RESTLESS DEVIL
by Maggie

[A brief outline of the following incident is mentioned in C.S. Forester’s "Ship of the Line" (1938). As the author did not write his books in chronological order, "Mr. Midhsipman Hornblower" was not written until 1950 and Forester makes no mention of the incident. According to the author, the captain involved was Captain Bolton who was Lieutenant of the midshipman’s berth on the Indefatigable. As the A & E videos make no mention of such a character, I have substituted Mr. Bracegirdle, which I think adds a certain pathos to the situation!]

Captain Hornblower, surveying the well-trained crew of the Sutherland from his quarterdeck, felt well pleased. The men, largely pressed landsmen as they had been, were forming themselves into the competent machine that would no doubt be needed in the not too distant future. Suddenly there was a cry from the masthead:

"Sail, ho! Deck, there. Sail right to wind’ard, an’ coming down fast."

It was the Caligula. Captain Bracegirdle must have completed his task of escorting storeships into Port Mahon. Both ships must now await, here in the Mediterranean, the arrival of the squadron’s leader, Rear Admiral Sir Percy Leighton. Soon there was a signal from Bracegirdle’s ship. Vincent, the young midshipman Hornblower was somewhat painfully training in signals, shouted down the message:

"Captain to Captain, sir. Delighted to see you. Will you dine with me now?"

Hornblower smiled to himself, remembering the kindly Lieutenant he had known on the Indefatigable when he had at first been no more than a boy himself and a largely untried midshipman.

Bracegirdle was delighted to see him.

"First at the rendezvous" he said, his plump face wreathed in smiles. "Come this way, Horatio. It does my heart good to see you again. I’ve twelve dozen sherry here I’ll be glad to hear your opinion of. Where are those glasses, steward? Your very good health, sir!"

Hornblower took little time to suggest to Bracegirdle that one of them might push to the northward and begin the task of harassing the French and Spanish coast while the other stayed on the rendezvous awaiting the admiral. Bracegirdle thought this a worthy suggestion.

"Who shall it be?" he said. "You or me?"

Hornblower took a grip of his eagerness.

"You are the senior officer on the station, sir, he said. "It is for you to say."

Bracegirdle looked closely at the tall, still youthful figure before him. Yes, the dark curls he remembered were slightly receding, the face was certainly more weather-beaten, but the eager eyes were the same he remembered all those years ago.

"You’d give three fingers to go," he said suddenly, "and you know it. You’re the same restless devil that you were in the Indefatigable. I remember beating you for it, in ’93, or was it ’94?"

Hornblower flushed hotly at the reminder. The bitter humiliation of being bent over a gun and beaten by the lieutenant of the midshipman’s berth rankled to this day when it was recalled to him. And as always when he thought back to those days a picture of Archie sprung into his mind and a horrible pain struck at the very pit of his stomach ………..

It had been Archie’s fault really. Hornblower had just returned from his bruising encounter with the Marie Galante. Captain Pellew had hurriedly put him in prize command of the little ship as they had hunted enemy merchant ships in the Bay of Biscay. In his inexperience Hornblower had been too slow to realize that the schooner, hulled by the Indefatigable bow chaser, would split apart as her cargo of rice swelled with the incoming seawater. Indeed, having taken to the ship’s long boat and been overwhelmed by the superior number of Frenchmen, he and his crew were lucky to have escaped imprisonment in France. Good God, Matthews had even had to remind him to cock his pistol! Only his desperate jettisoning of the compass, a false chart plot and the near miraculous appearance of the Indefatigable had saved him from complete ignominy.

Worse than that, the men had treated him like a hero on their return and even Captain Pellew had made light of the affair:

"Well, Mr. Hornblower, doubtless if you had had a larger crew you could have saved her. No, far better that France should be deprived of her cargo than England should benefit from it. Still, fortunate for you her captain was such a poor navigator, mm? Else we might never have found you.

Hornblower had tried to salvage some of his self respect by omitting to mention his successful plotting ruse to the Captain.

Archie, of course, had been generous in his praise and sympathy.

"God Horatio, what an adventure! Styles said you had a pistol in your face, yet you didn’t flinch as you chucked the compass overboard."

Horatio found the shining admiration in his friend’s eyes almost unbearable. As always after an engagement, whatever its character, he had fallen into a deep melancholy and could only see his shortcomings.

"Archie, you don’t understand. I lost my first command. For God’s sake, I was crying when she went down."

