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Bush watched the latest load of supplies push off from the docks toward the Nonsuch before he turned to Kennedy. 

“Very good, Mr. Kennedy. You know where to find me should there be any issues.”

“Aye, Captain,” Kennedy replied smartly and there was no smile on his lips, but there was definitely one in his eyes, the damned upstart. “Should there be anything, I will send a runner.”

Bush raised an eyebrow at him. Archie was already doing an admirable job as the first officer, with the one exception of coddling his Captain too much. He would put in as long a day as he wished, damn the man’s eyes, and if he wanted to inspect things personally then he bloody well would.

He was almost tempted to take a boat out to the Nonsuch to prove this point, but then the men would wonder at their Captain second guessing the work of the first officer and that would not do.

Besides, Hornblower had come very close to ordering Bush to stay at their home rather than immediately taking up his quarters on Nonsuch. Lady Barbara had seconded this ‘request’ and pointed out that he would have more time to acclimate to his new wooden leg on land before testing it on board. 

This was a very reasonable point as Bush was still getting used to having the use of his knee once more with this marvelous new prosthetic, but he was also aware that Lady Barbara considered him family and Bush would respect that even as he marveled at it.

“But also, William,” she had said, drawing him aside the evening after the Admiralty had issued their orders to ‘Commodore’ Hornblower. “It will help keep Horatio steady. You know how he throws himself into work to the point of unreasonable exertion. If you are here with us, it is a tangible reminder that he is not shouldering this burden alone and he can consult with you at his leisure after supper in the evenings.”

Bush had been deeply honored and touched when Hornblower had received his orders to take command of the fleet, and informed that he needed a captain for the flagship.

He had raised his eyes from the orders to look at Bush with that intense brown stare over the dinner table. “I presume that the navy’s finest Captain would not think it beneath him to join me by taking command of the Nonsuch, Mr. Bush?” he’d said, the merry devil dancing in his gaze at the prospect of action.

“It would be my great pleasure, sir,” he’d replied steadily and raised his glass at Horatio. “And may I offer my heartiest congratulations, Commodore .”

Lady Barbara had smiled and raised her glass as well, sitting as straight as ever even though there was something in that smile which was painful. 

So must all naval wives smile when informed that their husbands were to put to sea once more. 

Bush had written to Kennedy up in Scotland the next day to request his company as first officer.

Bush hesitated an instant longer and Archie {not Mr. Kennedy in the moment, but the friend} put a quick hand to his shoulder. 

“We sail in two days’ time, William. How will it be if our Captain comes aboard and is promptly down ill because he pushed too hard to prepare the voyage? All is well. We have the very best for this fleet. Go remind yourself of that with Horatio.”

Blue eyes met blue eyes in challenge before Bush nodded quickly. “Very well, Mr. Kennedy. And….thank you.”

Archie smiled at him broadly and saluted before turning to climb down into the final boat. “All right, Matthews,” he said and Bush watched them pull for the Nonsuch before he turned to begin the walk back to the Hornblower home in St. James’ Square when he recalled that he no longer had to pinch pennies. His leg, while doing remarkably well, was reminding him that he had been on his feet ten hours and he lifted his hand for a cab.

“Bush?” came an incredulous voice behind him and he turned to face his past in a very abrupt way.

The man was a great deal older of course, but Bush would recognize that face anywhere. The odd, pale eyes, the perpetual sneer to the lip, that scar through the left eyebrow……

And his mind flooded with memories of his time as midshipman under this Captain.

“That accent is the very epitome of country bumpkin. What did you say your name was?”

“Bush, sir. Midshipman William Bush.”

And the sneer had appeared. “A fittingly rude name for rude origins. I hope you understand, Mr. Bush, that you are serving with gentlemen. Of which you are most certainly not.”

...Being given the worst and most menial tasks. And always fault was found with it.

The four midshipmen termed ‘gentlemen’ who took it upon themselves to teach him his place. His possessions rifled or stolen, pieces of his uniform hidden, mysteriously not enough breakfast at their mess….

