Discipline Part II
I was planning on 'Discipline' being a one-shot thing, but I seem to have decided to expand upon it! And at some point, I will have to change the title, but here goes the next bit for now.
But then some of that understanding began to slip, when William thought that the closeness between he and his captain might be entirely, and embarrassingly, imagined.
No, to be quite candid, and though tactful, if there was one thing the lieutenant prided himself on, it was his candidness, he didn’t know /what/ to think as he paced in the small space his cabin gave him; three strides up, three strides back. He had heard the news from the unlikely source of midshipman Orrock, or at least overheard it being spoken of and questioned it out of the boy.
“Yes, sir, sorry sir,” he had responded smartly to Bush’s bark to cease his idle chatter with one of the other midshipmen.
“What is it that you obviously find so interesting, anyway?” the first lieutenant had asked him quietly.
Orrock had cleared his throat, the slightest sign of awkwardness showing. “Well… I’m sure you’ve heard, sir. About the captain.” But William’s brow had only furrowed, and so Orrock pressed on, “that he’s getting married.”
William had just been able to suppress a look a surprise. “Well, if that is all,” came his sharp response, “I advise you get back to your work.” And with that, the discussion had ended.
Married?
And the whole ship, god knows, perhaps the whole fleet, had discovered this bit of gossip before Horatio had found a moment to tell me.
He paused at one end of his cabin, in mid-turn, as this thought struck him. Yes, that must be why the marriage was bothering him so. He had been seeing more in his relationship with Horatio – with his captain - than that of a superior. He had thought that there was friendship, friendship that expected to be informed of such matters. He had been foolishly wrong, yes, about their casual evening conversations, about the way that Horatio seemed to confide in him, but those feelings of betrayal could be swept aside. His thoughts thus logically settled, William ceased his pacing and readied himself for bed. He blew out the light and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to overtake him.
But marriage? Why? What could he see in her, Maria, was it? Bush knew it could be anyone but that fussing daughter of Hornblower's rather unfriendly landlady.
Another twinge of unhappiness shook through William’s heart, one that was not entirely related to Horatio’s seeming dismissal of friendship that William had determined to sweep aside.
But there was no other reason to feel hurt – and even that was a foolish one. No other reason at all.
And after all, William Bush was a candid man.
***
The next morning, Bush was called into the captain’s cabin, and there found himself facing a rather agitated looking Horatio Hornblower.
“I will be going ashore again today,” Hornblower told his first lieutenant, clearing his throat in a manner that was reminiscent of William’s conversation with Midshipman Orrock, except all the more nervous. “And so I am afraid the ship will be left in your hands again, Mr. Bush.”
A few days earlier, when the Hotspur had arrived in Portsmouth, most of the ship’s company had been given, much to the delight, shore leave while the ship lingered at anchor. No such luxury was awarded the captain and the first lieutenant – though William now realized the unusually large amount of time Hornblower, a man who so obviously felt more comfortable on a ship than anywhere else, had been spending on shore. How could the news of marriage really have come with so much surprise?
“Sir.” William nodded and turned to go, but it wasn’t long before Horatio called him back.
“Mr. Bush-” and then, seeming to correct himself, “William. Wait.” Bush paused at the door and turned around again to see Hornblower coming out from behind his desk. “I… I suspect I owe you an explanation.” He fidgeted and cleared his throat again.
“Sir-” William began, and though Hornblower held up a hand, he continued on quickly, forcing his voice to stay neutral, “No need to worry. I already know, sir. About your… engagement.” There. He’d said it. Strange how much more real it felt, now that it was out there in the tangible air between them.
“Ah. Yes. Of course you have.” Hornblower looked strangely affronted, almost hurt to hear that William had received the news through some other source, but it might have been Bush’s imagination, for a few moments later, the captain’s expression was blank again.
William swallowed. The room suddenly felt unusually small, almost stifling (oh, how different from the feeling of the same room only days earlier when they had sat here, engaged in friendly conversation), and he needed to escape. “Will that be all?”
The question had been so automatic, and the response so expected that it might have almost been considered rhetorical, and so William had to stop himself from beginning to turn when the real answer came. “No, actually. I wanted to ask you something.”
Bush frowned. “Sir?”
“Would you do me the honor of being my best man?” William just stared at him for a moment, a response that Horatio clearly took as one of dislike towards the idea. “I understand if you don’t want to, of course,” Horatio added, nervousness creeping back into his voice. “You’re under no obligation.”
William swallowed. In truth, he was just about to form a polite rejection of the offer, if only because he thought it might untie the knot that had suddenly formed in his stomach and halt the painful swelling in his chest, but then he saw Horatio’s expression. The blankness was gone, and in it’s place was a look of, no, not pleading, but of hopefulness. “I would be happy to,” finally came his reply.
“Wonderful. That’s settled then.” Horatio’s words and businesslike smile cleared the tension in the room somewhat, though William still found himself thinking that the room felt much too small. “Thank you, Mr. Bush. That will be all.”
William nodded and turned to leave the cabin. As he went back out on deck, he tried to assure himself that this made no change in the determined conclusion he had reached the night before, but the strangely comforting pain in his chest told him otherwise.