Archive of Our Own

Bush clapped his gloved hands together and then rubbed them, trying to drive some warmth into the damn things. 

The snow had mercifully stopped, but the wind was brutal and Bush could not seem to get warm. He considered himself reasonably hardy, but this North wind was something else entirely. They were patrolling the North Sea after a very brief respite in Portsmouth, though it had been a very eventful one.

Horatio was now a post Captain on appointment by Sir Edward. And while it was not Bush’s chief concern, such an honor for his Captain held great promise for Bush’s career as well. But Bush, while he wouldn’t say no to promotion, had decided some time ago, that he would serve with Horatio Hornblower as long as Fate would let him, whether at his side as an equal or a subordinate. Hornblower was a leader of men. Bush would most happily follow him.

He paced the quarterdeck of the Hotspur. Six bells had just gone. Two more for his watch. He could handle that much, damn it.

Matthews caught his eye down on the main deck and put his knuckles to his knitted cap.

That man was a gift, really. Too bad the same could not quite be said for the hulking form of Styles behind him and Bush raised a skeptical eyebrow at the man as he met his gaze. He was still harboring a great deal of displeasure with Styles for the way he had treated Hornblower’s former steward and his general unhelpfulness in the whole unpleasant situation with the Bonapartes. 

Styles looked uncomfortable and moved back to what he was doing. Good. He ought to sweat for a while under Bush’s disapproval.

He faced the bow and ducked his chin into his buttoned coat once more. He could really use a scarf. He had considered writing his sisters about it, but they were stretched thin at the moment due to Mary’s illness and needing to pay for the doctor. Buying yarn and paying to post it to him would not do. So. He would hide in his collar while he could.

Familiar quick footsteps sounded behind him and he didn’t need to turn to know that his Captain was approaching his side. 

“Uncommonly cold one today, Mr. Bush,” his friend said, stomping his own feet. 

Bush smiled into the collar of his coat. “Indeed it is, sir,” he replied, shooting a swift side glance at Horatio who had half his face buried in a homely grey scarf. 

“It’s only just gone six bells, sir. You don’t have to be out in this quite yet if you don’t wish….” he trailed off at the offended look Hornblower was shooting him. 

Bush stuffed his hands into the pocket of his greatcoat and let the matter rest. Horatio could get wound up about the oddest things and he had learned to roll with it in the two years he’d known the man. 

Hornblower may not be aware of it, but Bush was a reasonably good judge of people. He took his time coming to conclusions certainly, but he was rarely wrong. He had sensed both Hornblower and Kennedy’s impatience with his seeming reticence to agree with their assessment of affairs on the Renown. Nonetheless, Bush was not to be rushed in coming to his judgments--he wanted evidence and time to see a man’s character and actions. 

That sad affair had given him two very good friends however, and Bush was grateful, not really having had a friend in that way. He’d had shipmates over the years certainly, but friends? Not really. 

Kennedy had been posted as first lieutenant to the Triumph after his recovery, and while Hornblower had missed him (the amount of times he’d looked at Bush and began to say ‘Arc---’) he was undoubtedly pleased for the man. 

Bush was as well and smiled into his collar again as Horatio paced the deck behind him, recalling the last conversation he’d had with Kennedy before he’d sailed.

“Best of luck, First Lieutenant Bush,” he’d said, sunny grin firmly in place as they gripped hands down on the harbor.

“And to you First Lieutenant Kennedy,” he’d responded. “Do you know where you are headed?”

“The rumor is we’re sailing for the south Atlantic, but I won’t know til I’m aboard. You?”

“Mmm, much colder climes await us I think, Mr. Kennedy,” he’d replied, already pondering the prospect of partially numb hands for a long period of time.

“Well.” Kennedy looked around and then leaned in conspiratorially. “We both know the real challenge will be looking after your Captain.”

Bush raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean, Mr. Kennedy?”

His friend snorted derisively. “Don’t play innocent with me, Mr. Bush. You have a terrific stone face. Took us all in with that and your stern manner. I know better now. You came with me to keep Horatio alive when we blew up the fort. Tried to get Buckland to send you in the first place. ‘I’m senior’. As though that were the reason. I should likely be giving him this talk about you too as I have my suspicions…..But anyway. Don’t let him work himself to death. Or blame himself for everything that might or does go wrong. Because he will.”

