Thirteenth Dispatch - [written]

[captainhornblower]

[Horatio Hornblower is never unaware of the date, but lately he has been able to note it without thinking about it.

He has been here nearly eleven months. If time does not stop as others claimed... He will have been declared dead, at best, or a deserter at worst. His wife will have given birth. He will have a two-month old child whose mother is sure it will never see its father.

Perhaps it's been subtly looking after Archie this last while that prompted such thoughts. Perhaps its the coming of Spring. Perhaps its the thought of sailing Britannia, feeling the wind in his face.

The last is the easiest thought.]

Monday, April 2nd

Weather permitting, training of the crew of Britannia will begin on Monday, April 9th, at two bells in the forenoon watch.

Nine o'clock in the morning.

The first lesson will be regarding the use of bells to keep time.

Two bells in the afternoon watch will mark the time for a crew meal.

At four bells in the afternoon watch, lessons will resume. They will last until four bells in the first dog watch.

Attendance this first day in mandatory, so Mister Kennedy and I may get a practical view of what is already known and what must be taught. Mister Kennedy will head the actual instruction for the most part, but I will be observing.

This will be only be cancelled for heavy rainfall and strong winds.

[It shouldn't even be cancelled for that, but... As Archie is always reminding him, these are pure volunteers, able to leave at any time.]

Mister Kennedy and I would welcome any further volunteers to Britannia for this beginning of intruction.

Hornblower

Comments

[Written]

[shadedsunlight]

[She probably shouldn't be moving around too much with her injury, but:] I'll be there.

[Written]

[captainhornblower]

Good. I'll expect you there.

[Really, he expects everyone there, but. Matter at hand.]

[Written]

[shadedsunlight]

I am afraid to say I'll be slightly less mobile due to a leg injury, but I will be there.

[Written]

[captainhornblower]

[One injured. Wonderful. Nothing to be done about it, he supposes.]

We'll see what accommodations we can make.

[Written]

[shadedsunlight]

Something to sit on or lean against is all I ask for. No need to provide any other special accommodations for me.

[written]

[truthin_bones]

[It's his handwriting that catches her eye and makes her pause to actually read the entry accompanying. The script is more like that she would expect to see in an 18th century letter than in a book on an alien planet.

And so the message that is left has very little to do with the topic at hand.]

I am curious as to the year in which you come from.

[written]

[captainhornblower]

1805.

[written]

[truthin_bones]

And the Britannia?

[written]

[captainhornblower]

Pardon me.

I ought to have provided a proper introduction.

Captain Horatio Hornblower of His Britannic Majesty's Navy.

A friend of mine-- Lieutenant Archie Kennedy-- helped design and build a ship here in Luceti, which he entrusted to me as captain. The Britannia.

[written]

[truthin_bones]

Doctor Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institute. Of the year two thousand and eleven. It serves as both an active research institution and museum. Even though I work within the Medico-Legal lab as a forensic anthropologist, I have experience in the archaeological field as well.

I would very much love to see her.

[written]

[theoniongirl]

[the small snapshot by the note is familiar enough, though the wild curls are tamed and carefully pinned into place. For once, it seemed she'd avoided getting paint in the dark strands...though she still had a smudge of charcoal alongside her nose that she apparently hadn't noticed, yet.

The handwriting that accompanies it, though, is entirely unfamiliar. Her notes have always been legible, but sometimes that was the best that could be said for it. Her care with form always seemed to be carefully reserved for her art.

Now, though, the letters are clear and (if somewhat rushed) neatly formed. It could have been a change wrought by intensive practice...except it had only been a day since she'd written to Horatio last]

All work and no play, Captain Hornblower?

[written]

[captainhornblower]

[...Unfamiliar handwriting and a more proper address than he is used to...

But the picture...

It's most certainly Jilly. So then why...]

But of course, Miss Jilly.

[written]

[theoniongirl]

[there's a flicker of surprise at that, caught in the snapshot as her pen hovers above the page. It wasn't that they hadn't settled into more familiar terms of address in private. She'd never been one to set a great deal of store in propriety, and a year spending time with women such as Buffy and Amelia had left her all too willing to put aside such formalities.

But without a filter, this was very nearly public...and while she might have been rather loose with social mores, Horatio never was. It's when the ink blots that she realizes she's taking too long to respond, and she jots another short note in that unfamiliar hand]

And if spring storms come to ruin your hard work? What then?

[written]

[captainhornblower]

Ships sail in fair and foul weather.

[It's a rote response. He's far more curious about the surprise in her face. If anything, she teases him more when he's proper. But she's never surprised.

What in God's name...]

[written]

[theoniongirl]

And yet you've mentioned that they might not in such a case as this.

[she's still a bit surprised, but it's fading quickly, a familiar smile pulling at her lips] And if you weren't to work in the rain, would you play then? Careful, or they might begin to realize that you know how to smile.

action

[wouldntbetonit]

[He sees the post, obviously. He makes sure to check the blasted thing once in the morning and once in the evening. Daylight hours are reserved for chores and attempting to stave off restlessness in the form of pathetic gardening and knot tying when he sits still.

He might resort to trying to learn to swim soon if he has to. Which would be a fantastic disaster, of course.

When he sees Hornblower's post, Bush has a debate with himself on how to exactly go about it. Should he write? Should he simply meet with him in person? It infuriates him just how unsure he is of himself with this and his pride wins out with him standing at the threshold of Horatio's quarters, asking for permission to speak with him.]

action

[captainhornblower]

Enter.

[Sometimes, especially times like this, he is still all captain. He is at his desk, and he sits up a bit more at the knock.]

action

[simplestgift]

Archie sits in the parlour with tea and a book. Again. Paying no attention tot he book. The next time he sees Horatio, he'll speak up evenly.

"Making your own announcements at last."

action

[captainhornblower]

"It's a poor captain who cannot command his crew."

Yet there's hesitation in the words. He doesn't like the uncertainty, but it's there. After all, he has to weigh a volunteer crew who can leave at any time with the press of command. If he cannot hold some authority, they are all worthless in this endeavour. Yet if there is no way to enforce his will, he has no power over them.

And here, there is no way to enforce his will.

Thank God they had no battle to worry about.

[simplestgift]

"There's been no uproar over the journals. Perhaps you're improving."

[captainhornblower]

"Yet." He was not going to hold out his hopes and be optimistic about this.

[simplestgift]

His face falls. He looks away for a moment.

"People were prone to it back home, I expect. At least ashore. At sea, it became a virtue."

[voice]

[makeitquick]

Aud that, Captain. Fray's in.

[voice]

[captainhornblower]

[At her first words, he's not sure whether he ought to be cross or not... but the last answer that for him.]

Good.

[voice]

[makeitquick]

[A little salute at the book. See you then]