(Sequel to Refresher Course)

by Charley Hart

Disclaimer: The characters from the Horatio Hornblower series do not belong to me, and no infringement of anyone's copyright is intended. All other characters are my creations, and do belong to me.
Rating: R - graphic sex

FEEDBACK to Charley

Josiah White, ship's boy, pounded his small fist against the door to Captain Pellew's cabin. "Sir!" he called. Holding a brown leather pouch tightly under one arm, he knocked again. "Captain, sir!"

He felt a firm warm hand on his shoulder. "Here now. What's all this noise about?"

Josiah turned, startled. He looked up into the sympathetic blue eyes of Archie Kennedy and his slight frame relaxed noticeably. "Lieutenant Kennedy, sir. I'm to give this to the Captain but he doesn't answer."

"Well perhaps he's not in his quarters."

"Someone is, sir, I heard something."

"Why don't you give that to me and I will find the Captain." Archie held out his hand.

"Aye, sir." Josiah looked relieved as he handed over the satchel.

"Now where should you be?"

Grinning, the lad scurried off. Archie watched him depart, remembering his own days aboard the Avon. He hoped Josiah's youth at sea was happier than his had been.

He rapped on the door. "Captain Pellew, are you there, sir?" He too, thought he heard a garbled response. Frowning, he eased the door open an inch or two and peered inside.

It was dusk, and the lanterns in the cabin had not been lit, leaving the room in its natural shroud of shadowy dimness. Pellew sat at his desk, his head down on one arm. A scatter of papers and charts spread out across the immaculately polished surface. His log book and pen lay just beyond his outstretched hand.

Obviously, he had dozed while writing an entry in the book. Archie laid the leather pouch on the desk and gently nudged his shoulder. "Captain Pellew, sir? Forgive me disturbing you, but --"

Pellew groaned, shifting slightly and nearly upsetting the inkwell.

Archie started, his brow creased. "Are you unwell, sir?"

Roused, the Captain sat up suddenly, and immediately clutched his stomach.

"Shall I send for the surgeon?" Archie asked, alarm in his voice.

But Pellew's hand caught his arm in an iron grip. "No!" he hissed.

Archie could see beads of perspiration on the Captain's brow. "Sir, please, you are ill. Let me get help."

"No surgeon, the man's an idiot … he … bleeds me," Pellew said with difficulty. "Makes me … weaker. Help me."

Pellew tried to push himself to his feet, and doubled over in pain.

Archie's arm was around the Captain's shoulder in an instant, supporting him. "Sir, I really must insist …"

"No! That's … an order, Lieutenant." The agony in his gut did not diminish the commanding tone of his voice.

Archie bit his lip, torn between disobeying an order and possibly jeopardizing the Captain's life. But years of naval discipline and respect for Pellew's authority swayed him towards doing as he was told, and he guided, half-carried, him to the bed in his sleeping cabin.

"In my chest … medicine …" Pellew said quietly.

Archie enviously ran his hand across the surface of the mahogany chest. It was a superior expression of the woodworker's art, with fancy rope beckets on the sides and, as he found upon opening it, an intricate compass rose painted inside the lid. He was discomfited at the thought of rummaging through the captain's personal belongings. Hesitantly he lifted the perfectly folded shirts, setting them carefully aside. Underneath was a thick packet of letters, the paper yellowing with age, tied with a narrow blue ribbon. And a black leather bag the size of his two fists which bulged with coins. There was more clothing, and an extra blanket. He forced himself not to linger over an ornate jewelled knife that must have come from Arabia or the Orient. Towards the bottom, upright against the side of the chest, he found a small bottle, unlabelled, containing a milky fluid.

"Is this it, sir?"

Pellew's response was to grab the bottle from his hands. His own hands shaking, he pulled the small cork out and took two big gulps. He exhaled slowly as the liquid burned a trail down his throat.

Archie took the bottle from him and placed it on the table. "Perhaps you would be more comfortable without your boots, sir."

Pellew nodded mutely.

Archie moved to the bed and almost hesitantly took the vulnerable man's leg in his hands.

He set about removing the supple leather boots, pointedly ignoring the low moans and doing his best to work quickly, dispelling the doubts and conflicting thoughts that warred in his mind.

Perspiration rolled down Pellew's temples, despite the chill in the room. He struggled to take off his coat and trousers.

"Let me do that," Archie said softly, tugging at the recalcitrant garments with fingers that wanted to linger on any newly exposed skin. The shirt proved especially difficult, as it was already damp, and clung to the man's muscular torso. In the back of his mind, Archie was aware that under other circumstances, an unveiling like this would be deliciously carnal. He did his best to force such thoughts away. Pellew seemed to resist any movement that left him flat on his back. Overwhelming compassion and a warmth that he didn't stop to define flooded Archie. He leaned close and whispered, "Easy, sir. I'll have these off soon." He drew a hand across the Captain's brow, gently pushing back errant strands of sweat dampened hair. "There now, you can lie on your side again."

Archie was beginning to dither over his decision. Pellew's jaws were clenched tightly as he bravely suppressed any cry of pain, striving to command his own body as firmly as he commanded his ship. Archie wet a cloth in the cool water in the basin and gently mopped the sweat from the Captain's brow. "Sir, can you hear me? Please let me fetch Dr. Hepplewhite."

"No! No ... it will … pass." He was grimacing, his breath coming in ragged pants.

Archie had to lean forward to pull the blanket closer around Pellew's shoulders, and as he did so, he felt the Captain's hand on his back.

"Come here … God, it burns." He pulled Archie closer, instinctively wanting the comforting pressure of his body.

"Sir, I --" One look told Archie that Pellew was on the verge of losing the hard-fought battle for control. His head tossed from side to side and his body convulsed as the pain ravaged him. Archie eased down beside him, wrapping the older man in his arms and holding the blanket close around him. It was frightening to see the Captain in such a state, and to be so unsure of his own actions. If he could only get the approval of another officer … What if his condition worsened? What if, heaven forbid! he died? Lieutenant Archie Kennedy would be held responsible for obeying an order when the Captain was obviously in no condition to be giving orders. But it was more than that. Pellew's suffering tugged at Archie's heart. He was a good captain, and Archie admired him -- perhaps not as naively as Horatio did, but there was no denying his courage, competence and fairness. Archie felt helpless and fought the urge to give in to panic. He pulled himself closer to the comforting bulk of the Captain's body. Agony might have reduced him to senselessness, but he was still Captain Sir Edward Pellew.

What to do? Please, God, let this be the right thing to do … As scenes from his possible court martial played in his mind, Archie barely noticed that the quivering body in his arms had calmed, the desperate breathing grown a little easier. Hopefully, the worst had passed. He started to quietly slip out of the bed.

"Don't go," Pellew said urgently, clinging to him.

Time seemed to stand still. The only sound in the room was the heavy, laboured respiration of the Captain, alternating with Archie's own quickening intakes of breath. Pellew moved, pressing himself closer, and even through the blankets and clothing, Archie felt the hard bulge of Pellew's erection against his thigh.

"My … Horatio …." Pellew whispered.

Archie's throat tightened a little. So that's how it is … Pellew's face was so close he could feel the man's feverish breath on his cheek. Archie fought the temptation to play the part. He had often suspected that his captain had more than a paternal interest in Horatio. But his own affection for Pellew would not allow him to take advantage of his vulnerability. "Sir … it's Kennedy," he said.

Pellew pressed his need into Archie's groin, and he felt himself responding. Pellew hadn't heard him … or had he? Did it matter? It was only natural, he told himself to the sound of his pounding heart. One couldn't help one's body accepting such an invitation. But no, it wasn't only that. No, it was the lure of the forbidden too. To share this intimacy with his Captain … even knowing he'd been mistaken for another … and perhaps because he had.

Archie found himself wanting the hard, muscular body his comforting hands felt under the blanket. He stroked Pellew's back, rubbed his cheek against the faint stubble on Pellew's face, and kissed him softly. Yielding to the warmth that spread through his body as their lips met, he moved his hips in time with Pellew's thrusting. A little smile of satisfaction played across his features as Pellew's stifled sobs of pain and discomfort gave way to little moans of pleasure. He told himself this could not be wrong. How could it be wrong to ease another's hurt?

Even if I am not the man he wanted … A flash of guilt shook him. Horatio … would he think it wrong? No, if it had been Horatio and not me, he would have done the same. He would have …he would have …  Archie told himself over and over as the steady demanding friction against his cock brought him closer to release.

Pellew came with a loud groan, shaking, burying his face in the softness of Archie's hair, taking Archie with him into climax. Archie held him like that until he slept, finally, then slowly and quietly he slid from beneath the covers, lit one of the lanterns, took a chair, and settled back to keep watch over the Captain's sleep.

***

Pellew wondered what hour it was. The lantern cast flickering shadows across the cabin. The pain was bearable now, the drug had done its work. It always did. But this time it had been worse. Much worse. Enough to break him. God, it had! Overwhelmed with sudden realization, he looked with anguished eyes at the sleeping figure in the chair, the young man who had cared for him, and even now remained on guard. His tortured mind recalled Horatio's words …

       "He -- he took liberties with him, sir. He used him."

Oh, Lord God, what have I done? Why did it have to be Kennedy?

       "His first posting. He was just a boy."

This handsome young man ... just a boy ... in the hands of that fiend. He closed his eyes against the nauseating images conjured up by his wandering thoughts, but sleep would not come. Was he no better a man than the likes of Thomas Raiford? Was he no better a captain? He glanced up as Archie stretched a bit and shifted in his sleep. God help me, I wanted him. I still do.

 ***

The faint glow of dawn pierced Archie's eyelids and he woke with a start. Stumbling groggily to the bed, he was relieved to find that Pellew was awake, lying still, his eyes fatigued but lucid. Archie took the cloth and bathed the Captain's face. The bedsheets were soaked with perspiration. Pellew seemed tense and almost fearful, but he relaxed under Archie's hands, letting him change his undergarments for fresh ones from his chest.

As he finished, Pellew gently laid a hand on his arm. "Lieutenant Kennedy, you -- obliged me," he said weakly.

"Sir, I -- "

"I must know. My memories of last night are dim. If something happened that was -- against your wishes …"

"Nothing, sir."

"You would tell me, if so?" The voice was urgent, pleading.

Archie moved closer, and sat down beside him. "Sir, you did nothing against my wishes." He could not endure the doubt and desperation he yet saw in the Captain's eyes. "I -- I also took satisfaction from the … encounter." He laid a reassuring hand on Pellew's arm.

A little frown of surprise gathered at Pellew's brow, and he jerked at the touch. But the hand remained where it was. He looked away from Archie, chewing his lip. "I would not want you to think of me as a -- " The eyes closed, the mouth tightened. "-- as the sort of man who would --"

"I wanted it to happen," Archie said quietly.

Incomprehension flooded Pellew's face. He gazed into earnest eyes that even now could not conceal the younger man's desire. "How could you want such a thing, after -- wasn't your first post aboard the Avon?" he asked, out of a dry throat.

The eyes flickered slightly. "Yes sir, but how would you know about ..."

Their eyes met, and Archie realized that the Captain knew about his nightmarish boyhood at sea. He wasn't sure how he knew, possibly by Raiford's reputation alone, but he knew. That much was certain.

Pellew realized, too late, what he had given away. "Forgive me, I should not have mentioned it."

Archie sighed. "I am no longer troubled by the past," he said.

"I am very glad of it." Pellew felt oddly warmed by Archie's gaze and soothing voice. Another thought occurred to him, but as he gazed into those sharp blue eyes, he barely realized that he was speaking aloud. "I fault myself for not judging Simpson for the brute he was sooner than I did. I regret that you suffered on that account as well."

A brief flash of uneasiness passed across Archie's face, but it dispelled as quickly as it had come. He smiled and his voice became softer still. "Don't blame yourself, sir. I never have. And you did … rid us all of him."

