Part 40

Wellard trotted up the ladder and hurried down the passage to the captain's cabin. The door was open and several men stood with Captain Hornblower sipping steaming cups of fragrant Arabic coffee. Archie Kennedy, Mr. Finch the ship's surgeon and Mr. Blaine the boatswain. Wellard heard steps behind him and swerved narrowly missing Tom Tyler with a tray of covered dishes. Brown followed with a chafing dish filled with nicely grilled strips of bacon.

A bookshelf hastily cleared stood in as an informal sideboard. The omelettes, hollandaise sauce and saut�ed mushrooms caused a chorus of ah's from the hungry men. A bread barge filled with pastries delighted the eye and promised sweet satisfaction. Oranges, cut into wedges shared a large china bowl with melon balls and chunks of freshly cut pineapple. Golden treasures from warmer clines reminding everyone of their destinations!

The young midshipman stared in amazement at the costly meal served so early in the day. Actually, it was the most lavish gathering he'd attended at any time of day in his life, even surpassing the fine dinner at the Lamb two nights ago. Now, with his mouth watering, he took his place at the end of the serving line.

Yet, Wellard was not the last arrival. A man in a lieutenant's uniform was shown in by the Captain's coxswain. With such bright red hair, the man had to be Jonathan Riley. He looked vexed and nervous. He appeared to have risen only moments ago. His queue was untidy. His shirt wrinkled. Then Wellard noticed the buttons at the lieutenant's trousers' flap. They had been fastened in haste without the aid of a mirror. One button had missed its place and another had taken it. Such a trifling accident might cause deep embarrassment when discovered among a social gathering. This situation would require tact and compassion. Wellard stepped out of the serving line and approached the newcomer.

"Lieutenant Riley?"

The man nodded.

"Henry Wellard. We met at Captain Hornblower's farewell dinner. Your former shipmate Midshipman Grayson sends his warmest compliments and hopes you are not inconvenienced by your summons here."

"How is Ned? Getting on well with the rest of you, I hope?"

"He's a brave lad. He asked me to express his affection for you and thank you for all your previous tender care."

"That's kind of him."

"Now, I must do my duty to him and request that you allow me to see to the straightening of your uniform."

"If you must..."

Wellard approached Riley, standing in front of him. He reached up and patted the lapels of the jacket brushing off imaginary dust. When close to the lieutenant's ear he murmured a warning about buttons adrift and he watched the colour blossom on Mr. Riley cheeks. He did not wonder why Ned loved the man. He was dashingly handsome in a fresh and youthful way.

Mr. Riley dashed to the door and slipped out into the dim passage. He righted himself and smoothed back his wild red hair. He took a few deep breaths and re-entered the room. Captain Hornblower stepped in his direction and led him to the sideboard.

"Try some of this omelette. Brown managed to find a few dozen eggs in the market yesterday. They were all quite fresh. A little bacon? Coffee or tea?"

"Thank you, sir," Riley said balancing his heaping plate and teacup. "I am honoured to be here. At first I thought I was being summoned to retrieve my former shipmate. I was afraid he'd done something wrong."

Horatio wrinkled his brow and tilted his head to the side. Then he said, "He did present me with a rare offer that I felt obliged to decline. And for that reason, I asked Mr. Kennedy to summon you immediately. Do you wish to tell me anything about Mr. Grayson's former relationships with officers of superior rank?"

"He has been living at Rose Cottage, my home. His father, it would seem, does not want him. He was my shipmate. I remain fond of him."

Horatio sipped his coffee. He held up his cup and Brown brought over the pot, refilling the cup.

"Would you like more, Mr. Riley?"

"Thank you, but no sir," Riley answered. He had not tasted a thing. His mouth was dry and his hand shook. He didn't know if it was the sleepless night or his agitation over Ned.

Archie Kennedy, beautiful and golden as always, offered his Captain a plate of food. Horatio placed his cup on the writing desk and tore into the delicious feast. Archie greeted Jonathan and took him by the arm to the other side of the cabin. Horatio waved a welcome to the gunner and the purser who had sailed with him aboard Atropos.

Away from the others, Archie squeezed Jonathan's arm. "Good to see you," he said softly. "How's Captain Crittenden?"

HiH

Part 41


"A little bruised if you want the truth. And before you ask, I wasn't the one responsible." Jonathan narrowed his eyes and stared across the cabin at Hornblower but said no more. He looked back to Archie and asked, "What has Ned been doing to warrant my being summoned before Captain Hornblower? He said something about an offer?"

Archie blushed a little as he remembered the encounter. "Well, it seems Ned was mistaken about why Horatio had invited him to dinner yesterday. I'm inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt and say he acted in all innocence rather than suspect him of deliberately scheming to become the captain's boy!"

"WHAT?" Jonathan exclaimed much too loudly. Startled faces turned toward them. Jonathan blushed and set his teacup down with a clatter.

"Come now Jonathan, you KNOW what Ned is like." Archie looked down at his feet. "He flirted outrageously with both Clive Hayworth AND myself at Rose Cottage. He has dallied with you and Tom Tyler. His behaviour can not always be explained away by saying it is because what happened to him."

"How can you say that Archie?" Jonathan asked, ringing his hands. "You of all people should know the effects such a thing can have one someone. Perhaps he does react differently to you, but trust me when I say it IS the result of what happened. He's scared, that's all. He desperately needs someone to anchor him...someone who will accept him and give him the friendship and support he so desperately craves. I can see that, why can't you?"

"Perhaps I can Jonathan," Archie said softly. "But maybe I just needed you to confirm what I thought." He touched Jonathan's arm gently. "Come now, no one is going to accuse Ned of anything, but Captain Hornblower needs to know what he is dealing with. He has the safety of the whole ship in his hands and can't afford to have a loose cannon on the quarterdeck."

"What should I do then Archie?" Jonathan asked looking across to where Horatio was talking to the surgeon and the purser.

"Be honest with him, Jonathan." Archie said, gazing into the troubled blue eyes. "When the others are dismissed, Horatio will have some questions for you and it would be best if you answered them as truthfully as possible."

Jonathan sighed deeply. "Would it not be better for Captain Hornblower to simply speak to Ned?"

Archie shook his head. "He gave Ned that opportunity at dinner yesterday, but our young friend remained silent to the last. Horatio would never force the lad to speak...it would do no good." Archie drained his coffee cup and stared at Jonathan. "That is why he sent for you. You're our last hope Jonathan."

JJ


Part 42

After an hour, the warrant officers returned to their duties. Their reports helped Horatio decide to wait until tomorrow's morning tide to set sail. There were still many things that needed doing before embarking on a world wide cruise. Horatio tapped his own forehead and reminded himself to see to the posting of some letters. The midshipmen owed one to their families. He would write to Captains Pellew, Aubrey and Foster. He had already posted a warm note to his dear old father that included warm wishes for everyone at the farm.

"Edrington in Lisbon, Lady Edrington, and Sir Percy," he said out loud. "Must send notes to them." Then he recalled that he did not have the address of Mr.
Grayson's father. He would need it. He planned to send him a note too.

"A word before you go, Mr. Kennedy, if you please?" Hornblower said as Brown cleared the day cabin. "It seems I've been lax in writing notes. Would you be so kind as to meet with the youngsters today and help them become familiar with their sextants?"

"I'd be happy to, sir," Kennedy said with confidence. "And afterwards, I'd like to inspect what they've purchased for private stores. As far as I can tell, they have very little put by for the voyage. I know they've been given an allowance by their parents. I'll make some suggestions if you are in accord with the plan."

"Of course, Mr. Kennedy," Hornblower said softly. "Mr. Bracegirdle taught you well."

"I'll be sending him a post before we set sail. Would you like me to include a message from you, sir?"

"My best compliments. And, my thanks...

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Oh, please stay a moment while I ask Mr. Riley's pardon for his abrupt summons."

"Of course, sir."

Jonathan was standing in the curve of the great stern window gazing toward the little Wasp. When he heard his name, he spun about.

"Mr. Riley?" Hornblower said. "You must forgive me for inconveniencing you this morning. And I hope you can help me. If there is anything you can tell me that will help me form young Grayson into the officer I hope him to be, I beg you, speak. All will be in strict confidence. He will be told that you and I spoke as his superiors and for his betterment. It is my sincerest wish to make him happy aboard my ship."

Archie Kennedy bit his lip. He knew how hard it must have been for Horatio to ask for help. It did him credit though. He did have the young man's welfare at heart. Kennedy turned and looked at Jonathan expectantly.


HiH

Part 43

Jonathan stared at Horatio and tried not to frown. He didn't like the man and knowing what had taken place between him and Peter did little to change Jonathan's feelings. Nervously he tugged at his uniform and smoothed down his unruly curls. What was it that Hornblower wanted to know? Surely Archie had filled him in on Ned's past? Was the captain hoping Jonathan would volunteer information of a more intimate kind? A quick glance at Archie did nothing to settle Jonathan's nerves.

"Mr Grayson has faced many trials in his life, Sir. Over the years I have tried to help him and he has come to consider me as a friend, a close friend." Jonathan took a deep breath then pushed on. "We became very close and during our shore leave...we...became intimate, if you follow my meaning, Sir."

Hornblower's face showed no surprise at the revelation and Jonathan suspected the Captain had already been appraised of the situation. There was something foreign in the captain's dark eyes, an objectivity that was alien to Jonathan. It left him feeling cold. Would Hornblower understand the complex emotions and the sense of guilt that Jonathan still carried or the real reason's behind the offer he was about to make?

"I fear I may have been...hasty in allowing our relationship to progress to such a level in view of the fact that Ned had already accepted a place aboard the Medusa. But Peter, er, captain Crittenden sort of...well...he spoke to Ned and..." Jonathan shook his head, deciding that he need not divulge all the details. Perhaps it was best to keep to the point. 

"Ned knew that he was leaving yet chose to take our friendship a step further. I think that afterwards he regretted that we would be separated so soon. In some ways he may feel that I have...abandoned him...a charge I fully accept, for I too know the feeling of hurt that can come when one is separated from their first love after such a short time."

Horatio's eyebrows had risen slightly and Archie's face now held a faint blush. Jonathan continued. "I know I originally declined your kind offer of a position aboard the Medusa, but now, perhaps, it would be for the best if I changed my mind and accepted. I think that Ned might be more...settled if I were aboard. I could...help him find his place here." Jonathan spared a momentary thought for Peter Crittenden hoping he would understand. "I am sure Captain Crittenden would release me."

Jonathan looked into Horatio's dark eyes, wide with surprise. "What do you say Sir? Do you want me aboard the Medusa?"

JJ

Part 44


"I am not the sort of captain who absconds with a brother captain's officers.
I must say though that your kind offer is appreciated. If you were not already promised, I'd have you aboard immediately."

Archie's eyebrows flew up. He blinked in amazement at his friend's generosity. Then he quickly calmed himself and smiled encouragingly at Jonathan.

Kennedy said, "I'd love to see you in the Gunroom too, Jonathan. But we can't do such a thing to Peter. You know that."

Jonathan Riley swallowed and looked cautiously from one man to the other. He wasn't sure what to believe. He felt as if he were being torn to pieces. If Ned walked into the cabin now, he'd sink through the deck and right through the hull itself. Did they believe he'd merely offered to nursemaid the boy? Did they have any idea what had happened to Grayson inside the captain's cabin?

"Captain Hornblower," Riley said in a harsh whisper. "Please describe for me the physical signs exhibited by Mr. Grayson when he made his unwelcome remark. Did he seem agitated?"

"During the navigation lesson in my cabin, he seemed positively ill. The other midshipmen were at ease. Mr. Grayson's hand shook and he seemed to flinch from time to time. He seemed very much like..."

Archie interrupted, "He seemed like me, when I was suffering from panic. Captain Hornblower would know the signs."

"The mutineers, they bent him over the cannon. They were in the captain's cabin. I'm not sure how many..." Riley's voice trailed off.

Horatio looked over at his cabin's armament. He walked to the place where the young man had been sitting during his lesson. Hornblower glanced around and nodded his head. He sighed and bit his lip.

"Horatio," Archie whispered. "You didn't know."

"I should have guessed. I should have expected..."

Jonathan watched a man who was truly sorry for the suffering he'd caused another. A long smouldering hatred for the man burned a little lower. Peter had not been seriously hurt. Hornblower was not a monster. Nor was he always the enemy.

"Mr. Riley," Hornblower addressed him. "Will you stay for dinner? I'll send for Captain Crittenden too. And, would you like to visit with your young friend for a while? I'm sure Mr. Kennedy can find you a little privacy in the Gunroom."


HiH

Part 45

"Thank you Sir, that would be appreciated. And if I may impose a little further would you grant Mr Grayson one last night ashore before you sail? I will make sure he returns by the start of the forenoon watch."

Hornblower considered Riley's plea. He had no doubt what the young lieutenant was planning and wondered if it was in Grayson's best interests. Riley could be headstrong at times and Horatio wondered if he had really given any thought to the consequences of his proposal. It might do Ned Grayson more harm than good so soon after his panic attack.

"Certainly, provided Mr Grayson agrees," Horatio said carefully. He watched as Jonathan's blue eyes flashed.

"Of course, only if he WANTS to go ashore." They stared each other down, Captain and most junior lieutenant, until Jonathan looked away.

"Take Mr Riley to the Gunroom if you please Mr Kennedy, then send for Mr Grayson. You might like to order them some refreshments too." Horatio turned to face Riley again. "Until later Mr Riley."

"Sir," was Jonathan's curt reply.

Archie led him to the neatly appointed gun room and indicated that Jonathan should be seated. Jonathan chose to pace.

"Jonathan be still, you are making me exhausted just watching you."

"I should never have let Ned agree to leave the Wasp...he belongs with ME Archie! Who will look after him if I don't?"

"Jonathan," Archie walked to stand beside his friend. He placed one hand on Jonathan's shoulder to get his attention. "It is time to let Ned go. He will never be able to ...grow...until you set him free. He NEEDS to learn to stand on his own again. And he has nothing to fear from us, Captain Hornblower is hardly a tyrant. Far better for Ned to serve aboard a friendly ship than to be thrown to the mercy of the Navy in general."

"Say your goodbyes to him Jonathan in whatever way is best for BOTH of you. But please try to remember that NED might not want to go ashore tonight." Archie paused when he saw the anguished look in Jonathan's blue eyes. "It might be too hard for him Jonathan. Surely you can understand that?"

Before Jonathan could reply, Ned Grayson arrived. His face lit up when he saw Jonathan, but it quickly went from delight to concern.

"I'll leave you two alone for a while." Archie said tactfully. "Brown will bring you some tea."

JJ

Part 46

They stared at each other for a moment before Ned crossed the floor and threw himself into Jonathan's arms. "Oh I am so sorry, I...I..."

"Shhh," Jonathan whispered, burying his nose in Ned's fair hair, "I understand and everything is all right." Ned looked up hopefully and Jonathan brushed his cheek gently.

"No harm done, Ned. Captain Hornblower understands what happened. He feels quite bad about putting you in such a position." Jonathan smiled, "He's a bit of a fuss pot I think...worse than me!"

Ned laughed, "I find that hard to believe." They stepped apart when they heard a cough at the gunroom door and Brown the servant carried in a tea tray. They waited until he had left to resume their discussion.