And naturally he was disciplined for not having his uniform in order. Mercy was not a word used on this ship.

That awful time after they saw action and he had not eaten for 24 hours. He had woken up, crumpled near his gun crew and they, poor sods, had tried to help him. Hunter had bravely pointed out that he must have fainted, but the Captain would have none of it, and Bush had received a beating over the gun. It was one that put him in sickbay and the only benefit of that was that he got fed at last. 

All of this shot through his mind in the space of seconds as he stared at the man before him.

“Ah, yes, sir.” He could not recall if Ralston had made Admiral. He felt that he had heard that somewhere.

The man drew himself up. “It’s ‘my Lord’ now, Bush. Good God, someone made you a Captain. Extraordinary.”

Bush tightened his jaw. He was no longer a friendless midshipman. He had a distinguished naval career behind him, despite this man, and he hoped to end it respectably as well, if only as a thank you to Hornblower for making a future career possible.

All of which meant he could not speak his mind to this man.

“Yes, my Lord. I was promoted after some action in France.”

Ralston pressed his lips together and looked him up and down. His hair was quite white now and he had a very fine walking stick indeed, but otherwise he was very much the man Bush remembered. 

“Lost a leg I see.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Ralston nodded and his face changed. He smiled at Bush and it was not at all a nice smile, but he stood fast.

“Well. I know we didn’t get on very well back in the day, did we Bush?”

“Perhaps, sir.”

Ralston swung his walking stick gently. “Listen here--I was always a bit hard on midshipmen. Perhaps too much so. I would like to bury the hatchet as it were. My wife and I are having a supper party---just a small event tomorrow evening. We’d be….. delighted to have you join us. Is there a Mrs. Bush perhaps?”

Bush blinked at this. Dinner? With this man?

“Ah, no, my Lord. I am not married. I am in the midst of preparing my ship, so while I am most grateful for the kind invitation….”

“Not going to turn down an opportunity to let by gones go, Mr. Bush? I shall consider that rather rude.”

Bush straightened his spine ever so slightly. Everything in him was not inclined to trust this man, but on the other hand, he had initially misjudged Horatio and Archie. He was not always the best judge of character. Who was he to deny an opportunity to another in making things right?

“Not at all, my Lord. I would be most obliged.”

“Good. Good.” Ralston smiled at him from under bushy white eyebrows. “Then I shall see you at 15 the Strand. Eight o’clock.”

And the man turned to climb into a very elegant carriage and Bush was left to puzzle over this curious invitation as he lifted a hand once more to hail a cab.

*********

Accordingly, the following evening, Bush stepped down from the carriage Lady Barbara had insisted he take and knocked on the large door at precisely eight. 

He was admitted by the most starched footman he had ever seen and led into a drawing room where several other guests mingled along with their host.

He was in his very best dress uniform and Lady Barbara had insisted he wear the medal for valor he’d been awarded.

“Defense against the turnips,” she’d whispered and Bush couldn’t help the grin at her favorite term for that swathe of society that delighted in turning up their noses at others. She had not been best pleased with his invitation, having some knowledge apparently, of the Ralstons as well.

“You are certain you must go, William?” she had asked as he tied his stock carefully.

He’d cocked an eye at her. “I’m certain, my lady.”

Horatio had leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “How did you say you knew him again, Bush?”

“He was my first Captain,” Bush had replied. “He was a…..hard man, but he seems to want to be friendly.”

“Ha. Hmm.”

“Horatio. It’s a supper party, not a boarding party. I shall be back here in time for a night cap. If you should be so inclined.”

“I shall damn well be so inclined,” Horatio grumbled and Barbara smiled at her husband, understanding him well.

“Captain Bush! Delighted you could make it,” Lord Ralston proclaimed and got a hand on his back to steer him toward a group near the fireplace. “My wife, Lady Ralston.”

“Your Ladyship,” Bush bowed slightly, and the woman with mousy brown hair and a perpetually fussy expression gave a tinkling affected laugh.

