyes and lead them like sacrificial lambs to the Captain's table? Captain Hornblower must have delighted in the stories Archie had told him about Ned. For the first time Ned felt ashamed of how he had acted in front of the Lieutenant.

There was only one thing to do, put on a brave face and meet them on the field of battle. Let them think what they liked, Ned thought as he sat up and squared his shoulders. He wasn't afraid and nothing could hurt him, nothing would ever hurt him again.

"Sir, if you will tell me what it is that you require, I will...attempt to satisfy your needs. There is no need for the dinner...I am not really hungry." Ned licked his lips as he looked from one startled face to the next. He put on a sly smile, refusing to acknowledge the hideous guns that lurked in the shadows. He would be brave, they would not see him scream this time.

"Where do you want me?" Ned asked as he slowly rose from his chair and rounded the table towards his captain. He grinned and battered his eyes. "Mr Kennedy will vouch for how good I am, he knows..."

"Horatio...I" Archie gasped as Horatio's look of absolute shock swung towards him.

"ARCHIE?"

Archie shook his head and raised his hands.

"I have NEVER touched him." Archie declared. "It was Jonathan."

"Jonathan Riley?" Horatio shouted. "I will see him hang for what he has done to this young man!"

"What?" Ned sank to his knees in front of Hornblower. He stared from one man to the other, lost and confused. "Isn't this what you want? I'll do anything, I won't scream. You can take me any way...Please, don't hurt Jonathan, I'll do anything..."

JJ

Part 30


Horatio's tone changed. He said softly, "Mr. Grayson, sit down if you please.
No one will hurt anyone. Do I make myself clear? Aboard this ship, no man will take advantage of another. If anyone has harmed you, I will bring charges against them. Do you hear?"

"Jonathan didn't hurt me. He helped me. Please don't tell anyone. If you do..."

"I am not here to judge what went on between you and your friend Mr. Riley, as long as you say you suffered no harm. Is that clear?"

Ned nodded, sobbing and shaking. Horatio offered him a glass of cool wine. He laid a hand upon the boy's shoulder and squeezed firmly. The pale blond head turned to him. The gemlike eyes glittered.

"I'd be most pleased if you'd eat something, Mr. Grayson. First, do you wish to wash your face? I'm afraid your eyes are quite red."

Ned nodded again. He looked into Archie's face and caught a soft smile.

HiH


Was this some sort of nightmare? Would he wake soon, sweating and sick in his hammock? But the soft trickling sound of water pouring into a basin brought with it a sense of reality and Ned watched as his Captain carefully carried a china bowl to the table. A wash cloth was folded across the rim.

The water was cold and it helped to clear his head, bringing with it a deep sense of shame and remorse. How could he have been so wrong about Hornblower and Kennedy? What would his new Captain think of him now? Ned bent his head and cut into his food. He placed a morsel into his mouth and tried to chew. It tasted like ashes. Ned wished that he was dead.

Over the pale blonde head, Horatio's eyes met Archie's. One dark eyebrow raised in question and Archie shook his head again and shrugged.

JJ

Part 31

When the meal was finished and Grayson once more dispatched to the Midshipmen's berth, Horatio questioned his friend. "Well Archie? I think you might have some explaining to do?"

"Horatio, surely you don't think I have laid a hand on Ned Grayson..."

"No Archie, if you had any sort of...dealings with Mr Grayson, I am sure you would have told me. We have no secrets between us. However..." And here Horatio fixed his friend with that direct gaze that made seamen shrink and tug at their forelocks. "However, it is obvious that the boy is...unstable and I suspect you had some inkling of this prior to his coming aboard. Why did you not see fit to tell me? Indeed, why did you agree to take him on before discussing his...'state' with me?" Horatio began to pace. "From the few things Captain Crittenden said last night, the boy is a danger to himself. I now suspect he may turn out to be a danger to the whole ship!" Horatio looked up and his friend, his eyes wide. "Archie whatever were you thinking?"

Archie Kennedy ran one golden hand across his mouth and sighed. "Horatio, perhaps I was not thinking with my head, but with my heart. The truth is, young Ned reminded me of myself. I could understand his darkness, I could sympathise with his demons. Even when he threw himself at me in such an outrageous fashion, I could not find it in my heart to despise him. The young man needs help Horatio and that is what I tried to offer."

Horatio shook his head. "Archie your kindness will be the ruin of you one day. Whatever are we supposed to DO with the boy?"

Archie shrugged again. "Perhaps if you have a word with Jonathan. He's been closer to Ned than anyone else."