"So how have you settled in, Ned?" Jonathan asked as he poured the tea. "How are things between you and Clive?"

Ned shrugged. "We are civil to each other, but I still haven't forgiven him for what he said. He had no right to call me a whore!" His red lips pursed and Jonathan had to fight the urge to lean over and kiss them.

"I have made a new friend though, Henry Wellard. He seems quite nice."

"Oh?" Jonathan fought down a sudden stab of jealousy.

"Yes, he was very concerned after that...incident in the Captain's cabin. He could tell I was upset. We had a long talk. I think we will get on well together."

Jonathan bit the inside of his mouth, telling himself that Ned would need close friends in the months ahead. "And what of Tom Tyler?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Ha, Tom," Ned said bitterly. "He thinks I am the devil himself and that I will go to hell for what I did to him." Jonathan raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Of course that hasn't stopped him from holding me to my promise to teach him to read and write." Ned sighed, "Poor Tom, I think he is as...confused as I am."

Jonathan reached over and touched Ned's hand. "Don't be too hard on yourself Neddy-Love. Captain Hornblower has said you may have one more night ashore. Would you like me to get us a room and we can spend it together."

Ned looked away and put down his tea cup carefully. "I don't know if that is wise. You should have seen the other mids when I was invited to Captain's Hornblower's cabin for dinner! If I go ashore tonight they will think I am being singled out for special treatment." Ned bit his lip. "I DO want to fit in here Jonathan and I AM trying."

Jonathan nodded, there was not much else he could do. "I understand, and you are right to refuse...good thinking Ned."

The compliment brought a hollow smile to Ned's lips. "I'm going to miss you so, Jonathan."

"And I you, Neddy-Love." Jonathan whispered. Unable to resist any longer he took Ned in his arms and kissed him soundly. Ned responded, his hands and lips rough in their desperation.

I should have asked Archie which one was his cabin, Jonathan thought with half his mind as he tried to still Ned's hands that were seeking to unbutton his trousers.

Ned must have been of a like mind, because he stood suddenly and dragged Jonathan towards one of the small cubbies that led off the gunroom. "This one, I saw Lieutenant Kennedy get something from here yesterday."

Archie would understand, Jonathan told himself as he flung open the door. He wouldn't begrudge them this moment of pleasure! The cot was small, the floor was more stable and they sank to their knees, hurriedly divesting themselves of their coats and waistcoats. Trousers were hauled down to their knees and hurried preparations were made.

Ned uttered a little cry and Jonathan knew he had been too fast. "Sorry," he panted even as Ned pulled him closer, his fingers digging into Jonathan's skin.

"Hurry," Ned whispered desperately, rising to meet Jonathan's thrusts. "Harder!" His head was thrown back, his eyes half closed, his fair skin flushed with passion. Jonathan gritted his teeth and came.

"Me too!" Still trying to catch his breath, Jonathan took Ned's cock in his mouth and was rewarded by Ned's sudden shout of ecstasy.

They lay on the floor, a tangle of legs and arms and clothes until a hesitant voice called out, "Mr Riley? Are you in there? I have a message from Captain Hornblower."

JJ

Part 47

Henry Wellard bit his lip and waited at the door of Lieutenant Kennedy's small cabin. Inside, muffled sounds and the occasional curse indicated that his message had been received. They were different noises to what he had heard when he first approached the door. Those sounds were unlike anything Henry had heard before and had aroused an unfamiliar stirring within him. He had not meant to listen, but it seemed an inopportune time to interrupt whatever Mr Riley was doing.

"Coming," Riley finally shouted loudly and Henry schooled his face into a respectful countenance. The door was thrust opened and the dishevelled pair stood gasping in front of him. Jonathan Riley, face flushed a deep red, hair loose about his shoulders tried his best to look the figure of authority. He drew himself up straight and asked, "You have a message for me Mr...er...Wellard?"

"Yes Sir," Henry answered, stealing a glance at Ned who was still buttoning his breeches. He too looked flushed, his eyes a-sparkle, his lips twice as red as usual. Henry looked away, suddenly feeling very warm.

"The Captain advises that his gig is ready to take you back to the Wasp when you are...finished here. Mr Hayworth will accompany you as he is going ashore on an errand for the Captain."

"Right," Riley said, adjusting his clothes and pulling his fingers through his pale red curls.

"Let me do that!" Ned grinned cheekily and held up a black ribbon. "You look a sight!"

Jonathan rolled his eyes and submitted as Ned quickly tied the red tangles into a makeshift ponytail. Wellard fought to keep his face composed. The informality between the two was unlike anything he had seen before. Captain Hornblower and Lieutenant Kennedy were always most formal in any dealings they had with the midshipmen or each other.

"I'll see you later, then Mr Grayson," Jonathan said trying to regain a little dignity as he straightened his cravat. "I'll be back aboard for dinner!"

"What, no parting kiss?" Ned pouted causing Jonathan to blush even more. He rolled his eyes towards Wellard who tried to feign indifference.

"Henry won't mind," Ned assured him and leaned for a long, passionate kiss. Henry Wellard stared for a moment entranced before he averted his eyes, feeling ashamed. Such a private moment should not be intruded upon.

When released, Jonathan coughed. "Thank you Mr Wellard, good day Gentlemen." He bounded up the companionway and disappeared leaving Ned grinning wildly and Henry Wellard feeling very uncomfortable.

JJ

Part 48


"Thank you Mr. Wellard, good day Gentlemen." Jonathan Riley bounded up companionway and disappeared leaving Ned grinning wildly and Henry Wellard feeling very uncomfortable.

Then they heard Clive's high tenor voice floating down to them from up on deck. "Captain's compliments, Mr. Riley. If you please, sir, my boat crew is to give you a lift to the Wasp. We are ready to depart when you are, sir," Clive seemed to speak all in a rush. At the same moment, Ned made a dash for the hatchway. Up he raced, up and out upon deck. The look on his face was as black as a sudden squall, and just as dangerous. His face was flushed with passion and his fists were clenched. He ran without thought to the untidiness of his trousers and shirt. Wellard was not far behind him, a look of fearful concern on his handsome face.

"What do you think you are doing, Mr. Hayworth?" Ned snarled in uncommon ferocity.

Clive said nothing. His wide round eyes seemed unable to reach greater proportions. Unable to speak, he stood there, foolishly blinking, his mouth open and his hand grasping behind him for the rail.

Like a wedge, Ned drove himself between his lover and his rival. In an instant, Clive was up against the rail with nowhere to go but over the side into the icy waters. Wellard noted a look of amusement on Lieutenant Riley's face. Surely gentle Ned would not really hurt a shipmate. It was all a play for Mr. Riley's affection.

Wellard heard Clive stammer, "I, I'm go, going as ordered, Ned. Really, I am simply to carry the Captain's and Mr. Kennedy's posts to the port admiral's offices."

Wellard moved up behind Ned. He laid his hand on his shoulder. The younger man froze, only glowering dangerously at the unnerved Mr. Hayworth who was backed into a corner.

Out of the corner of his eye, Wellard caught Riley twitch a half smile. Then, he immediately pressed his lips together and tried to appear as serious as he could in the face of a young and obviously jealous Mr. Grayson.

"Come below, Ned," Wellard whispered. "No scene, if you please. The Captain's eye will fall upon us."

"Go with him," Jonathan said softly with a cruel smile. Then, he paused,
Wellard believed, to set the barbed hook a little deeper. Finally, he added, "Mr. Hayworth and I will see you later, at dinner. Now, he and I must be away."

Wellard felt Ned tense as Clive's face lit up. He must have thought that Mr.
Riley had come to his rescue.

Ned snarled at Clive with venom dipped words, "And who's the whore now?"

Wellard wondered at the slip in Ned's courtesy. Surely he must know that duelling between shipmates was forbidden.

As if a red cape fluttered before the bull's eyes, Clive rose to his full height. "Mr. Grayson? Without your immediate apology before these good gentlemen, I must call you out for those words."

"Stop it, both of you," Wellard hissed. "Ned, come below now. Clive, be on your way, if you please. You, sir, are under orders."

HiH

Part 49

It was time to intervene Jonathan decided. What he had initially thought to be playful rivalry was fast becoming a full blown fight. What was going on between these two?

"Mr Hayworth, wait for me in the boat please. I will be there in a moment."

"Aye, Sir." Clive darted away but not before he threw one final scowl at Ned.
Jonathan looked at Wellard's shocked face and wanted to sink through the deck. Whatever did the young midshipman think of him? From the look on Wellard's face it was hardly complimentary!

"Neddy, a word before I go." Gently Jonathan took Ned's elbow and led him to where they could speak without being overheard. "What are you doing Love? There is no need for this."

Ned closed his eyes and clenched his fists. "I hate him!" he whispered harshly, his face still red with anger. "I was trying to be his friend, trying so hard! I even sucked his cock for him and he liked it. But then he turned around and he dared to call me a whore! How could he do that?" Ned opened his eyes and looked at Jonathan, his face full of hurt and confusion.

What to say, what to do? Perhaps I have done the wrong thing with Ned, Jonathan wondered yet again.

"Neddy, you don't have to...use sex to make friends." The look on Ned's face said the opposite. Jonathan was shocked. How long had Ned thought this way?

"Neddy, surely you didn't think...surely you know that I love you without...that?"

Sad eyes stared at him and Jonathan had to look away. Oh dear God, what have I done?  Acutely aware that time was running out and that Hayworth was waiting in the jolly boat, Jonathan took Ned's hand.

"Neddy, I want you to go below and rest until I come back. I will talk to you then. You have everything wrong, do you understand?"

Ned nodded, his eyes glassy and uncertain. He said nothing.

"Mr Wellard?" Jonathan called the dark haired midshipman over. Wellard looked wary, his eyes guarded.

"Mr Wellard, would you be so kind as to escort Ned below and see to him, please? He's...he seems...to be in need of a ...friend at the moment and I know he thinks highly of you. Would you look after him until I return?"

Henry Wellard stared at the red haired Lieutenant. Riley wasn't that much older than he was. There was a genuine concern in the way Riley tended Ned Grayson too and Wellard feared he might have misjudged the officer too quickly.

"Yes Sir, I'll see to him." With a quick smile Jonathan Riley was away over the side and Henry Wellard once more led Ned Grayson away from destruction.

JJ

Part 50


"Six bells in the forenoon watch," Laddie moaned hanging over the taffrail.
"Will Brown never return with our purchases? What if he's jumped ship and taken our money?"

"Have a little patience, sir, if you please" Tom Tyler said, his strong fingers squeezing Laddie's bony shoulder. "I'm sure he'll be back by eight bells because he'll have to start preparing the Captain's dinner."

"I'll need to change into a fresh shirt," Laddie said, abruptly changing the subject, oblivious to the fact that he was speaking to a rating as if he were an equal.

"Yes, you must do your best to appear neat and clean. You and Mr. Hayworth looked a little done in this morning, if you'll pardon my honesty. Did you see how much older Mr. Wellard and Mr. Grayson appeared?"

"They ARE older, Tom" Laddie said. He scuffed his shoe on the deck, looking downward. Then he added, "I have a feeling they don't like me. I so want them to like me."

"Well, I like you," Tyler exclaimed, quickly looking around to see who might be listening. He saw sailors on the lower deck sewing up their new slops. No one was at the helm. The wheel was tied. The two boys were alone on the quarterdeck.

When Tom was sure they were out of earshot of the main deck, he said, "Mr. Wellard seemed very tender toward you when you were sick. Even Mr. Grayson helped clean you up!"

"I'm climbing to the mizzen top. Are you coming up?" Laddie asked, evidently not listening to his new young friend at all.

"Stop changing the subject," Tom sputtered, his fists on his hips.

"Are you coming up?" Laddie asked again, a curious smile on his lips. "We'll be able to see the returning boats. I have my glass."

"Oh, all right," Tom said in resignation. "But if you are going to slide down the backstay, just remember how cold the water is at this time of year. And, don't expect me to jump in to save you."

Laddie, half way up already, wailed, "I knew it. YOU don't like me either."

Exasperated, Tom followed, hands on the shrouds, feet on the ratlines. The younger boy was climbing nimbly while Tom doggedly clambered after him.
Already seaman like, Laddie flipped himself over the edge of the top. Tom, never so high before, popped his head up through the lubber's hole. Laddie had his glass to his eye. He pointed and handed the glass to Tom.

"There's the boat! I see crates of animals. What do you think Brown has for us?"

"Ned, I mean Mr. Grayson, told him to find you a piglet or two. There's a manger in the forepeak. The creatures will eat swill from the galley and then you'll eat the pig when it's grown."

Laddie blinked. "We will?" he asked, startled by the thought.

"I learned from Mr. Styles that Captain Hornblower sailed a supply ship full of cattle for weeks waiting out quarantine. He allowed them to slaughter a bullock every few days."

"Well, let's go down and count their number. Two by two, eh?" Laddie laughed and grabbed the backstay sliding down in a flash to the quarterdeck.

Tom looked down over the edge of the mizzen top's platform. It seemed a long way. Then he took a deep breath and started down. With every step he thanked Matthews, Styles and Oldroyd for their generous advice. They had not steered him wrong yet.

HiH


Part 51

Running up to Brown, Tom peered over the servant's shoulder. Laddie was on his knees picking up each piglet. Two were Cheshire whites. Another was Hampshire black with its broad white band. They grunted softly in the young boy's grasp and pushed their snouts into his hand as if looking for something.

"They are perfect, Brown," Laddie exclaimed, his voice high.

The piglets grunted louder and emitted urgent squeals. Laddie shushed them. They settled immediately. Tom stood amazed at the boy's obvious charm over animals. Tom scratched his head. Laddie was an orphan, so maybe Gypsy blood ran in his veins. That would also explain his flights of fancy and his changeable nature.

"So what will ye call 'em, sir?" Tom asked, his voice a low murmur.

"Well," Laddie said beaming. "The two white ones are females, so they need girl names. Pansy and Petunia, I think will suit them. And, the little Hampshire boar must be named Ajax because he looks so strong, don't you think?

"The hostler in our town had a big dray horse named Ajax. Do you suppose Ajax means strong in some foreign tongue?"

Laddie explained patiently, "Ajax was a famous hero of the Trojan War, known for his amazing strength."

Tom asked, "Was the war many years ago? Da never spoke of fighting in it."

"Many long years ago, Tom. Maybe the same time the Hebrews wandered the desert. I can't recall for sure."

"Oh! That is a long time ago. Odder yet that one of the soldiers should be known by name, isn't it?"

"The whole thing is written down in a very exciting story, Tom. It's called the Iliad. And there's another story called the Odyssey about a man sailing home from the war. The voyage took him ten years."

"If it please ye, sir, I'd like to hear those stories."

"Well, I don't have my books along with me, but I can remember the exciting bits pretty well. And, I've read lots of other stories. I'd be glad to tell you the ones I recall."

"So good of you, sir."

"Is it true that Mr. Grayson's teaching you to read?"

"Aye, sir."

"Then I'll ask Captain Hornblower if I can borrow one or two of his books. We'll read together. Would you like that, Tom?"

"Oh, aye, sir. If Brown gives me the time."

