Captain Horatio Hornblower (
captainhornblower) wrote2011-08-04 01:09 pm
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Sixth Dispatch - [action]
[Horatio Hornblower possessed a naturally quiet disposition. He preferred thinking to speaking more often than not. He was also often considered to be... "prone to melancholy" if a friend were speaking, "ill-tempered" if described by others. The two traits engaged and furthered one another constantly. When he thought for long periods of time about things that were not an imminent battle, his spirits sank. The worse his mood, the more he thought.
To stimulate the mind and make its burden easier to bear, Hornblower walked. Paced. The length of a quarterdeck suited perfectly, but Hotspur was long out of reach. Even the damned Retribution would have answered, but it, too, was far away.
Instead, he walked the length of a small wooden bridge over and over. That it was a known haunt for a particular pirate had either not crossed the Navy man's mind or had been dismissed. The click of his heels across the planks made him feel more at home. His solemn, focused expression remained unchanged with every step he took and every turn made to walk the path again as his customary hour became three.]
To stimulate the mind and make its burden easier to bear, Hornblower walked. Paced. The length of a quarterdeck suited perfectly, but Hotspur was long out of reach. Even the damned Retribution would have answered, but it, too, was far away.
Instead, he walked the length of a small wooden bridge over and over. That it was a known haunt for a particular pirate had either not crossed the Navy man's mind or had been dismissed. The click of his heels across the planks made him feel more at home. His solemn, focused expression remained unchanged with every step he took and every turn made to walk the path again as his customary hour became three.]
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Gotcha!
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He'd only felt this way, only thought in these same patterns, once before. He'd thought as diligently about how to handle Captain Sawyer-- if only because the horror of even thinking about mutiny had been shock enough to his system to keep him awake during long watch hours.
But now there were so many other things to consider. Archie's opinion of what he was planning. William's. Young Mr. Wellard's.
God help him if he dragged them into another Renown.
He stopped in his pacing when he finally turned about once and caught sight of a familiar figure. He nodded, as if he thought the man had just approached.]
Archie.
[...And there was a girl with him. A small girl. How odd.]
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This is Selphie. You remember Selphie?
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[Surely Archie means that this is her younger sister.]
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[As for Archie...]
I caught him all by myself.
[Because clearly the cure for any type of brooding involves little kids, right?]
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Did you now?
[Tall as he is, he leans over, not quite kneeling but bringing himself a bit closer to her height.]
Quite the accomplishment for a little lady.
[And then a look to Archie. Baffled. And yet... stranger things have happened, certainly... At least in this place.]
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[And then she's beaming at the two men like this is completely normal.]
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It might be that Hornblower was not yet familiar with Jack Sparrow's interrupt the Navy captain policy. It would be Sparrow's duty to acquaint him with that policy.]
'Allo, Hornblower! Why don't you choose a side, man? You're putting down the trout.
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What in God's name--
[It had almost been a shout, but it stopped as soon as he truly saw the man.
Jack Sparrow.
Hornblower drew himself up at the same time that he forced away the anger. He would not give Jack Sparrow the satisfaction of seeing him angry. Not more than that slight bit.
...Besides, this was a friend of Archie's, much as he disliked the idea. A friend of Archie's. Who was going to take Archie sailing. Taking Archie to sea.
He steeled himself and nodded his head once.]
Captain Sparrow.
[He was trying for civility.]
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He was sure that was coming.]
It's the closest thing I could find-- in length, sound, and feel-- to a quarterdeck.
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[He will, for the moment, pretend to ignore the remark about madness.
Just as he will not remark that, unlike this man, his crew has the sense not to disturb him. He's only vaguely aware that he is left alone because his first lieutenant appointed himself in charge of seeing that the captain went unbothered through his morning routines.]
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[And Jack settles back against the railing of the bridge, arms folded, and simply watches. It is a very active, accusatory, mocking sort of watching, even though he's not saying a word.]
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Damn him. Damn that look, that expression. Damn him.
But Hornblower is set on his course. He will not provoke a confrontation. Or at least he does not intend to do so.]
Shall I take my leave, Captain Sparrow?
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Besides, watching the rain from indoors felt melancholy...but being out in it, that was something else entirely.
She's in a thoughtful mood herself, though more peaceful than pensive, when she catches sight of a form pacing on the bridge. The height is wrong for it to be Jack, but it's only when she's closer that she actually recognizes Horatio making his way back and forth over the small space.
Curious...and maybe a little concerned, she'll make her way over to stand by the railing...not quite in his path, but not quite out of it, either]
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The idea of a mutiny here. His friends. The people he was responsible for. How many innocent lives might be dragged into this insane action? How many people would die? How many people would be considered ringleaders and punished? What would become of those who joined but were not killed?
It was with these thoughts in mind that he did not even see Jilly where she stood. He did not run into her, but their shoulders clipped. He swore under his breath and turned.]
Pardon, I--
[The canned apology stopped, and he ducked his head sheepishly when he saw that not only had he managed to clip someone, no. He'd knocked into a woman. And Jilly at that.]
Miss Jilly. I'm sorry. I didn't see you there.
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The question strikes him. Not as peculiar, no, though that was his second thought. His first (and then third) thought was how appropriate the question was.
Because, as she had said, he was not in this place. Not while he paced.
When he answered her, his voice was low, contemplative.]
Somewhere between Renown and Hotspur, on the quarterdeck.
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To be back on the Hotspur... He'd like nothing more. That is precisely what he longs for. To have Hotspur back beneath his feet, spokes of the wheel in his hand, to hear Matthews on the bosun's pipe when he came aboard, to be back on his ship.
But the Renown... Dark and treacherous, the woodwork laced with blood and pain. He left that ship long ago and has always tried to never go back, even in his mind, yet he often finds himself there when he sleeps. It occupies a place as dark as or darker than Justinian in the recesses of his mind.
Was it a good trip?]
Are you well, Miss Jilly?
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Much better. Len's even stopped making faces when I leave the house. [well, not entirely. But it was near enough that she figured it counted]
How about you? What has you out walking in the rain? [for her, it was second nature. But there weren't too many others she'd met who actually liked standing out in it for longer than they had to]
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[Habit. And a way to calm his fraying nerves, recollect his scattered thoughts, and try to make some sense of them.]
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