Pellew met his eyes and felt his resolve crumbling, his tenuous control slipping from his grasp. "Will you -- come back to bed?"

Pellew might be weak, but the illness -- and any need to dissemble -- had passed. Better that he know the full truth. "It isn't me you want, sir. It -- it wasn't me you wanted last night."

The breath caught in the Captain's throat and he exhaled slowly, turning away. The enormity of what he must have revealed during his distress shook him, but at the same time deepened the bond of union with the man who knew his secret. "It is you I am asking now," Pellew said steadily, still looking away from him.

"If you were to ask -- him, sir …"

"It is you I am asking, Lieutenant. Lie with me." The Captain turned to him with unfathomable eyes.

Archie's lips parted slightly as if to answer. But there was no decision to make. He wanted this, too. Having earlier discarded his coat, he made quick work of the remaining garments and placed himself willingly in Pellew's waiting arms. A sense of wonder enveloped him as the rough hands gently stroked his face and hair. So different from his other lovers.

Pellew examined him as if he were a new creation, or an unknown and mysterious visitor to his chamber. Powerful but gentle hands searched him all over as he lay still against the Captain's chest. "No more than this, if you don't wish it," Pellew said softly.

Archie responded by turning sensuously in his arms, facing him with lips parted.

Pellew pulled his fingers through the fine golden hair, aghast at what he was doing, but unable to resist the fire this young man had lit within him. He waited, unable to move, unable to speak, as the soft mouth closed with his and sealed his fate.

Wordlessly, his eyes saying what he wanted, Pellew slipped the clothing from his own hips, freeing his erect cock, offering himself. Archie took it in his mouth, circling it with his tongue, teasing the ridge of the head and evoking a rapturous sigh from Pellew. Strong hands gripped his head, pulling him down, silently begging more.

Archie wondered how long the Captain had denied himself the pleasures of the flesh. It was over in minutes. Only one word escaped Pellew's lips, at the moment he shot his seed into the eager mouth. "Archie …."

 ***

Archie watched the sun rise through the window, like Homer's rosy-fingered dawn come to pull him away and back to his duties. His watch would begin soon. The Captain appeared to be sleeping peacefully again, and Archie would leave it to Bracegirdle to wake him. He returned the bottle of medicine to the chest and tidied up the discarded articles of clothing. Assuring himself that no evidence of the night's activities remained, he quickly dressed and made for the deck.

When he had gone, Pellew pushed his reluctant body from the bed and made his way to the wash basin. Cupping his hands, he splashed his face again and again with the frigid water, wetting the table and floor beneath his bare feet. His body shuddered in the chill November morning air. He dressed hurriedly, absent-mindedly fumbling with buttons and boots.

The tolling of the ship's bell echoed like a death-knell. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. He took a seat at his desk, arranging his papers in proper order and scrawling with stiff fingers a hasty note in his logbook. His breakfast would arrive soon, but he had no appetite for it. He poured himself a brandy, and then another, as if to wash the delicious and damning taste of Archie Kennedy from his mouth. His head bent forward into his hands, his eyes closed, he mouthed the words to a prayer.

 ***

"Archie, is something troubling you?"

"No. Why do you ask?" he replied irritably.

"You've not been yourself today."

Archie saw a touch of hurt in Horatio's eyes. "Forgive me," he said. "I -- didn't sleep well."

Horatio longed to touch him, to comfort him. But not here, with Dawson and Collingford sitting a few feet away at another table. "You aren't hungry?" he asked, spearing a piece of mutton. "I'm famished."

Archie pushed a morsel around with his fork, then gave up the pretense. "No. You can have mine if you like." He got up suddenly and strode out, leaving Horatio with a concerned frown.

Archie leaned against the rail, watching a pair of dolphins at play in the distance. The Captain had made his appearance on deck around seven in the morning, not walking as briskly as usual, but no one had noticed. No one except Archie. "Lieutenant Kennedy! See that the lower decks are ready to receive provisions," he'd barked. As if nothing had happened between them. Pellew had even looked away after giving the order, avoiding Archie's eyes.

And no matter how hard Archie had worked his men, it was not hard enough. The Captain had continued riding all of them, never satisfied, but Archie most of all. He'd found it difficult to hide his embarrassment from his crew, despite their occasional sympathetic glances. Horatio was kept busy elsewhere, denying him even that comforting presence.

Shaken, towards late afternoon he'd sought a moment of escape near one of the boats where no one was working. The Captain's voice had startled him so much that he'd jumped. Expecting another tirade for neglecting his duties, he was unprepared for what he'd heard next.

"About the matter of last evening. I trust you will say nothing." The voice was clipped, formal, emotionless.

"I -- I wouldn't have, sir," Archie had said.

"Do I have your word, Lieutenant Kennedy?"

"Aye, sir. You do."

The Captain had simply nodded and walked away.

Archie swallowed. So that was that. Shame and confusion gnawed at him. He gazed enviously at the carefree dolphins.

****

Horatio awoke not refreshed, his muscles still feeling the previous day's hard work. Splashing his face with icy water, he considered that today would probably prove even worse. He sighed. There was something about the knowledge that home was only a day away that pulled his mind away to the town of his birth, with its cottages and little chapel. It seemed a lifetime ago that he had walked those narrow paths, down to the shore, where he had dreamed of a life at sea. The reality of that life far exceeded anything he had dreamt possible. He dressed hurriedly and descended the stairs.

He waited outside the storage room until the crewmen were out of sight. One of them had been Oldroyd, and he had given Horatio a quirky little smile as he passed. Horatio was convinced that his men knew what went on in that small room between him and Archie Kennedy. If they knew, how long would it be before others found out? Others like Captain Pellew. The very thought tightened a knot in Horatio's stomach. A whirlwind of thoughts raced through his mind, as he grasped the handle of the door, knowing that Archie was already waiting for him. Hanged for sodomy … disgraced in the Captain's eyes … my poor father … all my fault …  But Archie was waiting. They would soon be taking in supplies, and this might be their last chance to enjoy such intimacy for months to come. Horatio slipped inside, quickly closing the door.

He was met by strong arms encircling his waist, and a hungry mouth pressed to his lips, the weight of Archie's body pushing him against the wall. Archie broke away from the kiss only long enough to take a short breath, then the attack resumed. Thrusting hard against him, Archie demanded release with no soft words, only the merciless kiss and the relentless embrace.

Horatio let his lover take, his initial shock turning delightfully to arousal under the onslaught. The rough timbers of the wall stabbed his lower back, but the trifling pain served to further stir the fire within, and he ached to move more vigorously than Archie's grip would allow. Pinned to the wall, he was a willing victim, smelling Archie's excitement, tasting his partner's nearness to climax on his thrusting tongue and feeling it in the bulging cock that ground against his own.

Suddenly, Archie's mouth moved downward to suck and bite the tender flesh of Horatio's neck. "Ohhh …" was all Horatio could manage as each nip sent hot jolts of lust through his body. The steady abrasion of cloth against his cock, of feeling Archie through his trousers, so demanding and hungry, the heat of Archie's breath against his bare skin, and knowing with the knowledge that only a lover has that their release would come soon, and together, almost made Horatio cry out when it came. Only at the last moment did he remember where he was, stifling the cry by burying his face in Archie's shoulder, holding him as tightly as he was being held, until the shuddering subsided, and they slumped together to the floor, expended, still locked in each other's arms.

Panting, Horatio ran his hand over the dark, wet stain that spread across the front of his trousers. "Someone will notice …" he murmured.

"We’re on a ship. We sometimes get wet," Archie said lightly, playing with a curl that hung down over Horatio's forehead.

Horatio traced the smile that played at Archie's lips with his finger. "You bit me," he said. "How am I going to hide that?"

Archie grinned, attempting to straighten Horatio's collar. "Frightful. What will the Captain say?"

Horatio rolled his eyes and rested his head contentedly on Archie's shoulder. Despite their levity, he could feel the tension remaining in the arms that wound so lovingly around him.

"Horatio?"

"Mm?" Reclining on his lover's chest, Horatio could still feel the pleasant sensations as they slowly ebbed away. He didn't want to talk now.

"Did you ever think about … being with Captain Pellew?"

Horatio looked up at him, his warm, contented reverie suddenly jostled. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean … together. Like we are now." Archie's eyes were distant, and serious.

"For heaven's sake, Archie! Of course not! Why would you ask such a thing?" His brow wrinkled in a confused frown.

"It was just idle thinking. If you were to approach him …"

"Are you suggesting that I seduce Captain Pellew?" Horatio was aghast. Even as a jest, such an idea was indecorous. As a solemn query, it was inconceivable.

Archie trailed his fingers down Horatio's cheek, unmindful of the astonished look in his love's eyes. "I don't think you would have to seduce him. If the Captain were to … invite you into his bed, would you …?"

"Really Archie, how could you even suggest it! Captain Pellew has been like a father to me." Horatio caught himself on the verge of raising his voice, and quickly returned to a whisper. "And to you!" he hissed, still frowning.

"Is that what a father is like?" Archie sighed, his tone suddenly wistful.

Horatio's eyes softened, and he gave Archie a tender squeeze. "Forgive me, I should not have said that. I wish your life at home could have been happy."

"As yours was?" Archie asked, his face impassive.

"If I was not happy, I was unaware of it," Horatio said. "But I prefer my life now. You are happy … now, aren't you?"

"Yes." Archie's eyes were distant, staring at the wall.

"Archie, what are you thinking?" Horatio asked, unable to keep the anxiety from his voice. In spite of everything, he had never lost the feeling that what he had found with Archie was a fragile thing. He could not imagine what it would have been like to have lived Archie's life. But he also could not imagine what it would be like to live without him, now.

"Don't you find him handsome?"

"No!" Caught off guard by the sudden reversion to the previous topic, Horatio's voice sounded almost angry. "No," he repeated, more softly.

Archie raised an eyebrow.

Horatio looked down, embarrassed. "Well … yes, I suppose. It isn't that I don't … What brought all this on?"

Archie didn't answer him. The raised eyebrow settled into place, and the keen blue eyes stared at Horatio with undisguised desire.

"Archie, this is very disconcerting."

Archie's response was to tug his trousers down, revealing a budding new erection.

Horatio sighed, knowing that there were some things about Archie Kennedy that he would never understand. But Archie wanted him, and he couldn't deny him.

"We've not much time left, but ..." Horatio bent down, licking at the droplets that had emerged from Archie's cock.

"Not like that," Archie said. "Let me fuck you."

"Are you mad? We cannot take such a risk here!" Horatio closed his eyes, fearful of what might happen next. Something was wrong; something Archie was not willing to share.

"You don't want me?"

Horatio pulled Archie's head down for a brief kiss. He searched Archie's eyes for any trace of hurt, but the look he returned told him nothing. "Of course I want you," Horatio whispered. "But not here! Not now. I won't risk our lives, not even for that."

Archie quickly refastened his trousers and shrugged.

"We'll be in Plymouth before morning is out. Shore leave later, if we're fortunate." Horatio went on. "Together, if fortune truly smiles upon us."

Archie was blind to Horatio's hopeful smile. "Shore leave, perhaps, for you. I don't anticipate any favours from Captain Fortune," he said dismally.

So that was what had Archie thinking such queer thoughts about the Captain. Horatio had noticed Pellew's pissy mood of late, and it did seem that Archie was more often the object of his scorn than any of the other officers. "Don't take it to heart. I am sure the Captain is not as eager to put into port as we are. He would prefer to be at sea, chasing the enemy and taking prizes. Can you blame him for not being cheerful at the thought of stewing in Plymouth Harbour for three weeks?"

The ship’s bell sounded before Archie could answer. "We'd best make an appearance on deck soon," Horatio said. "I’ll go first."