"Oh no! What's the time?" Laddie asked, his face gone pale.

"Nearly noon, sir. See the men waiting to be piped to dinner?"

"Gads, I'll be late for the dinner."

"Your captain's dinner is at two o'clock, sir," Tom explained. "Four bells of the afternoon watch. Officers eat at two bells. I suppose the foremast jacks work the hardest so they eats first."

"Sounds reasonable," Laddie said, nodding his head. Then he slapped his forehead. "Must get my sextant. Shooting the sun, you know."

"I'll get it for you, sir. Where is it?"

"Mids berth. The green sea chest, left side. I mean, larboard side."

"Aye, aye, sir," Tom called back as he vanished down the hatchway.

Skipping down the ladders, Tom found his way to the midshipman's berth. He burst in and impaled himself upon the red-eyed dagger glance of Ned Grayson who was about to bathe his face in cold water. Tom's cheerful statement froze.


HiH

Part 52

"What are you doing here Tyler?" Wellard asked.

"Getting a sexton for Mr Blakeney, Sir...he's going to ...shoot it at the sun, or some'at"

Wellard shook his head. "You mean a sextant, not a sexton, that is unless Mr Blakeney was thinking of marrying you?" Wellard's face showed one of his rare smiles as Tom quickly shook his head.

"Anyway he'll never find the sun with all the cloud around." Henry continued. "Wait here with Mr Grayson while I go have a word with him." Wellard left and Tom looked at Ned.

"Are you all right, Ned?" Tom watched as Ned splashed water onto his face and wiped his eyes. He shook his head.

"Not really, Tom." Ned's voice was close to breaking.

"What's happened?" Again Ned shook his head before turning away and seating himself at the mess table. He rested his head on his folded arms.

"You can tell me, Ned...we're friends, remember?" Timidly Tom sat down beside the pale haired young man. There was a side to Ned that Tom understood. He could sympathise with the loneliness that so often shone from Ned's blue eyes. Tom knew well what it was like to crave love.

"Are we friends Tom? I thought we were, but then ...you said those things to me...and I felt so bad about everything. Sometimes I feel like I don't have a friend in the world...that no one loves me...no one."

"I do Ned," Tom whispered, forgetting all his vows and promises. He put one thin arm around Ned's shoulders and rested his head against Ned's fair hair. "I didn't mean those things I said before...I was scared, that's all. The other men, they frightened me, they said the captain would hang me or flog me if he caught me fooling around with others. That's what my father did too...he beat me, but...but ...I can't forget what it felt like with you. It felt so good...How can it be a bad thing if it feels so good?"

Ned raised his red eyes. "I don't know...I don't understand it either." One long fine finger reached out to trace Tom's lips. Tom shivered.

"Would yer do that thing yer did to me, yer know...the thing I liked, with yer mouth on me? I been dreaming about that every night."

There was a strange look in Ned's eyes, one that Tom had never seen before, but his friend nodded and bent his head to Tom's lap, unbuttoning his breeches even as he moved. And then Tom was in heaven, or as close to heaven as he was likely to get in this harsh cruel world. He griped Ned's pale hair in his hands and thrust hard into the warm welcoming mouth, panting and grunting.

"ARRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!" Tom's eyes snapped open to see Laddie Blakeney screaming in the doorway. Mr Wellard was there too, white faced, mouth open.

"He made me do it...he ordered me!" The words stumbled out as Tom began to shake with fear. They'd hang him now...him and Ned...and he'd burn in hell for all eternity. "It's HIS fault." Tom pointed his finger at Ned who sat up slowly, wiping his mouth. "His fault!"

Ned Grayson said nothing.

"I think you should both come along to see Captain Hornblower." Wellard said when he had finally regained himself. "An accusation like this is serious!"

JJ


Part 53


"Henry, I won't go," Ned said solemnly. "I refuse."

Wellard stared Ned down. The younger boy's eyes dropped after a minute. Yet, he refused to move.

So, in an icy tone, Wellard ordered, "Blakeney, fetch the first officer. I saw him on the quarterdeck. And be quick about it, if you please."

After Laddie scampered up the ladder, Wellard turned to young Tyler who was sobbing inconsolably at their mess table, head buried in his arms.

"Come to attention, Tyler," Wellard ordered, rather kindly. "Mr. Kennedy will have some questions for you."

"Na' a floggin', no, please, na' another floggin'!"

"No one's flogged you yet, boy," Wellard said, suddenly vexed by the sobbing.

"Shows 'ow much yer lordship knows," Tyler howled. "Looka this!" he shouted, lifting up his shirt and displaying the scars across his back.

Wellard went completely white. He stopped breathing. He had to clutch the table for balance. Finally, he blinked and shook his head. The memories were tucked away again. Footsteps sounded on the ladder.

"What seems to be the trouble, Mr. Wellard," Kennedy asked in his characteristically cheerful tone. "Laddie, Mr. Blakeney, begged me descend into your den of iniquity in some haste. Kindly inform me of the nature of the emergency."

"Tyler here has accused Mr. Grayson over there of an unclean act, sir,"
Wellard stated, carefully making no emphasis as to the guilt or innocence of either party.

Archie Kennedy recalled the intense passions of the pair in question that manifested within Rose Cottage. The lieutenant had no trouble guessing what the others had witnessed briefly here in the cockpit. He took out a little book and wrote himself a note. Then he said, "Mr. Grayson, the masthead for you this afternoon, until you are ordered down. I'm afraid you will miss dinner. Turning he addressed the younger boy, "Tyler? You will join the swabbers who clean the head tomorrow. Let's see if we can learn to be cleaner, shall we?"

Ned looked up at Kennedy. His red-rimmed eyes brimmed with pain and a kind of defiance. Slowly the young man got to his feet. He began to walk to the door.

"Your jacket, if you please, Mr. Grayson," Kennedy reminded him. "And take a pair of stockings for your hands if you have no gloves. Meditate upon cooling your emotions. Is that understood?"

"Aye, sir," Ned whispered. "Thank you, sir." He took a few steps and turned.
Hopelessly he explained his delay, "Mr. Riley promised to return. He said he wished to speak with me. May I come down then?"

"I will not offer you too much hope, Mr. Grayson," Kennedy said evenly. "Yet, you have taken your punishment well. That counts for something."

Ned nodded and left. Moments later Tyler scurried out. Laddie found his sextant and they went up on deck.

HiH

Part 54


Aboard the wasp

"Again? What IS it with Captain Hornblower? He seems to have a fetish for FOOD! I suppose he will expect ME to return the offer?" Peter rolled his eyes and gestured around his cabin. "Honestly Jonathan...can you see me hosting a lavish formal dinner in here? There simply isn't enough room!"

Jonathan glanced around and frowned. "The wombat would have to go, that's for certain!" He could see Peter watching him, waiting for news of Ned Grayson and more details concerning Hornblower's summons. Jonathan looked away, not wanting to talk about it yet. There was still too much that he needed to sort out with Ned and he doubted Peter would be very pleased with what had happened between them.

"At least I have found myself a servant this morning." Peter continued, breaking the silence. "SPARROW!" A young boy of about twelve emerged from the small pantry that opened off the main cabin.

"Sir?" he enquired with a grin.

"This is Mr Riley, you'll be seeing to him too, Nick Sparrow. Make sure you give him no trouble, do you understand?"

"Yes Sir, of course Sir," Sparrow replied almost jauntily. He was small, with brown hair and eyes, his name suited him well. He disappeared back into the pantry where Jonathan could hear much clattering.

"Where ever did you pick him up?" Jonathan asked absently. It sounded as if Sparrow was trying to hammer something with Peter's silverware. A loud crash announced one less dinner plate. Jonathan winced in sympathy.

"There's a place that Robert Bell used to frequent in Portsmouth and I accompanied him a few times. I found Sparrow there."

Jonathan blinked, "A place? What sort of place," he asked warily. If Captain Bell had been frequent visitor then it was bound to be a questionable establishment.

"It was a gentlemen's club...a...brothel I suppose you would call it...it supplies young men and boys, catered to most tastes. Sparrow was working there and I thought he could do better aboard the Wasp."

"You found him in a brothel?" Jonathan shouted, staring at Peter in disgust. Had Peter spent the morning in a molly house? "He's a rent boy?"

"Really Jonathan, there is no need for such a reaction. And as to what he was doing there, well his duties were quite broad and included waiting tables and serving refreshments, so he comes well qualified. He's also good at dressing hair. I thought we could share him?"

"You WHAT?" Jonathan spluttered.

"Jonathan will you lower your voice! I well know your delicate financial situation and doubted you would be able to afford a servant of your own. We can both use him."

"Peter, I have to say I am shocked by your assumptions! You expect me to... sleep with him while YOU..."

"Dear God Jonathan, do you ever think with anything else but your prick? He's here as a SERVANT, nothing more!" Peter declared with hands on hips.

"Oh, I see...I thought you meant..."

"Jonathan if you lay one finger on that boy I will throw you overboard, do you understand?"

"Oh, yes, of course Peter...why I would never dream of..." Jonathan shook his head quickly. "That wasn't my intention...he's so...young!"

"Yes, and please remember that! I brought him aboard so that he could have a future other than on his hands and knees. With any luck he will make a fine seaman one day."

"I'm sorry Peter, it's just that when you said you had visited that...brothel so many times with Bell...I immediately though..." Jonathan suddenly felt foolish.

"I went there twice with him and I found it not to my ...liking, if you must know. I was shocked by how young some of the lads were...homeless boys with no futures. I vowed that if I ever had the chance to save one of them from such a fate, I would consider it my solemn duty. THAT is why I went there today!"

Peter strode to the casement and looked out at the grey harbour, arms folded tightly across his chest. It hurt that Jonathan had immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion, but that was so typical of Jonathan Riley!

Behind him, Jonathan was shuffling his feet and Peter resisted the urge to turn around and put his friend at ease. He didn't want to see the ruffled uniform again or the purple bite mark that was just peeking from under Jonathan's cravat. Jonathan reeked of sex too, it was unmistakable in the close confines of the cabin. Peter tried not to speculate on who it had been this time. If Jonathan didn't want to tell him then he wasn't going to ask. His only hope was that it hadn't been Hornblower!

"Go on deck Jonathan, our new midshipmen should be coming aboard soon; Mr Starr and Mr Cherry. Perhaps you could take charge of them and see them entered into the ship's book. I don't know WHAT has become of our First Lieutenant. He's damned late! I'll have to go ashore and see what has happened to him."

Jonathan stared at Peter's back, at his slender shoulders held firmly, his posture upright and ridged. Even his small tight arse seemed clenched in anger. Perhaps it would be best if he followed orders for once. Any more explanations and apologies had best wait until later.

JJ

Part 55

Clive carries the mail...

Midshipman Hayworth bid adieu to Jonathan Riley at the accommodation ladder of the Wasp, promising to return in an hour to take him back for Captain Hornblower's dinner. Jonathan smiled and waved at the enigmatic young man, so outwardly innocent yet possessing a fierce and knowledgeable heart. Then the bustle of the Wasp's crew called him away.

In the jolly boat, Clive sat in the stern sheets as straight backed and proper as one of his sisters at afternoon tea. Styles, the captain's coxswain gave him the tiller with a toothy smile and an odd smirk that vanished as soon as Clive's wide eyes noticed it. Styles knuckled his forehead and stared ahead at the rest of the oarsmen. Oldroyd, in the stroke oar position, was grinning like an idiot. Nothing unusual about that, Clive thought, barely able to conceal his delight at being chosen for a special mission.

The brisk walk from the dock to the port admiral's office was uneventful. Only a moment's wait and the posts were received into the clerk's safekeeping for speedy delivery. At the last moment, Clive slipped in a private note to his mother and one to Father and Ross in Lisbon. The peninsular situation was not at all good. Bonaparte was dreadfully unpredictable.

Looking at his watch when he reached the boat once more, Clive decided that his boat crew had enough time at the local seaside market to gather personal items and spend their last shillings on sweets that must last two years. Clive hoped to find a few items to share with his messmates. He wanted to mend the breach that divided him from Ned Grayson. Although difficult to swallow, he must apologise for his part in creating the rift. The Captain would expect it before they weighed anchor.

While the men looked over the meagre edible pickings at the market, Clive purchased a thick, warm woollen blanket, four pairs of woollen stockings and an eider down quilt. He bought a bushel of late fall apples for his boat crew. He admired a silver watch chain and a few rings, but nothing he saw suited his aristocratic tastes in the dockyard shops. Nearly everything had been pawned, and now lay unclaimed by men long drowned or brought low by yellow jack. Clive saw no bauble that he wanted as a keepsake.

Then he chanced upon a locket. It was well-crafted by a good London shop. He had recognised the artist's mark. The picture inside was of a girl in an old-fashioned gown and coiffure from the past age. The miniature had to have been painted fifty years ago. Was it someone's sweetheart? A young sailor's mother? He found a lock of golden hair still gleaming despite its age. A chill passed through Clive's body. He dropped the locket and the storekeeper caught it.

"Lemme 'ave it, sir, if ye' please," the old man said. "I'll polish it up for yer."

The man shook out the strands of hair and the little picture, casting them into the dust bin without a thought.

"There it is, yer lordship," he said grinning. "Only a guinea. An' a bargain a' that."

Clive nodded and drew out the coin. Why, he didn't really understand. There was just something alluring about the locket that told him it had once been filled with a deep and understanding love, a love that must have endured a very long time. Suddenly, Clive thought of his mother and father. He slipped the locket into the pocket of his coat and hurried out of the shop, breathless. Then, he walked quickly away unaware of his surroundings.

When Clive brought his emotions under his control, he looked up and down the street. Fear shot through him. He didn't recognise any of the sailors. He crossed the road and walked a block turning left. He entered a narrow alley.
He heard rapid footsteps behind him. He turned. Something heavy struck his forehead. His vision grew suddenly hazy and red. The pavement rushed up at him. Shouts filled his ears. "Get 'is mooney," he heard them say as rough hands tugged open his clothing.

Shouts like Joshua's trumpets split the air. "Medusas," Styles and Oldroyd bellowed. And sailors rushed the gang of toughs standing over Mr. Hayworth going through his coat. In a flash, Oldroyd caught one man and flung him to the ground splitting open his head on the cobbles. Then he lunged at another who attempted to flee with the midshipman's jacket. The rest of the boat crew made short work of the thieves, murdering them all for their unprovoked attack upon their young gentleman.

The bloody work over, Styles lifted Mr. Hayworth into his arms. The cruel scalp wound gushed blood onto his best jacket. No mind that. He listened for breath and sighed in relief. The boy lived. Oldroyd patted Hayworth all over. He shook his curly head. Another sigh. The boy hadn't suffered any other hurt. Now they simply had to get him back to the ship and to the surgeon.

All at once, the sound of whistles halted them in their tracks. The shoreguard approached and quickly surrounded them. The officer in charge instructed Styles to turn the injured man over to them and place themselves into the custody of the authorities. Styles was about to tell the man where he could bloody well go, when a finely dressed Royal Navy officer, a captain, intervened.

"Cap'n Crittenden, sir," Styles said meekly. "Right glad we are to see you, sir."

"Mr. Hayworth," Crittenden asked with an arched eyebrow, "Is he badly hurt?"