Horatio pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes in an uncharacteristic gesture. "Mr Jonathan Riley! Yes, I think it is time I had a few words with that young man. Perhaps he DOES have something to answer for in regard to Mr Grayson. If I should find even a HINT that he has coerced that boy into anything improper..."

"Horatio, I hardly think..."

"Archie, you wouldn't think; you are far too close to Jonathan Riley to ever see his faults." Horatio raised his hand when Archie would have protested.

"Arrange to have a message sent across to the Wasp requesting Captain Crittenden to allow Mr Riley to come aboard tomorrow morning so that I may discuss this matter with him."

Archie frowned, his brow creased with worry. Horatio caught his eye and winked, lightening the mood.

"In the meantime my love, prepare yourself for tonight. I am planning something special."

JJ

Part 32

Ned climbed to the fore topsail yard arm and edged his way out. It was quiet up here, cold and silent. He stared down at the rough grey waters and steeled himself. There was only one solution to this mess he had made...only one way to save Jonathan the embarrassment of having to explain their relationship. If only he could find the courage to take that final step. He'd tried it in the past, jumping overboard twice from the main deck, yet both times Jonathan Riley had intervened, diving in and dragging him from the water to face life once again.

This time he would make sure he did it properly. With any luck falling from this height would break his neck as he hit the water. It wouldn't matter if some overzealous seaman then dived in to save him, he'd be already dead.

In front of him, a short swim away lay the Wasp. A small, neat little sloop, freshly painted in black with yellow trim; new rigging, new crew. Jonathan would be proud to serve aboard her. Tears slipped down Ned's cheeks and he said a final prayer. "Look after Jonathan, keep him safe."

"Mr Grayson? What are you doing up here?"

Ned looked back to the foremast where the head of Henry Wellard was poking up over the yard.

"Go away. I'm not doing anything." Ned brushed his cheeks. Damn Wellard for finding him here.

"Mr Grayson, if you are feeling bad because of what the others said about your dining with the Captain, then do not worry, it was simply good-natured teasing. There is no need to take on so."

"It has nothing to do with that, nothing at all. Although I am very conscious of the fact that all of you seem to know Captain Hornblower very well, whilst I on the other hand have only been made known to him by rumour and innuendo. To make matters worse I have just committed a grave error of judgement." Suddenly the feelings and hurt that Ned had been trying to hide burst forth like a suppurating wound, the poisoned words seeping away, laying his soul bare.

"I suspect that even as we speak Captain Hornblower is either arranging for my transfer to another ship or preparing to court martial the one person who has ever shown me any ...love..." Ned could hold back his tears no longer. A loud sob escaped, followed by another. "There is only one way to end all of this, for I will never be able to live after what I have done."

Cautiously Wellard slipped out along the yard, his feet secured in the foot-lines, until he was beside the sobbing figure. He sat down beside Grayson and wrapped his legs securely around the reefed sail. "Mr Grayson, Ned, please tell me what is so terrible? I know you have suffered a great deal in the past and I will admit that I was...looking forward to having you aboard as I felt we had much in common. Surely nothing could be so bad as to seek death?" Wellard suddenly remembered Ned's question of the previous evening; 'how do you manage'. He had not realised how sincerely Grayson had meant those words. "Come Ned, this is not the way. Let me help you."

Ned turned to face Wellard, his look tortured and cruel. "If you knew what I was you would despise me too, just like Tom. I thought he was my friend but I was mistaken. I can not help the way I am, nor can I hide it forever. Jonathan understood, he never made me feel that I was wrong or damned."

Wellard shook his head, not following where Ned's jumbled thoughts were leading. It seemed that rather than one demon haunting Grayson's past there was a host of horrors, some linked, some separate.

As if seeing the look of bewilderment in Wellard's eyes, Ned pushed on, his eyes afire. "Have you ever loved another man Mr Wellard? Really loved him? Loved him more than anything? Loved him with your body as well as with your heart? I have and I would do it again."

"I don't think you need to worry on that count then Mr Grayson. Captain Hornblower is known to be ...liberal in his outlooks. He would not condemn you for such a thing."

"Perhaps he would if I had made the mistake of offering myself to him?"

Wellard gasped. "You didn't?"