Archie nodded solemnly, then clasped Horatio in a last, fierce embrace. He waited a few minutes, not bothering to smooth the wrinkles in his coat or tidy his hair. He cast a final glance around the empty room, watching the dust mites floating in the sunlight that streamed under the door, then strode towards duty.

In spite of the chilly wind that had pursued them towards England, the younger members of the ship's crew clambered into the rigging, eager to be the first to sight home. For some few this had been a first voyage to sea, away from friends and loved ones.

Horatio smiled as one of them called out "Penlee Point!". The jubilant shout was followed by another piercing cry, not of excitement but fear. He glanced upwards and saw one of the boys clinging to the main topsail yard, away from the ropes, and an eternity above the deck. Work gradually halted as officers and crew stared helplessly upwards at Josiah White’s plight. Some muttered astonished curses, others whispered prayers.

Pellew bellowed for silence. Neither he nor Horatio noticed Archie’s swift move to the ropes until he was halfway to the terrified boy’s position.

"He'll never reach 'im in time," said Styles, standing motionless beside Horatio. The more experienced hands aloft had also frozen in place, afraid that any movement would distract the rescuer, or worse, shake the boy loose and send him plummeting towards his death.

Archie saw that the situation did not permit him time to inch his way across the footropes. Without looking down, he mounted the yard and walked forward, using his arms for balance. Near the end, he saw one of Josiah’s hands slip from its grip. The boy wailed, and a collective groan went up from the men below. Again Pellew called for quiet.

"Hold on, Josiah! I’m almost there!" Archie called.

Just as he reached the end of the yard, the boy let go.

"No!" Archie shouted, lunging frantically forward and reaching down towards him. Overbalanced himself, his foot slipped and he felt himself falling.

"No," Horatio echoed, a mere whisper. He wanted to tear his eyes away, but stood transfixed with horror as the figure reeled and faltered on the narrow footing.

"Oh God, help," Pellew breathed, steeling himself.

Archie’s shoulder spasmed in pain as his right arm caught his full weight, draped by the elbow over the swaying yard. Miraculously, he felt a small wrist in his other hand. Josiah screamed in fright, as his body swayed like a tiny pendulum in the cold air.

"Josiah, be still!" Archie shouted, astonished that he and the boy were still alive, and had a chance to stay alive. He tried to swing his right leg over the yard, and narrowly missed.

Archie knew that his shoulder, weakened by the wound received in action with the Lucien, would not support his own weight and the boy's much longer. Already his arm was growing numb. He would have only one more chance to hoist himself onto the yard. If he failed …

Filling his lungs with chill air, Archie made another try. He felt his foot secure a hold, and gave a last mighty tug on the yard with his arm, the rough wood scraping painfully against his leg. It was enough to leave him belly-down on the narrow perch. He pulled Josiah up in front of him, thanking heaven that the boy weighed no more than a small cask of cheese.

Josiah wrapped his arms around the yard, still shaking violently from his harrowing experience.

"That's a good lad, hold on a bit longer," Archie said, "I need a moment to … get my strength back." The feeling gradually returned to his arm, stinging like the pricks of a thousand needles. He knew he would have to move soon, despite the ache in his shoulder. Their position was still far from secure.

"Josiah, you see the ropes below you. I’m going to lower you until your feet can reach them." Archie tried to keep his voice calm and steady.

Josiah let out a small cry as his body once again hung in mid-air, but when his feet felt secure, he screwed up his face and held on for dear life. Archie followed him down, dropping effortlessly onto the ropes and reaching out to steady the shaking child.

"Bring him down, Mr. Kennedy!" Pellew called.

"Josiah, I'm going to let go of you now," Archie said, moving his hand slowly from the trembling boy's back.

"No!"

"You climbed up here without my help, did you not? You can climb down."

"I'm afraid." Josiah looked over his shoulder, his eyes pleading with Archie's.

"I was afraid too, the first time. I still try not to look down at thedeck." Archie said, smiling. "But that will be our secret, won't it? Promise you won't tell."

Josiah nodded solemnly, and as he clung to the ropes, Archie took a step down. The cold wind bit at Josiah's back and he shivered, no longer shielded by the reassuring warmth of his rescuer's body. Archie stopped and looked up at the boy.

"Let's get back to our duties, shall we, Mr. White?"

The boy bit his lip, determined. "Aye, sir."

"Josiah -- I'm right behind you. I won't let you fall."

Josiah grinned down at him and began his descent.

The crew of the Indy broke into applause as the two approached a less hazardous altitude, and let out a whooping cheer as they reached the safety of the deck. Josiah basked in the attention of his elders, many of whom patted him on the back or tousled his hair.

"Huzza! Huzza for Kennedy!" Oldroyd shouted, joining in the chorus of men marvelling at Archie's feat.

"Aye! Saved the boy's life, he did, just like he saved Lieutenant Hornblower a few months back," Matthews said to him. "Weren't nobody else the lad woulda listened to … Mark my words, that young man will have his own command one day. He's one of the best officers in the fleet, no matter that he got off to a rough start."

Styles shook his head. "Yeah, but I'm glad I ain't in his crew."

Oldroyd gave him an annoyed punch in the arm. "Styles, you dog! How can you say that after what we just seen?"

Styles grunted. "The Cap'n has it in for 'im, that's why. I was talkin' to Royston -- he's in his crew -- and from what he tells me, I'd be willin' to bet that the Cap'n gives 'im what-for, even after this. Probably for making too much noise."

"Styles!" Matthews whispered urgently.

"After all, Cap'n did call for quiet," Styles went on, grinning wickedly.

"Talking of quiet, Styles …"

The serious expression on Matthews' face caught his attention. He watched, undone, as Matthews mouthed the words. The. Captain. Is. Right. Behind. You.

***

Archie winced as Lieutenant Dawson grabbed his hand and shook it furiously. His shoulder felt like it was on fire. Behind Dawson, he caught Horatio's smile, and a look that needed no words to convey its meaning. There would be time for words later, when circumstances permitted.

Styles waited until the officers had expressed their congratulations. "Lieutenant Kennedy, sir, the Captain wants to see you in his quarters."

"Thank you, Styles," Archie said. He noticed the grim countenance of the usually ebullient seaman. "Is everything … alright?"

Styles hung his head. "Yes, sir. It's just that -- I got some work to do."

Archie took a few moments to collect his thoughts before knocking on the Captain's door. With an aching heart, he remembered what had happened the last time he had stood in this position. It was ironic, he thought, that both times Josiah White had innocently been responsible.

He reached out to rap on the door, but it opened, and Styles came out, bearing a chamber pot in hand.

Archie blinked. "Isn't that the servant's job, Styles?"

"Usually, sir," Styles said miserably, moving quickly away. "Beg your pardon, sir."

Archie shrugged and knocked lightly on the open door.

"Come in, Mr. Kennedy," Pellew called.

He was standing beside his desk, carefully pouring brandy into two glasses. "I would imagine you could use this," he said.

"Thank you, sir," Archie said, gratefully accepting the offer. He was no longer shaken by his efforts aloft, but now, as he stood before Pellew, he steeled himself for anything. There was a time when he'd felt able to read his Captain's moods tolerably well. Was the Captain pleased? He didn't dare guess. He glanced self-consciously at the rip in the sleeve of his coat.

"Well done, Lieutenant. I thought we'd lost him for a moment." Pellew held out the glass. "And you as well."

Archie took it, left-handed, still not trusting his weaker arm. "So did I, sir." Relief washed over him at the kindness in the Captain's voice.

Pellew downed his own drink quickly. He put the glass down before raising a steady gaze in Archie's direction. "I regret that I have been unduly harsh with you. I have allowed personal matters to interfere with my command of this ship. It will not happen again."

It was the closest thing to an apology one could expect from one's Captain. Archie could not imagine what was going through the older man's mind. But even Pellew's firm resolve could not hide the aching loneliness in his eyes. Pellew sensed too, that his face had betrayed him. He turned away, keeping his hands busy putting away the bottle.

Archie longed to offer some comfort, but dared not breach the sanctity of the Captain's personal feelings. "Sir, your treatment of me has always been … " He frantically searched for the right words, regretting that he has responded at all. "Above reproach, sir."

Pellew visibly stiffened. "It has not, sir. My conduct was inexcusable. I would urge you to keep that in mind when you are in command."

An uncomfortable silence descended. Archie had not been dismissed, and therefore could not leave. He stood helplessly, watching the Captain's back, waiting.

After what seemed like hours, Pellew finally turned towards him again. "Would two days' shore leave be welcome?"

Archie's mouth opened in astonishment. That was the last thing he had expected, and the thing he most wanted. "Aye, sir, it would," he said quickly.

Pellew nodded. "I was considering that Lieutenant Hornblower might feel the same way."

Archie tried to restrain his joy at that offer. "I'm sure he will, sir," he said, relieved that the tension between him and the Captain had abated.

"Good. That will be all, Lieutenant."

Archie nodded slightly, and swallowed.

"Was there something else, Mr. Kennedy?" Pellew raised an eyebrow.

"No, sir." He turned to go, then remembered the look on the Captain's face earlier. There was something he could not quite let go. "That is, if there is anything I can do …"

The Captain lowered his eyes, touched by the gesture. "No, I will deal with it myself." He paused a moment. "Thank you."

***

The weather was bitterly cold, but shore leave was a welcome respite after the tedium of provisioning and repairs. Archie rubbed his hands together, pulling his cloak tightly around him.

"The skies are heavy," Horatio said, casting a worried glance upwards. "Perhaps we should have stayed aboard after all."

Archie shook his head. "I am not giving this up for bad weather." His breath hung like an icy cloud in the air.

Horatio gave a resigned shrug. "Very well. Shall we find the nearest pub with a warm fire?"

Archie's eyes suddenly brightened and he grabbed Horatio's arm. "We find ourselves in Plymouth!"

Horatio blinked. "Yes?"

"Surely you haven't forgotten. Hector said if we ever find ourselves in Plymouth …"

Horatio frowned. "Archie, I don't think we should go to … that sort of establishment."

"And why not?"

"For heaven's sake, it's a molly house!"

"I know what it is. Oh come, we'll enjoy ourselves." He picked up the pace, leaving Horatio to trot along after him. "It should be around the next corner and down the street."

"I don't see it." The icy wind that whipped down the narrow lane penetrated the folds of his cloak. Horatio noted with growing irritation that they had already passed several suitable inns.

"That's because, unlike public houses, there is no sign. Third door from the last, that's it ahead of us. The one with the green door."

"Archie, I really don't think we should …"

Archie knocked on the door. A small panel in the door slid open, revealing a plump-faced old woman wearing a starched ruffled cap. She squinted at them, looking for familiar faces and finding none. "What do you lads want?" she asked, a hint of suspicion in her voice.

Horatio could feel a whiff of warmed air, even through the small opening. Instinctively he moved his face closer. "Er, we'd like to come in," he stammered

She glanced at their uniforms, a look of disapproval crossing her face. "Ye'll find no drummer boys here. This is a gentlemen's house," she said proudly.

Horatio looked at Archie and shrugged. "It looks as it we'll have to find somewhere else to warm our hands." He did not look at all disappointed.

"Hector told us what to say." Archie whispered.

"I cannot say that!" Horatio hissed.

"I can," Archie said. He put his face close to the panel and smiled at the woman. "Lord Priapus recommends us."

He watched as her expression changed to a broad smile. "Well why didn't you say so, dearie?" The door opened, and an inviting warmth enveloped them. "Come in, and welcome to you." She motioned to a blue-aproned boy with a mop of curly hair. "Bring the gentlemen something to eat." He nodded and headed for the kitchen.

Archie surveyed the cozy public room. A large fire roared at the opposite end. Some dozen or more men, talking, drinking, or playing cards, lounged at tables provided with comfortable chairs. Many of them looked up with interest at the new arrivals.