"A scalp wound, sir, 'tis all. Yet, it bleeds like a, like a..."

"Is he conscious?" Peter asked, cutting off the need for a simile.

"Fraid na, sir," Styles replied softly, cradling the young man in his arms while Peter gently pulled back an eyelid.

Assuming an air of complete command, Crittenden addressed the shoreguard.
"Leave this situation to me, gentlemen. I will see to the care of this injured officer. You may take statements from the men here by sending word to their captain, Horatio Hornblower, aboard the Medusa."

Then he beckoned to Styles and the boat crew. "Follow me, men."

HiH

Part 56

Aboard the Wasp

"Midshipman Cherry, Sir, reporting aboard. Mr Midshipman Gideon Cherry." The handsome young man stood stiffly to attention and Jonathan resisted the urge to reach out and offer a handshake. He was a lieutenant now and senior to Cherry even though he doubted there was much between them in age.

"Welcome aboard Mr Cherry. I am second Lieutenant Jonathan Riley and in the absence of our First, I will take charge of you for the moment." Jonathan flushed slightly as he said the words. Cherry just smiled in reply. His brown hair and hazel eyes reminded Jonathan of Jack Kerrison but there all similarities ended. Cherry's eyes were more golden than green and his hair was richly dark and neatly tied. He midshipman's uniform was obviously new and immaculately presented. Jonathan blushed when he realised he was staring.

He led Cherry down to the gunroom where he hunted out the ship's book. "What was you last posting?" Jonathan asked, hoping Cherry wasn't new to the service. On a ship as small as the Wasp experience was more valuable than gold.

"The Gargoyle under Captain Trevor and before that the Yarmouth under Captain Harris." Cherry offered. Guessing Jonathan's line of thinking he continued. "I've been at sea since I was twelve, Sir, almost eight years. I sat my lieutenant's examination last month but didn't pass."

"I've only just passed mine," Jonathan confided, forgetting himself for a moment. "Er, well if you don't have any questions, I'll let you get along to the cockpit and stow your dunnage. It's small, but you will only have one other berth mate."

Cherry dropped his voice. "There WAS one other matter sir," he began quietly. "I was wondering if I could have a little time ashore before we sail. I've just spent the last two weeks at my home in a rather small village, with my mother and I have not had any opportunity to, er...well...conduct any business, Sir."

"Business?"

"With women, Sir."

"Oh I see...you mean...oh..." Jonathan stared at the embarrassed hazel eyes and suddenly understood. Of course a young man Cherry's age would be looking for some female companionship before he had to go to sea again. "Well I am sure Captain Crittenden would not mind. You may have the night ashore but be back aboard by the start of the forenoon watch. Our orders are expected at any moment and we may well sail tomorrow."

"Aye, Aye Sir and thank you sir," Cherry grinned as he left the Gunroom. Jonathan tugged at his cravat as visions of Cherry entwined with some whore came unbidden to his overactive imagination.

"Mr Riley, I wonder if I could have a word to you about my pussy?"

Jonathan spun around and stared at Mr Fraser, the Master. Fraser was large man, well past his prime but still solid as a rock. His hair was streaked with grey.

"Your pussy?" Jonathan echoed.

"Yes, I was wondering if you knew how the Captain felt about them. Some don't like them at all," Fraser continued with a concerned shake of his head, "But if he could see mine, I am sure he'd find himself partial to it."

Jonathan stared at the big burley Master. Good grief, what HAD Fraser been hearing about Peter? And what did the man have in his breeches? Jonathan shook his head, certain he must have misunderstood THAT part of the conversation. Was Fraser talking about a woman?

"I'm sorry Mr Fraser, but I really am not at all sure I know what..."

"It's ginger Sir, not unlike your hair. Real pretty even if I do say so, er, me pussy that is. Not yer hair." Fraser laughed. "You don't have to worry about it prowling around the ship. I'll keep it in my cabin if that's what the Captain wants...but it has to go out every once in a while to do it's business, you understand?"

Jonathan blinked, "Your CAT? You are talking about a cat?"

"Yes Mr Riley, my pussy. Will you put in good word for it?"

"Oh yes, certainly," Jonathan agreed, vastly relieved. How much trouble could one cat be?

JJ

Part 57

In Portsmouth

Peter Crittenden stared at the unconscious and bloodied figure of Clive Hayworth and sighed. What to do? His first impulse was to have the boy sent back to the Medusa to be cared for by the ship's surgeon. However, knowing how Hornblower and Kennedy felt about the young man it might be best if he was taken to the Wasp and looked at by Mr Pike first. Hornblower would be distraught if Peter brought Hayworth to him in THIS condition.

"Take him to the Wasp, men. I'll send word to your Captain about what has happened. I know he holds the lad in high esteem and is friendly with his father!"

Peter suppressed a smile at those words. He'd met Hayworth's father, the Earl of Edrington himself a few years ago, although he doubted Edrington would remember the rather wild night they had spent together. That rough sergeant, Mellors, had been with them too. The memories still brought a blush to Peter's cheeks. Of course he hadn't mentioned any of these things to Horatio, but it DID explain where Hornblower might have picked up a few of his tastes. Maybe he should suggest something involving rope again if he landed in Hornblower's bed for a second time. Edrington had been VERY inventive with a seemingly limitless capacity for endurance.

His son however seemed rather more fragile.

The Medusa's obeyed their orders quickly and soon they were all rowing towards the small black sloop with yellow trim. In the jolly boat, Peter cradled Clive's head in his lap, stroking the fine golden hair. Outwardly, the boy looked very delicate, more a student than a warrior. Yet why did this lad get into fights so often? First Ned, then Tom Tyler and now this? Peter wondered what had led to the attack? Did his father's streak for the perverse run through Clive's veins too? Was his outward appearance merely a clever guise for a wild and stormy heart that throbbed beneath?

Lord knows what the boy was doing wandering around the back streets and alleys here alone. Hopefully he would be able to explain when he regained his sense.

JJ

Part 58

Aboard the Medusa


On the ladder leading to the quarter deck, Wellard sat with Laddie showing him his instrument. Then they practised with it by sighting in the hazy bright spot in the sky that they hoped was the winter sun. The chart confirmed that they were still in Portsmouth. Laddie glowed with pride as he patted his sextant reverently.

A high pitched agonising squeal brought him up short. He ran down to the main deck shouting at two seamen who were making off with his piglets.

"You'll hang for stealing!" Laddie shouted.

"Beggin' yer pardon, sir. Mr. Matthews ordered us to stow the little buggers,
fellers in the forepeak manger, sir. Jus' doin' 'r duty, sir, if it please yer."

"Handle them gently then. You must have hurt them to cause such squealing."

"But, sir, but we did 'andle 'em careful like," the bigger man said, his statement one of honesty.

"Pigs always squeals, sir, when yer picks 'em up," the other man added. "Pick one up, sir. See we're not lying."

Laddie reached into the basket and pulled up the little Hampshire. He grasped it firmly with both hands around its middle. He eased it away from the others. As he lifted its little trotters free of firm footing, the piglet wiggled like an eel and squealed as if it were in the jaws of the wolf. Laddie dropped it back into its basket and it snuggled down silent once more.

"Shall we takes 'em now, sir?"

"I'll go with you. A moment."

Laddie wheedled permission from Mr. Kennedy to see to the stowing of his livestock. Archie smiled as the boy walked off with his basket. He shook his head slowly when he saw Wellard lick his lips in obvious anticipation of bacon and ham.

HiH


Part 59

Aboard the wasp

"Mr Starr reporting aboard as ordered, Sir" the voices chorused. Jonathan had to stop and rub his eyes, wondering if he was seeing double. The two pint sized midshipmen were as perfectly matched as bookends. They could be no more than twelve years old and each was decked out in an identical new blue uniform and their snowy white hair was tied stiffly into a tight queue. They had the palest blue eyes that Jonathan had ever seen and their fair complexions foretold that they would each be suffering a bad case of sunburn by the time they reached their destination!

But there was a more immediate problem. "Umm, I was only expecting ONE, a MR S Starr," Jonathan advised. "Which one of you would that be?"

"I am Stephen Starr and my brother is..."

"Simon Starr, Sir. We have travelled all the way from Oxford!"

Jonathan looked from one to the other and blinked. "Did your parents accompany you here?" In unison the two boys shook their heads forlornly.

"Our mother had to use the rent money for our fares..."

"She's a widow you see."

With a sigh Jonathan indicated that they should follow him below. It would be cruel to leave one of them abandoned on the dockside and expect him to make his way home. He studied the two young faces as they walked. They were clear of any spots or blemishes; not even a freckle to rely on to tell them apart. He seated himself at the gunroom table and opened the book again.

"So, you are Mr STEPHEN Starr?" he asked on of the boys.

"No that's me, " said the other Starr, "My brother is,"

"Simon sir. He's Stephen."

"I see," said Jonathan, although he didn't. "And how should I tell you apart?"

"Well Stephen has..."

"A small mole Sir,"

"Oh, that will be handy. Where is it?" Jonathan asked, greatly relieved. He was beginning to think he would never work this out.

"It's on his..."

"Arse Sir. Would you like to see it." Starr reached for his breeches buttons.

"NO!" Jonathan stood up quickly. "No, that won't be necessary." He looked from one boy to the other, noticing the naughty grins that were now plastered on the previously innocent faces. He was in for trouble with these two.

"Ahem, I will need to have a word with our Captain about this situation. In the meantime go along to the cockpit." There was a burst of giggling. Jonathan rolled his eyes in despair.

"Midshipmen do NOT giggle...Such behaviour is unbecoming of a young Gentleman. Do you understand!"

A chorus of Aye, Aye Sir's sounded and the youngsters skipped off leaving Jonathan shaking his head. Being a Lieutenant was far harder than he imagined.

JJ

Part 60

Aboard the Medusa


"A word, Mr. Wellard," Archie said softly. He smiled disarmingly at Wellard's startled statement.

"Aye, sir," Wellard said, walking closer to the first lieutenant.

"You were right to come to me earlier, Mr. Wellard. You do your fellow midshipmen no good service by turning a blind eye to infractions of the Articles. Yet, at the same time, Captain Hornblower is not the likes of Captain Sawyer. He would never beat a boy except in cases of pure insolence. And then, he would wield the rattan himself."

Wellard spoke to the deck. "I take consolation in learning that, sir. And thank you for your advice. I saw Tyler's back. Who did that to him, sir? I didn't think he'd been aboard a King's ship before."

"His father did it, Mr. Wellard," Archie whispered, standing very close to the young midshipman. "Heaven preserve you from such things."

Wellard stepped closer. Archie swept his boat cloak over the shivering boy and gazed down into his deep dark eyes. The boy's lips were deep red and full, ripe for tasting.

Wellard asked hesitantly, "How... I mean, what, sir, could induce a man to treat his own flesh and blood in that way?"

Archie sighed and moved them both to the taffrail. After a pause he answered,
"My mother's husband was a brute. He beat her and then he beat me. Abusive natures are found in all classes of society. Drink makes it worse. In Tyler's case, it was religion. There are many causes. Therefore a man must strive to be moderate and fair."

Archie felt Wellard lean into him. Under the shelter of his cloak, he slipped his arm around the boy's narrow waist, standing joined in a common cause. When Archie spoke again, he dared not look into the youngster's eyes. Instead he stared out at the molten lead coloured sea, heaving sluggishly around them.

"If your berth is to be pleasant upon this long voyage, some of the storms must blow out before we depart Portsmouth."

"Aye, sir," Wellard whispered.

They stood a moment yet. Then, as if by mutual thought, they disengaged. Mr. Kennedy went below to report the state of the stores to the captain. The last of the water casks had just come aboard.

Mr. Wellard waited on deck until he was alone. Then, he walked toward the forecastle. With bone white hands he grabbed the shrouds and swung himself up. In a moment he flipped himself into the foretop. Higher yet perched his destination, Ned in the crosstrees.

HiH



Part 61

Aboard the Wasp

"Dear God, whatever has happened?" Jonathan's voice rose sharply at the sight of Clive's bloodied head. "Is he all right?"

"I hope so." Peter turned to the jolly boat crew who were carrying Hayworth. "Take him below to Mr Pike...er wait...you'd better take him to my cabin. Pike can tend him there." He turned aside to Jonathan and whispered, "Hornblower would never forgive me if I treated the boy like any old mid. He and Archie simply DOTE on him."

"Well you could put him in my cabin Peter." Jonathan offered, watching Clive disappear down the companionway. Archie would be heartbroken if the boy were seriously injured. "That way you wouldn't have to give up your own."

"Jonathan do you really think I would trust you to have him sleeping in YOUR cabin after what you told me yesterday? He will be MUCH better off in MINE where I can keep an eye on BOTH of you."

"Peter!" Jonathan was shocked. "I offered because YOUR bed is the bigger and that way WE could still share it at night! I have NO interest in the boy whatsoever, truly I don't."

Peter just rolled his eyes. "Lets see what Pike has to say before we leave." They made their way below to find Surgeon Joseph Pike bathing Clive's forehead.

"Well Mr Pike? Will he live?"

"Course he bloody well will. Little bump on the head like that won't kill a lad like him. Have a fuckin' sore head when he wakes, though."

Jonathan grimaced. Despite finally passing for surgeon, Pike hadn't changed. His fair hair was still cut very short and he looked like he would be more at home in a boxing ring than a sick berth.

"Thank you Mr Pike," Peter said washing his bloodied hands in a bowl held by Sparrow. "I am sure Captain Hornblower will be pleased to know his prot�g� is in such capable hands."  Pike scowled but said nothing.

"Come Jonathan, we'd best get across to the Medusa and break the news. Besides it's almost time for dinner although I hardly feel like eating. Give me your report of the mornings proceedings as we go."

They climbed back into the jolly boat and set off towards the great hulk of the Medusa.

"Well, the midshipmen have arrived, Mr Cherry and a set of Misters Starr."

Peter frowned. "A set?  How many Misters Starr do we have, Jonathan?"

"Two Sir, twins, identical. The only way you can tell them apart is by a small mole that one...Stephen, I think he said his name was...has on his arse."

"Dear GOD Jonathan what HAVE you been doing?" Pete shook his head in disgust. "I leave you in charge for an hour and already..."

"Nothing...I haven't seen it..." Jonathan looked at the startled faces of the boat crew and dropped his voice. "They told me."

"Well get rid of one of them...we don't have room for THREE mids!"

"Peter! You can't be serious? They are just children...and they came all the way from Oxford by themselves, at great expense to their widowed mother."

"What NONSENSE! They are the grandsons of Admiral Matthews and their mother has been married to TWO Earls who both died and left her extremely wealthy. She lives the high life in London and with a Russian count now. She wants those boys off her hands so she can travel! I was ASKED to take ONE on in return for this posting."

"Oh," Jonathan bit his lip. "They must have been lying then."

"Jonathan, YOU of all people should know the sort of pranks that midshipmites get up to...surely you haven't forgotten already."

"Er, well..."

Peter waved his hand dismissing the matter. "Don't worry...I suppose I will have to keep them both. Now what of Mr Cherry?"

"Er well, he seems very experienced. I have let him go ashore for the night to...er...complete his business."