Ned nodded and another sob shook his frame. "I misunderstood what he wanted...and I was so...it was in his cabin you see...and that was where the mutineers... and the guns were there when I went in for navigation class earlier... I couldn't think straight. But Lieutenant Kennedy mentioned Jonathan...and it wasn't his fault...although he thought it was...but he was a prisoner too...so they must never blame him for what those bastards did to me..." The words became incoherent as Ned broke down. Wellard took the opportunity to slip his arm around his fellow midshipman.

What a strange young man, so deeply troubled, teetering on the brink of destruction. Yet something in Ned called to Wellard. Here was someone who had not been afraid to face what was deep in their heart...here was someone who had embraced a love that most men damned. For so long, Wellard had harboured a tiny flame within his heart refusing to let it die in the face of all adversity. Yet he would never have the courage to voice his feelings; such things must be kept secret.

And here was Ned Grayson, tortured and confused, but brave enough to admit his love for another man. Jonathan...Ned had said that name several times and he could only mean Lieutenant Riley. Were they lovers? Wellard glanced at the red face and the shaking shoulders? Did Ned know the secrets to life's greatest mystery? Had he indulged in the pleasures of the flesh with Jonathan Riley?

"Come along Ned...let me help you down. This isn't the answer, you'll see. Jonathan would be heart broken if you killed yourself."

Teary blue eyes looked up in shock. Wellard smiled gently. "Your secret is safe with me. In time perhaps we can share other confidences, for I know I am in need of an understanding friend and I think you might be too. The other lads are to young to really know what life is all about yet. But you and I...we have seen the harder side of it, haven't we."

Ned nodded and rested his head against the strong shoulder. Perhaps he had found a friend to lean on for a while?

JJ

Part 33

In the Captain's Cabin Aboard the Medusa (Later that Evening)


The sun set sorrowfully into a cloudy gray winter sky that promised sleet before morning. The little frigate jerked at her anchor cables eager to be free of cold northern waters. Both she and her crew wished to begin upon their journey to warmer clines. Only one more day to take on fresh water and supplies. Only a single day, Horatio thought as he undressed slowly, waiting for the familiar soft knock at his door.

Horatio had prepared his cabin himself for his visitor. He'd dismissed his servant, graciously giving the man his last night in Portsmouth with his family. Tyler was safely below decks with Matthews learning heaven only knew from Styles and Oldroyd. The marine sentry had been dismissed too. The holy privacy of the captain's cabin would not be breached unless the French attacked Portsmouth or the ship caught fire. Tonight, Archie would be entertained as never before.

Anticipation gnawed inside Horatio's stomach like rats inside the bread room.
He wondered what he should reveal about his night with Peter. He didn't want to hurt Archie's feelings. Yet, he had to confess his anger and his own failing. He folded his breeches and slipped into his night shirt. He looked at his chronometer for the ten-thousandth time. Archie's watch was nearly over.

Horatio moved to the mirror and combed his hair. He picked up a small vial of scent that Lord Edrington had given him as a gift. It was for special times, he'd been told. So, tonight, he daubed a drop at the base of his throat in the deep v shaped hollow where his prominent collarbones joined. Then, he applied a drop to the inner surface of each wrist at the pulse points. He groaned. He'd noticed his palms were sweating. He felt foolish being nervous. He was waiting for Archie, for Heaven's sake.

A strange reflection in the mirror caught his attention. The man he saw was older than he remembered. The bright chestnut curls looked almost black in the evening's last glow. A few silver strands had somehow twisted themselves among the darker threads. Tiny cracks marred the fine skin around his large eyes. His long nose seemed even longer. His hollow cheeks seemed gaunt. The heavy jaw ended in a chin that was too pointed. A sudden surge of despair filled his breast. How could an angel like Archie love a man so hideously plain?

The chime of eight bells. Horatio froze. He squeezed his eyes shut. He breathed deeply four or five times. He opened his eyes. When he again looked into the mirror he saw himself, a post captain of the Royal Navy. A few lines around his eyes were to be expected. Any number of captains had horrific facial scars. He was luckier than most. His face was unmarred. His body was whole. Most of all, he'd been fortunate with respect to his present lieutenant, lost and then found, twice over.

A soft knock at the door. No marine sentry while at Spithead. It must be...

"Enter," Horatio said.

Kennedy stepped into the cabin, ducking his head out of long habit. He tore off his hat and coat, flinging them into a corner. He smiled gloriously and without more ceremony, rushed into his lover's arms showering him with kisses.

Archie whispered, "You (kiss) must forgive (kiss) me, (kiss) Horatio. I've missed you so."

