captainhornblower | Second Dispatch

Second Dispatch - [written]

December 2nd,

I have asked a few individuals before my time with our [His pen hesitates, but he doesn't know what they can see. Since this book is obviously magical, he may as well be cautious.] hosts, and now, given the task they assigned me, I wish to ask the community at large.

In your harbour, there is a sloop-of-war with British colours on her called Britannia. Does she have a captain here?

I believe, with a bit of work (as she has been adequately maintained but requires attention in a few areas), she would be ready to take to sea come spring, provided there is a crew to do it. I am willing to [eager to, desperate to] take on that responsibility, but I would not wish to interfere with an already-present chain of command.

H. Hornblower

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Muzillac? Where the hell is Muzillac?

[ india he knew. portugal and spain, as well. christ, sharpe could probably still find his way around copenhagen. but brittany is a mystery to him. ]

North-western France. It's a small place, a tiny community, yet one of the commanding royalists was a displaced aristocrat of the region. So, Britain assisted in retaking it, intending to land the main royalist force elsewhere and conquer as they went until they joined us.

You've stepped foot in France.

[ it is something he's sorely wanted to do. ]

I have. It wasn't for long, but I have, at least, seen her countryside.

If they died, they can't have been that successful.

The Republicans flanked the town; they were waiting.

The lord was put to the guillotine -- one he'd brought and set up himself to kill those put in charge of the town by the Republicans. Or anyone he had a past grudge against.

[ makes you wonder whether they were right to depose the sod in the first place...

but that was a risky assertion, really. so more safely: ] Someone tipped them off?

[One Horatio thought but would never say. And the reason he wouldn't mourn the man.

Had it not been for that machine... for seeing it do its work, hearing it nearly all the while he was in that village... Maybe he would have more sympathy for the man.

But in the end? He'd created his death. It couldn't be mourned.]

The Lords of the Admiralty refused to alter their plans, even after they had reason to believe we were compromised.

[A bitter lesson for a young man to learn. One of many that affair taught him.]

Men at walls. [ he does not mean to be cryptic, but merely found himself too unskilled to express himself fully in the written word. but it was a critique levelled against wellington all too frequently: seeing doom ahead, but throwing men at it anyway. hoping to overwhelm the odds by sheer force of numbers. attrition. ] They gamble with lives, not knowing what it's like to lose one.

And offer no apologies when they lose. Sometimes, one must gamble. Even take a loss to allow the odds to right themselves. But they seem not to even consider the cost if their hand is bad.

[He's a gambling man himself, so the analogy comes easily.]

[ aye. losses happen. sharpe had always been the sort of officer who braved those losses alongside his men, except being a major did tend to take him away from the fray more often than he might like. and yet ambition drove him on. ]

Good observations, every one. Your crew is lucky to have you.

If only I had a crew. Nine out of ten ships decommissioned, and I've no patronage amongst the Admiralty to get myself a place on those remaining.

[ ...bloody hell. ]

Where does that leave you?

[He isn't there now, isn't in that situation any longer, so there's nothing to pity. Because he doesn't want pity.]

Playing whist for my supper, as the Admiralty decided not to confirm my promotion and withhold my half-pay until the salary I'd drawn for the promotion was repaid.

[He had no small doubt Hammond had something to do with that.]

Bastards.

I have a better lot than others, so I suppose it isn't my place to complain.

[Because there's no reason to complain about being penniless if the cards go too far against him.]

Of course it's your bloody place. Had a gazette myself what went two and a half years before Horse Guards saw fit to tell me it had been refused.

[ but not until after he'd been feted in london, dined by the patriotic fund, presented with a fifty guinea sword in recognition of his capture of a french eagle. the bloody newspapers had taken to calling him the scarred hero of the field of talavera. all of london had wanted to meet him; he'd hated it. but he hadn't hated it to much as the disdain army headquarters had showed him when their dutiful little hero sought to check in at whitehall only to be told he wasn't a captain at all. it had only taken them this long to tell him. ]

How is it that men with so much power and who command such forces can be so utterly inefficient?

[Normally, it would never be said or written, but hearing that brings it out. The wounds are still too raw-- losing Archie, parting from Bush, having to command that hateful ship, only to be plunged into poverty and denied being at sea.]

I arrived with my field promotion and dispatches two days after the preliminary treaty with France had been signed. With a fairer wind, I might have had it in hand before.

[ that damned treaty...

it reminds him of the likely discrepancy: ] How long ago was this?

Just over a year ago.

[A year without pay, and his debts were not even close to settled, not with the Admiralty.]

Then -- upon my word -- they will have more need of you yet.

Thank God. Didn't think Napoleon would let it rest at that.

Edited (Yay history mess up.) 2013-12-05 22:41 (UTC)

Ten years on, he still ain't resting. Not yet.

Ten years. Good Lord. At least there's work for us lot, then.

We're not obsolete. Yet.

[ he just learned that word last week WATCH HIM SHOW IT OFF. ]

Edited 2013-12-05 23:10 (UTC)

Second Dispatch - [written]

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