"His business?" Peter enquired one eyebrow raised.

"Yes, he did ask me if he could." Jonathan could hide his grin no longer. "I thinks he wants to do a bit of fucking. I couldn't see any problem with that and I thought it best he do it now and get it out of his system."

Peter rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. "Jonathan, you must be commended on your novel approach to moral, however in the future please try to maintain a LITTLE decorum."

The Jolly boat bumped against the side of the Medusa and Peter stood. "Let's get this over with shall we?" he declared, straightening his uniform.

JJ

Part 62

In The Crosstrees

"What do you want? Does Mr Kennedy know you are up here?" Ned Grayson's words were hardly welcoming.

"I came to ask you what you were doing earlier in the cockpit with Tom Tyler?" Wellard coloured. "Well, I know WHAT you were doing but I don't know why? Surely you knew the risk you were taking. And with a common servant at that!"

"Tom's a friend...at least I thought he was." Ned shrugged. "I don't know anything anymore." He narrowed his blue eyes. "And anyway what was it that YOU were doing with Mr Kennedy under his boat cloak on the quarterdeck? You looked very snug together!"

"How did you..." Wellard gasped but quickly realised that Ned would have a birds eye view of everything going on from his perch in the crosstrees. "He was merely keeping me warm." Wellard could feel his face flaming.

"Well perhaps that was what I was doing for Tom too, then." Ned replied. He suddenly looked very sad. "He said he was still my friend and asked me to do it, you see." Ned's voice shook slightly. "But then, he said it was MY fault...I don't understand anything...why do they always blame me...they always say it is my fault... that I deserve it..."

"Ned..." Wellard reached out and touched Ned's arm. It was shaking. Had Tyler really been the one to initiate the act?

"Ned, why did you not say it was Tom's fault then?"

Ned shrugged. "Who would have believed me. Besides, I was as guilty since I did what he asked. And Tom was very frightened. I wouldn't want to see him flogged...not when it...when it..." Ned raised his hand and rubbed his forehead, frowning. "Ben...I mean Tom...I...I...thought it would be better if I said it was my fault because then he wouldn't get flogged."

Once more Henry Wellard wrapped his arm around Ned Grayson's shoulder and let the younger man lean against him. It was a different feeling to how he had felt within Archie Kennedy's embrace although Henry had trouble untangling the flood of emotions that were running through him now. He'd long idolised Archie Kennedy even fantasised about him at times. But Ned had awakened something else inside of him; something deeper, something stronger. He remembered the fair head bent over Tyler's groin, the red lips wet and glistening, the flicking tongue. That same fair head was now resting against his shoulder, blue eyes hidden under long lashes, red lips slightly parted, moist. It would be so easy to bend over and kiss them.

But the last thing Ned Grayson needed now was someone else chasing him for sexual favours. A sudden flash of red hair at the entry port caught Wellard's eye. Jonathan Riley come aboard with Captain Crittenden. It was clear that Mr Riley was to blame here. He'd used Ned, regardless of whatever they felt for each other, used him and then abandoned him. Archie Kennedy would never do that!

With a sigh Wellard dropped his arm. "I'd best go Ned. The Captain is expecting me for dinner in his cabin."

Ned looked down to the deck and took a deep breath. "Will you tell...will you tell...Mr Riley what happened?"

"Do you want me too?"

Ned shook his head.

"Then he won't hear it from me, Ned." Henry exclaimed before he descended to the deck.

JJ


Part 63

In Horatio's Cabin


Horatio looked up at the sharp knock. He pushed a stack of manifests to the other side of his writing table. He'd just dismissed Mr. Kennedy to ready himself for their guests and he needed to shift his own coat. What could be wrong now with his ship and his crew that they came a knocking when he must prepare for guests?

"Come," Hornblower said impatiently.

It was Styles, in a sad state. There was blood on his precious shoregoing rig. He seemed grave and oddly nervous too, as he entered the captain's day cabin.

Hornblower frowned and met Styles anxious gaze. Then, the coxswain squared his shoulders and seemed to prepare himself for the enemy's withering fire.
Hornblower suspected the man had been fighting ashore and he was about to make his excuses.

Styles dropped his chin, raised his knuckle to his forehead while never dropping his eyes. Hornblower noticed beads of sweat on his coxswain's upper lip. The air was near freezing. The Captain returned the salute. He didn't have all day.

Hornblower said, "Make your report, Styles. I assume you've been fighting."

"Na in the usual way, sir," Styles muttered in his own defence, obviously taking his own sweet time to come to an admission of his guilt.

Horatio waited, thinking about his coxswain. Styles had always been one of the incorrigibles. There was no changing him. Like all lethal weapons, best thing was to put him to good use and accept the danger. Yet, where was Mr. Hayworth? Shouldn't he be making the report about the coxswain's misbehaviour?

"First of all," Horatio ordered, "tell me why you are here in Mr. Hayworth's stead. Don't tell me you allowed him to get drunk."

"Na' drunk, sir," Styles said shaking his head. Then with a great effort he added, "He were 'urt, sir. Capt'n Crittenden(tm)s compliments, and I were ta tell ye' that the young ge'tleman's bein' sewn up proper by their surgeon,sir."

All color left Hornblower's face. A great lump of ice filled his stomach. He swallowed hard before asking, "Hurt how? And why not our surgeon?"

Footsteps on the ladder and another knock on his door. Kennedy's voice requesting to see his captain. Horatio ground his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. What in heaven's name had happened to Edrington's son?

Captain Peter Crittenden was shown into the cabin by Lieutenant Kennedy, followed by Lieutenant Riley.

"Allow me, Captain Hornblower, to explain the situation in detail," Captain
Crittenden offered after stepping from Mr. Kennedy's side.

Styles stepped back, the look on his face a little less grim. Horatio gazed from one face to the next. He drew in a ragged breath. He grasped the edges of his writing desk to stop his hands from trembling.

"Has something happened aboard the Wasp?" Hornblower asked, his face growing very warm.

Crittenden answered, "Mr. Hayworth suffered an injury in an alley in Portsmouth. A slight one, I might add. The men responsible have paid for their crime. Your boat crew saw to that. All personal possessions have been recovered."

Horatio exploded, "I don't care about possession. What happened to Clive? I want an answer. Styles? You were there."

"He were struck in the 'ead, sir. The wound bled somethin' cruel."

Crittenden added, "I found your boat's crew tending him amid the bodies of the thieves. The shoreguard had just arrived and your men were about to be placed into custody. I took charge of them and took your young gentleman to my ship. The blow to his head and the loss of blood has left him giddy, weak and dreadfully unsteady on his feet."

"It's not a depressed fracture, is it?" Hornblower whispered gravely.

"No, sir, praise be to God. Young men have hard heads!" Riley said. "A hard thump, some swelling and blurred vision."

Crittenden added, "Our surgeon believed he needed an hour or two of quiet before attempting to move again. Mr. Pike is afraid of agitating the humours.
It can lead to a swelling inside the cranium, the result being brain fever."

"Will the surgeon permit visitors?"

"Of course, sir. In an hour's time, I would imagine, the young gentleman will be ready to return to his ship. After our dinner, say. My gig is along side and at your disposal. Of course, I must add that your own men must remain here to be questioned by the shore guard. The officer will be along any moment now."

"By Heaven, they will not take a man off my ship," Hornblower barked. "Kennedy!"

"Aye, sir?"

"Mr. Kennedy, be so kind as to cooperate with the shoreguard in their investigation. At the same time, allow no one to be removed from the Medusa's company. Is that understood, sir?"

"Cooperation without compliance to their demands, sir," Kennedy said succinctly. He saluted and stepped back. Then he said quietly, "Permission to dismiss Styles, sir?"

"Yes, dismissed. Oh, and thank you, Styles."

Styles nodded and knuckled his forehead again. The crooked familiar smile had returned and it gladdened Horatio's heart.

"Now, gentlemen," he said to his guests with a sigh of relief. "Let us begin our meal with a little claret. I'm parched."

HiH



Part 64

It was hardly going to be a jovial affair. Jonathan swirled the claret in his glass and took another sip. Hornblower looked positively distraught and even Archie Kennedy looked fretful, pacing around the cabin as if he wanted action of some sort. Jonathan suppressed a smile.

"May I suggest that you and Mr Kennedy come aboard the Wasp tonight for supper." Peter Crittenden's clear voice carried across the cabin. "You can see how young Hayworth fares for yourselves and set your minds at ease. Perhaps afterwards we may partake of another round of cards. A swap of partners of course, just to be fair. What say you, Horatio."

Jonathan bit his lip to stop his laughter. He suspected that Peter was half serious in his invitation.

"Enjoying yourself Jonathan?" Archie Kennedy did not sound pleased. "Clive Hayworth's accident is hardly a means to seduction, yet Peter Crittenden never misses a chance, does he."

Jonathan spun around. Archie's clear blue eyes glistened.

"I am sure Peter was only trying to raise Captain's Hornblower's spirits a little by the jest. He knows how close you both are to Hayworth. Peter would never..."

"Perhaps you are right." Archie sipped his own claret. "How did Clive truly look?" Does he realise how his feelings for Hayworth show through, Jonathan wondered?

"No worse than a lot of lads I have seen. It was just a blow to the head." Jonathan remembered his own concussion. "He'll be fine in a couple of days and he has the best of care." He suddenly thought of the fight between Clive and Ned that morning and wondered how Grayson would take the news. "Someone should tell Ned what has happened. I'll go. Where would I find him?"

"Ned is in the crosstrees and will be staying there for the day."

It was Jonathan's turn to look worried now. "Is there something I should know Archie? What has he done?"

Archie Kennedy pursed his lips. He looked to be on the verge of speaking but finally shook his head. "Nothing of importance. Ned can tell you if he so wishes."

"Oh," Jonathan hesitated. Archie's strange manner put him at a disadvantage. "I was hoping to speak further with him. I told him as much this morning. There are still matters that I need to settle with him."

"I'm sure there are." Archie's tone was dry. "I'll send for Grayson if you wish to speak with him."

"No need," replied Jonathan replacing his glass on the sideboard. "I'll climb atop after we have dined and speak to him there. It might be better, anyway."

JJ


Part 65

At Dinner

Brown quietly moved between two dark blue uniforms gilded with shoulder epaulettes, one on the left shoulder and the senior on the right. The pleasant gurgle of claret filling crystal glasses was nearly as loud as the polite conversation. Then with a thump and a crash, Laddie Blakeney, Mr. Midshipman Blakeney arrived at the cabin door.

"Begging your pardon, Captain Hornblower, sir," Laddie said breathlessly. "I was attending to Pansy and Petunia when Ajax broke away from Tom and hid between two great casks. I was the only person able to get into the narrow..."

"A moment, Mr. Blakeney," Hornblower said calmly, taking a deep breath before allowing the midshipman to say another word. "Firstly, if you please, explain who or what Ajax is."

Crittenden leaned in, close to Hornblower's ear, and whispered, "Hope it's not a wombat, Horatio. Dear me! Not a wombat, I pray."

Horatio had a hard time keeping a smile off his usually stern features. He raised his right eyebrow and waited. Blakeney, a pretty lad with large gray eyes, looked at him intently.

"Ajax is one of my piglets, sir," Blakeney explained to his captain. "Brown took our money and bought us three piglets to raise in the forepeak. Mr. Wellard said we'll eat them when they're grown. They are very small now, sir. And I promise they will cause no more trouble."

"I commend you and your fellow midshipmen on your industry, Mr. Blakeney. I trust you secured your little charges then before you came to dinner? Duty, first, I always say."

"They are secure, sir." Blakeney said proudly, basking in the captain's good graces for once.

Hornblower couldn't help but smile. He added kindly, "I hope your piglets do well. I'll see that Brown saves all the scraps from my table for you to take to them."

"I'm much obliged, sir. Thank you, sir."

"So after you concluded your duty toward your piglets, you washed and shifted your coat?"

"I shifted my coat, sir," Blakeney said, suddenly shamefaced again and hiding his hands.

"Be so good as to step into my quarter gallery and wash then," Hornblower ordered evenly, with barely a hint of exasperation.

Blakeney nodded and slipped past the other guests. Brown eased himself past the others too, following the boy with a pitcher of water and a towel.

"I do like your servant, Horatio," Peter Crittenden said. "So quiet and efficient."

"Sir Percy loaned him to me. He's quite used to young Mr. Blakeney and immune to all the capers of the other young gentlemen too. He marks the wine bottles and knows immediately if one of the squeakers tries to touch the decanter."

"He's been to sea before?"

"Brown was steward aboard Sir Percy's yacht, the Daydream."

"Oh, Hornblower, I envy you, sir. A real servant. Not a thing to teach him. Quiet, and oh so mindful of your needs," Peter said with a leer at the end of his high praise.

"Very quiet. Discrete too, I might add. So, don't bother questioning him."

"Would I do something like that, Horatio?"

"You might."

"Oh, I might ask him if you sleep with a favourite souvenir of childhood. Not everyone can boast of having a stuffed wombat."

The claret and mental images of Crittenden'(tm)s brothel-like cabin did a great deal to lighten Horatio's mood. If Jonathan Riley were not present, Peter would answer for his attempts at humour.

A moment later, Lieutenant Kennedy stepped closer. "Brown has prepared the youngster and he says we must eat the fish course with our soup. And, both immediately."

Horatio took Peter's arm and led him to the place at his right. Kennedy sat down at the foot of the table with Jonathan at his right hand. Blakeney sat on Kennedy's left. An empty place, Hayworth's, was snatched up after Brown ladled out the soup.

As Brown picked up the silver, Laddie looked perplexed a moment and whispered to Mr. Kennedy. "Where's Clive, sir? Is he not having dinner with us?"

Kennedy put a finger to his lips and shook his head. Even so, Blakeney was not one to heed subtlety. He turned to his captain and asked boldly, "Captain, sir? Where's Clive?"

Peter's hand, under the table caught Horatio's knee. He gave him a pinch which brought his attention to bear upon his fellow captain.

Crittenden replied quietly to Laddie, "It is customary, child, to wait until your captain speaks to you. But, since you bear great love for your friend,
allow me to explain that he lies aboard my ship in the care of my very able surgeon. Mr. Hayworth met with an accident from which we all hope he will soon recover."

Horatio placed his spoon back down upon the table. With his napkin he carefully wiped his mouth. He wanted to daub at his eyes but everyone would notice. He picked up his glass and raised it.

"To Mr. Hayworth's recovery, gentlemen."

"His speedy recovery," echoed Kennedy.

They drank and Horatio recovered himself. The fish was excellent, fresh caught that morning. A roasted lamb seasoned with rosemary and baked apples graced the table next. Fresh baked soft tack and butter were passed around to sop up the rich juice. As usual, Horatio ate sparingly.

The other officers did justice to the meal, and like every midshipman in the fleet, Blakeney consumed his own weight in food. A fine plum duff topped the meal and more than one button was loosened as the gentlemen savoured a rare Beaujolais before preparing to depart for the Wasp to visit its sick berth.

HiH

Part 66

Jonathan goes aloft.


With the ease of years of practice Jonathan ascended to the crosstrees to find Ned.

It was cold in the crosstrees, a bitter wind blew in from the sea. Ned shivered as he watched Jonathan climb. What had he been told?