"You see, it's much like any other alehouse," Archie said.

Horatio stared incredulously. "It is not. There are two men in the corner kissing each other!"

Archie stifled a chuckle. "Let's find a table, shall we?"

"Yes -- there's one over there where no one is sitting."

"Don't you want to meet some of Hector's friends?"

Horatio was preparing to answer in the negative when the matter was taken out of their hands.

"Oh look, my dear Duke, strangers and sojourners within our gates. Is it not written in scripture, 'for I have loved strangers, and after them will I go'? Indeed it is, Amen." The speaker, a man well past middle age, dressed in an elegant floral embroidered silk jacket, threaded his arm through Archie's and pulled him aside.

His companion, of similar age but with a complexion unmarred by wrinkles, smiled and took Horatio's arm. "Quite right, my dear Wills, quite right." He wore his natural hair, dark brown and graying at the temples, in a loose style falling past his chin. A velvet coat with a high turned-down collar of the same chocolate shade was draped about his shoulders. Everything about him -- his manner of speech, his clothing, his deportment, told Horatio that he was a man of breeding. He stroked Horatio's cheek lightly. "And who are you, my lovely?"

Horatio darted a glance over the man's shoulder, and found that the gentleman in the silk jacket -- Wills he'd been called -- was conversing with Archie, his face altogether too close to Archie's. Horatio managed an uncomfortable smile. "My name is -- John, my lord" he said.

"I'm no lord, my pet."

Horatio blinked. "Forgive me, I thought your friend addressed you as a Duke."

"Of course you would not know, having only just now made my acquaintance. I am Duke to my intimates, Marmaduke on my baptismal record." He turned a charming smile on Horatio. "John, you are entirely too beautiful for your own good. I suppose you hear that often enough, do you?"

Blushing, Horatio lowered his eyes. "Sir -- er, Duke, if you don't mind, my friend and I were … that is, we are together, you see."

Duke sighed wistfully. "Ah, so you are. I am grief-stricken. But let us buy you a drink." He turned to his companion. "Wills, you cannot keep your prize, I'm sorry to say. Come and join us."

His friend gave him a despondent look and brought Archie over, his arm around his waist.

"Wills, this beauteous young man is John. John, I have the questionable pleasure of presenting William Hawkwood, gentleman and printer of Plymouth, whom you may call Wills if you like."

Wills sniffed in feigned offence. "John, you say? Well this one says he's John, too," he said, nodding at Archie. "For is it not written in scripture 'His name is John, and they marvelled all'? Indeed it is, Amen. My dear Duke, however will we tell them apart?"

"Dark John and Fair John? Or perhaps First John and Second John," Duke offered.

Archie could not help laughing. "That would be entirely too confusing," he said. "My name is Archie. Forgive our naïveté, we are new at this."

Duke returned an affectionate smile. "You come highly recommended, so I hear."

Even Archie blushed a little under the man's obviously interested gaze. "We are fortunate in that particular friendship," he said politely, "wouldn't you agree, Horatio?"

"Horatio …." Duke said softly. "I did not think you had the look of a John about you."

Archie gave Horatio an apologetic glance.

At that moment, the boy arrived from the kitchen with tray in hand. "This is a feast," Archie said, as they chose a table near the fire. "Ham, potted cheese, tarts …" He happily went about loading his plate.

"Is it not written in scripture, 'I will make their feasts, and I will make them drunken, that they may rejoice'? Indeed it is, Amen," Wills said solemnly. "Boy, bring us your best wine!"

As the lad hurried off, the door opened to admit a new arrival. A lady of magnificent proportions swept into the room, attired in a rustling gown of pale green muslin, its tight bodice bedecked with a row of satin bows. Her black hair was becomingly pinned up into a mass of cascading curls. She was almost immediately met by a gentleman, nearly half a head shorter than she, who took her hand and brought it to his lips. He escorted her to a table and called for drinks.

Horatio looked puzzled. "Goodness, I did not expect to see a lady here."

Duke had observed the grand entrance with appreciation. "That is the Countess Adelaide of Nonesuch. Would you like to meet him?"

Horatio gaped. "Him? Oh."

Wills patted his arm. "Is it not written in scripture, 'she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man'? Indeed it is, Amen."

"Adelaide's a queer bitch," Duke offered. "He asks one to do all manner of things."

"What sort of things?" Archie asked through a mouthful of food.

"I don't believe we need to know that, Archie," Horatio whispered.

"Sir Roger is quite possessive of the Countess, if you've noticed," Duke said. "Oh look, they're going upstairs. That does put a thought into my mind, my dear Wills."

"Is it not written in scripture, 'Go up and come into thy bedchamber'? Indeed it is, Amen." He kissed Archie on the cheek, then reached over and stroked Horatio's face. "We bid you adieu, lovely boys, until we meet again."

"Our pleasure," Duke added. "The night is young, join us later if you've a mind."

Arm in arm, the two old companions made for the stairs.

Archie finished the last of his wine. "They were very kind to us, don't you think?"

Horatio pushed his plate aside and patted his stomach. "The meal was very good, but they were -- odd gentleman. And I do not care to be touched like that by strangers."

"Like this?" Archie touched his cheek, letting his hand linger. He pulled Horatio closer and met his lips, kissing him softly. "I like being able to touch you without feeling shame. I don't like hiding."

"We've no choice, you know that."

"Yes. That's why I wanted to come here. Here, we have a choice."

"They're watching us," Horatio whispered.

Archie glanced up. A few of the gentlemen were looking their way, nodding their heads and smiling. "Then let's be entertaining." Archie wrapped his fingers in Horatio's curls and pulled him into a deep kiss.

"Archie … must you … do that … here?" Horatio managed between assaults on his lips.

Archie smiled. "The private rooms are upstairs. We have to pay. It won't be as fine as the Admiral's barge, but there will be a bed, and no one to disturb us."

Horatio embarrassment fled at the sight of Archie's parted lips, and the loving look in his eyes. "I would like that," he said, pulling Archie into an embrace. "This is -- interesting, but I would prefer to be alone with you."

Trying to avoid the winks and appreciative grins of the men at the tables they passed, they quickly made their way up the stairs to a narrow hallway, at the head of which sat a beetle-browed man at a small desk. He glanced up at them and held out his hand. "One guinea for your pleasures," he said.

Flinching slightly at the price, Archie deposited a coin in his palm.

"Each," the man added pointedly.

Horatio fumbled in his pockets and finally produced the proper amount.

"Take any of the unoccupied rooms. Would you lads like some company?" He called after them.

Horatio turned. "No. Thank you."

"'Tis your loss," the man said under his breath, and went about counting his money.

The area off the hallway was partitioned into small alcoves. Muffled sounds of laughter and lovemaking filtered through the heavy brocade curtains that hung over each private apartment.

"That was dear at the price," Horatio said

"Do you think so?" Archie moved closer so that his lips were inches from Horatio's ear. "I'll see that you receive your guinea's-worth, love."

"Two," Horatio said, smiling back at him. He walked to the entrance they had just passed. "I don't think there is anyone in this one." He lifted the curtain and peered inside. His audible gasp was followed by the quick closure of the drapes.

"Occupied, I gather," Archie said, from a few feet ahead. He turned back, grinning to himself. Though he'd never admit it, he found Horatio's awkwardness in matters of love charming. He took Horatio's arm. "Come. We'll find another further down the hall."

Horatio blinked. He drew away from Archie, and retreated as far as the wall of the hallway, backstepping until his spine was pressed firmly against its faded paper, needing its hard support. Not so long ago, the warmth of the house had welcomed him. Now it seemed that the heat was stifling, making him feel light-headed and feverish, the narrow passage confining him like a prison cell.

"Whatever is the matter?" Archie took him by the shoulders, his face full of concern.

"In there …" Horatio breathed. His face was grey and haggard with mingled heat and fear.

A troubled frown crossed Archie's face and he reached out to steady his lover. "What?" he asked urgently.

Horatio shook his head, as if to dispel some nightmare, his eyes refusing to focus on Archie's face. Instead, he stared intently at the curtain, his mouth trembling.

Archie knew there were men who enjoyed shocking pleasures, even the intentional infliction of tortuous pain. He shuddered to think that Horatio might have seen such a display. "Don't let it disturb you, love," he urged softly. "Don't think of it again."

Horatio's eyes closed slowly, his features desolate in the dimly lit hallway. "It's -- it's Captain Pellew," he said, his voice a whisper.

Archie felt a knot forming in his stomach. He recalled Pellew's last words to him … I will take care of it myself. And inexorable fate had brought the Captain here to relieve his need, and Horatio to his door. He has been like a father to me, Horatio had said. Oh God, what must he think? "Surely you are mistaken," Archie said quickly. "Come, let's find a room of our own." He tried to take Horatio's hand, and found it balled into a tight fist.

"No!" Horatio whispered. "There is someone with him."

"Please come away, Horatio." Archie felt his heart racing. "Please."

"Someone with him," Horatio went on, as if recounting some phantom vision. "A man … a very young man … who looks just like me … "

"And perhaps the other was someone who looks like the Captain. Please put this out of your mind," Archie coaxed, trying desperately to retain his composure.

"He was doing things to the Captain … intimate things …"

"You cannot be certain," Archie said a bit too quickly, taking a tight hold on Horatio's arm.

Horatio pulled away from him. "I am certain!"

The look in his eyes left Archie with no doubts. His heart sank. "Did he see you?"

"I -- I think so.Yes." Horatio had finally torn his eyes away from the curtain, and was looking at Archie, his features a mixture of hurt and confusion. "You are not shocked, Archie." It was a simple statement of fact, but his tone lent it the weight of an accusation.

Archie's lips parted as if to speak, as he searched for an answer.

"Why are you not shocked?"

Archie could not bear the pleading in those innocent brown eyes. He looked away, knowing there was only one answer, and he could not bring himself to give it.

"Archie, you did not answer me. Did you know that he was here?" Horatio's voice was flat, emotionless.

There was no use in urging Horatio into one of the rooms. His mind was no longer on finding pleasure with Archie. Archie was trapped, like a guilty man in the witness box whose crime would be slowly laid bare by the relentless questioning of the chief counsel for the prosecution. He would not, he promised himself, commit perjury as well. His arms fell to his side. "No, I did not know that he was here."

Horatio forced himself to look at his lover, so beautiful he was in the soft light of the lamp above their heads. He remembered what Archie had asked him only a few days ago. "I don't think you would have to seduce him. If the Captain were to … invite you into his bed, would you …?" Archie knew. There was only one way he could have known such an intimate secret. A sickening horror welled within his heart. "You've been with him …" he said softly, incredulously.

Archie looked at him with desperation. "Horatio, listen to me … I tried to tell you …"

"Tried to tell me?" Horatio's eyes seemed to burn into Archie's soul, and Archie instinctively stepped back. "Forgive my lapse of memory, but I simply cannot recall ..." his sarcastic tone wavered and collapsed under the force of his anger, his voice growing louder with each word that he spat out. " ... ever, ever … hearing you say 'I am fucking the Captain'!"

"It isn't what you think," Archie said forlornly. He could not possibly explain what had happened, even if Horatio were willing to hear him out.

"And what do I think, Archie? Tell me, because I don't know what to think; I have no idea! Just what am I supposed to make of this, anyway? Tell me that!" Horatio moved forward menacingly, but Archie stepped back again and refused to meet his eyes. "When, Archie? How long has this been going on? Just how big a fool am I?"

Archie winced, feeling every syllable Horatio hurled at him wound like a knife in his heart. "You have every right to be angry, but please listen ..."

Horatio shook his head forcefully. "No. I don't want to hear it. I don't understand you, nor can I trust you." Archie looked up at the tremulous tone and their eyes locked. Horatio lowered his voice and repeated, "I do not understand you. Obviously, I never have."

