Post by larien on Sept 10, 2005 19:59:19 GMT -5
Disclaimer – I don’t own anything. This is all book-verse, so Horry and Bush, belong to Forester.
WARNING – Spoilers for Lord Hornblower.
Summary -- Hornblower reflects on the results of his order to attack Le Havre. Angsty. Rated K. Takes place after the boat raid in Lord Hornblower. Not slash.
-----
Lord Hornblower stood on the quarterdeck, watching the last of the sun’s rays disappear beneath the horizon. For all of his success in defeating Napoleon’s forces, he was perfectly miserable. Knowing that Bush was gone, forever beyond his reach, because of his own orders had scarred him more than the twenty years of war with Napoleon.
His unseeing eyes watched Le Havre, peaceful because of the sacrifice Hornblower had made of his best friend. Over and over, he remembered all of the times he had taken his frustration out on Bush, and all of the times his friend had forgiven him. Hornblower had sometimes wondered what his career would have been like without Bush. Lonely. Cold.
It hadn’t even been the way Bush would have wanted to go. He would have wanted to die honorably, at the climax of a battle. He would have wanted to be sewn up in a hammock, a ball of shot at his feet. Not blown to pieces in an explosion as he crept in a little boat up a river, heading an expedition so small that it hardly merited a post captain in charge.
In the back of his mind, Hornblower knew that in his report, he would have recount Bush’s death in the formal, emotionless language of the Admiralty. At that moment, he felt a surge of hatred. At the Admiralty, for putting men like himself in command of operations; at himself for sending Bush to his death; at Napoleon for having caused this war.
Twilight was falling when Hornblower returned to his cabin. On his desk were waiting the paper and ink that he should have been using all afternoon, writing a report to the Admiralty to inform them that there was no longer any reason to worry about Le Havre’s freedom from Napoleon. Thinking once more of the cost that freedom made him sick to his stomach, and he fell onto the cot, burying his face in the pillow. The report would have to wait until tomorrow.
-----
On a small river in France, not far from the town Le Havre, there is a small stone monument. Its enscription can barely be read through the moss.
In Memory of Captain William Bush
Died in Defense of his country against Napoleon Bonaparte
He will live in the memories of his friends.
WARNING – Spoilers for Lord Hornblower.
Summary -- Hornblower reflects on the results of his order to attack Le Havre. Angsty. Rated K. Takes place after the boat raid in Lord Hornblower. Not slash.
-----
Lord Hornblower stood on the quarterdeck, watching the last of the sun’s rays disappear beneath the horizon. For all of his success in defeating Napoleon’s forces, he was perfectly miserable. Knowing that Bush was gone, forever beyond his reach, because of his own orders had scarred him more than the twenty years of war with Napoleon.
His unseeing eyes watched Le Havre, peaceful because of the sacrifice Hornblower had made of his best friend. Over and over, he remembered all of the times he had taken his frustration out on Bush, and all of the times his friend had forgiven him. Hornblower had sometimes wondered what his career would have been like without Bush. Lonely. Cold.
It hadn’t even been the way Bush would have wanted to go. He would have wanted to die honorably, at the climax of a battle. He would have wanted to be sewn up in a hammock, a ball of shot at his feet. Not blown to pieces in an explosion as he crept in a little boat up a river, heading an expedition so small that it hardly merited a post captain in charge.
In the back of his mind, Hornblower knew that in his report, he would have recount Bush’s death in the formal, emotionless language of the Admiralty. At that moment, he felt a surge of hatred. At the Admiralty, for putting men like himself in command of operations; at himself for sending Bush to his death; at Napoleon for having caused this war.
Twilight was falling when Hornblower returned to his cabin. On his desk were waiting the paper and ink that he should have been using all afternoon, writing a report to the Admiralty to inform them that there was no longer any reason to worry about Le Havre’s freedom from Napoleon. Thinking once more of the cost that freedom made him sick to his stomach, and he fell onto the cot, burying his face in the pillow. The report would have to wait until tomorrow.
-----
On a small river in France, not far from the town Le Havre, there is a small stone monument. Its enscription can barely be read through the moss.
In Memory of Captain William Bush
Died in Defense of his country against Napoleon Bonaparte
He will live in the memories of his friends.