“Oh how quaint! I see what you mean Harold. You must be from the Midlands, Mr. Bush.”

Bush breathed out lightly through his nose. He’d known to expect a certain level of class rudeness. He hadn’t anticipated it rolling right out. 

“I am, your Ladyship.”

“Mmm. Charlotte, this is Captain Bush. Captain, Lady Charlotte Bussing.”

How many ladyships was he going to need to recall this evening?

He was introduced numerous times and while the gathering was outwardly polite, it became painfully clear that he was the only one of such background to be present. And quite suddenly, his rank and pristine uniform seemed to be mere trifles in such august and glittering company. 

Bush was not one to feel too self conscious in most circumstances. He knew that Archie and Horatio saw him as the stoic one. Able to present a stern and calm face when presented with difficulty. And that was usually true. 

But it was possible for him to feel the hits, particularly in a situation such as this. He was exceedingly aware that he was in once sense, quite alone.

He was assigned an older lady to take in to the dining room, and she held his arm very lightly indeed as though being careful not to sully her gloves.

By the soup course, Bush realized that the menu did not only include the excellent dishes set before them. It included him.

******

“Archie. I thought you were on the Nonsuch,” Horatio said as his friend entered the drawing room right behind Paul who had barely had time to announce him.

“I am and shall be shortly, Horatio,” Kennedy said smiling, still in his cloak and with his hat under his arm. “I merely stopped by to let William know that we secured all the pork and without any of the fuss he was concerned about. Is he here?”

“I’m sorry to say you missed him,” Barbara told him. “Are you certain you cannot have some brandy or coffee, Archie?”

“I really can’t, my Lady, but you are kind to offer. Where is our gallant Captain then?”

“He received a dinner invitation to the Ralstons,” Barbara informed him with a frown. “I think they’re perfectly ghastly to be around, but I’ve only met them once at a ball.”

Horatio was concerned however, when Archie’s face grew pale.

“Lord Ralston? Was an Admiral until he retired a few years back?”

“Yes,” Hornblower answered, rising. “Archie, what is it?”

“There is only one reason he would invite William to one of their little ‘supper’ parties,” Archie replied grimly. “My Father knew him. Can’t stand the man and was at one of these gatherings several years back. Some poor soul, a merchant or something had also been invited. The whole evening was spent mocking the man. Father said it was bloody awful. He ended up driving him home in the carriage. Said it felt like he’d witnessed a murder, but the victim was still alive.”

Hornblower felt hot and then cold. His head was buzzing strangely and he didn’t recall getting to the hallway.

“Horatio!” 

Barbara. Barbara was in front of him and had likely been saying his name several times.

“What do you intend to do?” she asked, taking his face in her hands. “You can’t very well storm in the Ralston’s home.”

“I’ll make sure to be announced first,” he said coldly, as Paul hurried up with his cloak and hat. “Mr. Kennedy is the ship secure?”

“She’s in Mr. Wellard’s hands at the moment, sir,” and somehow, he and Archie had slipped into addressing each other in military fashion. Well, of course they had. A campaign was before them. And Horatio was thrice damned if he was going to leave so good a man as William Bush at the mercy of societal devils. 

Barbara kissed him soundly and Archie coughed in surprise in the background at her open display. 

“I’d go with you if I could,” she said smiling dangerously into his eyes. She glanced over to Archie. “Make it hurt,” she commanded.

He and Archie touched their hats to her, his remarkable wife. What an Admiral she might have made!

*******

“A naval Captain then, Mr. Bush?” asked the blonde woman across from him and her smile reminded him of a shark. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did you know Lord Ralston then? When he was in active service?”

“Oh yes indeed!” interjected the man himself at the head of the table. There were eleven of them in all---a large enough gathering for Bush to feel himself keenly outnumbered. Small enough that all of them could be part of one conversation. And indeed, when Ralston spoke down the table, the rest of the conversations broke off and Bush felt an almost anticipatory air amongst them. As though they knew what was to come.