Archie reached for Horatio, his voice choked with emotion. "Please, my love..."

"No! Don't touch me." He pulled up to his full height and stepped back away from Archie's hand, looking at it with revulsion as though it were a viper. His anger flared even hotter for the overture. His hands clenched into tight fists reflexively. Suddenly he wanted contact with Archie, but not of the sort that was being offered. The desire shocked him to his soul, the desire to strike out, the desire to hurt. He had never felt such unreasoning anger. He had to get away from here before …

Archie looked at him with wide eyes and stood as if paralyzed. After a moment, he again stepped forward and slowly, very slowly, he reached out to Horatio. Just before his hand would have reached his lover's cheek, it was knocked away viciously.

"No!!" Horatio felt hot, angry tears brimming in his eyes. He whirled and strode quickly down the hall.

"Wait!" Archie called after him, but it was too late. The sound of Horatio's boots hammering on the stair treads echoed in his ears like the patter of a death drum. Disconsolate, he slumped against the wall, covering his face with his hands.

It would do him no good, he knew, to go after Horatio. He had given the Captain his word, and had already betrayed him, though unintentionally. And he had betrayed Horatio as well. Pellew had made it clear that he had no particular interest in Archie; Horatio would likely never speak to him again. In that one brief parting of a curtain, it seemed to Archie that he had lost everything that mattered to him.

With dull eyes, he watched a young man make his exit from the room. Archie couldn't help but stare, too numb to hide his reaction. The familiar look of the lad was a shock; he was tall and slim with a lush crop of brown curls and full, red lips. He had left his shirt rakishly untucked in several places, and open halfway down his smooth chest. He gave Archie a wanton look, jingling a handful of coins. Still gazing at Archie over his shoulder, he sauntered down the hall. As he passed the man at the desk, he got a playful swat on his buttocks.

"And where do you think you're running off to?" the man asked, holding out his hand.

The boy pursed his lips and dropped one of his coins into the waiting palm.

"Let me see it all," the older man demanded.

"I earned it," the boy said petulantly. "It's all mine by rights."

"You scoundrel! Is that any way to talk to your father?" the man cajoled. "Come now, let's see it."

Scowling, he opened his fist.

The man whistled. "La! Who had you tonight, the King of Spain?" He quickly took two more coins.

As he reached for a third, the boy laughed and snatched his hand away. "Mind you don't go far, you'll be wanted again afore morning," he called after him.

Archie waited until the lad was out of sight before quietly making his way downstairs. He avoided the crowded tables, hoping no one would notice his departure. Just as he neared the door, a gloved hand caught his arm.

"Have a spat, did you?" asked a soft, deep voice.

Archie looked up at the dark eyes of Countess Adelaide. "You might say that," he replied, his voice brittle.

"There is room at my table."

Under other circumstances, Archie would have relished the chance to come to know the enigmatic Countess. Even now, he saw nothing but tender concern in the heavily painted eyes. He placed a hand on the Countess's gloved one. "Thank you, but I'd like to be alone."

Adelaide gave his arm a little squeeze and moved away, and Archie gratefully reached for the door.

The cold night air swirled around him like a shroud. He vaguely recalled leaving his cloak draped across a chair in the public room, and was considering returning for it when he heard the door open behind him.

Captain Pellew stepped out, the lantern above the door highlighting his worn countenance. He stood beside Archie, his hands seeking the warmth of his pockets. "I heard everything," he said.

Archie felt a snowflake light on his cheek. He closed his eyes briefly, hoping to quiet the pounding in his head. Holding himself against the cold, he said nothing.

"Lieutenant Kennedy … I did not know that you and he were … " Pellew's voice shook as he struggled with his feelings. "I will make amends for what I have done."

Archie took a deep breath of icy air. His chest ached with the effort. He looked down, shaking his head. "The fault was mine, sir. I should not have allowed things to go so far. For both our sakes."

"Do not blame yourself." He glanced at Archie's defeated expression. "How could I have been so blind? When you were injured and near death, he never left your side." Pellew sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. Gathering his resolve, he placed a firm hand on Archie's shoulder. "He cannot have gone far. I will bring him back. Wait inside." Without waiting for a reply, he strode off into the night.

Archie leaned against the door. Even if you find him, he won't come back. Oh God, it is hopeless.

***

At last, Pellew saw the familiar blue cloak ahead of him, its wearer walking briskly not ten yards away, his boots crunching softly in the virgin snow. "Horatio, wait!" he called.

The figure came to a jerking halt, paused a moment, then resumed walking swiftly onward.

"Mr. Hornblower!" Pellew called again, against the wind. "That is an order!"

The footsteps slowed, and finally stopped, but he did not turn around.

Pellew caught up to him. "You will hear me out Horatio, or -- "

"Or what, sir?" came the bitter reply.

The Captain grasped Horatio's shoulders, turning him around. He was shaking with anger, his eyes defiant and his mouth set. Pellew tightened his grip, knowing he would have to convince quickly, or lose him again. "I was ill. Mr. Kennedy came upon me in that state and tended to my needs."

Horatio turned his head away, wanting to hear no more.

"He cared for me, perhaps saved my life," Pellew went on determinedly. "But in my state of delirium, I clung to him. And a part of me that I thought I had buried years ago returned. He was kind enough not to shame me by casting me away. I did not know that he was … your lover. Even had I known, I cannot say that I could have stopped myself, for I had lost control of my will."

Horatio still refused to look at him. But in his heart, he knew that Archie would have done just as the Captain had said. It was in his nature to offer comfort and aid, even if it proved to be to his own detriment. He would have done it without giving a second thought to the consequences. "He kept it from me," he said curtly, shuffling his feet, which felt like they had frozen to the bricks of the street.

"I required his word."

Horatio's eyes closed slowly, his anger crumbling to dust. In the cold moonlight, a droplet fell down his cheek, warm against his frostbitten skin. "Oh God …" he whispered.

"Go back to him, Horatio," Pellew said softly, releasing him at last.

"I cannot," Horatio said, his head down. "How could I, after the things I said?"

Pellew pondered a moment, watching his breath form clouds before his face. "I also said harsh things to him, if you recall. And he had no ill feelings towards me. There was no rancour in his eyes when I confronted him and we came to an understanding."

"I cannot imagine, sir, that it is the same thing," Horatio said.

"Perhaps not. I do not know him as you do." Pellew looked away suddenly, hesitant to go further into a subject which might provoke questions he was not prepared to answer. "But I saw his face when I left him at the -- back there. He was grief-stricken. Will you not have mercy, for his sake?"

Horatio nodded mutely, rubbing his cheek with his sleeve. He glanced down the darkened street. "Sir?"

Pellew turned to him.

"I regret to say that I am lost."

"Come, we will walk together." Pellew took his arm and urged him forward. The chill was beginning to settle in his bones, and he shivered, even with his heavy cloak pulled tightly about him.

They walked back towards the Promenade, the only sound the crunching of their boots in the new fallen snow and the occasional whinny of a carriage horse.

Horatio thought back to what he had seen behind the curtain. He found he could not forget the lad's face, so like his own. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, he told himself. What else could it be? Unless … no, surely the Captain had not had such thoughts about him. But if he had? If the choice of the boy had been intentional, what then? He broke the strained silence. "Sir … that man whom you were with …"

The remark took Pellew by surprise. "Hired. He was no one," he said quickly. "I thought I could rid myself of my demon."

"Is that how you see it, sir, as a demon?" Horatio could not keep the hurt from his voice. He felt demeaned in the Captain's eyes, wondering if Pellew would ever feel the same about him. To have Pellew's respect had been one of his greatest joys. And now he knew that he and Archie were lovers. That Horatio shared his demon.

"How could I think otherwise?" Pellew returned. "It would be the end of my career, if it were known. And yours and Mr. Kennedy's as well, I might add."

There was no condemnation in his voice, only concern. He chanced a glance towards the Captain, but could read nothing in his cold-hardened features. "We are cautious, sir."

"Still, it is a dangerous undertaking. You must know that."

Horatio stopped suddenly. He looked at his Captain, his eyes open and honest. "Someone once said to me, 'One must ask if the prize is worth the risk.'"

Pellew swallowed audibly. "And you have found it to be so?"

"I have, sir," he answered confidently. If I have not lost him forever by my angry words, he thought to himself. "It is a most wondrous thing. Have you never been in love?"

Pellew walked on a few paces before replying. "I was married."

"Oh. I did not know."

"She has been dead fifteen years."

Horatio had amazed himself at his earlier boldness, and now regretting prying. "I am sorry."

"That was a very long time ago." His voice was distant and hollow.

"And you have not loved -- since?"

Pellew did not answer.

"Forgive me, sir, I should not have intruded." Horatio was relieved to see the familiar green door down the street. "It seems we are back where we began," he said.

"Yes. I will hire a coach," Pellew said. "Goodnight, Mr. Hornblower."

"Goodnight, sir. And thank you."

Horatio knocked on the panel and was admitted without challenge. He surveyed the room, but Archie was not there. "Oh Lord," he muttered to himself. "Now what am I to do?"

"Your dove has flown," said a husky voice at his elbow.

Startled, he turned to find Countess Adelaide standing beside him.

"He said he wanted to be alone. I was concerned for him, he looked so adrift. I followed him out and saw that he turned down Madeira Road."

"Thank you," Horatio said. "That was very kind of you."

"Any time, dearie," Adelaide purred. "And don't worry, we all have our little tiffs. The world will look more like a rose garden tomorrow."

Horatio found his earlier scruples about the Countess melting away. "I do hope you are right," he said, allowing himself to smile a little. "Thank you again."

He found Pellew about to step into a coach. At his approach, Pellew turned. "Has something gone amiss, Mr. Hornblower?"

"He isn't there, sir."

"Blast it, I told him to wait inside."

"The C -- er, someone told me he went down Madeira Street. I've no idea where that is."

Sighing, Pellew waved the coach away and pointed westward. "Come along, then, it seems our night is not yet over."

"Sir, I couldn't ask you to accompany me. The snow is falling harder now." Horatio wiped away the white specks that clung to his eyelashes.

"I mean to see this through to the end," Pellew said firmly. "There are a number of alehouses along that way that are popular with the crewmen. We will begin there."

***

Archie walked aimlessly towards the brightly-lit windows, which shone like beacons along the cold dark street. The pubs were full of sailors and their women, laughing and drinking the night away. He stood outside The Rose and Crown for a moment, shivering. As little as he desired company, he needed the warmth of the fire that he knew would be blazing within.

He opened the door and stepped inside, shaking the mantle of snow from his hair and shoulders. The heat in the crowded room stung his face. The place smelled of ale, tobacco, and roasting meat. In the corner, a fiddler played "Nancy Dawson", barely audible above the roaring noise of the throng. He winced at the cacophony, his head still hounded by a dull ache that had followed him from the molly house.

At a table near the doorway, he spotted a few men of Horatio's crew along with several others from the Indy. Although he had wanted to be alone, he found the sight of familiar faces comforting. As he approached the table, the men nodded their greetings, their brows raised in surprise at the presence of an officer in this seamen's pub.

Styles smiled up at him. "Evenin' Mr. Kennedy, sir." He turned back to his mates. "So then the other whore says --"

Matthews elbowed him in the ribs. "We'll hear the end of that tale later, Styles. Will you join us, sir?" he asked.

Archie took a seat, rubbing his hands together. He realized the men were not entirely comfortable with him in such a setting. "I will only stay a few minutes, Matthews, until my hands and feet thaw a bit."

Somewhere in the back of the room, a man shouted a profane demand for Bess to serve his table. That was followed by an equally profane suggestion of other ways in which she could serve him.

"Those are Captain Foster's men in the back," Matthews said apologetically. "Rowdy blackguards, as you can see, sir."

At that moment, one of the miscreants stumbled into their table, knocking over a mug of ale that narrowly missed Archie's lap as it spilled off onto the floor.

