Seventh Dispatch - [voice]/[action]

[captainhornblower]

[Horatio Hornblower's voice is very calm, very quiet. It sounds... not even curious. He is almost stating a fact, rather than asking a question.]

Lieutenant Bush's things are gone.

Why? What is the meaning of this?

[His housemates... will find him in his own room now, seated at his desk, the journal lying open in front of him-- if they dare disturb.]

Comments

[simplestgift]

Perhaps she'll have to tell us her name herself, then.

[That was the sort of thing Jack would say, wasn't it?]

[captainhornblower]

I think we'll find the right name, yes.

[He smiled just faintly and looked at Archie.]

Something fit for a proper voyage, fit for battle...

[simplestgift]

[Like the Lieutenant Bush. Except that would be rather awkward if the real Lt. Bush ever came back.]

Like the Indefatigable. But I'll try drawing a few plans for her. She might not end up much, but she'll be ours, and bigger than anything else that sails these waters.

[captainhornblower]

God, the Indy.

[Horatio couldn't help but grin at the thought.]

I loved Hotspur... She was mine. First proper command. [Retribution, he didn't count.] But she could never be the Indy.

She'll always be home.

[It's a warm, affectionate tone, far, far fonder than he's spoken about his wife... Or much else.]

[simplestgift]

She will be. Always. [There's a long pause. This is a moment that calls for...] Brandy or whiskey, Mr. Hornblower?

[captainhornblower]

[A thought, and he gets up to accompany Archie.]

One glass of brandy.

[simplestgift]

That seems appropriate. [Heading to the kitchen now.] To celebrate the time we had with him. [The chance, in a way, to say a second goodbye and end on a better note.]

[captainhornblower]

[He followed, smiling slightly. Then, quietly.] What would I do without you?

[simplestgift]

Quite likely fall over and die, Mister Hornblower. [he didn't miss a beat. He grabs two snifters and starts filling them with the last contents of a bottle he'd opened with William not too long ago. A powerful wave of sadness washes over him as it empties.

He's really gone.

A moment later, he sets the bottle down and forces a smile at Horatio.]

[captainhornblower]

Something like that, I'm sure.

[He takes one of the glasses and holds it up slightly, meeting Archie's eyes.]

To friendship.

[simplestgift]

[Archie raises his glass.] To friends.

[captainhornblower]

[It's little different than when he first came here, Horatio assures himself. William safely in England, him here with Archie. And Mister Wellard, certainly.

No worse than when he arrived. But to have had another friend here and lost them...

Horatio takes a deep drink rather than think about it too much.]

[simplestgift]

[When Archie swallows, relishing the burn of the brandy as it goes down, he pauses for a moment of contemplation.]

There's a book, Horatio, in the Welcome Center. It's for anyone who arrives to look at. People write to friends who've gone home in it so that if they ever return, they'll know who's waiting for them.

[captainhornblower]

Perhaps we'll hunt it up, then.

[He takes another drink of brandy. His mind has gone to the best consolation he has, other than Archie's presence.]

A twenty-two. [Large enough to warrant a post-captain's command, unlike his poor eighteen-gun Hotspur...

God, if he wasn't homesick. Not for England. Not for Maria. For a ship at sea.

He laughs.] Hopefully books will be helpful enough. I'm no carpenter, that's certain.

[simplestgift]

And where will we find the lumber, I wonder? [Archie swirls his brandy a bit before taking another drink.]

[captainhornblower]

If we must, we can always haul from the forest.

[A long haul, yes, but if it was necessary to build a ship...]

[simplestgift]

Two days' haul, through the tunnel. Not to mention we've never built a ship before, Horatio. This could take years.

[The kitten's squeak is heard in front of the couch. Thoughtlessly, Archie leans forward, picks him up, and places him on the couch, where he promptly begins to purr and rub.]

[captainhornblower]

[Absently, Horatio reached over, his long fingers arching to stroke at the kitten's head, tucking under to rub at the throat... just generally doting on the small creature he had yet to be seen to really even touch at all.]

It could.

[simplestgift]

We could ask for help from the town. Tell them it would be best to have it in case of an attack by sea from the Third Party. We might find a crew that way, as well. An actual man of war.

[captainhornblower]

There's an idea. [Horatio nodded, scratching under the cat's chin absently.] And if we were done... There's a smithy here...

If we could get just one cannon. And somehow get powder and shot. It wouldn't be proper training, not with being able to do a full broadside, but we could at least train gun crews. Just so we could be ready.

[A proper fighting ship with a proper fighting crew.]

[simplestgift]

The Malnosso might give us guns if there is need for fighting. They did in the last battle.

[captainhornblower]

If we could get just one, though, before a need arose, we could at least teach them the motions and try to work on speed. It wouldn't be the same as when you've got ten guns loading and firing at once, but it also wouldn't be having to train them on the eve of battle.

[He knew he was getting ahead of himself. They had to build the thing before they thought about fighting with her. But it was a strangely pleasant thought-- having a sloop-of-war, having a crew, training a crew, being ready to put up a fight if there was ever a sea battle.

It was an ideal. A sort of dream. And right now, that was just what he needed.]

[simplestgift]

Don't put the cart before the horse, Horatio. We need a ship first.

[captainhornblower]

Hopefully this place's library will have books on constructing ships of war.

[He almost laughs... half out of worry that they won't.]

[simplestgift]

Surely they will have one. You've seen the size, haven't you? Though we might want to begin with something smaller. A small boat, perhaps, till we know what we're doing.