Yes, Bush had seen evidence of that already.

“You want me to remind him that he’s human, is that it Mr. Kennedy?” he asked with a slight smile.

Kennedy nodded vigorously, blue eyes alight with merriment. “I knew you understood. Just so.”

Bush received a solid pat on the back. “Good luck with him. And your mission. I hope we shall meet up again.”

“Thank you, Kennedy,” he replied.

“I’ve had a letter from Archie,” Hornblower said abruptly, coming back to his side. Bush wondered if he’d been building up to saying something more serious. Horatio was utter rubbish when it came to emotions and well….people. Oh not always. It was there--the ability to laugh and share a joke, or show compassion and kindness. But it was as though his Captain believed that he was not allowed to do those things. He would recall himself with a ‘ha-hm’ eventually which signalled the end of the glimpse into Hornblower the man.

“Oh yes?” he responded, careful not to sound to eager. It was something like dealing with an easily startled, high strung horse, and he made sure to be exceedingly calm and uninterested.

“Yes. Doing well he says. Reckons he’s much browner than both of us combined about now.”

Bush chuckled lightly. “Well. He’s not wrong there.”

“Mmmm.”

A pause. Bush waited patiently. His friend was definitely working toward something that likely required emotion. He could wait.

“He inquired after you.”

“Very kind of him.”

Below them, Orrock bawled something at some of the topmen. Bush kept a weather eye on him in case his input was needed.

“Said I should make sure I’m not taking you for granted.”

“Indeed not, sir,” Bush said, daring a glance at his taller Captain.

Horatio was determinedly looking  at the main’sls.

“Or being much too hard on you because you’re my friend.”

Bush was still. Horatio had maybe said this out loud twice in the time he’d known him. He understood it. He had made it clear in many other ways that he considered Bush a friend and good one at that. Bush could still taste that lemonade as he lay helpless from his wounds on the Renown. Could still hear Hornblower’s anxious voice calling to him on the deck. 

“Of course not, sir. Mr. Kennedy tends to be overly concerned with these things. You know that better than I.”

“Mmm. Does he? The thing is…..” And at last Hornblower dragged his fascinated eyes away from Hotspur’s sails to find Bush’s blue ones. “He got me thinking you see.”

Ah. No doubt his Captain had been wrestling with this for days then.

“I’ve had to really ponder this for a few days.”

Indeed.

“And I believe I told you recently, William, that I command the Hotspur. And…..that it’s all that matters to me.”

Where were they going with this?

A pause.

“Why couldn’t you shoot Wolfe, William?”

Oh.

“Sir, I couldn’t let the Captain be murdered on his own ship.”

“But I would rather die than lose my ship, Mr. Bush.”

Bush ducked his head again because bloody hell it was cold. 

“Captain….” he moved his hands out of his pockets once more to rub at his arms. “We might have lost the ship for a moment. But it’s you , sir. You would have found a way to get her back. We didn’t have a way of getting you back, sir, if Wolfe had shot you.”

Another long silence. Then…

“Ha-hm.”

Bush grinned into the collar of his coat.

“A ah….lot of faith to put in me there, Mr. Bush.”

“Well merited, sir.”

Hornblower took a big breath and turned to face him fully. 

“You are a good friend, William. And a good officer. And I owe you an apology.”

Bush blinked. That was not at all what he had been expecting. 

“Sir?”

“I was rather harsh with you after. And……” he sighed. “The Hotspur is not all that matters. If I’m honest.”

Bush could see that this conversation was excruciating for his friend. At the same time, it was perhaps good to remind Horatio that he wasn’t the only one who noticed details.

He met the Captain’s eyes. “I know that, sir of course.” He allowed himself a grin. “You asked me to be your first lieutenant after all. I flatter myself you weren’t dragging the bottom of the barrel.”

“Ha-hm.”

Was that three in the space of fifteen minutes?

“Well then. If we’re squared away, Mr. Bush…”

“We’re squared away, sir.”

Eight bells sounded.

“I have the watch, Mr. Bush.”

“Yes, sir.” Bush hesitated, gauging Horatio’s mood. Did he need someone to vent frustration to? Or was he happy to be on his own?

“William.”

He met brown eyes that were smiling.

“Get below and get warm. That’s an order.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

A cup of coffee would be just the thing.