Five things that never happened to Archie Kennedy
1.
His head still felt as if it had been split open, but worse still was the raging pain in his soul. Struck down through his pitiful own weakness, useless in the fighting, useless to Horatio.
Such a miserable coward. He knew what Simpson was capable of, knew as Horatio did not, and he had been too absorbed in his own terror even to utter a warning.
With difficulty he had gained the maindeck and stood there, green with pain.
“Not so brave today are we,” the hated voice was casual in its triumph. “Not so brave without your snotty friend.
Archie turned, rage for once winning over fear.
“You killed him!” he hissed. “I know you killed him.” Simpson laughed.
“You’ll never prove it.”
“I don’t need to prove it. I know.”
“And do you imagine there is a single thing that you are going to do?”
Archie remained silent, knowing that Simpson would take that as defeat. But this time it was not.
He couldn’t prove murder, but he could testify to other things. And he would do so. To avenge Horatio he would go to the captain, and speak of the things he had thought he could never bear being brought out into the open.
He would see Jack Simpson hang, even if he had to swing beside him.
2.
The bustle of the docks scraped against his nerves, he would have liked to find some quiet inn and get a drink, but did not want to stretch the borrowed funds in his threadbare pocket. He’d always imagined this moment would hold something of triumph, but he felt hollowed out and strangely depressed. A successful escape did not alter the humiliating circumstances of his capture, and there was no getting away from the fact that a midshipman without a ship was nothing at all, just an unemployed landsman in an outworn uniform. Even if he could have borne to return to the Indefatigable after exposing his own weakness, Pellew would never accept him back. He had had his chance of service on a really good ship, and he and Simpson between them had destroyed it.
It could have been worse, Archie supposed. He hated to return home in failure, but at least there was a home for him to return to. His father might find some other vaguely connected captain to take him aboard. And if he’d destroyed his chances in the Navy, well, twiglets of the aristocracy never starved. A sour end to his dreams, but at least he’d survived.
Maybe he needed that drink after all.
3.
“To be shot in the back during battle is rare,” Lt Bush said.
“The French sharpshooters can strike from any angle, especially when ships are manoeuvring for position,” Lt Kennedy answered smoothly. “A clever trick, firing from the rigging.”
“A damned, underhanded trick,” Bush said, grimly. “If it was the French.”
“Well, naturally it was the French, unless you are implying one of our clumsy fellows tripped over his feet and fired the wrong way. Wouldn’t put it past them. But really, there was so much smoke and confusion, one could hardly see a thing
“Dr Clive,” Lt Bush said, “has made some wild suggestions against Lt Hornblower.”
“Lt Hornblower was with you, attending to the maindeck guns.”
“That’s what I told Clive,” Bush snapped. “I know for a fact he was nowhere near the captain.”
“Clive is a fool,” Lt Kennedy shrugged. “And the captain was killed by a French sharpshooter.”
“That will go down in the dispatches, I’m sure,” Bush said grimly and swung away.
Bush might be brighter than he had thought, Lt Kennedy reflected, as he moved from the wardroom into his own cabin and tossed his empty pistols onto the bunk. But Bush had certainly seen nothing, and nor had Clive, who in any case was concentrating his attentions on a man who was indisputably innocent.
There were advantages, sometimes, in being perpetually in Horatio’s shadow. It was too easy for others to assume Archie Kennedy had no initiative of his own.
4.
For days after he had emerged from the delirium no-one would be honest with him. His questions were evaded, their eyes slid constantly away. It was only when he began to struggle to his feet, declaring his intention of finding for himself someone, anyone, who would be honest about the outcome of the court-martial, that Bush finally found the courage to tell him.
He bore it steadily, already half-certain what had happened. Horatio would never have failed to visit him, if he had been able. Yet hearing the words he felt as though all that was warm within him had died, leaving only bitter rage and a soul carved out of ice.
“They will pay,” he said at last.
Again that avoidance of the eyes. “Kennedy, it’s over, nothing will bring him back.”
“No. I can’t bring him back, but I can fight to clear his name. My family is not without influence. Do you expect me to lend my good graces to this murder? Do you expect me to do nothing, after corrupt men destroyed the best friend a man could have?”
“No,” Bush said. “I didn’t expect that. I don’t agree with you, but I didn’t expect silence.”
“As God is my witness I will make sure the truth is known. I will make the name of every man on that tribunal stink. They will pay for his death. They will pay.”
5.
“I trust the arm is mending?”
“Almost as good as new,” Captain Archibald Kennedy flexed his right arm in demonstration. “The ship and I should be ready together”
“And then back to a life on the wave,” Colonel Lord Edrington smiled. “We get longer leaves in the Army.”
“And a great deal more mud,” the captain retorted. “Where’s this other guest of yours?”
“I’m sure he won’t be much longer. He’s a bit on the shy side, Archie, so I’m depending on you not to overwhelm him. You know these scholars.”
“Not so as you’d notice. Why on earth are you housing a scholar?”
“He’s my youngest brother’s tutor at Oxford, a very clever mathematician, so I’m told. He’s in London to give a paper of some sort, my brother wished him on me since he knows no-one in the capital. A perfectly pleasant chap, once you can get him to open his mouth. I like him.”
The other guest entered the room at that moment, looking as though he was not quite comfortable in formal clothes. Edrington turned and smiled.
“Ah, there you are, we were just speaking of you now. Archie, this is one of Oxford’s youngest dons, Horatio Hornblower.”