“I had Bush here as a midshipman, didn’t I, Captain?”

Bush found that his appetite was gone completely, and yet they had four more courses. 

“Yes, my Lord.”

“How droll,” drawled a portly man next to Lady Ralston. “Tell us, was he any good then?”

Ralston smirked and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin.

“For a country boy. Had to have a lesson or two, didn’t you Bush? You know how it is, friends. Boys must be beaten to teach them.”

Bush flushed hotly as the table tittered around him.

“And did you learn your lesson, Captain?” asked the older lady next to him, glaring down her nose. “Did you learn your place ?”

“I learned how to avoid a beating,” he said as calmly as possible and attempted more soup to give himself something to do.

A light chuckle around the table.

“And now you’re a Captain,” Ralston said as the soup course was removed and the servants brought out the fish. “Helpful to have a superior officer to pity you enough to get you the rank.”

“Yes,” said a plump red head breathlessly, who had already consumed far too much wine. “I was wondering how on earth a cripple who doesn’t even have a family name, managed to become Captain.”

The fish was ash in his mouth.

“You seem to be getting around reasonably well with that piece of wood,” commented a lean man at the other end of the table. “I’d love a closer look. Maybe you could show us after dessert?”

“I…..I’d rather not,” Bush managed. He met Ralston’s eyes and saw the cruelty he remembered from so many years ago. This had been deliberate. He had been invited expressly for this purpose. Very well. He narrowed his eyes slightly. He would endure. It was only words and he had had much worse than words.

“Oh yes, don’t have him do that,” agreed a prim woman in green. “It’s perfectly disgusting.”

“Not as terrible as the Marchioness’s hat at Ascot Friday past,” put in Lady Ralston, and this steered the conversation to the abuse of absent aristocrats and their lack of fashion. The topic got them through the entree and the salad, but as the cheese came out, attention was focused upon him once again.

They almost seemed to Bush like sharks, and in one sense they were. 

“I suppose it was Hornblower who secured your promotion,” Ralston said, slicing a large piece of his cheese and popping it into his mouth. 

And Bush wanted to protest that Admiral Gambier himself had bestowed the rank, but any attempt to defend himself with this crowd would clearly be blood in the water.

“Quite possibly,” he said, and it was partially true. It was because he was part of Hornblower’s incredible plans that he received such notice.

“I have heard that name,” trilled the red head. “Perfectly awful isn’t it? But he is quite the attention seeker isn’t he? I mean, one can’t believe all that one reads about him in the papers!”

“Captain Hornblower is far more than the papers could possibly convey, ma’am,” said Bush with quiet intensity. He could manage not to defend himself. But now these blood suckers were attacking his Captain. And he could not let that stand.

But he had revealed his weakness and the feel in the room was different. 

Blood in the water , Bush thought grimly.

“Oh I’m sure he is very brave,” said Lady Ralston with a false laugh. “I hear that he escaped the French and brought you along! And you a cripple. Brave indeed.”

“I wonder that you let those Frenchies operate on you at all,” sniffed the lean man with a dour countenance. “Better to have died, Captain, really.”

The man couldn’t know that Bush had nearly done so. Had wished for it on the most awful days when the pain was unbearable and the fever was at its worst. 

Ralston chuckled. “Oh Bush here is a fighter. Received several beatings for fighting as a matter of fact.”

A wave of laughter around the table and he gripped his fork tightly, grounding himself at the feel.

“Well that sort of fighting is one thing,” huffed the portly man. “But it’s not possible for people from this class to truly understand the nobility in a real conflict. I hope you will attempt to learn true courage, Mr. Bush. Perhaps you should study the Duke of Wellington’s career.”

They were interrupted at this juncture, by the late arrival of the twelfth guest. 

As the blood pounded in Bush’s ears and he tried to keep his composure a booming voice sounded.

“Apologies for my lateness, Ralston. Something came up at the Admiralty I’m afraid.”

And Bush, rising with the others for the newcomer’s entrance, found himself looking at the face of Admiral Pellew.