"'ere, watch what yer doin'," Oldroyd growled, pushing him roughly away.

"They were pissed as newts when we come in. A good while ago," Styles said.

The sailor lumbered backwards a few steps, caught himself, then wove his way to the table again. As the man swayed dangerously close, Archie calculated the odds that the brute would eventually topple over and land right on top of him. "You lot are Pellew's men, ain't that so?" he slurred.

"That's so," Styles said menacingly.

"Piss on the Inda ... Indeffaga ... piss on the Indy!"

Styles grabbed him roughly by the front of his shirt, his eyes blazing.

"Ignore him, Styles," Archie ordered, his patience wearing thin. What he wouldn't give for a bit of peace and quiet ...

"But, sir --" Styles looked disappointed, still holding his quarry.

"I said ignore him. He's drunk."

Free of Styles' grip, Foster's man looked down his bulbous nose at Archie. He sneered at the young Lieutenant, sizing him up and smirking, obviously not impressed. The feeling was mutual. The man was standing too close, he was disrespectful of rank, he was loud, and he smelled bad. "And piss on yer captain."

Archie pushed his chair back and rose slowly. "You will apologize for that," he said evenly. The drunken man was all Archie could see; the rest of the pub faded into the background.

The man spat on the table. "Piss on Pellew."

Matthews tugged at Archie's sleeve. "Sir, as you said, he's drunk"

"He's not that drunk," Archie said, a moment before knocking the man out cold.

He hit the floor a few feet from his mates, who sprang into action. Two burly sailors grabbed Archie's arms as another prepared to dispense revenge.

Matthews shook his head. "Well, come on, lads."

"Mine on the left," Styles said, grinning.

Oldroyd nodded, aiming a punch at the other's stomach. More of Foster's men soon joined in, keeping the outnumbered men of the Indy busy swinging blows and dodging flying crockery. One approached Styles from behind and smashed a wooden chair over his head. Styles turned, slightly dazed, and butted the man in the stomach. He careened into a table and collapsed on top of it.

Archie rubbed his aching knuckles, opting to use his elbow on his next opponent. He caught the man in the chin and he went down hard. A pitcher shattered against the wall nearby, and a piece of it grazed his temple, drawing blood. He took a moment to blot at it with his sleeve before wading back into the fray.

Despite their fewer numbers, the crew of the Indy were soberer, and gradually Foster's men were either pounded out of action, or simply passed out where they stood. Dusting their hands, they returned to what was left of their tables, pulling over undamaged chairs to replace the ones that had been shattered, and grinning at each other in satisfaction over a good night's work.

A portly man in an apron picked up the remains of a chair, pulled a face, and dropped it again. "Look at this! Destroyed! It will have to be replaced! And this!" He kicked at a pile of broken pottery. "Ruination! Who is responsible?" He glanced around until his eyes lighted upon Archie, who was still standing near his last combatant, shaking the haze from his eyes. "You there! I saw it all! I demand that you pay for my broken chairs. And my broken pitchers!"

"Those men there were just as much to blame as we were," Matthews shot back, nodding at the unconscious bodies on the floor. "It ain't fair to make one of ours pay." He stood next to Archie, giving the landlord a hard look.

"It's alright, Matthews," Archie said, fishing in his pockets and withdrawing the last of his money. He placed it on the bar. "I don't want any more trouble, for any of us."

The landlord swept the coins into his palm. "This is nowhere near enough!" he squeaked.

"It's all I have," Archie said with a shrug, "You'll have to make do."

"You heard him," Matthews said menacingly. "Go on, off with you. Or we'll do our drinking at the Nag's Head next time we're in Plymouth."

The landlord surveyed the number of crewmen in the room. Frowning and muttering, he stalked off.

Matthews eyed the cut over Archie's brow. "Are you hurt badly, sir?"

"Nothing that cannot wait, Matthews. You look the worse for wear yourself."

"Aye, I'm too old for this. But it needed doin', that's for sure." He caught a passing serving girl by the sleeve. "Bring the lieutenant a pint," he said, flipping her a coin.

"They did start it," Archie offered.

"So they did, sir."

After a stretch and a satisfied grin, Archie gratefully quaffed the brew the girl set before him. He flexed his fingers, trying to restore the feeling in his hand.

"Where has Mr. Hornblower got off to?" Matthew asked suddenly.

"Mm to the side, hoping the older man could not read the despair in his eyes.

"You were together when you left the ship."

"He … tired of my company," Archie said lamely.

Matthews took a long drink from his mug. "Is that so? You look like you've got the blue devils, sir. I don't reckon there's anything I can do?"

Suddenly curious, Archie turned back, looking Matthews full in the face. "Did he tell you something about our … particular relationship?

"Oh no, sir." Matthews gave him a wink. "He didn't have to."

Archie digested that for a moment. Matthews knew, which meant some of the other crewmen probably did as well. And now the Captain knew. He wondered if there was anyone aboard the Indy who didn't know of their supposedly closely-guarded secret. They had been so careful, making sure no one saw them together on the lower deck, always exiting their little rendezvous separately, refraining from even a hint of unacceptable touching or soft words while on duty. "Then how --?"

He let the question hang.

"Lord, sir." Matthews fidgeted with his mug, his cheeks reddening a little. "I don't rightly know how to put into words. It's just somethin' about the way you are around Mr. Hornblower. And the way he is around you." He took another sip of ale. "And when you took that musket ball for him, and we all thought you were goin' t' die. Well, I think he would have gone with ye."

Relieved that nothing had apparently been seen or overheard, Archie let the matter drop. But the reminder of Horatio's love for him made his heart ache with regret.

"Come on, sir, join me and the lads." He urged Archie towards the table, where the others had resumed their seats and ordered fresh drinks.

"A toast," Matthews said, "to Lieutenant Kennedy!"

"Huzza!" the men chorused, and drank heartily.

The toast passed round the table, with Archie next. "Oaken ships, and British hands to man them!" he offered.

Their mugs were nearly empty by the time Styles' turn came. "May the game laws be repealed!" he shouted lustily.

The men drained the last of their ale and called for another round.

"This is the last one," Pellew sighed. "Horatio, I fear we'll have to call off our search for the night if he isn't here."

Horatio followed him into the Rose and Crown. Silence gradually descended upon the room in the presence of a Captain.

"Thank God, here he is at last," Pellew said, approaching the table.

Archie glanced up, and was amazed to see not only the Captain, but Horatio as well. Both of them appeared relieved to see him. Confused, he looked quickly away, not yet able to meet either's eyes.

Pellew stood over the table like a judge. He quickly noted the dried blood above Archie's eye, and the hand resting on the table, bruised and beginning to swell. Slowly, he took in the destruction in the room, and the men lying on the floor, many of them snoring loudly. "What in the name of all the devils of hell happened here? Mr. Kennedy?" he demanded.

"Well, you see, sir …" Archie looked down, chewing his lip.

"Matthews?" Horatio prodded.

"Just a bit of a scuffle, sir," Matthews said quietly.

"A bit of a scuffle," Pellew repeated.

"I'll say it was!" the landlord's voice intervened. "Captain, sir, are these your men?"

"They are," Pellew said guardedly.

"Then I'll thank you to pay the balance for the damages to my establishment. That one," he said, bobbing his head at Archie, "gave me five shillings. Five shillings! Just look at my chairs. My pitchers!" his voice reached an ear-piercing shriek. "The balance, sir," he demanded, shaking his fist at Pellew.

Pellew returned an outraged glare. "I most assuredly will not, sir!" he bellowed.

"I will have you in court, I will!" he landlord piped.

"You do that," Pellew retorted.

The landlord stomped off, muttering about his broken pitchers.

"'Twasn't our fault, sir. They started it, sir. Foster's men," Oldroyd put in.

"Foster's men." Pellew repeated, looking as if he'd swallowed something nasty. "One of them struck you first?"

Oldroyd glanced away nervously. "Not exactly, sir."

"Then who did?" the Captain demanded.

"I did, sir," Archie said quietly.

"You, Mr. Kennedy?" Pellew looked genuinely shocked. "Would you mind telling me why?"

"I -- I don't think I can." Archie covered the cut on his face with his hand. "I can't, sir."

Horatio sighed. "Matthews?"

"Er, well, you see … " Matthews' voice trailed off, and he looked at Archie, wondering how to explain the night's events to the Captain without deepening the trouble the Lieutenant was probably already in.

"Styles?" Horatio folded his arms, waiting.

Styles licked his lips. He would have no problem telling the tale. "That 'un said piss on the Indy," he explained, nodding towards the still unconscious sailor stretched out on the floor beside the bar.

Pellew looked at the prone form with distaste. "And Mr. Kennedy struck him for that?"

"No, sir. It was when he said piss on the Captain that he hit him, sir. Felled him with one blow, lookin' like God's revenge for murder, so he did, sir."

Pellew coughed. "I see. Well, gentlemen, I think we've had enough of this place. Come along, Mr. Kennedy."

Archie rose slowly, and with a final look at his fellow brawlers, sighed and followed the Captain towards the door.

Horatio touched his arm lightly. "Archie, your hand …"

"It's nothing. That fellow had a jaw like a boulder." He smiled ruefully to himself, but only for a moment. The last intoxicating effects of the fight were draining out of him, and he felt very tired.

Pellew stopped suddenly. "Why don't you help Mr. Kennedy outside. I'll join you shortly," he said to Horatio.

He strode over to the bar and caught the landlord's eye. From a small purse in his pocket he withdrew a handful of gold coins, which he slammed onto the counter. "I trust that will suffice for your pitchers," he growled.

The man eyed the coins, hesitant to touch them while the Captain still stood over him. "Oh indeed, sir. Sufficient, sir. More than sufficient, sir."

Archie leaned against the wall, holding himself against the icy night. It had been a wild evening, and his mind rebelled against the thought of another emotional upheaval.

"Archie? Where is your cloak?" Horatio asked softly.

"I don't know. I left it somewhere."

Horatio removed his own and placed it around Archie's shoulders.

The sudden warmth, the brief brush of Horatio's hand, almost brought tears to his eyes. "What could I possibly be to you now?" he asked, barely above a whisper.

Horatio moved closer. "My heart's desire … as you always have been. Please forgive my jealous anger."

Pellew, standing just outside the doorway behind them, cleared his throat. "Please comply, Lieutenant Kennedy, before we all catch our deaths of cold."

Archie nodded, hoping there would be time later to find the right words.

"We're not likely to find a coach at this hour, and I am not of a mind to walk far in this weather, nor should you being doing so, Mr. Kennedy. Are you still bleeding?" Pellew asked.

"I'll be alright, sir."

"Gentlemen, may I suggest that we find a room for the night? I believe I know a suitable inn not far away, if you will follow me."

The place was indeed close by, and after a short walk, Pellew led the younger men through the door of The Royal Arms, into an elegant and well-appointed common room. There were no carousing sailors here, and at this late hour, only a few gentlemen sitting beside the fire smoking their pipes.

"This is far beyond our means," Horatio murmured, taking in the surroundings.

"I've not a penny left to my name," Archie said, equally worried.

Pellew was discoursing with the landlady, a short, apple-cheeked woman who seemed to know the Captain. After a moment, he turned, beckoning them onward.

Embarrassed, Horatio spoke for both of them. "Sir, I -- we cannot afford such accommodations."

"It is taken care of," the Captain said.

Realization dawned as a servant led them up the stairs. "I will repay you as soon as I am able," Horatio said, huffing to keep up with the Captain as he hurried onward.

"Think no more of it, Horatio," Pellew said, stepping into a fine room with a large bed and a fire already laid and roaring a warm welcome. He instructed the servant to bring up something warm to drink, and the men gratefully discarded their sodden coats and boots.

Archie slumped down in the nearest chair, his head in his hands.

