1.
His hand was shaking so much he feared he would drop the pistol when he tried to raise it. Not that it would make much difference, for he had little marksmanship.
He was going to die, here in this cold, white field, he was going to die at seventeen. But better to die with courage than to live under Jack Simpson’s heel.
He never knew whether he even managed to fire a shot before the pain took him.
Later, when the surgeon had dug out the bullet, he lay confronting in weak surprise the fact that he was still alive.
“I thought he was supposed to be the best shot in the fleet,” he whispered to the man who sat beside him.
“Oh, he is,” Clayton said bleakly. “He hit you precisely where he meant to, I am sure.
“I knew he wouldn’t kill you yet, Horatio. That wouldn’t be good enough sport.”
2.
“But Horatio”, Archie said, “What are you planning to do with her?”
It was a good question, Horatio had to admit, as he looked back at Mariette where she stood, rather forlornly, holding onto the Indy’s rail to keep her feet on the swaying deck. It was a question he had not really considered, when prompted by some muddled feeling of guilt and responsibility, he had insisted on taking her with him.
Now he rather thought that he had been a fool. In all probability the Republicans would not have harmed her. Now he had to consider the future of a young Frenchwoman with no friends in England who would certainly be regarded with grave suspicion by his countrymen.
The certainty grew on him that there was only one thing that he could decently do. He had not intended it, but Horatio Hornblower prided himself on never shrinking from his duty.
“I shall ask Captain Pellew to marry us before we reach England.”
3.
The blue eyes were so tired. “You’re a fool, Horatio.”
“Then I’m a fool. Did you think I could ever let you suffer in my stead?”
The dying man’s mouth twisted. “As if it makes a difference to me now.”
“It does to me,” Horatio said quietly. “Together in all things, Archie, that’s the way that it was meant to be. Don’t hate me for it.”
“As if I could. I wanted to give you a chance, that’s all. A chance of living.”
“It would have been no life worth having.” He looked beyond the bars, to where the guards waited to escort him back to his cell. He did not feel afraid of what was to come. “Better to die with honour, Archie, than to live with shame.”
A faint, warm smile. He took the slack hand in his own, and held the fading eyes. “I love you. To death and beyond.”
4.
He had been waiting for this, had known the moment must come from the minute he had learned the outcome of the shore-raid. They had tried and they had failed. All that they had worked for had been lost, at least for this time. If there would ever be another time he would not see it.
He surrendered his sword quietly to the red-coated marines. No point in making a fool of himself by resistance.
“Leave us,” the young commander said tersely. The marine sergeant looked doubtful. “Sir-”
“Do you think I can’t protect myself against one unarmed man? Go!”
The marines withdrew as ordered, and the lieutenant who mere hours ago had been Captain Hammond’s first officer looked back at the man who had been his friend for a few short weeks, before he was transferred to Arethusa, before his much-admired mentor had convinced him of the rightness of the Irish cause.
Commander Kennedy’s face was bleak. “In God’s name, Horatio, how could a man like you align yourself with Hammond?”
5.
Two days after Barbara and Marie had first encountered one another Lord Hornblower was alarmed to find them taking tea together.
“But of course you and the Comte must visit us if ever you should come to England,” Barbara was saying warmly. “My husband would be delighted to have two such good friends come to stay.
It would hardly have been decent to raise objections, but when Barbara started talking about what a good thing it would be for him to have Marie to visit at Smallbridge whilst she was in Vienna with her brother Arthur, he began to wonder whether he had any say in this at all.
The months spent at Smallbridge with Marie were undoubtedly pleasant, but when Barbara returned and began making plans for going to stay at the Comte’s estate in France, a distinctly uncomfortable feeling grew upon him.
“My dear, I am not sure that would be proper.”
“Because Marie is your mistress you mean?” Barbara laughed. “My dear, don’t be so provincial. Amongst persons of discretion these matters arrange themselves. This way Marie and I can both look after you, and when you go away we have each other.”
Hornblower refused to believe those last words meant what his reason told him they must mean.
“I really cannot approve of this! As your husband, Barbara –”
“I wouldn’t press that point too hard if I were you,” Barbara said sweetly. “Technically you are still married to Maria.”
“Maria is dead!” Hornblower protested. Barbara shook her head.
“That’s just the story we made up to avoid scandal. She left you for Kitty Cobham.”