Pleasantly stunned by his lieutenant's adoration, Horatio received the homage of his lover and then returned some of his own. His iron straight spine bent. His arms wound around his paramour. He pressed his face into the warm curve of Archie's neck. He inhaled deeply his lover's familiar scent as delicious to Horatio as salt air.

"I'll never lose you again, my love," Horatio whispered.

Archie kissed him on the mouth, stopping his words, sucking his breath. Then he began nibbling his lower lip gently with his perfect teeth. Horatio felt the electric thrill run down his spine into his groin. The pulsing there grew steadily stronger. Without conscious thought, Horatio pushed up his lover's shirt. His fingers toyed with Archie's hardened nipples. He felt his friend's hands under the edges of his night shirt. All contemplation, beyond the surging sensations, seemed impossible.

"Here at your side is where I belong, Horatio," Archie whispered into his ear. "No one compares with you."

Dim flickering images of Jonathan Riley and Peter Crittenden stormed passion's barricades inside Horatio's brain, but his mouth was too busy with Archie's sweet left nipple to reply. He sucked a little harder as his hands slid down Archie's curved backside. He felt his lover sink, his knees sagging to the floor, his weight hanging, suspended in Horatio's arms.

"Hummmm," Archie murmured. "Let me savour you, Lover."

Passion battled deep-rooted guilt. Heat and vitality fought to overpower the cold gnawing worm of sickness inside Horatio's heart. Scents of sweat and hot breath fire his blood. The pliant body beneath his own burned with the same intensity. Archie loved him and Archie was making love to him. What else should matter?

Calculations, questions and conscious thoughts dashed icy logic upon the wet warmth of Archie's mouth at his groin. Horatio remembered thinking of Archie and Jonathan together. He recalled his jealousy, his anger and Peter's cry of pain. Horatio closed his eyes and gasped for breath.

"Horatio? Is something amiss tonight?" Archie was asking him out of a torrent of frenzied kisses upon his naked thighs. "I'm having a little trouble raising your jib."

Horatio looked down in shock into the blue orbs gazing up at him. Archie, on his knees, held his lover's fading erection in his hands. He was looking up puzzled and concerned.

In a heartbeat, Archie's statement turned to one of sorrow. He'd guessed what was wrong. He whispered, "No, Horatio. You must not be jealous of Jonathan Riley. It's you, and you alone, that I truly love."

Horatio reached out and caressed the cornsilk waves on Archie's head. He stroked the bright gold hair and touched the rosy cheeks. He said, "My failing is not from jealousy, Archie. And in my mind, you've done nothing wrong. I'm the guilty one."

Archie frowned in disbelief. "You, Horatio?"

Horatio sank to his knees. He embraced his friend and laid his head on his strong wide shoulder. The thick wool rug softened the oak deck and cushioned their reclining forms. Archie stroked and soothed his Captain, his best friend in the world. Horatio luxuriated in the warmth of Archie's attentions, so different from the play of Peter Crittenden.

"I was a little rough with Peter. I nearly injured him," Horatio confessed.
"I was angry with you at that precise moment. And now, the memory of it makes me feel foolish and guilty."

"I know how you hate feeling foolish, Horatio" Archie replied. "Well, no one will ever know. I seal my lips to yours."

Archie kissed him again. Then he kissed his chin, his long throat and his left breast over his heart. He sucked the fabric of Horatio's night shirt into his mouth and teased the little nub that rose against the coarse linen. Horatio felt his blood heat up. Eagerly he returned his lover's kisses, shedding the last remnants their clothing and all his conscious thoughts at last.

HiH

Part 34

Aboard the Wasp

From the quarterdeck Jonathan Riley watched the thick fog roll into the harbour slowly cocooning the Wasp in a blanket of damp grey. Jonathan shivered despite being snug in his tarpaulin coat. He looked across to where the Medusa was now hidden from his sight and thought of Ned. What was happening aboard Hornblower's ship? Why had the Captain requested his presence tomorrow? It was unlikely to be purely a social invitation, but rather, Jonathan suspected it would concern Ned Grayson. There could be no other explanation.

With a sigh Jonathan quit the quarterdeck. The new master, Mr Fraser had been scowling at him for some time now. Having assumed his watch, Fraser probably wondered why the junior lieutenant still lingered.

Slowly he made his way down to the deserted gun room. Their first lieutenant was expected tomorrow, along with the midshipmen, surgeon, marines and others. But for the moment Jonathan had the gun room to himself. He shrugged off his coat and hung it, dripping, on a hook beside the door.