Archie was beginning to understand how his friend’s mind worked. There was no greater critic of Horatio Hornblower than Horatio Hornblower. He racked his brain to search for a diversion. As luck would have it, it was the time of the dog watch. Hornblower, desperate to dissuade his Division from questionable gambling pursuits in the hold, had ordered them to "skylark" during the dog watches "instead of skulking in the cable tiers like a lot of damned Frenchmen". He’d been surprised both at his own volubility and his own self-possession. He had not known himself capable of carrying off matters with such a high hand. Yet, as a mere 17 year-old, he had been desperate to stamp his authority on these seasoned sailors who formed his Division, and upon whose efficiency his reputation with Captain Pellew would rest. Indeed since that time they had displayed a good-natured willingness to work and had almost protectively adopted the unsmiling, yet conscientious and caring, young man who had become their officer in lieu of the sly and cynical Simpson.

The unpredictable Bay of Biscay had thrown up a beautiful evening and the setting sun was just beginning to tint the sails with shimmers of pink. The two young midshipmen looked up enviously at Matthews, Styles and Oldroyd, climbing up and down the ratlines (and no doubt, deprived of rats, gambling at the outcomes). They looked around to see if the stiff First Lieutenant, Ecclestone, was on watch. He certainly had no time for midshipmen who did not behave with the proper dignity of officers holding their warrants from King George. No, it was only the avuncular Mr. Bracegirdle, Lieutenant of the midshipman’s berth.

Archie took off his hat with a flourish and bowed low as his dancing master had once taught him, left foot advanced, hat down by the right knee.

"Most grave and reverend signor" said Archie to his friend. "I humbly solicit your Gravity’s attendance in the fighting top after the count of three."

Hornblower entered into the game, bowing to his knees.

"I shall condescend to make a brief appearance, kind sir."

Whereupon the friends flung themselves up the rigging, but Kennedy, with his greater agility, was soon far ahead of the gangling Hornblower. Suddenly though there was a sickening shriek and Hornblower realized that Archie, the sure-footed Archie, had slipped and was bouncing off the shrouds into the sea. Hornblower had unbuttoned his uniform coat within seconds. He heard a bellowing from the deck but in a nightmare of feverish activity dived into the sea and did not distinguish the shouted words. He found his friend stunned, but miraculously buoyed up by the air in his jacket. Within seconds the emergency lifebuoy slapped into the water next to them and Hornblower propelled it over Archie’s head. Matthews, Styles and Finch had got the jolly boat over the side and completed the rescue. Now all were back on deck, Archie still reeling and with blood pumping from his nose, and Mr. Bracegirdle there to greet them. But this was a Mr. Bracegirdle that Hornblower had never before seen. His face was a veritable battleground between fury and concern. He bellowed orders with mind-splitting rapidity.

"Styles, take Mr. Kennedy to the sick berth!"

"Matthews make the jolly boat secure!"

His attention veered towards Hornblower.

"And you Mr. Hornblower. Stand to attention! You sir, have disobeyed a direct order, and recklessly endangered your own life in doing so. You need to be taught a lesson and you need to learn it now!"

He turned round to Finch.

"Finch, my compliments to the bos’n and ask him to be kind enough to lend you his cane for a few minutes."

Hornblower froze. He knew that corporal punishment was a factor in Navy life and had seen it inflicted, for Captain Pellew insisted on fair but absolute discipline on his ship. Yet he could not believe that he was about to be treated in this way, on a dog watch and therefore in front of most of the crew. All the guns on the Indefatigable were on deck, so if he were to "kiss the gunner’s daughter", it would be in full view of his men. How could he discipline them after they had seen him suffer such humiliation? Worse still, he was still shivering from his encounter with the freezing waters of the Bay of Biscay — surely they would presume that he was shivering from fear? He knew that for a child of his generation he was unusual. Dr. Hornblower, a disciple of the enlightenment, had believed that persuasion and example was a far better method of education than the rod, and his son, a quiet, reserved boy in any case, had never experienced it. Hornblower did not know how he would react to the cutting and bruising blows of the knotted rattan.

Nevertheless British phlegm had to be preserved. He managed to bite off the howl that the first stroke might have provoked and endured the other 11 with only a few sharp intakes of breath. In this he was encouraged by Finch who, as ordered, was holding his wrists and who, not as ordered, was mouthing constant words of encouragement. Moreover Lt. Bracegirdle’s fury seemed to subside quickly and even in Hornblower’s highly embarrassed condition, he could tell that the man’s heart was no longer really in his job after the first couple of strokes. Nevertheless he had needed Finch’s strong grip to stand up straight afterwards and he was aware that his eyes might have seemed a little red. Not as red as Finch’s however, as the old salt was now openly weeping at the discomfiture of his "young gen’lman".

Hornblower had only gone a few yards towards the gangway to the midshipman’s berth, when that reprobate Styles appeared with a blanket and wrapped it round him.

"The men are right sorry, sir," he said. "We know you acted for the best."

