A Lesson in Seamanship by Clonesgirl
Part I: Tactics
It was twilight as Acting Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower, books in hand, made his way to his Captain's quarters for his weekly lesson in navigation and seamanship. For the past month these lessons had taken on such import that the young officer seemed to think of little else in his waking hours. Whilst he also participated in the regular classes conducted on deck by Mr Bracegirdle, he had also been given the privilege of his own lessons in the Captain's quarters, a singular honour of which he was most proud.
When Captain Pellew had first suggested a weekly lesson in order to help him study for his eventual promotion, Hornblower had been most pleased that his Captain had chosen to take an active role in his career and he looked forward to every lesson. Eager for recognition, yet shy in the company of his August senior officer, the young Acting Lieutenant basked in his Captain's presence. His Captain was an excellent instructor. Where Hornblower made such mistakes as was his wont through inexperience, the Captain took him patiently through the lesson so that he saw where he had gone wrong. However, if Hornblower was honest with himself, and he generally was, what pleased him the most was when the man smiled at him.
So often gruff in the presence of others, to receive a smile from his otherwise stern senior officer gave the young officer a feeling of intense satisfaction from knowing he had yet pleased this difficult man. There was genuine warmth and sincerity in that smile, and the younger man treasured it. He hoped to see it again tonight. The one thing he could not have borne was to see his Captain disappointed in him and he prayed never to let him down. In fact, if truth be told, he loved the man dearly but did not as yet recognise it as such, in spite of his occasional dreams of him.
In his quarters, Captain Sir Edward Pellew stared out to sea through the stern windows of 'Indefatigable', hands clasped behind his back as he awaited his youngest officer. His plan was set and his strategy sound, of this he was sure. Tonight would see an end to it, one way or the other. He prayed to a God he occasionally damned for the fortitude necessary to carry on if the outcome was not in his favour. And yet he knew that the young man cared for him very much for he could see it in his eyes; he was merely unsure of just how far those feelings went. It was simply of no further use telling himself, as indeed he had since Hornblower had first come aboard, that a Captain should never take advantage of a junior officer under his command for he had reached the point where he was long past caring. He had constrained himself to only the most correct behaviour. Indeed, lest one hint of his real feelings should show, at times his manner was even more formal with Hornblower than with his other officers. Time and again he had watched the young man perform deeds of the highest gallantry, earning him the respect and admiration of his men and fellow officers alike. However, a Captain could never be seen to show favouritism, though he knew that this was precisely what he had been doing by offering private tutoring to his youngest officer. So, much though he would have liked to suggest a lesson every night of the week, he knew that this was a risk he could not afford. Instead, he had been constrained to suggesting one day per week. Only one day - and how he yearned for it. Tonight would be the fourth lesson.
Edward Pellew had chosen his career well for he loved the sea and was at the very least a competent Captain. However, in his youthful ambition for the lofty heights of command he had never dreamed of how lonely it might become for him in later years. He knew that officers and men often formed liaisons aboard ship but a Captain was expressly forbidden, though that did not stop many. He had frowned upon those others, blaming them for their weakness and their excesses only to now find that he was no better than them, at least in intent. Oh, there was the occasional dalliance ashore and he knew where to go to find relief of the discreet kind that at least left his body satisfied even if his soul was empty. Once upon a time he had been married, and how long ago that seemed now. A poor choice for a husband he had been, spending months at sea, hardly ever home. Sometimes he would remove the lovely thick quilt from its drawer. He had purchased it near twenty years earlier from an Oriental trader as a gift for her. More than three times the width of a Captain's bunk it was far too wide to use, but now and then he would take it out and simply admire its glossy silk brocade surface in multiple hues of blue shot through with threads of silver. After her death he had returned to his ship and taken the quilt with him. On nights when sleep eluded him he would take it out and wrap it around him, warmed by its heavy folds. Briefly, he wondered what his wife would think of his unconscionable infatuation with his youngest officer.