Peter Crittenden must have been listening for his arrival for the door to the Captain's cabin swung open and a dark head peeped out. "Join me for some supper Mr Riley?"

Jonathan smiled absently and nodded. He had been wondering what would happen this evening when most of the crew were snugged down and he and Peter would be sleeping bare feet from each other, separated by only the thin cabin walls. They had not spoken of what their newly found relationship would entail once they were at sea again. Perhaps he was about to find out.

The Captain's cabin was gaudy to say the least. Peter had managed to cram in the most extraordinary curios and paraphernalia, souvenirs from his voyages. It looked more like a cheap museum than the strategic headquarters of the ship.

Jonathan moved the stuffed wombat from the chair once more and sat down.

"Well, what do you think? Do you like what I have done with her?" Peter waited expectantly while Jonathan gazed around him.

"It's a little...well, it's different from Captain Bell's cabin. Is that a tiger skin over there?"

Peter looked over his shoulder. "Hmm, yes. A gift from an army lieutenant I knew once." Peter said absently. "He shot it in India, Seringapatum, I think he said." He stared at Jonathan for a few moments then continued. "I was referring to the refit of the Wasp, Jonathan, not my cabin. You have been aboard all day and I imagined you would have had time to look at some of the improvements and modifications that I have undertaken whilst you were on leave in Havant."

"The paint work is nice...black and yellow are very apt."

Peter took a deep breath resisted the sharp retort on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he walked to his small sideboard, poured two brandies and carried them back to the table.

"I take it then, that you have had other things on your mind today?"

Jonathan took the glass and swirled the brandy around watching the honey coloured liquid cling to the sides.

"I have been thinking a lot about Ned...and when that order came from Captain Hornblower... well...I am worried about him Peter. I'm worried what will become of him now."

Peter put his brandy glass down on the table. He'd been afraid of this. Whatever it was that Jonathan felt for Ned Grayson, friendship, responsibility, lust or love, it went far deeper than either of them realised. I'm a fool to think that Jonathan could let Grayson go so easily, Peter chided himself. A fool to think that he could love me half as much.

He'd held such hopes for this voyage with Jonathan. His first command in a tight little ship. He had the money to make improvements, to fit her out in a way that many captains could only dream about. He had imagined standing on the quarterdeck, Jonathan by his side as the Wasp sailed from Spit Head, or nights spent together in this cabin sharing the wonders of their adventures. He had hoped that Jonathan would be the one to provide a little respite from the burdens of command. Perhaps it was not to be?

"So, is it to bed now, Peter?" Jonathan suddenly asked. His eyes glanced through the half opened door of the sleeping quarters to the still ruffled hanging cot. As yet Peter had no servant aboard. "It will be like sleeping in a Turkish harem!"

The words stung. More so, because of the connections Peter made in his own mind.

"Jonathan...I would never demand your presence here, you know that. Nor would I have you become the laughing stock of the crew. No one will ever be able to call YOU 'The Captain's Crumpet' Do you understand?"

Jonathan frowned. "Are you saying that we won't be able to...spend time together? That we won't..." His voice had risen slightly to a squeaky pitch. "Peter, I'll be damned if I let scuttlebutt interfere with our friendship!"

"And I'll be damned if I let it effect the running of this ship!" Peter counteracted. "I don't want anything to undermine your authority with the other officers and crew, Jonathan. Do you understand?"

"No," Jonathan sulked. "Don't you want me anymore?"

"Of course I do, love. It's just that you seemed so worried and I thought that perhaps you were having second thoughts..."

Jonathan put an end to anything further Peter would have said by reaching across the table and kissing him soundly. They grappled for a moment amid brandy glasses and charts until Peter gave in and let himself he hauled onto the tabletop. Coats flew, waistcoats followed, cravats, shoes, hose, shirts, breeches. But Jonathan pulled up short with a gasp as he gazed at Peter's naked body.

"You have bruises all over you! Hornblower did hurt you, didn't he. Did he...beat you?"

"No...nothing like that," Peter said with a half smile. "He...smacked me a few times and we were wrestling rather fiercely."

Jonathan stood back, a little subdued. The mood between them had suddenly changed.

"Jonathan," Peter tried again. "I like it rough sometimes. It simply got a little out of hand last night. It happens sometimes."

"I like it rough sometimes too, but not THAT rough!" Jonathan declared. He looked away.

Peter closed his eyes and desperately tried to think of a way to recapture what they had shared in Havant. He feared he was loosing Jonathan a little at a time, loosing the one person that really mattered to him. "Let's get into bed, shall we. We can hold each other for a while." He held out his hand to Jonathan who obliged and helped him up.