Pellew moved to the wash basin and dampened his handkerchief. "Would you allow me?" he asked, raising Archie's chin with his hand and washing the dried blood from the cut on his face. "Thank heavens it isn't deep." He took Archie's swollen hand in his own, examining it carefully. "There is little I can do for this, I'm afraid. That must have been quite a blow you struck, Archie."

Archie warmed at the Captain's kind tone and the use of his name. "I lost my temper, sir."

"In my defence," the Captain added. "My behaviour of late does not merit such a champion."

"Sir …" Archie could not bear the look of guilt in Pellew's eyes. Fortunately the servant returned at that moment with their drinks, spiced wine, warm and fragrant, and he was spared the necessity of a reply.

"This is wonderful," Archie said, as the smell of cinnamon and cloves pervaded the air. The warmth spread from his stomach to his limbs, and at last he felt the chill leaving his weary body. He rose and stretched, beginning to feel the soreness of his bruises and knowing it would be worse tomorrow. The heat felt good.

"May I speak, sir?" Horatio asked, joining them in front of the fire, cup in hand.

"Of course," Pellew responded.

"I regret being the cause of so much distress. To you, and …" he looked at Archie, his eyes conveying his thoughts.

"It is hardly your fault, Horatio," Archie said.

"That is true, the fault is entirely mine." Pellew gulped the warm liquid, setting his cup on the carved mantle and staring into the fire.

Slowly, Archie reached over and took Horatio's empty cup from him, setting it beside the Captain's. "All this talk of blame," he said softly. "Have we not had enough aspersions for one evening?"

"Indeed, you are right, Archie," Horatio said.

"I quite agree," Pellew added.

"Good. Then let us make our peace with one another." He took Horatio in his arms, heedless of the Captain's presence, and sighed deeply, revelling in the feel of Horatio's arms as they wound around him. "I am so sorry, Horatio," he whispered.

Horatio clasped him tightly, his intense feelings overcoming any burden of guilt at such a display in front of Pellew. "I told you once, never to apologize to me for anything. I meant it." He brought his face closer and kissed Archie lightly on the lips.

Pellew had turned away, not wanting to intrude upon the moment, but also unable to bear the sight of the two men in each other's arms. He ached with loneliness, made the worse by the knowledge that Horatio must have known where his heart lay the moment he set eyes on the whore who was his living image. What a fool I am, to have had such thoughts. He belongs with someone as young and beautiful as he is. What have I become? A silly old man, yearning for a touch -- one touch -- from his hand. One look from his eyes. Anything that would tell me that I am more than a surrogate father to him. God knows, I have been. Why could I not be content with that? Perhaps I have been too long at sea, too long away from the living. But I have my memories. And the dreams of him that will never leave me. It must suffice.

He closed his eyes, mentally putting himself in Archie's place, wondering if Horatio's lips tasted as he'd imagined. He was startled by a touch on his shoulder.

Archie's hand moved to his back, turning him, drawing him closer to Horatio, who waited silently. Of course he should offer his hand, a token of his own regret for what had transpired. Can you forgive me for failing to be the man you thought I was? Can you forgive my foolish weakness? Will you ever look at me as you once did, your eyes full of admiration and fondness? Oh, how could you, knowing what you know now? He could not give voice to his sentiments. Silently, he extended his arm.

But Horatio did not take his hand. Instead, he stepped forward, moving so close that Pellew could not help but place the arm around his waist. He lifted his head, his face inches from the Captain's own.

Pellew was not prepared for the dream so suddenly and unexpectedly to become real. He felt himself trembling, doubts and uncertainly gnawing at him. How wildly outlandish, he thought, that the sight of a French man-of-war bearing down upon him with cannons blazing would be less unsettling than the brown depths of this slight young lieutenant's eyes, which even now were boring into his soul. What he saw in those eyes was both dreadful and frightening. Horatio was inviting him to take more than an embrace. His head was turned slightly, his lips parted. He wanted to be kissed.

Pellew had felt nothing but shame when he had dreamed of Horatio in his quarters, sharing his bed. But now, with the living man instead of a phantom in his arms, there was nothing sordid about his feelings. It was almost a religious ecstasy, the pure innocence of the eyes that held him so steadily from beneath the long dark lashes, and the gentle and tender mouth set before him like an offering.

He bent forward, his mouth dry, his throat parched, his arms shaking as they pulled the object of his yearning closer. Ever so slowly, Horatio's arms found their way around his neck, clinging to him. Horatio emitted a little sigh.

Tempted beyond endurance, Pellew claimed the soft lips, heat coursing through his loins at the moment of contact. Horatio returned the kiss, wantonly probing with his tongue. Pellew captured the intruder, sucking its velvety length then darting his own tongue into the sweet hot mouth of his beloved, tasting cinnamon and wine and passion. It was so much more than he had imagined, he felt tears welling in his eyes. Unable to contain himself, a drop slipped down his cheek, wetting the sun-browned cheek next to his.

Horatio pulled away, wiping the moistness from Pellew's eyes with his fingers. He took the Captain's hand, and led him towards the bed. Pulling back the covers, he guided him gently but firmly down. He stood there above him, like Psyche first glimpsing Eros in the night, a wondrous look in his eyes. These feelings were as new to Horatio as they were to the Captain.

It was Archie who finally moved. From behind, he grasped the tails of Horatio's shirt and pulled it over his head, a little smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He reached around and tweaked the tawny nipples, hardening them, as Pellew looked on. He trailed his hand down the smooth chest, until it rested lightly on the waistband of Horatio's trousers. "Shall I continue?" he asked huskily.

Pellew felt his breath catch in his lungs at the sight before him. He wanted Archie to continue, to pull the trousers down and reveal what was underneath. And Archie was asking him, not Horatio. He had no right, he knew, to ask for this. Even beneath the clothing, he could see the swelling at Horatio's groin. His own erection tented his trousers, a testimony to his desires. And for once, he felt no shame.

Slowly, the confining garment was slipped over the narrow hips and the tight muscular thighs. The pale skin of Horatio's lower body contrasted with his tanned chest and face. Archie grasped the hard cock that flowered from the dark mass of pubic hair as if displaying it for the Captain's inspection. He pumped it gently, evoking a rapturous sigh from Horatio. Then he took Horatio's hand and brought it there, insisting that he hold himself as he stood waiting.

Lust raced through the Captain's veins like a sheet of flame at the sight of Horatio standing over him, holding his manhood in his hand like some primeval carnal god of fertility. The fire threatened to devour him in a holocaust of desire.

And then Archie was at his side, removing his shirt, which was damp with his perspiration. Fingers tugged at his trousers, gently easing them over his turgescent cock. He lay naked and exposed, like a knight without armour, waiting for the coup de grâce.

Horatio approached slowly, almost reverently kneeling on the bed between the Captain's legs. Giving him the briefest of longing looks, he lowered his eyes and sighed, parting his lips to receive the straining organ.

Pellew groaned, almost climaxing as the soft warm mouth cherished his cock, so gentle and loving. He willed himself to hold back, to let this go on as long as he could stand it. He wanted to buck his hips, to fuck that tender mouth with all his might, so great was his need. He grasped the fabric of the sheets in his hands, biting his lip till he nearly drew blood, restraining his impulses and letting Horatio pleasure him lazily, at his leisure. Horatio's long fingers stroked the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs, then moved to his balls, cupping them with just enough pressure to bring arousal to a fever pitch. Every touch of those hands sent strong joyful impulses coursing through his body.

Horatio kissed away the juices that dripped from the slit of the cock, circling the head with his tongue, then drawing it down the length of the shaft to tease the balls. The dark taste and musky scent of that area thrilled Horatio, urging him to move faster. Planting his hands on Pellew's hips, he took all of him in his mouth, his lips lightly brushing the dark hair at the base of the cock.

"My Horatio …" Pellew managed, before filling the waiting throat with one torrid jet after another. He moaned in ecstasy, as the waves of release washed over him. "Horatio …my love."

Horatio lifted his head, licking his lips at the sight of the sated man stretched out before him. Smiling inwardly, he recalled Archie's question. Don't you find him handsome? Yes, he thought to himself. Oh, yes. The hard body was that of a man in his prime, the terrible beauty of his battle scars strangely fascinating to the young man who adored him. Horatio reached out to touch the heaving chest.

Without warning, Archie leaned over and caught him in a deep kiss, licking the savoury fluids from his tongue as he wound his fingers in the disarrayed curls.

The sight of them together, sharing his seed, was enough to stir the Captain's loins once again. He thought that he had never seen anything lovelier to behold than Horatio and Archie loving each other.

At long last, they parted. Horatio looked at Archie. "Do you remember …?" he asked softly, his brow raised promiscuously.

Archie smiled, stretching out beside Pellew, as Horatio had already done. He nuzzled Pellew's neck, planting small kisses at the hairline. Horatio drew his hand across the Captain's brow, moving aside the damp stray locks of hair.

Pellew gasped. "Both of you?"

"If the Captain so desires," Archie whispered in his ear.

Pellew closed his eyes, lost in a world he feared was a fantasy, unable to resist. "The Captain … desires," he said hoarsely.

Horatio pushed at his shoulder, turning him on his side to face Archie. He gently trailed his fingers down the crack between the firm buttocks, finding the puckered hole and rubbing it with his moistened fingertip. "Will you allow this?" he asked.

"I do not know if I can bear so much," Pellew replied, in a voice choked with emotion.

"Shh," Archie hissed softly, "Let him take you, Edward. He longs for you," he urged, audaciously employing the Captain's name.

"Oh God," Pellew breathed. "Oh God, yes." He sucked in his breath as one finger entered him and paused until he was comfortable with the new sensation.

Horatio probed a little deeper, slowly, again waiting for the tension to drain from the Captain's shoulders. Encouraged, he inserted another finger.

Pellew stiffened. "It is … somewhat painful," he said.

Archie stroked his brow, kissing him lightly and then not so lightly. As the eager tongue explored his mouth, he hardly noticed that Horatio was priming him with three fingers. The pain moved to a remote corner of his mind, occupied as he was with Archie's siege of his mouth. Unconsciously, his hand found its way to Archie's hair, caressing the long silky locks. Archie broke away, smiling, and began working his way down Pellew's throat to his chest, sucking his nipples and trailing his tongue down the fur to his navel.

Horatio felt the buttocks push back against his fingers, asking for more. Gently, he entered the narrow passage, waiting for acceptance as he had earlier before going further. He reminded himself that Pellew had probably never been taken by a man. He wanted more than anything to please him, for the Captain to want this as much as he did. "Are you alright?" he asked softly.

"Better than," Pellew said. Archie had reached his cock, laving it with long, langourous strokes of his tongue. "Merciful God!"

Horatio pulled out a little and gently eased back in. Pellew's hips moved in response, impaling himself further in spite of the sharp ache in his vitals. "Slowly," Horatio warned. "I would die if I hurt you."

"You could not," Pellew said. What he felt in his heart overcame the pain, suppressed it and brushed it aside as if it were nothing. He would have undergone any torture for the sweet pleasure of being loved by Horatio. As if to reassure his young lover, he pressed more firmly against the hard cock, knowing that he had almost taken all of it inside him. He wanted all of it.

Horatio wrapped his arm around Pellew, burying his fingers in his chest hair, stroking him as he began to pump harder. He could see Pellew's upper leg raised a little, as Archie sought access to every part of his genitals. "I love the taste of you, Edward," he heard Archie say. "Mmm, so good taking you this way."

Horatio closed his eyes, imagining what Archie was doing with his mouth. He was losing control over his lust, listening to him talk to the Captain like that. Pellew was moving rhythmically with him now, allowing him in a little more with each thrust, until his cock was buried in the hot, demanding channel.