Edward Pellew had ceased to feel constant guilt for his desires, ceased to damn himself day and night for longing for the feel of his Acting Lieutenant's soft and beautiful lips on his own; for the feel of the most desirable young man he had ever known in his arms and the warmth of his body to lie beside. How he longed to quench his desires in the young man's body.
Oh, at first he had told himself it was a feeling of fatherly protectiveness he felt. After all, Hornblower was only seven and ten years of age, young enough to be his son. However, even then it had been more. Even then he had found himself yearning for closeness. He very soon found that he could barely contemplate the perfect features of his bravest officer without longing to taste the sweet, full lips and subsequently becoming distracted to the point of nervous pacing, unable to gaze on the face of the one who was so dear to him for fear that his guilty secret should be discovered. Oh, he knew well that such relationships were rarely reported. The fleet could ill afford to lose competent naval officers to scandal. However, that did not make such relationships between a Captain and a junior officer acceptable, at least in his own eyes, for it was too easy for a Captain to take advantage through seniority of rank. He knew now that he was no better than those others he had damned, and the knowledge shamed him. However, he was a man with a man's needs. His ship, much as he loved her, was a harsh mistress and the nights were long. For a man accustomed to getting his way in most things, he knew well that he now risked rejection and possible disgrace. Worse still would be the loss of the dear one's respect if Hornblower rejected him tonight.
Needs must, Edward, he told himself. Needs must. Should scandal ensue, he, as Captain, would be blamed. He was prepared to take that risk, and if he was damned to all seven hells for it, so be it. There were always merchant vessels in need of competent masters.
As the expected knock came at the door at the exact time, Captain Pellew closed his eyes for a brief moment and whispered, "Please God let him accept me!" before calling out an invitation for his youngest officer to enter. Enter and be damned! he thought.
As Acting Lieutenant Hornblower entered his Captain's quarters he noticed that there were already two brandies on the table. This was unusual as the Captain generally did not offer him a drink until the lesson was over. Indeed that was the part of the lesson he had come to treasure, when they would just talk of the sea and ships, or his superior officer would relate tales of his early years aboard other vessels. Slowly but surely he felt as if he was getting to know the man better. Tonight, however, it seemed that his Captain had other things in mind. His heart quickened a little in anticipation of the unknown.
"Good evening, sir."
The dear boy doesn't know, but he will soon, the older man mused as dread and anticipation warred in his belly. "Indeed it is, Mr Hornblower," he replied, noting the slightly puzzled expression on his young protege's face while keeping strict control over his own facial expression. Come into my parlour, he thought, finding the expression singularly appropriate.
"Come, sir, let us drink a toast."
"Uh, yes, sir."
Hornblower looked at him expectantly, wondering what the Captain wished to drink to. Again, this was unusual.
"The toast is yours, Mr Hornblower," the Captain proposed in most mysterious fashion.
Again, Hornblower appeared puzzled.
"I... " Hornblower hesitated, at a momentary loss for words. "Yes, sir." Again, he paused, peering into his glass as though it held the answer while his Captain gazed steadily at his slightly flustered officer.
Hornblower in the meantime was in an agony of indecision over what to say. He wanted to say something that would show his high regard and respect for his Captain but at the same time he did not wish to appear gauche and awkward.
Finally, his decision made, he spoke the words of his heart, his voice firm and clear.
"Sir, I should like to propose a toast to you: To Captain Sir Edward Pellew, the finest Captain in the fleet."
It was now the Captain's turn to appear momentarily lost for words as Hornblower clinked his glass to his and drank, the older man following suit.
Hornblower realised that he had quite taken his senior officer aback, and was secretly pleased.
Captain Pellew appeared to recover his senses as he watched Hornblower take a sip from his glass, only he knew well that he would never recover, not when all he wanted was to take this beloved officer in his arms and drink the brandy from his beautiful lips. Instead he sipped from his glass in genteel manner.
"And to you, Acting Lieutenant Hornblower," he proposed. "My most promising and loyal young officer."
He watched the young man's eyes grow large as saucers, and the colour rise in his pale cheeks. How charming! he thought.
"I... appreciate your c-confidence in me, sir," Hornblower stammered.