"We've known each other for, oh...seven years now, isn't it? Yet there is still a lot we need to find out about each other." Peter waited for Jonathan's answer, praying silently to a God he no longer believed in. "It will take a little time, that's all."

"It seems so," Jonathan whispered as he slid into the cold bed. He thought of Hornblower lying there the previous night. The alien scent of the Medusa's Captain still lingered on the sheets. Jonathan felt slightly revolted. But Peter settled onto his chest, warm and small and almost fragile and Jonathan suddenly remembered all the times in the past that this man had proved to be a very real friend. He kissed the dark waves of hair on Peter's head and slid his hands along the finely muscled back.

"There might be much we don't know about each other, Peter," he said softly. "But it will be such fun finding out."

JJ  



Part 35

4AM Horatio's Cabin...


By some internal clockwork, Archie awoke just before the end of the middle watch. He would search out his own cabin at the change and no one would question his movements. Horatio woke too and kissed him lingeringly. The softness of his lover's lips nearly persuaded Archie to stay until dawn. Nevertheless, thoughts of duty prevailed. They had young eyes upon them. They must set the example.

"I'm still puzzled about young Grayson," Horatio whispered from the bed as Archie pulled on his clothing. "Did he actually expect us to, (a pause) to use him?"

Soft lamplight heightened the gold of Archie's skin. He glanced at his friend and replied, "I think he faced the worst possible event happening again. He looked a demon straight in the eye and seemed brash about it. I must say, he really did remind me of myself facing my French captors. When the worst did not happen to me, I was immensely relieved."

"He's been hurt in the past. I saw it in his eyes. He's like a dog that's been beaten. One minute fawning and the next growling. He's going to be a challenge, Archie. And I'm not sure I'm up to it. You don't suppose he poses a danger to Clive or Laddie, do you?"

Archie shook his golden head. "No, he's no danger. Ned's got some growing to do. Yet, he's getting steadier by the day. I think he'll make a good officer. He's been at sea nearly as long as Wellard. And, he is your star pupil in navigation, isn't he?"

Horatio smiled, his head resting on the pillow, his dark eyes resting lovingly upon his friend. "That he is. But, can he lead men? Will they follow a pale, willowy boy?"

Archie donned his hat. He saluted and gave his lover a flashing smile. He answered, "They had better. And they had better call him sir."

"Then I'll give him another chance. Join me for breakfast, Lieutenant?"
Horatio asked coyly. "And, be so good as to invite Lieutenant Riley of the Wasp. For breakfast also, not interrogation. Does that please you?"

"It makes me a very happy man, my Captain," Archie said nodding, ducking his head and making a silent exit amid the patter of bare feet as the watch changed.

HiH



Part 36

Two hours later, Horatio roused himself at dawn, washed quickly and pulled on warm clothing. Wrapped in his boat cloak he walked toward the quarterdeck to receive the reports of the men there and survey the works of Nature. Sleet and frost covered the decks, making all the lines of the rigging appear like intricate French lace. Horatio gazed upward into the spiderwebbing and slipped as he climbed the slick ladder The lifeline was strung up to insure safe passage along the deck. He clung to it, worrying greatly about his dignity.

The sea was lead gray. The town of Portsmouth slept; wrapped in a foggy blanket. Horatio heard the pumps begin and the thump and grinding of holystones upon the deck. Men in bare feet worked to swab the decks, warmed by their zeal to please their captain. A few men raised their eyes and saluted him. With pleasure, he returned their salute with an approving nod of his head.

"Scrape her clear of this northern ice, you beauties," Horatio shouted down to them. "We'll see Tenerife in a week."

"Three cheers for Cap'n 'Ornblower, boys!" shouted Oldroyd.

The cheer went up like the thunder of cannon fire. Horatio felt the blood rush to his cheeks. The cold air and the men's cheering no doubt reddened his pale winter complexion. Just then, Archie came up from below looking brisk and eager. He called away the boats to ferry over the last of their supplies. He gave his Captain a flashing smile and received a calm nod and a half smile.

Then Horatio spotted the midshipmen lining up for his inspection. Yawning and tousled, Clive and Laddie stood sleepily. At the last minute, Clive began fussing with Laddie's jacket. Hornblower stood in front of them. In pleasing contrast, Wellard and Grayson, in perfectly braided queues and brushed uniforms, stood at attention, clear eyed and alert, awaiting their captain.

