There had been a sailor

[anteros_lmc]

Title: There had been a sailor
Author: Anteros
Characters: Archie Kennedy, Hornblower, Matthews, Lt Bracegirdle
Rating: R
Notes: I wrote this snippet a while back, it might make it into a fic one day but who knows? It covers the same ground as eglantine_br's lovely recent fic As Beloved Sons; Archie and Horatio's return to Ferrol after being picked up by the Indy. I thought I'd post this by way of contrast because I love the way these stories can be told so many different ways.

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He was back in his cell before he knew what was happening. The door closing behind him with the familiar heavy click. Archie lay on the low bunk and gazed into the darkness trying to order the chaos of the previous forty eight hours. His memories were lurid and disjointed, everything too loud and bright and sharp.

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There had been so much noise. The waves and the storm, the men yelling, the dying crying for help. Somewhere in the midst of it all there had been a midshipman, someone he vaguely recognised, who had taken the tiller and held the boat steady, seen that the men were bailing. Someone who answered “Aye, aye, Sir” to Hornblower’s urgent commands. There had been rain and biting cold. A grey dawn and the impossible, improbable Indefatigable right there on the larboard bow.

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He was on deck, a dry blanket round his shoulders, someone pushing a mug of hot grog into his hands. All he could think of was how strange the wooden deck felt rolling beneath his feet. More noise and bustle and people crowding round him. He couldn’t keep his balance so he sat down on the pitching deck. Matthews was in front of him, another larger figure behind. “Look Sir! It’s Mr Kennedy! We found Mr Kennedy, sir!” Lieutenant Bracegirdle was bending down and peering into his face. “Good Lord! Kennedy is that really you? We’d given you up for…”

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Then he was below and there were more people. And then on deck again but this time he was standing, the men toeing the line behind him, the captain pacing in front. He could see Horatio out of the corner of his eye. His face was white. It was too bright, the light hurt his eyes. A voice was speaking, cracked and rusty. “Aye sir, Mr Hornblower’s word holds good for me.” It didn’t sound like his voice.

---

He was back in the boat again. There had been a night in between, maybe two. He couldn’t hear anything but he could feel the retort of the salute reverberating in his head. Hornblower was standing behind him at the tiller, swelling with pride. It was still too bright and he felt sick. He wanted out of the boat. If he pushed Hornblower over the gunwale, jumped overboard and swam for it, he might reach the shore. But he didn’t.

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They were back at the fort. The Don was there, talking as if they were honoured guests. He still couldn’t hear properly. His head was buzzing and he wanted to be away, to be anywhere but in that courtyard. It was better in the cell, familiar and cool. He felt strangely relieved, elated, almost like coming home. But his head was still buzzing.

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Now it was dark and the only buzzing was the comforting hum of the cicadas and mosquitos. Hornblower’s silhouette was rising and falling. His breath slow, deep and regular. Archie felt himself drifting.

There had been a sailor. Somewhere, out there in the noise and the chaos there had been a sailor.

Archie could still smell the familiar foreign tang of salt on skin as he slid into sleep.

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Not silly! Gorgeous and languorous and beautiful :)