“Quite all right, quite all right,” Ralston was saying jovially. “Delighted you could make one of our little suppers at all, Sir Edward. Do sit there. We were just bringing dessert, but if you would like more…”

“Dessert is fine,” the Admiral said, waving a hand and seating himself in the empty chair opposite Bush. “I had something when I realized how late I would be. Now, what have I missed?”

“Well,” said the prim lady as the cheese course was cleared and the dessert was brought out---something chocolate was all Bush could register. “Mr. Kirby was offering some very excellent advice to Captain Bush on how to develop courage.”

And Pellew met his eyes.

********

Pellew had a passionate hatred for dinner parties in general. It meant a great deal of conversation over an agonizingly long period of time and if the cook was not up to snuff, it was a punishment indeed.

Further, he couldn't’ stand Ralston, but there had been no getting out of this particular invitation and Pellew decided that if he said yes once, then he would never have to do so again. He had been utterly delighted, therefore, when the issue over the Baltic had come up and delayed his arrival.

Happily, here was a face that he knew and even liked. But Captain Bush met his gaze with the face of a hunted man and he looked on the verge of illness to Pellew’s eye.

And wait, what had that blasted woman just said? 

“What’s that? Courage? Captain Bush here?”

A tinkling laugh from some idiot woman further up the table. “I was just as amused as you, Sir Edward. It’s all very well to try and teach the lower classes the finer qualities, Mr. Kirby, but in my experience, they can’t possibly comprehend it.”

She leaned around to look at Bush who was slightly flushed now. 

“It’s not your fault, Captain,” she said in such condescending tones Pellew wanted to throw something at her. “You just don’t have the right breeding.”

Pellew stared at the harpy. Had she just suggested….? What had he walked into?

Lord Ralston drank deeply of his wine. “Bush, really, the right thing to do would be to resign your commission so that an able bodied and deserving man can be Captain. Surely you can see that makes sense. Think of all the whole men, gentlemen as well, who could be posted.” He smiled nastily. “Perhaps Sir Edward could help with that and you could do something more suited to your background, Bush.”

“Farming perhaps?” suggested another man, and the table laughed.

“Oh! Oh! I know!” giggled a red headed monstrosity. “Carpentry. Because the wooden leg you know!” 

Chuckling.

Pellew suddenly found that his breathing was tight much like it was before he engaged the enemy. And, apparently he was about to do so. 

This wretched group of flotsam. These utter dregs! They dared….! 

Bush wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Pellew knew him well enough to see that the straight spine was a defense. 

Had he endured this torment the whole evening?

“Lord Ralston,” he said in a voice that anyone who served with him knew meant death. “Am I given to understand that you do not find Captain Bush to be a gentleman?”

Ralston smiled. “Clearly he is not, Sir Edward.”

The tiniest flinch from the man opposite him. Pellew wondered if the god of War felt the way he did currently. It was a very powerful feeling that filled him in the moment.

“And, Mr. Kirby is it? You were taking it upon yourself to ‘instruct’ Mr. Bush on the art of courage?”

“Well. I can encourage, Sir Edward. Can one really teach these people to be courageous?”

These people?

He rose to his feet slowly and the table looked at him curiously---even Bush lifted blue eyes that had endured much this night. Pellew would avenge those wounds to the Captain's soul. And he would enjoy every second. 

“I wonder, Ladies and Gentlemen,” he began, “if you know what the medal means, the one which Captain Bush is wearing?”

“Can you not purchase those at pawn shops?” asked Lady Ralston curiously.

“No, madam,” Pellew clipped, speaking as though to an idiot {he was} “you cannot . That was awarded to Mr. Bush by the British government for his valor in recent action against the French at great cost to himself. As you have noted with his injury.”

Ralston opened his mouth, realizing for the first time that Pellew was not on his side. He cut across him ruthlessly.