"Hello Neddy-Love. What have you done this time?" From his welcome it was apparent that Jonathan had not heard the reasons for Ned's punishment. Ned looked down, not knowing what to say.

"Come Ned, it can't have been that bad." Jonathan sat down next to him and leaned close.

"I was in the cockpit with Tom and we were...I KNOW it was a foolish thing to do...but I simply didn't think. I will never be so stupid again."

"Ned, you took a grave risk. You are lucky you are just sitting up here and not hanging by your neck!" The spectre of Jack Kerrison's body jerking on the end of a rope came back like a blow igniting Jonathan's anger. He lashed out, "Don't EVER be so foolish again!"

"But what about YOU?" Ned asked, bewildered by the change. "Only this morning you and I took an even bigger risk? I don't understand how this was any different?"

With a shock, Jonathan was forced to face the truth in Ned's words. He'd hardly set the perfect example for Ned to follow. "Oh Neddy, I am so sorry. I have done wrong by you at every turn." He reached out to brush a cold cheek.

"No," Ned shook his head. "This isn't your fault, I was the one, I know that. You are not to blame." He kissed Jonathan fingers quickly then turned his head away.

"I am sorry for all the trouble I have caused you Jonathan. I promise I will try harder. I really will. When I see Clive I will make my apologies. I spoke too quickly this morning."

"Clive is aboard the Wasp. He was injured whilst in Portsmouth. A blow to the head."

Ned looked back, wide eyed. "Is he all right?"

"He should be. Pike is keeping a close eye on him for the moment."

Ned sighed, "I am sorry Jonathan. Is this somehow my fault? Was he careless because of what I said?"

"No Neddy. It has nothing to do with you or your argument." Why did Ned always think he was the cause of things? Such fatalistic thinking was just one more sign of how deeply troubled Ned still was.

"Neddy, we will be in port for a few more days, but...I think it might be best if...if we end our...relationship now." They were the hardest words Jonathan had ever had to stay. He swallowed and continued. "If we continue like this, snatching moments for pleasure, I will be doing you more harm than good. I would rather that our friendship last than have it torn apart by my fumbling attempts to... satisfy... my lust."

"You don't mean that?" Ned was staring, blue eyes hurting, filling with tears.

"Maybe it's not quite like that Neddy, but the results will be the same. You'll come to hate me because you can't hold onto me. I am sorry. I DO love you, more than I have loved ANYONE ever. I swear that to you."

"More than Jack Kerrison?" The words dripped ice.

"Yes," Jonathan replied without hesitation. He'd already faced this trial as he knelt in the churchyard in Havant. The decision was made.  "Yes, more than I ever loved Jack."

"Oh." For a moment Ned could not accept the words. But the look on Jonathan's face, the love in his eyes, spoke truly.

"It is BECAUSE I love you so, Ned, that we must end this now. There will be a better time to continue. I promise you that. A time when it will not hurt either you or I. Do you trust me?"

Ned nodded and brushed the tears from his eyes. "Yes. But in the meantime? What do we do?"

"We take what comfort when we can from those of our friends who would share such things with us. We use discretion, we are careful and mindful and never rash with our affections. And we wait."

"And we don't suck off the ratings in the cockpit if someone might catch us." Ned couldn't help the wicked smile that burst onto his lips.

Jonathan answered it with one of his own.

"NO, not unless you know the Captain very, very, well!"

They laughed then, their fears and tears blown away.

"But seriously Ned, choose your friends wisely and be discreet."

"I will Jonathan."

They kissed, one last passion filled meeting of lips before Jonathan climbed down to the deck and waited for the Peter to join him for their return to the Wasp.

JJ


Part 67

Aboard the Wasp

Clive swam up through a red sea. His lungs were bursting, but he knew, if he drew breath he'd drown. Up and up toward the light he swam. He was tired and the light hurt his eyes. He suffered increasing pain as he clawed his way to the bright surface. Yet, he was afraid to sink back down, afraid to die. He would disappoint Father if he surrendered to the depths. Mother would be so sad.

A whispering grew louder in his ears as he rose. The mermaids didn't want him to leave the briny deep. They coaxed him to inhale their native element. One pressed upon his chest. Another held his arms. A third tried to open his mouth. Clive felt the liquid enter, bitter on his tongue. The blackness swallowed him again. He went limp.

"The ge'tleman's breathin' again, Mr. Pike," young Sparrow said softly. "Why do you suppose 'e were 'oldin' 'is breath, sir?"

"Don't rightly know, lad," Mr. Pike, the Wasp's surgeon, said calmly, sponging off the young man's sweaty face. "Best we leave 'im be. 'Ope for the best, is all. I dosed 'im good."

A half hour later, Clive began to mutter. Sparrow came closer. He touched the frail young man who twitched and fought the bindings on his arms. Sparrow sponged him the way the surgeon had. The boy relaxed and seemed to sleep.

"Mr. Pike, sir," Sparrow called. "Seems 'e's sleepin' now. Breathin's easy as kiss my 'and."

"Call me if there are any changes."

About five bells, the patient called out again. He began talking about someone named Ned. He said he was sorry. He wanted to be friends and ... He dropped off to sleep again after another dose.

At eight bells of the afternoon watch, Captain Crittenden came aboard with guests. Captain Hornblower and his first lieutenant were led to the sick bay.
They left moments later, agreeing unhappily that Clive could not be moved in his condition. They would sail when he was better. Hornblower looked stricken. Kennedy looked exceedingly worried.

"I beg your indulgence, sir," Captain Hornblower said addressing his brother captain. "Send for me the moment he wakes, or if there is any change."

"Of course. Without delay. Is your surgeon a good man? Would he wish to consult?"

"When I studied with my father, I viewed many cases. Your man has done the right thing. The best remedy is quiet. I felt no depression in the skull. We must trust that Mr. Hayworth will wake in a few hours."

"Mr. Pike said he spoke in his delirium. There is a fighting spirit within him. I maintain high hopes for a speedy recovery."

"How could such a thing have happened?" Horatio wondered, shaking his head. "I must get back and question Styles more closely."

Peter placed a comforting hand on Horatio shoulder. He said softly, "Be assured that he will be well-tended here. And, I can offer you breakfast in the morning. Or, perhaps, a comfortable bed for the night?"

Horatio glanced sidelong, rolling his great dark eyes at Peter. When the winning smile bloomed upon the elfin face, Horatio understood that Peter was trying to cheer him.

"Thank you, but no, sir," Horatio said. "Another time, perhaps."

Peter replied with his familiar smugness, "My pleasure, Captain."

"I'm sure it will be," Horatio whispered under his breath.

Then he and Kennedy ran down the side of the ship and nimbly stepped aboard
Peter's waiting gig for the short row back to the Medusa.

Just as the last dog watch ended, Mr. Riley sat down next to Clive in the sick bay. The surgeon went to his supper. Young Sparrow was attending his captain. There were no other patients.

Jonathan gazed at the pale translucent skin of the injured young man. He brushed back Clive's dark gold hair. At the touch, Clive's eyes opened. He yawned widely.

"Mr. Riley?" Clive asked, blinking. "Are you staying with us?"

"On the contrary, Mr. Hayworth. It seems you are staying with us aboard the
Wasp for a while."

Clive tried to sit up. The bindings arrested his efforts. Fear and confusion clouded his eyes. He tried to look to see what was wrong. Jonathan placed a gentle hand upon the boy's chest and pressed him into place.

"You were hurt. You must lie still."

"I don't remember a thing after I bought the locket at the pawn shop, and then, went looking for my men."

"Styles said you were attacked by thieves."

"They must have seen me pay a guinea for the locket."

"I'm sure they did. What possessed you to flash your heavy purse buying trinkets at dockside?"

"I bought it for Ned. And, I must ask a favour of you. That is, if I still own the locket. Did the thieves get away with everything?"

"Not a thing, young man," Jonathan said soothingly, omitting the fact that Clive's boat crew exacted a high price from the thieves for their crime.

"Look through my coat, then, if you please, sir," Clive said excitedly. "And please, won't you loosen these straps. I promise to lie quiet if you do."

"I suppose I can do so."

More comfortable, Clive gazed up at Jonathan as he examined the locket, opening it and snapping it shut again, nodding at the fine craftsmanship, the weight and the precision of the piece.

"All it needs is a lock of your hair, Clive," Jonathan said softly. "But, why for Ned? You are not the best of friends."

"I planned to ask you, sir, for a lock of your hair. For Ned, sir. To help mend the breach between us."


HiH

Part 68

Jonathan looked at the pale face and wondered what to say. "Clive, I am not sure that would be for the best. Keepsakes of that kind become like....a lead weight around one's neck. It is going to be hard enough for Ned to go without having something like that to remind him of what he is...missing." Jonathan saw the blue eyes grow wide. "Trust me, Clive. I know what I am saying. Ned needs to let go of me now. He needs to make a new start and find new friends. I don't want to be the memory that keeps him from finding happiness."

Clive looked saddened. "I only meant to help him, Mr Riley. He hates me and..."

"It was a generous offer Clive, and Ned doesn't hate you. He was very sorry when he heard of your accident. I think you and he will have no trouble putting your differences to rest. Ned is still very troubled by his past and he tends to act before he thinks. Be patient with him and you will see his true worth as a friend." Jonathan wiped a tear from Clive's cheek. "Come now. Why don't you send the locket to your mother with a lock of your own hair." He thought of his mother long dead and buried in Havant. "I am sure such a thoughtful gift would surprise her."

"Perhaps you are right Mr Riley. She would be distressed if any harm should befall me."

"Close your eyes and sleep now Clive. You must rest for Captain Hornblower is anxious for you to return to him."

"I have been such a disappointment to him since I came aboard. I have achieved nothing and now I have delayed his departure." The worried blue eyes shot opened again. "Do you think he will sail without me?"

Jonathan hid his smile. Hornblower was unlikely to do ANYTHING until Clive was well.

"You have nothing to worry about, Captain Hornblower wouldn't dream of abandoning one of his men. He holds you in high esteem."

Clive grinned and Jonathan winked. "But I didn't tell you that, did I?"

Clive closed his eyes again and Jonathan stroked his head as one would a child. He wondered how he had ever thought to seduce this boy, for that is what he seemed now that he was hurt and needy. Let him be a temptation for Archie and Horatio. Jonathan had enough on his hands at the moment. With a final glance at the sleeping midshipman, Jonathan went to find Peter.


JJ

Part 69

In the captain's cabin aboard the Wasp:

"Hayworth is sleeping again. He seems quite settled." Jonathan closed the door to the captain's sleeping quarters before crossing to where Peter Crittenden was seated on the edge of the desk, idly stroking the wombat in his lap.

"Hmmmp. Of course he would be. After all, Hayworth has the best berth on board." Peter scowled. "You'd think the least Captain Hornblower might have done was to offer me a bed for the night since it is HIS midshipman who is currently occupying mine!"

Jonathan said nothing. The thought of Peter sharing Horatio's bed again disturbed him.

Peter slid off the table in on fluid movement and handed Jonathan the wombat. "I suppose I'll have to wake Sparrow and have him make up the spare berth off the gunroom. Thank the stars our Lieutenant hasn't arrived or I would be sleeping on the tiger skin."

"You're welcome to share my cot, Peter." Jonathan told himself that it was to give them time to talk but Peter's arms would provide a welcome distraction tonight too. The conversation with Ned had left a cold ache in Jonathan's heart.

"Thank you Jonathan." The flippancy was gone. "I'd like that very much." The look in Peter's eyes made Jonathan feel guilty. He owed Peter an explanation, several explanations in fact and it would be unfair to take comfort in his arms without first setting things straight between them.

"What should I do with this?" Jonathan asked holding up the wombat. He was not yet ready to face the cold hard truth that he had to tell his friend.  "And tell me, where ever did you get it? I don't think I have heard that story."

Peter spoke as he potted around the cabin putting things to rights for the morning. "It was a gift from Sir Joseph Banks, I presume you've heard of him?" Jonathan nodded. "I met him once in London and we spent a most unusual afternoon in the basement of a museum. He sent me the wombat the next day with a note saying that it reminded him of me." Peter shrugged. "I could never understand why."

Jonathan studied the wombat for a moment; its nose to the ground and its arse in the air. He shook his head. "No, I can't see any resemblance either," was his tactful reply. He put the wombat on the desk and led the way to his cabin. It was no bigger than a small cupboard and they bumped and knocked each other as they shed their clothes. Finally they settled side by side in the narrow cot.

"It's like old times aboard the Nightingale. Do you remember." Peter's voice was soft in the darkness.

"Yes, but I seem to remember we had more room, back then."

"You've grown, Jonathan." Peter ran his hands across Jonathan's shoulders and down his back as if to verify his words.

"I wanted you back then. Did you realise that?" Jonathan asked. Peter's touch had set him shivering.

"No and it's probably just as well. I wanted you too, but it would have been wrong to take advantage of you.  You were hurting and well...If I had known you wanted me, I never would have had the willpower to refuse."

"Can you refuse me now?" Jonathan asked all thoughts of talking evaporating under the heat and lust that rose in his blood. He'd meant to talk first, explain the situation with Ned, but perhaps it could wait.

"No, never." Peter purred, nuzzling his neck.

"Fuck me?" Jonathan asked. Peter stilled. For a moment Jonathan wondered if he had overstepped some invisible line.

"You've got a dirty mouth at times." There was only amusement in Peter's voice.

"Yes I do." He kissed Peter, long and slow. There was still much they had to learn about each other, their likes, their dislikes, their strengths, their weaknesses. He thought that Peter might refuse, confident that he knew at least that much about his friend's tastes and was pleased to find he was wrong. But the hesitancy that Peter now displayed was so out of place with what he had come to know, that Jonathan was taken aback for a moment. He'd expected something frantic and frenzied, similar to their other encounters. He was unprepared for the slow gentle approaches that Peter now made. His surprise was reinforced minutes later when Peter whispered, "On your side then, Jonathan. I'll take you like that."

Jonathan complied. He wanted to look over his shoulder, gaze into Peter's eyes and look deep into his soul. But soft lips were on his shoulder, warm breath was against his skin and one slender hand was caressing his cock. Jonathan gave himself up to the feelings.

Later as they rested, spooned together, Peter still pressed close against his back, Jonathan said, "You do that as if you were making love to a woman." Somehow the words didn't come out the way he had intended.

There was a moments pause. "Oh and you know something about making love to women?"

"I know a bit. I've had a few. Have you ever had a woman?"

"Jonathan your pillow talk leaves a lot to be desired." Peter sounded tired.

"You're avoiding the question."

"No I haven't and before you ask further, no, I don't want to try it. And I am sorry if my...inexperience disappointed you. You know I prefer it the other way."

Jonathan winced at the angry edge that had crept into Peter's voice. "I didn't mean it like that... there was nothing wrong with what you did. I just wasn't expecting it to be so..." He searched for the word he wanted. "Loving."

Peter gave a breathless little laugh. "I see." He kissed Jonathan's shoulder and slid his lips up to whisper in his ear. "And if I told you that I did love you, would that be unexpected too?"

Jonathan closed his eyes. "Peter, I ..." How was he to say it? How was he to tell this man, his friend, that he loved another?