Pellew, having recovered his senses, now decided that it was time to put his plan into action, his Acting Lieutenant's most intimate toast having boosted his confidence.
Do I say it? he pondered, inviting the young man to be seated opposite him. Do I dare? It is a risk. Lord, what a risk! If it ruins my career and my relationship with this dear one, then so be it. I love him too much, and, by God, he's worth it! He's worth anything; any price, I would gladly pay to win such a prize.
"Tell me, Mr Hornblower, do you watch the skies with their changing cloud patterns, breezes, mists and fogs? Are you confident that you know all the signs?"
"I would hope to know many of them, sir," Hornblower answered with a certain tentativeness, unsure of the direction the conversation was taking this night. Any good seaman watched the skies and the Captain knew that. Then again, this particular evening had begun in unusual manner and seemed set to continue that way.
"Oh, I have no doubt that you do, sir. No doubt at all. However, there are signs and omens that one ignores at one's peril."
"Indeed, sir."
The Captain took another sip of his brandy. "Mr Hornblower, let us say your orders are to guard the Channel. For two days the wind has blown from the north-north-east. At sunset on the second day you see mist building up on the horizon. The mist thickens, the stars are obliterated and the seas begin to rise, what would you do, sir?"
Hornblower, who had never yet come across these conditions in the Channel or elsewhere was uncertain of his facts. He was also disconcerted by the Captain's steady gaze, which, to him, seemed quite unwavering.
"In that event, sir, I would assume we were in for a squall."
"Quite so. What actions would you take?"
"Assuming it to be no more than a squall, sir, I would reduce sail and ride it out."
"Would you, Mr Hornblower?" Hornblower was uncertain but he thought he detected the tiniest of smiles. "But night is coming on, sir, and it is likely to blow harder. You cannot carry your courses. What will you do?"
Hornblower furrowed his brow and thought carefully. "I would give the order to haul the fore-sail up and furl it, balance the mizzen, haul it out to keep her to, then haul up the weather main clue-garnet and bunt-line then the lee clue-garnet bunt-lines." He paused to search through the pages of one of his books. "Oh, and the leech-lines!" he added. "Then, uh, square the yards and reef the sail."
"Very good. However, you are caught a-lee and cannot veer your ship in spite of taking all the prescribed actions. The deck is forty-five degrees to starboard and the waves are breaking over the gunwale. Men are washed overboard. What do you do, sir?"
"I... I would set the fore-sail and veer her under her courses."
"That is to no avail, sir. She will not veer."
Hornblower thought hard, considering the only two options he could see left to save his ship. "Haul the main-sail up?" he queried.
"That is also to no avail. What will you do, sir?"
Hornblower did not hesitate. "Than I would have no choice, sir, but to cut away the mizzen-mast."
At last! Edward Pellew breathed. He had the young man exactly where he wanted him, though he managed to damp his enthusiasm for now, including his treacherous body's reaction. This dear young officer was not his, perhaps not ever to be his... But, no, he would not give up hope quite yet.
"Quite so, Mr Hornblower. And would your ship then veer?"
"I should pray that it would, sir, for I am out of solutions."
The Captain smiled at him, however, it was not his usual smallest of smiles, Hornblower noted, for there was something odd about it, something that the young officer could not quite put his finger on.
"I may say, sir, that in such a dire situation you do indeed pray." The Captain took another sip of his brandy. "So now there are only two masts, Mr Hornblower," he continued.
"Aye, sir," Hornblower agreed cautiously.
"Two masts devoid of all sails and rigging. Even the yardarms are gone," Captain Pellew murmured into the quiet.
"Then... the storm has stripped them bare, sir?" Hornblower ventured cautiously. "That would be... unprecedented."
The Captain once more smiled that curious smile at him. "But not unheard of. However your description is most apt in the circumstances, is it not?"
Hornblower nodded, feeling completely out of his depth. Just which 'circumstances' were they discussing? On the one hand they were talking about a ship almost foundering in a storm of epic proportions; on the other hand it seemed to him that there was a certain undercurrent to the conversation that left him wavering between hesitation and confidence. The discussion was definitely unlike any other he had shared with his Captain, and for some reason he was beginning to perspire.