“But you would instruct the Captain on courage. The man who served on the Temeraire at Trafalgar. This man has faced death and suffering for two decades in the service of his Majesty’s Navy---- hardships that none of you soft sheep could possibly understand and you have the bloody gall to suggest he does not know courage!”

Wide eyes around him now and one woman had her fork frozen halfway to her mouth. Bush was flushed and his hand was clenched tightly on the table beside his plate.

“You all. You sit here on your fat asses, shoveling in food and prattling about the finer things of the nobility. I see a load of chimpanzees stuffed into satin and broadcloth, and attempting to imitate humanity. And humanity sits here while you fling your half digested thoughts around like so much excrement.”

Several of the women made little shocked noises.

“Really, Sir Edward….” began Ralston.

“You shut your damnable mouth!” snarled Pellew, wishing desperately that he was wearing his sword so he could have a duel right here and gut the man. “This is one of the best men I have ever served with, one of the best men in my acquaintance, and you have insulted him and abused him in a  manner not to be borne! Were I confident that anyone at this table had the slightest notion of honor, I would challenge you.”

The plump man was sweating. 

“However, I am clearly dealing with the refuse heap of society, which opinion I shall feel very free to share going forward.” 

He was pleased to note that several of the people around the table went very pale at this. 

“As for you, Ralston,” he said, lowering his tone to predatory levels and preparing his broadsides. “It was well that you ‘retired’ when you did. Though of course that is not quite the accurate word is it? You were informed that you would retire, sir or face public disgrace for your pathetic incompetence. You may have wrung your title from the boot licking little aristocratic friends who simpered to the King on your behalf. But you didn’t earn it, sir. You bought it, I am told on good authority.”

Ralston was pale as death now and Pellew felt utterly no sympathy as he twisted the knife.

“The fact that your filthy lips use the word ‘gentleman’ is an offense to me, sir. You have no comprehension of the term. Indeed, none of you do,” he declared looking around the table with a curl of his lip. “One of the finest gentlemen in England sits here with you, and you insult his character with all the finesse of drunken beggars.”

There was pause and the room was deathly quiet.

“Apologize!” snapped Pellew and rapped the table with his knuckles.

Hurriedly mumbled apologies sounded and the Admiral looked to Bush. “I believe it is time we departed, Captain,” he said, and Bush rose, placing his napkin on the table before stumping around to join the Admiral.

“Oh,” said Pellew, running out the guns for his final shot. “I dine with His Majesty in a fortnight. He shall hear of this gathering.”

One of the women gave a little moan at this and there were numerous gasps. He smiled with all of his teeth before taking Bush’s arm and steering the man gently from the room.

They departed the wreckage that Pellew had made of the dinner party and the servants were waiting for them in the corridor with their cloaks and hats.

“Sir…” Bush began hoarsely.

Pellew held up a hand. “We will wait a moment, Mr. Bush. You are coming with me for a drink.”

And they stepped outside the house to nearly collide with Mr. Kennedy and Captain Hornblower on the pavement.

********

Archie took one look at Bush’s face and made to move past them up the steps, but Horatio got an arm out to stop him. These people were going to die.

“Archie! No….”

“Mr. Kennedy.” Pellew’s tones of command had always stopped him in his tracks and it was no different now. He paused to look at the Admiral even though he deeply desired to murder.

“The matter has been resolved and Captain Bush and myself were going to enjoy some capital brandy at my lodgings. Join us.”

It was not a request. Pellew’s carriage drew up and they all entered.

The Admiral didn’t miss a trick , Archie thought. Bush had ended up next to Horatio and Archie himself was opposite them with Pellew. 

William needed that upright form right next to him in the moment and miraculously, Horatio even allowed himself to lay a brief hand on Bush’s arm before removing it again. 

They arrived at a very neat and elegant set of lodgings and the amenable woman who ran the establishment had the sitting room ready in moments---a cheerful fire blazing and a plate of cheese and fruit procured.

Archie was the first to speak because he knew Horatio wouldn’t and Bush was well….himself. He would not complain concerning whatever had happened this night.