"Don't say it Jonathan. Don't let there be lies between us. I value your friendship too much to lose it because I didn't have the sense to keep my mouth shut. You know me...always losing my head in the heat of passion. Too sentimental...that's what Robert always said...why...he'd laugh...and...tell me..."

"Peter, please...I am sorry. You KNOW you are my dearest friend." The words seemed grossly inadequate. He turned and took Peter into his arms. "I love Ned, I can't explain it, but I do. I said goodbye to him today and ended our relationship, but I told him that I loved him, more than anyone else. And I meant it."

"Well I asked for your honesty so I suppose I should be pleased." Peter shook his head. "No, I'm not disappointed. I knew the risk I took in Havant. I knew you loved Ned even before YOU did. That's why I spoke to him and then left. You needed to sort things out. I knew I would never have your heart, Jonathan. Your friendship is a great enough prize for me."

"Peter," Jonathan buried his head in the silky black hair. If he was fair, he would let Peter go. But he needed him. It was different to what he felt with Ned. He wanted Ned with a passion that burned hot and crazy, but he needed Peter, needed him in ways he couldn't put into words.

And so he tried to show him just as Peter had done. Show him by making love, but as always, Jonathan lost himself in the sheer physical intensity. He didn't hear the words that Peter whispered as he surrendered up his body to Jonathan, didn't see the look in the green eyes as he cried out in pleasure, didn't feel the gentle kiss against his heart as they lay exhausted afterwards.

Long into the night, long after the start of the middle watch, Peter Crittenden lay awake. He had gambled tonight and he had lost. Lying in Jonathan's arms he felt more alone than he had in many years. There was a bitter irony in all of this; that Jonathan, who fell in love so easily, could not do so with him. Is it because we have been friends for so long?  Perhaps that was it, that Jonathan was unable to see him any other way?

But things were about to change and Ned would be sailing with the Medusa any day now. Perhaps with Ned gone Peter would be able to open Jonathan's eyes to new possibilities?

Peter smiled to himself and snuggled closer against Jonathan's shoulder. Jonathan was his for the next two years. And there was always hope.


JJ



Part 70

Back aboard the Medusa, the midshipmen's berth was buzzing with talk about Mr. Hayworth. Tom had heard the whole bloody story from Oldroyd. At once he flew down to the cockpit with the news. Now, Laddie was inconsolable. Wellard sat with him and repeatedly told him that if Clive were truly dying the Captain would be there at his bedside. And quite probably, the Captain would have all of them there with their shipmate if Clive's wound seemed in the least way mortal. As it were, he must be recovering. They need only wait. He would return, no doubt, in the morning.

Ned shivered in his blanket. He'd been chilled through and through by his mastheading. Worse yet was the ice shard left in his heart by Mr. Riley's farewell. Mr. Kennedy had kindly ordered him a double tot of rum to warm him.
Even so, he could not stop shivering. He refused to take comfort in tears. He lay, miserable and lonely, as the other two whispered on about Hayworth.

Unable to merely listen, Ned cut in, "I, for one, would not miss his false piety."

"What are you talking about, Ned?" Wellard asked, holding the sniffling Laddie.

Ned rolled over to look at them. His eyes were cold and his cheeks were pale in the glow of the lanterns.

Ned replied, "I hope he recovers, as you do. Even so, I can't allow you, especially you Henry, to believe he's the saint among us."


Wellard frowned. He asked, "What are you talking about?"

"Clive acts like an innocent but I know better. Look through his things if you don't believe me. See what he's got in his sea chest. A bottle of scented oil. And he knows how and where to apply it, let me tell you."

Wellard shook his head. He said, "Oh please, Ned. I, for one, introduced my royal yard to Mistress Thumb and her four daughters when I was Laddie's age.
Besides, Captain Hornblower is aware that none of us are saints. He will allow us our privacy if we get along. Our passions are understood as long as we are dutiful to the ship."

Amazed by Wellard's confidence in his superior's tolerance, Ned asked, "Has he said this to you?"

"Not in words, Ned," Wellard said, furrowing his brow, sighing with impatience at Ned's obstinacy while patting Laddie and moving him, so he could look Ned in the eye. "Allow me to explain. I sailed under Captain Sawyer in Renown for two years. For some reason, the captain believed I harboured unclean thoughts, that I disobeyed orders and that I was disrespectful to him. Even after a caning, he believed I was unrepentant. I was caned again. After that, no matter what I did, nothing suited him. I became so fearful of him that he believed me a coward. Only two men stood up for me--the officer of my watch and the fourth lieutenant who was my officer's friend."

"Did you speak at the trial?"

"I stated that Horatio Hornblower saved our ship and every man jack in her.
Lieutenant Kennedy fought with bravery and saved his friend's life during the action, and I believed he was dying from his wound. It was the truth as I saw it."

Ned whispered, stunned at Wellard's candour, "So you serve them loyally now, and to the death, I suppose?"

"Aye, Ned. Like every other man in this ship. And, I think you will too, in time. You'll see."

Ned rolled away from them to think. He didn't want a break with Henry. He wanted him on his side. Ned shivered in silence under his blanket. Then he felt a warm hand stroking his back. He opened his eyes and looked around. Wellard stood by his hammock.

"Make room, Ned. I'll warm you a little, if you'd like."

The words were spoken kindly without the glare of lust.

HiH

Part 71

Ned hesitated. "Thanks you for the offer Henry, but I am in enough trouble as it is. I don't want to make it worse. I'll have to decline." Besides it would hardly be fair to accept Wellard's offer of warmth and comfort, no matter how innocent it might be while Jonathan was probably lying cold and alone thinking over his decision to end their relationship just as Ned himself had been doing earlier.

"Nonsense, Ned. Your lips are blue and you are half frozen. I will simply warm you up for a while." Wellard's eyes twinkled with uncharacteristic warmth. "Lieutenant Kennedy would most certainly agree."

Ned stifled his laughter not wanting to waken the sleeping Blakeney.  He rolled to the side to make room for Wellard. "You think a lot of Mr Kennedy, don't you?" Ned whispered as his friend settled in beside him.

"Yes, I do. But I doubt he has ever noticed me." Wellard wrapped his arms around the shivering body. "That's better, isn't it."

"Yes, much." Ned breathed, snuggling into the warmth. "And I think you might be wrong about Mr Kennedy."

Wellard dismissed the suggestion with a grunt. He turned their conversation in a different direction. "How did you know about Clive's oil? Did you go through his things?"

"No," Ned grumbled, annoyed that Wellard would suspect him of such. "He showed it to me when we were in Havant. AND he used it on me." Ned felt Wellard tense. "No, not how YOU thought it should be used. It's not meant for frigging your Royal Yard, as you call it. At least that is not what Clive did with it, although I dare say that would be as good a use as any for the stuff." Unbidden visions of Henry Wellard doing just that with Clive's oil rose like spectres in Ned's imagination, refusing to be ignored. In desperation Ned continued, "Clive uses it for back rubs...of course we got a little carried away and it became a front rub as well...but...oh...what was I saying?" The warmth of Henry's body pressing against him was suddenly more than Ned could stand. He wriggled, trying to put a little distance between them.

"Keep still, you'll wake Laddie." Wellard's breath was warm against his skin. He tightened his hold.

"You must think me rather loose, but I'm not, truly. There's only been Tom and Clive...and Jonathan of course." Ned was babbling now. Wellard's presence seemed to engulf him, the warm hard body against him, the strong smell of sweat and salt, the gentle breath caressing his face. It was impossible to ignore his growing state of arousal. "I said my goodbyes to Jonathan today...it's over, at least while I am serving on the Medusa. Jonathan thought it best."

"Over? Really?" Henry Wellard considered what Ned's disclosure might mean. He had not thought that sharing the hammock with Ned would prove to be such a distraction. So aware was he of the warm body in his arms that he found it hard to concentrate on what Grayson was saying. "That will be hard for you Ned." Wellard blushed, hoping Ned didn't take his words the wrong way. How could he be so clumsy? "What I mean is..."

"I know what you mean, Henry." Ned replied, squirming again. Any moment now, Henry was going to realise his state of arousal and then there would be hell to pay.

"If you are feeling quite warm now, perhaps I should go back to my hammock?" Wellard declared. Ned's constant squirming was having a most undesired effect on his body. The last thing he wanted was for Ned to think he had manoeuvred this because he hoped for... Wellard's imagination exploded with visions of himself and Ned engaged in various carnal activities. He released Ned suddenly and tried to roll away before his body betrayed him.

"I'm sorry Henry." Ned said quickly, sure now that Herny had detected his state of arousal and afraid he had damned their friendship. "I didn't intend for this to happen. It's just that you make me feel so...it just happened. Honestly."

"You too?" Wellard asked. There was a moments uncomfortable silence before they both laughed. "What a pair we are. No better than..."

"No better than randy midshipmen stuck together in a cockpit." Ned finished for him. "It's my fault, I am terribly sorry. It was all that talk about oil and...er...frigging and such, please forgive me."

"No, it's not you, well...I think it might be you...but Oh...it's because you ...feel...so..."

"Shhh." Ned placed a finger on Wellard's lips. "Let's not start something that we will both regret. And believe me, you WILL regret it tomorrow." He thought of what had happened between himself and Clive at Rose Cottage. That had been a disastrous mistake. "Things done in the heat of the moment are always regretted the next day."

"I think you might be right, Ned." With a sigh Henry prepared to quit the bed. On impulse he leaned a cross and gave Ned a quick kiss on the lips.

It took Ned by surprise and before he could respond Henry had vanished into the darkness, leaving him alone to contemplate the clumsy kiss that had done more to arouse him than all of the Jonathan's more skilful ones earlier.

Ned sighed. Life had just become a lot more complicated.

JJ


Part 72

Up on Deck

Horatio stared toward the little black sloop as the pale setting sun dimmed its yellow stripes. He couldn't help a deep, painful sigh, wringing hands and then a grasp of iron upon the taffrail. Someone moved up behind him. A strong arm circled his waist beneath the boat cloak. Kennedy leaned in closely.

"I'm worried too, Horatio," he whispered. "Yet, all we can do is wait."

Another great sigh escaped the Captain. He relaxed against the firm support of his lieutenant. Horatio murmured, "He looked so young. How will I tell his father if...?"

Archie's hand covered Horatio's where it grasped the rail. Reassuringly, Archie replied, "Edrington understands these things. Ross wears a uniform too. Besides, you yourself believed when you saw him that he would recover shortly, no worse for wear. I'm sure you are right. It's the separation that worries you."

Finally Horatio turned and looked at Archie, exchanging smiles. Horatio said, "You have always been my bright side, Archie. I remember feeling desperate in Kingston while you lay dying. I couldn't imagine going on without you."

"But that's just the point, Horatio," Archie exclaimed, grinning. "You did manage without me. You had a post ship too, by the end."

Shadows crossed the Captain's features again as the memories stirred. "I lost everything when the peace was signed," Horatio said coldly. He paused and then whispered, "You remember how Edrington found me, penniless and bludgeoned behind a stable on the Plymouth Road."

Archie rubbed his friend's broad back beneath the shelter of the boat cloak. He said, "I remember how you embraced me in front of all the guests at Sir Edward's wedding. Oh, what a joyous day."

"And I saw Clive again. How grown up he seemed in his school's uniform standing nearly as tall as his father and Ross. Oh to see him well again, Archie." Horatio gazed once more at the Wasp in the last flickering beams of the winter sun. His knuckles were white from the force of his grip.

With affection, Archie pried loose the long fingers from the taffrail. He led the Captain below. Confidently he said, "We'll see him in the morning and we'll bring him back with us too."

When Horatio reached his cabin, Archie poured him a glass of wine. He drank it down sitting at his desk. Then, snatching paper and pen, he scribbled a list. He called to Brown and thrust the paper at the man. The servant read it, nodded and left.

Horatio looked up at Archie and said with a yawn, "I've sent Brown to lay in a greater supply of root vegetables for soup, two dozen chickens and milk, fresh cow's milk. My father always said milk knitted broken bones better than anything. In the morning, I'll send to one of the Indiamen for fresh ginger. It helps against dizziness and sea sickness. Willow bark must do for the headaches I'm sure he'll have. I'll not have him dosed with laudanum for more than a day or two."

"Where will you berth him?" Archie asked. "Not the midshipmen's cramped and squalid quarters, I trust."

"What do you think of the coach?" Horatio asked motioning toward the small study just off the day cabin.

"It is handy to the quarter gallery. Offers plenty of light and air. And once the decks are flogged dry, it's the quietest place in the ship."

"Brown will be at hand too."

"I suspect that all the midshipmen will take their turns nursing their mate just to have a chance to read your books. Worse than that, I'm afraid that Clive might grow used to the others waiting on him. Does that not worry you, Horatio?"

"Clive is too restless to lay abed longer than he must."

"I hope Ned Grayson joins in their efforts. Ever since Rose Cottage he and Clive have been at odds."

"Nothing like action or a storm to bring the crew together. I think Grayson will behave himself."

Horatio yawned again and sat back in his chair. Archie smiled when he saw his eyelids droop.

"Now, Horatio, may I help you out of your things?" Archie asked, stepping behind and untying his Captain's neckcloth. "You must get some rest tonight. I doubt you'll get much once Clive is back."

"Thank you, Archie. You are right," Horatio admitted, allowing his lieutenant to undress him, act the servant and help him to his hanging cot.

They kissed sweetly after Horatio exacted Archie's promise to get to his own bed. Archie gave his friend's shoulder an affectionate squeeze after pulling up the warm blankets. Then he quietly left the cabin and walked through the peacefully dozing ship to the Gunroom.

HiH


Part 73

In the morning, the Captain's gig was readied and the crew stroked toward the Wasp in stately precision without the necessity of being ordered to stretch out. Hornblower nimbly went up the side to the shrill sound of boatswains' pipes and then down the ladder to Crittenden's little cabin. Memories of Horatio's own pleasurable adventures within the seductive decor coloured the Captain's vision.

Clive, his eyes closed, lay sprawled upon the wide cot like a debauched Ganymede. A feeling of possessiveness flamed within Horatio's heart. He had to resist the urge to rush to the boy and gather him into his embrace.

Clive roused himself at the sound of footsteps, raising his head and trying to look around. A moment later, he grasped the sheets in his hands and slowly turned onto his stomach. Groaning in distress he vomited up bile, collapsing afterward.

The surgeon had wrapped his fair head in a fresh, white bandage. They had clothed him in one of Peter's silken nightshirts. His legs and feet were bare. Horatio caught his breath and paused at the bedside. He turned to his host.

"Is he conscious? Will he be able to return with us?"

Crittenden replied, "He first spoke to our surgeon as he was dressing the wound. Then later last evening, he held a long conversation with Mr. Riley. I'm sure the pain is distressing but the wound is not mortal."

"Praise Heaven, sir! My heart beats again," Horatio whispered. "I was so afraid for him."

Peter nodded and added, "Since you planned to visit in the morning, I felt no need to trouble you last night."

Horatio nodded, his gloom lifting. He said, "I must thank you again, Peter. I am in your debt."

"There is an easy way to compensate me," Peter said with a leer and a jerk of his chin toward the stuffed wombat perched up on a book shelf.