"Pleased to see you looking well, Mr. Grayson. And you too, Mr. Wellard. The younger lads settling in, are they?"

"Aye, sir," Wellard answered, smiling and giving Clive a pat on his arm intended to stop his squirming.

Horatio stabbed a glare at Clive. "Did you sleep at all last night, Mr. Hayworth?"

"Four hours, sir, if you please. I was on the middle watch, sir."

"Hum," Horatio muttered, frowning. "Who assigned you to the middle watch?"

"No one, sir. I thought of it myself, sir," Clive answered hopefully.

"You would do better to follow orders, Mr. Hayworth. I admire your zeal, but you have forgotten that we have our studies in the morning. I need young gentlemen who can think quickly and clearly."

"Then I beg your pardon, sir. Follow orders it is, sir." Clive said solemnly, his owlish statement now grave.

"And you, Mr. Blakeney? Were you on watch too?"

"No, sir. I was trying to sleep. Noises kept startling me. I think I'll do better tonight, sir."

"I hope you do, Mr. Blakeney."

Captain Hornblower turned back to glance at Wellard and Grayson. They remained still; not a smirk or a smile on either solemn face.

Horatio smiled at them in spite of all he'd learned from Captain Pellew. They were trying so hard to be what he expected of them. Horatio cleared his throat. Wellard looked up.

"Mr. Wellard?"

"Aye, sir."

"You would honour me by taking breakfast in my cabin this morning. In an hour perhaps?"

"Aye, sir. Breakfast in an hour, it is sir," Wellard said beaming. He softly nudged his elbow into Ned's ribs.

"Mr. Hayworth and Mr. Blakeney, dinner this day in my cabin, if you please. Correct uniforms and combed hair. Is that understood?"

"Yes, I mean, aye, sir," Laddie squeaked.

"Aye, sir and thank you, Captain," Clive said softly, his large eyes open wide and his face nearly bursting into a joyful grin.

Horatio sighed and said, "My compliments, gentlemen. Now, go to your breakfast the rest of you. Meet here again for the noon observation. At that time I will review the navigation problems I gave you yesterday. I'll inspect your journals and await your letters to your families. Dismissed, gentlemen."

They filed away to their cramped quarters. Laddie slid as if skating on the icy deck. Clive walked carefully behind Wellard who was leading them. Ned lingered behind. He so looked like he wanted to say something that Horatio watched him for a time. Then Wellard called to him and he too went below. Horatio rolled his great dark eyes and shook his head.


HiH

Part 37

Jonathan ran his hands down the thin rib cage beneath him and lost himself in the warm wet mouth that rose to greet him. He and Peter had slept all night side by side, but now, on waking they had somehow recaptured the passion they had lost last night. Jonathan ground his erection against Peter's firm stomach. His Captain replied by spreading his legs and lifting his knees.

"Wait!" Peter gasped suddenly

"What now?" Jonathan moaned in frustration.

"That was a boat coming alongside...Someone will be down to report any moment!"

"Shit!" Jonathan sprang from the bed and rushed to the main cabin in search of his clothes. He dragged on his breeches and fled to the gun room just as he heard the stomp of feet down the companionway.

"Message for you, Mr Riley, Sir," explained a seaman, his eyebrows rising slightly at Jonathan's dishevelled state. "Captain Hornblower of the Medusa sends his regards and requests your presence at breakfast. His jolly boat is awaiting you, Sir." He looked Jonathan up and down again and blushed to the roots of his hair.

"Breakfast?" Jonathan squeaked. He smoothed down his unruly hair and tucked in his shirt. "Now, you say?" The seaman nodded.

Wasn't it enough that Hornblower required him over there later today, but to want him for breakfast too? What had happened last night? Was Ned all right? Had something befallen him in the long hours of darkness when the human spirit was at it's lowest?

"Tell his boat crew I will be up directly." Jonathan gasped before turning and rushing back to Peter's cabin.

"Peter, did you hear? He wants me NOW! Something has happened! I just know it!"

Peter Crittenden was calmly perched on the edge of his desk, his slim frame clad only in his red silk dressing gown. His cheeks were slightly flushed but otherwise he was the picture of command.

"Calm down Jonathan, I am sure it is nothing at all but you'd best not keep Captain Hornblower waiting. Give him my regards, will you?" Peter winked and lowered his voice.

"Oh and do button your breeches before you leave, your yard is loose."