Hornblower restrained a surly instinct to throw off the blanket.

"Thank you Styles," he said simply.

Later on he visited Archie in the sick berth. His friend, still looking deathly pale, looked at him sheepishly.

"God, I’m sorry Horatio! I haven’t escaped though," he added quickly. "When the nosebleeds have stopped, I’ve got to report to Mr. Bracegirdle as well."

"Good!" exclaimed Hornblower tersely.

The two friends looked at each other cautiously.

"I would ask you to sit down," said Archie. "But …………………. "

Suddenly they both burst out laughing, and the laughter flew back to Hornblower over the space of more than 15 years. Lord, how he’d missed it.

"And now you’re a post Captain, and the most noteworthy one in the bottom half of the list," Bracegirdle was continuing. "God, how time flies."

"Sir," said Hornblower. "Did you ever beat Kennedy over that incident?"

"Archie?" said Bracegirdle. "Blessed if I can remember." Then for a moment a mist seemed to cover his eyes. "God, I hope not."

RESTLESS DEVIL 2

Lt. Bracegirdle was on watch and he felt particularly at peace with the world. Strange that, in the middle of one of the bloodiest wars the world had known…. He was on a good ship with a fine captain and efficient men — both officers and seamen. It was the dogwatch and the sun was just beginning to set over the Bay of Biscay. As he glanced up, he could see pink splashes on the white sails and figures skylarking in the rigging. Yet the very next second the peace was shattered. There was a shriek and one of the figures was bouncing off the shrouds into the sea. Hastily Bracegirdle sized up the situation through his watch telescope. Damn. There was that restless devil Hornblower unbuttoning his uniform coat. God, they’d only just fished the boy out of the Bay after his encounter with the Marie Galante. It had been a damned close-run thing apparently — they’d nearly lost him and his men to a French prison.

"Mr. Hornblower!" yelled Bracegirdle up the rigging. "We’re sending out a boat. DO NOT JUMP INTO THE WATER!"

Lt. Bracegirdle had seen a few such attempts before. Once he had lost two good men that way, one diving to save the other’s life. The ship had only to veer a few degrees windward and Hornblower would be smashed onto the deck, or against the side of the frigate.

Yet within seconds the boy had gone. Desperately, Bracegirdle yelled towards the jolly boat. But Matthew, Styles and the others already had it in hand. He could remember the time when that surly bunch would put the longest distance possible between themselves and the completion of an order. Now, in a bid to save their forceful yet solemn boy-officer, they were actually anticipating it. Marvelling at such a turn-round, Bracegirdle watched the rescue with bated breath. Ah, it was young Kennedy in the water. He had already been touched by the obvious friendship between these two young midshipmen, apparently so different. The nervous yet open-hearted aristrocrat, the impetuous yet diffident son of a doctor. How would these two saplings bend and grow in the pitiless service of His Majesty’s Navy? There, the old salts had both adventurers in the boat. Neither seemed much worse for the experience, although Kennedy looked ghastly pale and there was blood pumping from his nose. Hornblower was holding him still by the shoulders, as if by letting go his friend would drop back into the sea.

Suddenly though, with the rescue effected, the huge relief felt by the Lieutenant of the midshipman’s berth turned to a powerful fury. Fury at Kennedy for occasioning the incident, but mostly fury at Hornblower for disobeying his order and for recklessly endangering his young life. At last the party were all back on board. Bracegirdle directed his fury by issuing a stream of the obvious and necessary orders. But it still was not spent. He turned to Hornblower, now leant shivering and exhausted against one of the guns.

"I’ll put that gun to better use than that!" he thought.

"And you Mr. Hornblower, stand to attention! You sir have disobeyed a direct order and recklessly endangered your own life in doing so. You need to be taught a lesson and you need to learn it now!"

He turned to Finch. He could order a period of mast-heading for the boy. He could hang him in the rigging or give him extra duties. No. His mind was made up.

"Finch!" he barked. "My compliments to the bos’n and ask him to be kind enough to lend me his cane for a few minutes."

He saw the youth beside him further stiffen, but his present temper did not allow him to feel any pity. Finch had soon returned, the evil looking rattan in his hand. Bracegirdle turned to Hornblower.

"Now young man ………………"

He felt sorry afterwards. The boy had hardly flinched during his punishment, yet now he was standing awkwardly, his face deathly pale and his eyes rimmed with red.

Bracegirdle sighed. The youth had after all carried out a courageous act for his friend, without a thought for his own safety. The thing had to be done and yet ……….. . Here was that old fool Finch weeping and that reprobate Styles with a blanket at the ready. The boy would be a leader of men, there was no doubt about it. Yet maybe Bracegirdle’s actions had taught him just a little caution. And just maybe that lesson would one day save his life.