Horatio's statement lightened into mirth. He chuckled and said, "At our first moment of leisure, sir, I shall be at your disposal."

"I look forward to it with warm anticipation, sir," Peter said squeezing his brother captain's wide shoulder.

At ease finally, Horatio approached Clive and touched his hair. He said, "How is our patient doing?"

Clive stirred and opened his eyes. They were bright blue and free of mist. From his statement, Horatio knew he had recognised his visitors. He tried to sit up. Suddenly his features paled and he fell back at once putting his hand over his eyes.

"Forgive me, sir," Clive whispered. "Vertigo."

"Keep your eyes closed and I will carry you," Horatio instructed him, sliding his arms under the boy's body and lifting him up. "Make no movement of your own. Rest your head against my shoulder."

"I'm afraid I'll be sick again," Clive moaned, pressing his face to the thick wool uniform of his beloved captain.

"No matter, lad," Horatio said. "Be at ease. You'll be home in a few strokes of the oars."

"Am I sent home, sir?" Clive asked mournfully.

"I meant home to Medusa, Clive. Unless you wish to return to your parents."

"Oh no, sir," Clive said glancing up into his Captain's face. Then he buried his sore head into the firm shoulder again adding, "I'll recover, I promise. It was good of you to wait, sir."

With immense care, Horatio passed the gangly youth down the side of Wasp to the waiting arms of Archie Kennedy whose face mirrored Horatio's inner pain. Settled into the stern sheets, they held him gently as waves rocked the gig and nausea wracked Clive's frame. The boy seemed so pale in the weak winter sun. He shivered and admitted he felt cold. Archie took his icy hands into his own and breathed on them.

Medusa's midshipmen waited at the accommodation ladder ready to receive their wounded comrade. Mr. Matthews, the boatswain, shrilled his pipe at the Captain's return. Wellard and Grayson took Clive by the shoulders as Kennedy lifted him up. Matthews supported the long legs. Horatio led them to his private study known as the coach. It had already been rigged with a spacious cot, warm blankets and a basin. There, the mids installed Clive.

Hornblower observed their serious expressions. He thought he saw a look of fear on Wellard's face. Laddie was openly weeping. Grayson seemed cool and efficient. Yet, he was tender too in his actions. Horatio noticed the careful way Ned stroked back a wayward lock of Clive's hair. Once the patient was comfortable, the Captain dismissed the midshipmen. He would call them by turns to sit with their mate.

Archie stayed at the door. He spoke a moment with the servant.

"Brown has soup on the boil, Horatio." Archie told him softly. "Do you think Clive might take a cup? Something hot, at least? His hands felt like ice to me."

"Yes, a little soup. He'll throw most of it up. Regardless, some nourishment
will remain in him."

Cup and a small spoon in hand, Archie sat next to Clive. Horatio paced the deck, his hands behind his back in mimicry of dearly missed Captain Pellew. Horatio looked away quickly as Clive retched again and Kennedy held a thick napkin under his chin.

"My head hurts, sir. All the laudanum has worn off, I'm afraid," Clive said in a weak murmur.

"Horatio? Captain?" Kennedy said looking up at his friend, pleading with his eyes.

"Willow bark, Archie," Horatio said. "I'll ask Brown to bring him a draught."

"Try a sip of wine, dear boy," Archie said, encouragingly. "It will warm you too."

The wine remained in Clive's stomach and with it came drowsiness. Kennedy turned the poor youth on his side, laid a fresh napkin under his cheek and pulled up the woollen blanket. Then Kennedy stood, walked to the dresser and washed his hands. He glanced back at Clive and caught the Captain staring intently at the young man.

"He'll be all right, Horatio," Archie said as confidently as he could.

"I love him, Arch," Hornblower whispered. "My heart is breaking. What shall I do?"

A half dozen platitudes floated to the surface of Kennedy's consciousness. None of them seemed quite appropriate. Silently, he stepped toward his friend. He embraced him and kissed his cheek.

"It hurts me to see you suffer," Archie said at last. "So, in truth I know how you feel."

"I feel so helpless. He's only a boy."

Archie stroked Horatio's temples. Their sighs mingled and they leaned against one another.

HiH

Part 74

A discrete knock and Brown entered with a breakfast tray loaded with toasted soft tack, bacon, omelettes and two pots of tea.

"The Chinese pot is yours, gentleman," Brown told them quietly. "The red one is young Mr. Hayworth's willow bark. I've added some honey to help get it down. I hope I did the right thing, sir."

"Perfectly, as usual, Brown," Horatio said smiling.

The Captain sat down at his desk and waved at a chair. Brown neatly set the plates in front of Hornblower and the tea service in the centre. Then he swept up the chair and arranged Archie's place to the Captain's right.

"Please be seated, Archie," Horatio said. "Will you be so kind as to fill your own plate? I'm not a good host."

"I'd rather see you eating something. You'll make yourself ill by worrying so."

"What if I'm wrong, Archie? What if he needs to go to hospital?"

"My advice is to send immediately for Doctor Maturin. We both know he is a physician of remarkable skill."

"His advice would ease my heart," Horatio said picking at the omelette Brown dished up for him.

Archie folded a few slices of bacon in a piece of soft tack. With a full mouth he said, "Surprise is in port. I'll go myself."

Doctor Maturin declined an invitation to dine with Captain Hornblower since he was bespoke already. He was due at the Lamb at six bells of the forenoon watch to ride with Captain Aubrey to Ashgrove Cottage. Yet the Doctor was happy to see a new patient and he readily concurred with Hornblower's diagnosis.

Hayworth had received blunt trauma to his head. He suffered concussion but not a depressed fracture. He had survived four and twenty hours. The likelihood of seizures and death grew smaller with each passing hour. All of the young man's physical symptoms, dizziness, blurred vision and nausea, were to be expected. Fortunately, within a week they would lessen and finally disappear.

The young gentleman was to remain in bed, quiet and unmolested, for not less than three days. When the nausea and headache diminished he might read and walk about. Only when all symptoms ceased, could he resume his active duties. In the meantime, he must refrain from all tobacco and spirits. He must be fed a low diet for a week. After a week, he was to very gradually increase his consumption of meat and fish. A little wine at bed time was allowed, but no grog under any circumstances for a month.

"How do you feel concerning the use of willow bark tea, Doctor," Horatio asked. "For the pain."

"Most of us medicoes use tincture of laudanum for pain, Captain Hornblower," Maturin said. "Have you a grudge against the poppy, sir?"

"I knew two men who faced the struggle of quitting the drug. I remember how hard it was for them."

"Use the bark then, by all means, sir," Maturin replied. "I too know of the poppy's lure and its claws. I would wish it upon no man."

"Good day to you then, Doctor," Horatio said, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "I pray I may be of service to you in future."

"I think I shall beg an embrace from your lieutenant, sir," Maturin said softly. "By all the Saints, bless you, Kennedy. Does the old wound cause you any suffering?"

"None at all, Doctor," Kennedy said beaming. "Allow me to kiss the hands that saved my life."

Kennedy took up the Doctor's hands and raised them to his lips. Kennedy's bright blue eyes sparkled when they met Maturin's pale eyes. Then, the men embraced again. They kissed full on the mouth. Horatio saw tears brim in both pairs of eyes and hang like dewdrops upon the long lashes of each man. He felt his own heart swell. His tears threaten to spill down his cheeks too. The Doctor patted Kennedy's chest and spoke again.

"Oh 'twas your strength within, lad. The strength of yer wild heart," Maturin said, his Irish accent growing stronger with the warm emotions.

A final look at the patient, then Kennedy escorted Maturin to Jack Aubrey's gig where Barrett Bonden caught him neatly and set him safely in the stern sheets. Archie waved and Maturin returned the gesture. A moment later, Ned Grayson walked over, stood tall next to him and in seaman like fashion waited.

"Yes, Mr. Grayson?" Kennedy asked mildly, wondering what might be on the young man's mind.

"Permission to tend the wounded, sir," Grayson said.

Kennedy cocked his head and raised his right eyebrow. He said, "The last time you and Mr. Hayworth exchanged words, they were heated ones. Are you master of yourself, sir?"

"Aye, sir. Completely."

"At seven bells then. Bring a book. I think you may read to him."

"At seven bells with a book it is, sir," Grayson echoed, a serious look masking all other emotions.

Kennedy nodded and looked out over the water toward H.M.S. Surprise. He owed his life to Doctor Maturin and now he felt assured that Clive Hayworth would recover too. He grasp the taffrail and looked into the sluggish waters of the anchorage. A thrill of excitement surged. Tonight they set sail. In a few weeks, they'd lie on tropic sand beaches under the sighing palms. The very thought warmed him and he nearly laughed aloud.

HiH

Part 75


At noon, the two remaining midshipmen, Laddie Blakeney and Henry Wellard,
practiced with their sextants under the guidance of Captain Hornblower himself. The ship rode at single anchor now, the blue peter flying in the winter wind. On the ebb, they would sail for the Lizard, out into the offing, hoping for a good breeze that would send them southward clear to Cape Finisterre avoiding the rough seas and sudden storms of the Bay of Biscay.

For the past hour, Lieutenant Kennedy listened from the Captain's day cabin for any hint of heated words between Ned Grayson and Clive Hayworth. True to his word, young Midshipman Grayson read to his shipmate. He sponged his face after he vomited up his second cup of willow bark tea and consoled him in his aching misery. Grayson seemed genuinely concerned. He even seemed to feel somewhat responsible for Hayworth's condition. Why he would think the attack was his fault, Kennedy couldn't begin to understand.

At two bells of the afternoon watch, Blakeney knocked softly and offered to sit with Clive. He wanted to tell him all about his piglets and how Tom was helping him build the pen. Clive waved the younger boy away begging Ned to stay on another hour, at least through the hardship of his meal. Solicitously, Ned agreed promising Laddie that he'd have his turn entertaining their mate after dinner.

Brown brought in chicken broth thickened with powdered biscuit, boiled carrots and potatoes. Clive managed a few mouthfuls before he was sick again. He drank a pint of lemon water and that stayed in his stomach longer than most things. He was drenched in sweat and he complained of a stabbing pain behind his eyes which he refused to open. He refused more of the soup. He was breathing hard from his efforts to control his nausea.

"I'm sorry, Ned," Clive gasped as he rolled to his stomach and reached blindly for the basin.

"Never you mind, Clive," Ned whispered, holding his friend's head until the retching stopped and then easing him back down onto the cot. "You'll be well again soon."

Clive held Ned's hand fiercely. From beneath his firmly closed eyelids, tears escaped. His face was twisted in pain. He choked back another wave of sickness and rolled to his stomach again.

Up came the water this time as Ned held his head over the porcelain bowl. With tenderness, Ned eased Clive back onto the heap of pillows. He wiped Clive's mouth and offered him more lemon water. He held the cup as Clive drank greedily. He sponged the younger man's neck and chest. Clive was in a sweat from the sickness despite the drafts from the scuttle. In a few minutes, Ned pulled the blankets over Clive's shivering limbs when the chills began.

"You're cold because you are empty, Clive," Ned whispered. "Try another spoonful, a very little spoonful."

"Later, Ned," Clive said. "If I'm still living."

"More Tales of Camelot then?"

"No..."

"What then?"

"Please, Ned. Go look in the pocket of my coat."

Ned left the bedside and walked to where Brown had hung up Clive's uniform jacket. He fished through the pockets. A fine handkerchief, a little, but very heavy purse, a button, something heavy in a scrap of black velvet.

Ned was puzzled. Frowning, he asked, "I found your money. You are not trying to pay me for my services, are you, Clive?"

"Did you find the locket, Ned?"

Trembling, white porcelain fingers opened the velvet scrap. Shining silver lay in Ned's palm. He clicked it open.

"It's empty. Was it meant to have your picture, Clive?"

"Do you want it, Ned?"

"Your picture? Well, I suppose so. We are supposed to be friends. Isn't that so?"

"Ned, this is hard for me. Please understand."

Ned returned to the bedside. He took up Clive's hand and said, "Hush, Clive. I'm sorry too. Forget what we said in anger. All that is past."

Eyes still squeezed tightly shut, Clive went on, "The locket is for you, Ned. I bought it for you to keep a lock of Mr. Jonathan's hair. I even presumed to ask him to help me. To give me a lock."

"He refused," Ned said coldly. "Didn't he?"

"At first I thought he'd agree. Then he sat at my bedside and explained that things like this locket are too heavy to bear. Memories bind and weigh down
the heart. He wants you to be free, Ned."

"So, you are making me an offer?" Ned asked, his voice like the winter breeze.

"I bought the locket for you, Ned, not for us. Not unless you want it to be for us. Rather, choose who you will. See?"

HiH


Part 77

Forward in the Manger

Styles and the carpenter helped Laddie and Tom contain the three piglets. Cook found the creatures a fine trough, an old bread barge. He gave the boys a small bucket to carry fresh water to the animals, reminding them that animals needed clean water twice a day, just like men.

After the men's dinner, Robin Goodfellow, the hand assigned to care for the officers' ducks and chickens made his acquaintance. Roger Jolly, the Old Pirate, visited the manger too. He was the ship's butcher and he knew a lot about pigs having a grass-combing father with a heavy stick.

Tom nodded and seemed to understand the man far better than Laddie. Laddie was not sure he liked a man who licked his lips so around the little piglets, talking of nothing but curing bacon and hams. The man did show them where pigs liked to be scratched, up behind their ears like horses and along the ridge of the back.

Then the man took out a very sharp knife. He stared Laddie in the eye and said, "There's one that needs geldin', sir."

Laddie jumped at the flash of the blade. Then, he held his ground, staring wide-eyed in the gloom of the forepeak. Finally, he mastered his voice and said, "Put that knife away. Away, do you hear?"

The big man, able to wrestle down a bullock, meekly slipped the knife back into its sheath. He knuckled his forehead and nodded, saying only, "Aye, aye, sir."

Tom spoke up. "Jolly's right, sir."

Goodfellow tugged on Jolly's arm. "Tell the officer it won't hurt the little piglet more than a moment. Will keep him gentle and he'll fatten faster."

Laddie sucked in a great gasp of air when he realized he was alone in his opinion to keep Ajax whole. "No!" he shouted. "I won't allow it."

Jolly assured him with a nod of his head, and another salute, that he'd heard him and that the piglet would not to be touched. He was not a cruel man. He told Mr. Blakeney that he had had a few pets too in his childhood. No animal suffered at his hand until the final, swift blow.

When Goodfellow thought Midshipman Blakeney was near tears, he suggested that the piglets be raised as breeding stock. The two females would have fine, big litters. Then, the new piglets could be fattened and they could serve as hams and bacon. Laddie nodded and agreed, anything to push the day of slaughter into the dim future.

Of course, the other midshipmen must agree, Jolly reminded them. And the pigs could die of the measles as easily as they could thrive, he told them. Any of a number of ailments afflicted pigs. Then Goodfellow recalled that the Captain had the final say. Even so, Laddie was determined. He promised to speak to the other midshipmen, to tend the piglets faithfully and to speak to the Captain. Tom rolled his eyes, but nevertheless, he volunteered to help him. Through all the talk of their fates, the piglets slept, snuggled deep in their clean straw beds.

HiH

The End
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