[for mucked ] keep on turning [1803]
Dec. 7th, 2016 09:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
midshipIt's a very special form of torment. If he were a touch more paranoid, he might have suspected that this had actually been engineered as some sort of personal attack on his own sanity.
On the one hand, Horatio notes as he stands at the rail, this is exactly where he ought to have hoped himself to be. The Peace of Amiens can't last much longer. The Admiralty hadn't entirely forgotten about him in the rough stretch of time the peace had persisted. The HMS Hotspur is a sharp, responsive little sloop. Beyond all comprehension, William Bush has agreed to stand beside him on this fresh adventure.
On the other hand.
Even if the peace ends, Commander is a far cry still from Post Captain. The Hotspur is the small sort of ship that the most junior sort of officers were set to manning. The passage to Brest will be rough, and the possible declaration of war in the midst of their voyage will put his infinitely small vessel instantly in a very genuine sort of peril without any chance of warning.
And, on top of all that, apparently they're meant to carry a woman with them.
Bush has told him to be grateful that the Admiralty sees him fit for this sort of passage. It's a sure sign, the lieutenant posits, that they trust he'll keep the sloop safe even in a tricky situation--that he's capable of handling the odd pressure of having passengers without proper utility on his ship. It's a genuine indication that someone, at least, remembers the good care he'd before being thrown in at Ferrol and counts it as points in his favour.
His fingers clench unhappily in on themselves as he leans hard against the rail, peering through the dim early morning light for sign of the jolly boat returning to the Hotspur's side with the new charge they're meant to be carrying toward France. What does one even do with a woman on a ship? It had been one thing to have the 'Duchess of Wharfedale' aboard, but a proper woman? One actually recommended from London?
Keeping his features controlled doesn't take nearly enough energy to prevent his mind from spinning furiously as he waits.
On the one hand, Horatio notes as he stands at the rail, this is exactly where he ought to have hoped himself to be. The Peace of Amiens can't last much longer. The Admiralty hadn't entirely forgotten about him in the rough stretch of time the peace had persisted. The HMS Hotspur is a sharp, responsive little sloop. Beyond all comprehension, William Bush has agreed to stand beside him on this fresh adventure.
On the other hand.
Even if the peace ends, Commander is a far cry still from Post Captain. The Hotspur is the small sort of ship that the most junior sort of officers were set to manning. The passage to Brest will be rough, and the possible declaration of war in the midst of their voyage will put his infinitely small vessel instantly in a very genuine sort of peril without any chance of warning.
And, on top of all that, apparently they're meant to carry a woman with them.
Bush has told him to be grateful that the Admiralty sees him fit for this sort of passage. It's a sure sign, the lieutenant posits, that they trust he'll keep the sloop safe even in a tricky situation--that he's capable of handling the odd pressure of having passengers without proper utility on his ship. It's a genuine indication that someone, at least, remembers the good care he'd before being thrown in at Ferrol and counts it as points in his favour.
His fingers clench unhappily in on themselves as he leans hard against the rail, peering through the dim early morning light for sign of the jolly boat returning to the Hotspur's side with the new charge they're meant to be carrying toward France. What does one even do with a woman on a ship? It had been one thing to have the 'Duchess of Wharfedale' aboard, but a proper woman? One actually recommended from London?
Keeping his features controlled doesn't take nearly enough energy to prevent his mind from spinning furiously as he waits.