JJ

Part 38

Breakfast with the Mids

Down in their berth, Wellard sat them down at their mess table. Brown and Tyler brought them their oatmeal hot from the galley. Wellard led them in saying grace before anyone could wolf it down. Clive sprang up and rummaged through his dunnage. He found and opened a jar of strawberry jam his mother had sent. He shared it around the table. Oatmeal needed fruit mixed in it to be really good, he told them. Tyler brought in a plate of toasted soft tack. More jam all around until the jar was empty.

Wellard ate a piece of toast and jam with the others. He thanked Clive and reminded him to conserve his truly precious items. They would taste even better far from home and the loving hands that prepared them. Clive assured them all that his mother had sent him a good stock. Laddie had some delicacies too, he told them. He unwrapped squares of Dutch chocolate, Swedish tea biscuits and other sweets.

"Sir Percy gave me money to buy supplies," Laddie told them. "I bought only the best. And, the storekeeper said everything would keep a long time even aboard ship."

Wellard sighed and shook his head. "Laddie," he said. "You'll starve if all you have are sweets. Hams are better and bacon too. I bet Tom could have found you a pen down in the manger. You could have bought a piglet and raised it up on scrapes from the galley."

"I've some money left," Laddie offered. "Where shall we find a piglet?"

Wellard brightened. He replied, "I'll ask Brown to get you one or two. He will be going to buy the Captain's provisions today. Even better, we can pool our money like the officers in the Gunroom, if that pleases everyone. I have five shillings."

Ned frowned. He guessed Wellard to be the only poor one among the Mids. Clive produced two guineas from his sea chest. Laddie had three just in his pockets. Ned put two of his onto the table.

"Henry," Ned said softly addressing Wellard. "Allow me to make you a loan of two guineas, so that your share will equal each of ours. Is that not what a brother officer might do for a friend?"

"That's handsome of you, Ned," Wellard said with a statement of pleasant surprise. "I'm not sure when I'll be able to repay you."

"You may give me your note," Ned said, then adding, "Gentlemen do such things all the time in business."

Wellard scribbled the amount and his name and handed it to Grayson who folded the scrap of paper and slipped it into his inner pocket. Laddie was writing a list of things he thought they should buy. Clive looked over his shoulder and scratched out nearly a third of the items. By the time Tom returned to clear away breakfast, the Mids had their list and their money for Brown.

Wellard bid them good day and started up the ladder for his breakfast with the Captain. Ned left with him on an excuse that he needed to visit the head. In a dim corner on the gun-deck, Ned laid his hand upon Wellard's arm.

"A moment, Henry," Ned begged.

"I must not be late, Ned," Wellard said softly.

"There is a way you can repay me for the two guineas. I want you to tell me what Captain Hornblower says to Lieutenant Jonathan Riley."

Wellard smiled and whispered, "Don't be concerned for your lover. If our captain planned to accuse him, he would not have invited me to breakfast. Even so, I'll pass a message if you wish. What would you like me to tell Mr. Riley?"

HiH

Part 39

Ned bit his lips and considered for a moment. "Tell him I am deeply sorry for causing him any trouble with Captain Hornblower. Tell him I...love him and I wish we could have one last night together and that I will never forget the pleasure that we found together in each other's arms. Ask him if he knows when he will sail and where they are headed, and..."

Wellard held up a hand. "Ned, I might not have the chance to ask him ALL of that. But I will do my best." He tilted his dark head to one side and looked at the fair midshipman beside him. Ned was slightly taller although about a year younger. There was a hardness about him that spoke of long years at sea. He had none of the innocence and naivet� of Clive or Laddie. His eyes looked old.

"I have...heard many things about...what men might do to each other. None of them sound pleasant." Ned opened his mouth to protest as Wellard quickly continued. "I see now that perhaps I was mistaken in my estimation, for you do not speak of it as something to be...suffered, but rather as something joyous and pleasurable."

"It is Henry, or it at least it can be." Ned looked around making sure they were unobserved. "Do you know what the mutineers did to me? What they REALLY did to me?"

Henry Wellard shook his head. Ned Grayson's face went white.

"They raped me," he whispered. "In the Captain's cabin aboard the Indefatigable."

Troubled by the admission, Wellard bit his lip. He didn't know what to say.

"Go on, you best not keep the Captain waiting," Ned finally said. His eyes held that haunted look again. A deep sadness stabbed at Wellard's heart. He raised one hand and gripped Ned's shoulder.

"You are a brave man Ned Grayson, never forget that!" And with those parting words he turned and made his way to breakfast.

JJ
1