“I take it,” he said, accepting the glass from Pellew, “that the ‘party’ was just as appalling as I have heard.”

Pellew glanced at him sharply from under his eyebrows.

“You know of the Ralstons then, Mr. Kennedy?”

“My Father was invited once. He said it was disgusting.”

Pellew nodded and moved to hand a glass to William, pausing to lay a hand on his shoulder.

“I am most sorry I was late, Mr. Bush. But you held up just as admirably as you did aboard the Temeraire. I was quite proud of you, sir.”

Horatio exchanged a glance with Archie.

“Admiral,” said Bush speaking for the first time. He looked up at Pellew. “How do you know about that?”

Pellew allowed himself the mischievous curl of his mouth that Archie was starting to recognize. 

“Mr. Bush. I take great interest in the careers of promising talent in the British Navy. Your actions that day sir, were remarkable. Of course, so were the actions of many, and thus why you did not receive all the accolades you deserved.” He clapped Bush’s shoulder soundly and Archie was glad to see William lose a bit of the frozen look he had been wearing.

Horatio could at last not bear to be in ignorance.

“I beg you to tell us what happened, William,” he said, moving to stand beside the man. “Because I confess that Mr. Kennedy and myself were preparing a boarding party to retrieve you.”

A snort from Pellew as he snagged several grapes off the platter. “Of course you were, Mr. Hornblower.”

Horatio looked at the Admiral somewhat uncertainly. 

Archie watched Bush square his shoulders and take a breath. Clearing the decks for action, he thought.

“It appears that my former Captain is just as….hard as I recall. It was as you say, ‘appalling’. But not anything that has not been implied before. A Captain with a missing foot is bound to cause comment, particularly if he has no special connections or family.”

Reading between the lines, Archie was quite ready to turn and invade the Ralston home once more.

“More brandy I think, Mr. Kennedy,” said Pellew, appearing in front of him and pouring golden liquid into his glass. 

“Thank you, sir,” he said and downed it before setting his glass upon the table. The brandy gave him a holy glow of brotherhood. Bush was the best of them. No connections indeed. Archie moved to him and slung an arm around his shoulders.

“You listen here, William,” he declared. “I’m sure it was awful and I know we can’t take that away all at once. But you should be very clear on some things. You have a family. Right here in this room. Isn’t that so, Horatio?”

“Quite right, Archie,” replied his friend, smiling a little and resting his hand on Bush’s shoulder. “Though I would not presume on the Admiral…”

“Wouldn’t you, Mr. Hornblower?” barked Pellew, raising an eyebrow at him. “Don’t be thick, man.” He gazed at the three of them and a smile crossed his face that Archie couldn’t quite interpret. 

“Ha...hmm.” Horatio cleared his throat, frowned slightly, and took another drink of the truly excellent brandy. “At any rate, Mr. Bush, no one of any importance cares two strokes about your foot unless it is to appreciate your sacrifice.”

“Quite right, Hornblower,” Pellew declared and his stance reminded Archie of how he often appeared on the quarterdeck. “A badge of honor, man. People like Ralston and his ilk have no conception of that word.” He strode forward to stand eye to eye with Bush who was flushing at all this attention, but he held Pellew’s gaze respectfully. 

“I like to think I have some standing now,” Pellew said, and Archie snorted lightly at this massive understatement and then swiftly reflected that perhaps he’d had a bit much to drink when Pellew turned his sharp countenance upon him.

Had he just snorted at an Admiral? Good Lord, shoot him now.

“Hem, thank you , Mr. Kennedy. As I was saying Mr. Bush, I have some standing. And I absolutely hold to what I said back at that foul den. You are one of the best the British Navy has to offer, sir. Were it not a sore handicap to Captain Hornblower here, I would snatch you immediately to work with me on my flagship.”

Archie raised his eyebrows at this glowing testament to Bush’s character, and was delighted to at last see a small smile crack his friend’s face.

“That….is most kind, Admiral, thank you.” 