Pellew's voice lowered even further. "Two masts, Mr Hornblower. All that's left. Only two masts rising into the night on a storm-swept sea, sir." As Hornblower observed him carefully, Captain Pellew took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Two very naked masts, Mr Hornblower," he continued, speaking succinctly and deliberately in a voice somehow grown husky, "whose needs must be taken care of else they will not survive the night."
There! he thought. Had he said enough? The boy was smart, of that he had no doubt, but had he made his desires plain enough while still giving him sufficient leeway to withdraw if he wished? Pray God, he does not! the Captain hoped.
He surreptitiously observed the younger man as he squirmed slightly in his chair. And was that the slightest shade of pink on his face once more? How delightful! He decided that a bit more encouragement was in order. Leaning forward a little, he once more spoke softly.
"Mr Hornblower, the skies are clearing at last and the mists of concealment are lifting, but tell me, sir: Are both masts aimed at the stars?" he queried, his steady gaze fixed on Hornblower as he awaited his young officer's response. Once more he berated himself for his shameful behaviour, but he desired this beautiful young man to the point of distraction. More than this, he needed him to come willingly to his bed for, no matter how much he wanted him, he would never dishonour this gallant young officer by attempting to force his decision. To do so would be to lose his respect forever, and that, Edward Pellew vowed, would never happen. Hornblower would come willingly to his bed, or not at all. Either way, his tactics would force an outcome. He only prayed that the outcome would be the desired one.
Hornblower's thoughts whirled. His Captain awaited his response and he could not even think straight, so distracted was he. He felt decidedly hot now and wondered if he might be blushing. Lord, even his member was swollen! In desperation, he questioned if he might have misinterpreted his Captain's words. He needed time to consider them and at that moment all he knew was that he had to escape. He would have to somehow excuse himself and withdraw.
"Sir?" He rose and drew himself up to his full height, gazing at the bulkhead in front of him, for he dared not look on his senior officer lest he be undone. "Captain, I do beg pardon, sir, but I... I -s-seem to be a trifle dizzy. I r-request permission to withdraw, sir," he stammered.
A noticeable pause ensued before, to his considerable relief, he heard, "Very well, Mr Hornblower. You may leave."
"Thank you, sir," he murmured, before escaping back to his own quarters as fast as his long legs would carry him.
*
As the outer door shut behind his Acting Lieutenant, Captain Edward Pellew slumped in his seat in an agony of remorse. He had gone too far and frightened the lad. Damning himself for the worst fool that ever lived, he hung his head in shame. What would he see now when he gazed on that young and innocent face? he wondered. Fear and loathing of his Captain? Would the boy now turn away from him in all but duty situations? Please God, no, he begged, not that he would have blamed his youngest officer if he regarded his Captain less than favourably in future. He loved him with all his heart, but did his young officer's heart belong to another? Oh, yes, he'd seen the way Mr Kennedy looked at Hornblower and envied them their comparative freedom. At least freedom compared to the strictures of his own existence, he reflected with sadness. Up until this evening there had been a chance, or at least he had wanted to think so. His own presumptuousness had put an end to that. Now, there was not even the possibility of friendship.
Damning himself for six kinds of a fool, he rose to send for his servant, only then noticing Hornblower's books lying on the table where, in his haste to escape, he had forgotten them. Picking them up, he looked at them one by one, even looking at the loose notes in neat, flowing handwriting which fell out of a couple of them. Caressing their worn covers, he sighed and replaced the books on the table. He knew them all, but learning from the pages of a book could never take the place of first hand experience.
He would have his servant return them in the morning.
A man who seldom met with defeat, Edward Pellew took it hard. With infinite sadness he rose to his feet, his gaze turning for comfort, as it so often did, to the blackness of the sea and the stars above, their light twinkling faintly through the stern windows. He knew them well; could name them; could navigate by them. Their beauty was as cold as it was timeless, and somehow, now, that very thought brought comfort in the face of self-loathing and raging despair.
* * *