Archie sensed that both of them were close to orgasm, and he once more claimed Pellew's straining cock with his mouth. With a shout, Horatio came, sinking his teeth into Pellew's back and his fingers into the muscles of his chest. Beyond all reason, Pellew found release in Archie's throat, wetting the pillow with tears of joy. He could say nothing, could not bring himself even to move, so intense was the passion that still held him in thrall.

He lay like a dead man, letting Horatio kiss the little hurts on his back as Archie cleaned his crotch with his tongue. If there were any way to take them both in his arms and declare his love, he would have done so. But his arms were like lifeless weights, his legs numb and unresponsive. He felt as if his body had become a fragile thing of glass, that would shatter if he dared to move.

At last, Horatio turned him on his back and wordlessly kissed him, his eyes full of love, as Archie moved into the crook of his arm and snuggled close, sleepy-eyed and contented. Pellew pulled Horatio down so that his head rested on his chest. "I want to sleep like this," he said, "with both of you near me. Please."

Warm and sated, his heart as full as his arms, Pellew closed his eyes.

The cold, grey morning brought no sun, and it was late when Pellew finally opened his eyes. He blinked away the fog and shifted a little. "Hmm," he unconsciously sighed at the feel of the firm, warm young body nestled against his backside.

Sometime during the night, he had turned on his side, wrapping Horatio in his arms. The little sound had awakened him, and he looked straight into the Captain's eyes, his full lips sprawling slowly into a sleepy smile. "What hour is it?" he asked drowsily.

"I do not know," Pellew said. "Nor do I really care." He stroked the mass of curls fondly. "Last night you gave me everything I have ever wanted, everything I have dreamed of, but never imagined that I could have."

Horatio closed his eyes, marvelling that the thought of this had sounded so shocking only days ago, and now it felt so wonderfully right and proper. "I am where I have always belonged, at your side," he said softly.

"Would that I could keep you here forever," Pellew said, yawning tranquilly and stretching the nocturnal stiffness from his bones. As he turned onto his back, Archie moved in his sleep, throwing an arm around the Captain's broad chest.

The dim light of morning cast a soft glow across his features. One strand of golden hair had fallen across his eyes. A tiny smile repeatedly appeared and vanished from his face, as if he were in the depths of a pleasant dream. Watching him, Horatio remembered the countless mornings Archie had awakened, sweating and trembling, with Simpson's name on his lips. That dreadful phantasm had been banished forever, and Horatio thanked God for it as he solaced himself in his lover's peaceful slumber.

"How like an angel," Pellew breathed.

"He has the soul of an angel as well," Horatio said, his heart full.

"I realized that when I watched him risk his life for that boy the other day." Pellew pulled Archie closer, tightening his embrace. "And last night, he gave you to me, gave himself to me, and asked nothing in return."

"I do believe we can find a way to repay him," Horatio said, a mischievous smile on his face.

"Do you, now," Pellew said fondly. "In that case, I think it's time we arose. I must be back aboard ship before nightfall, and I'll not waste one precious minute of our time together."

Rousing Archie, they washed themselves at the basin and began dressing for breakfast. Horatio and the Captain pulled on their clothes slowly, exchanging conspiratorial glances as Archie stretched himself one last time before the dying embers of the fire and reached for his coat.

As Archie slipped on the coat, Pellew stopped him, grasping the lapel in his hand. "This won't do. This won't do at all." He noted the wide, frayed rip in the very front of the coat that no one had noticed the previous night. There were a few buttons missing as well, along with a small tear at the knee of his trousers.

Archie shrugged mournfully. "I'll have it mended as soon as I return to the Indy, sir," he said.

"So it's 'sir' now, is it?" Pellew gazed at him affectionately.

"I'm afraid if I don't begin now, I shall forget myself when we're back aboard," Archie said. "I would hate to slip and call you Edward on the quarterdeck."

Pellew laughed. "You are cheeky, Archie." He looked at the ruined uniform again, shaking his head. "Let me have a closer look at this." He pulled the coat from Archie's shoulders, holding it up for inspection. "Just as I thought, torn clean through the lining, wouldn't you agree, Horatio?"

"Indeed," Horatio said sadly, taking the garment from the Captain's hands and tossing it across the bed. He stood in front of Archie, wearing only his britches. "Ah well, it didn't fit properly anyway. I am sure the Captain shares my opinion."

"Not properly at all," Pellew agreed, his hands grasping Archie from behind. "Too tight in the shoulders, I think. You have very broad shoulders, Archie," he said, his mouth very close to Archie's ear. The slight stubble on his chin grazed the tender flesh of Archie's neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

"And we mustn't forget this," Horatio said, kneeling and touching the rip in Archie's trousers. As he stood up again, he let his face pass within inches of Archie's lips, but quickly drew away.

"It's just a small slash, easily mended," Archie said, a touch of confusion in his voice.

"A small slash? Is that what you would call it?" Pellew assumed an indignant tone, moving in front and examining it himself. "I would call it an irreparable laceration of the fabric. I would not dream of having one of my lieutenants showing so much leg in public." For emphasis, Pellew stuck his fingers through the hole, tickling the back of Archie's knee.

Archie bit back a smile. The game they were playing with him had little to do with the cut of his uniform, he realized. He cast his eyes down, looking woebegone. "You are both right. I am a shameful mess."

"How good of you to agree with us," Horatio said, grasping the tail of Archie's shirt and slipping it over his head. As he did so, Archie's hand caught in the sleeve and the movement pulled him off balance momentarily.

He felt a steadying grip around his waist. The touch made Archie gasp, and looking down at Pellew's hands, he was suddenly, achingly aware of his scarred, bare torso, the disfiguring reminder of his battle wound. The laughter faded from his throat.

Pellew caught the look, but said nothing. Slowly, his hand made its way from Archie's waist up his chest to his shoulder, tenderly crossing the beveled edges of the scars until it reached his neck and buried itself in his hair. Archie closed his eyes, fighting back tears, turning his head to the side. As he did so, his lips brushed the surface of the Captain's hand. The hand stroked his cheek, turning his face forward again. "So beautiful … " Pellew whispered, just before his mouth met Archie's in a gentle kiss. "So very beautiful." His other hand gently kneaded Archie's hip, moved to his back, and pulled him forward.

Archie’s anguish melted away in the heat of the kiss, with Edward’s powerful arms holding him tightly. Lost in a dream, he was vaguely aware of Horatio’s body pressing against him from behind, moving seductively against his buttocks. He felt Horatio’s moist lips trailing kisses and nips from his shoulder up the side of his neck, to his ear. Horatio’s tongue lightly brushed the inner lobe, then moved to the other side, licking then gently blowing warm air into the ear. Archie gasped and shivered, and finding his legs suddenly in need of support, he put his arms around the Captain’s waist, pulling him closer. Edward responded with another hungry kiss.

"What do you want, my love?" Horatio’s voice was a low throaty whisper in Archie's ear.

Not releasing his hold on the Captain, Archie pressed back against Horatio, matching the subtle grinding movements of his lover. As Horatio thrust forward with his hips, Archie’s groin was pressed against Pellew’s erection. Archie looked at him longingly, then leaned his head back on Horatio's shoulder. "Anything," he said. "Just love me."

His captors exchanged a glance and Horatio gave Archie a little push, into Edward's ready arms.

"You wouldn’t –" Archie began, a look of surprise on his face.

"I would." Pellew lifted Archie as if he were weightless and carried him to the bed. "Let's have these off," he said, peeling off Archie's torn trousers. Quickly stripping himself of the few garments he wore, he lay down beside him, reached and pulled Archie over to lie on his chest. He thrust his hips upwards, his own cock hard against Archie’s. "Yes?" he asked softly.

"Oh yes," Archie returned, grinding back against him. He loved the feel of his cock being caressed by his lover's groin, the feel of Pellew's manhood digging into him, the feel of the hard chest muscles beneath his torso, the feel of the heart beating so strongly beneath his hands as he stroked the Captain's breast.

Archie sucked Pellew's nipples like a babe feeding at the teat. "Yes, yes, y .." he murmured, losing the rest in a kiss as Pellew pulled his head forward and captured his mouth. The rough cheek abrading his own heightened his excitement, his tongue probed deeper, his fingers dug more sharply into Pellew's shoulders, until he no longer cared that his lungs needed air. He broke away at last, his breath ragged and panting.

"Harder," Pellew demanded, hungering for release from the fierce, sweet ache in his groin. His rough hands cupped Archie's arse, urging him onward as his hips bucked almost out of control, each strong thrust bringing them closer. Archie's mouth was at his neck now, sucking and reddening the tender flesh, his fingers combing through the carefully tended hair until it lay in wild abandon on the pillow.

Horatio had stretched out beside them, luxuriating in the sight of his lovers' shared passion. Propped on one elbow, he pumped himself in time with their movements.

"Now … now," Archie sighed, half-begging, and Edward held him tightly as they came. They lay for a moment, sealed by their seed thick and warm between their thighs. With a light parting kiss, Archie rolled onto his back, the cool air against his sensitive skin sending another shudder through his limbs.

Pellew watched Horatio for a moment, pleasuring himself. So perfect. Soft and hard. Soft brown eyes fixed on Archie with his sated smile, soft curls damp and clinging to his forehead, soft lips trembling as he neared his own climax, hard thighs creamy against the sheets, hard manhood wrapped in those long, agile fingers. The sight nearly took his breath away.

He reached and caught Horatio's hand. "Mine, beloved," he said.

Horatio gasped, startled.

"Lie back."

Horatio gave him an astonished look, but obeyed the command, his arm behind his head and his knees raised.

Edward moved between his legs and taking Horatio's cock in his hand, kissed it lovingly. "I have never done this."

"I can take care of it myself, if you would rather rest," Horatio said softly.

"Horatio, I said I never had, not that I never intended to. That is, unless you don't wish it."

"Please," Horatio said, his voice trembling. He yielded himself to Pellew's ministrations, awkward at first, but within moments he was arching his hips, showing him how much he loved it, asking to be taken deeper into the Captain's warm mouth.

Pellew followed his instincts, doing what he enjoyed having done, teasing the head of the cock with soft licks then taking it all in. Horatio moved wantonly, moaning his pleasure. He forced himself not to pull away as Horatio came in his throat, taking each hot burst as it came and swallowing it.

His eyes full of love, Horatio sat up and drew him into an embrace, his body thrilling all over again to the taste of himself on Edward's lips. He glanced at Archie, who had been watching them like a contented cat.

"I was hungry earlier. Now I am ravenous," Archie said.

"I suppose we should have breakfast while it is still available." Horatio reluctantly pushed himself up and moved to the wash basin.

The room had grown chilly as the last cinders of the fire winked out and they dressed hurriedly.

The Captain stood before the mirror, fussing with his hair and attempting to cover the mark Archie had left on his neck with his cravat. "I meant what I said about that uniform, Archie. There is an excellent tailor in Plymouth, I'll acquaint you with him after breakfast."

Archie looked flustered. "I -- I could barely afford this one. And now …" He turned out his empty pockets to make his point.

Pellew turned and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Nevertheless, I'll not have one of my lieutenants parading about town looking like a ragamuffin. Since I was, in a manner of speaking, the cause of the damage, I will undertake the cost."

"I could not," Archie said, shaking his head.

"It was not a request," Pellew said firmly, assuming the stance he normally reserved for giving orders to his officers. "Now let's go downstairs. The veal cutlets here are superior and I am famished."

While Pellew donned his own coat and pulled on his boots, Archie drew Horatio aside. "Our shore leave did not go as I anticipated," he said quietly.

"No, it didn't. Things so seldom go as we anticipate. Have you noticed?"

"I have." He stroked Horatio's cheek lightly. "Is it just my imagination, or do they normally go far better?"

Laughing, they followed their Captain downstairs.

Never The End. The men of the Indy will now take a brief rest until the next story, "The Lady's Instruction".

Back to Horatio Hornblower