Pellew rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Kind is not the word, as I have told you before, Captain Bush. Facts, sir. I deal in facts.”

“And Horatio would turn the ship in circles without you, William, the Admiral is quite right,” added Archie feeling very clever and enjoying this brandy exceedingly. Hornblower frowned at him horribly. 

“Really, Archie….”

“Drink up, William,” Archie said cheerfully, motioning at Bush’s glass and his friend obliged. He felt the Captain relax slightly and Pellew brought over his glass, once more filled with this magnificent elixir.

After that, things became a happy blur for Archie, and he had vague memories of flinging his arms around Bush to declare him a king amongst men and he might have done so to Horatio as well.

It was also possible, as Pellew assisted him to their carriage, that he might have declared the Admiral to be his favorite, but he would live in denial regarding that tidbit come the morning.

******

Pellew shut the carriage door and Archie tipped over into Bush, immediately going to sleep with a happy smile on his face. He smiled slightly and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder as they were conveyed toward the Hornblower residence. 

Horatio watched him, grateful beyond telling for Pellew’s presence this night, and for his consideration in gathering them all afterwards. He could see the wounds that Bush bore, but their little gathering had gone a long way in repairing those. He would inform Barbara of all that had transpired when they returned and she could spend their last day here spoiling William terribly. His wife was most skilled in doing so in a manner that was not suffocating or cloying. 

He could feel that he was pleasantly relaxed from the brandy and the warm fire, which was perhaps what prompted him to be more frank with his friend as he studied Bush’s face, which was turned out the carriage window in thought.

“Why did you stay, William?” he asked quietly. “It would have been perfectly acceptable to leave such a situation.”

The Captain turned his eyes back to Horatio’s.

“I know,” he responded, patting Archie a little as the man stirred. “But….well, Horatio, it felt like a retreat. And I have never retreated from anything in my life. I could not let people like that see me turn tail and flee merely because they said hurtful things.”

Hornblower noted that term and wondered if William knew that he had said it. Bush didn’t admit to hurt. He was far too stoic, as Horatio had very good cause to know. But he too had enjoyed Pellew’s excellent alcohol, and had been put through very fraught circumstances this night. In vino veritas , thought Hornblower.

“I wish it had not occurred,” Horatio said in a low voice, so very weary of all the terrible things Fate had seen fit to throw at his friend.

Bush sighed tiredly and leaned his head back on the carriage. “I confess that I do too. Navigating life without one leg is ...a challenge enough.” He frowned slightly as though realizing that he was verging into more personal territory.

And it was true that they did not usually discuss these things, content to let each other’s presence be enough. Something about this evening however, prompted Horatio to say what he had felt for many years now.

“William,” he said, as the carriage lurched gently into more familiar streets. “I believe you know I am an only child.”

Bush raised an eyebrow at him, clearly wondering where this was coming from.

“I do, yes.”

“When I made Mr. Kennedy’s acquaintance I had the joy of my first true friendship.” He was glad of the brandy. He could not have spoken like this without the courage it provided. But something in his heart told him he needed to say this. “I did not expect to forge another friendship so profound when you came aboard the Renown.”

Bush smiled slightly and looked away. “Well, you did tackle me to the deck, Horatio. I was not best pleased with that introduction.”

Hornblower smiled back. “Better that, than having your skull cracked with that tackle. At any rate, you should know--and I think Archie does already---I have been very grateful to experience what having a brother is like. And I have been gifted with two of them.”

He was deeply gratified at the look on Bush’s countenance at this declaration, and knew immediately it was right. The carriage pulled up to their door and two of the footmen were there. Between them, he and Bush passed Archie into their arms, and the coachman drove the horses back around into the yard as Hornblower slung his arm around William’s shoulders and ascended the steps to the house.

“Horatio...” William was wrestling with himself but won eventually. “Thank you. You have stuck by me in every possible circumstance. I hope you know you shan’t be able to get rid of me now.”

Hornblower maneuvered them into the hallway of the big house. “That, William, is precisely the idea.”