H.M.S. Indefatigable, Mediterranean, May 1799 

"Now, Mr Kennedy, there is something you wish to report to me?"

Acting Lieutenant Archibald Edmund Kennedy stood at attention in the great cabin of the Indefatigable. Before him, his captain, still wrapped in a silk dressing gown, was already at work on what, judging by the scrawl, must be the carpenter's accounts, while his steward, Tregorran, was engaged in laying out water, soap and a well stropped razor.

"Sir, I think what I have to say best spoken and heard in confidence."

Captain Sir Edward Pellew looked up from the papers in front of him and met his fifth lieutenant's eye for the first time.

"Do you indeed. Well, short of a raft towed a fathom behind us, I know of no place on the ship where that state could be sought, and none where it could be desired. You did not join the service for privacy and delicacy of mind I trust? Tregorran, leave us. Bring coffee in 10 minutes. Now, sir, we are alone, will you be able to bring yourself to speak frankly?"

Captain Pellew might well be dismissive of the need for privacy - but then, to Kennedy's certain knowledge, he had been practising his own discreet encounters in this very cabin. He must at the very least be wary of any private approach, must suspect the mark that Kennedy aimed at in this interview, and fear it.

"Sir, you have recently taken a prize from me, and I wish to know your intention regarding its fate."

"I beg your pardon!?"

"I believe you carried it by boarding in the vicinity of Valletta harbour on the 16th last."

Kennedy had indeed found his mark, confirmed by the sudden rush of blood to the captain's face, and the roar with which he summoned the marine sentry.

"Sergeant Bowers, pass the word for Lieutenant Hornblower, directly!"

Kennedy swallowed hard, but his voice did not tremble. "That will not be necessary."

The Marine hesitated in the doorway, torn between obedience and curiosity, just long enough for Pellew to reconsider.

"Belay that. As you were, Russell."

They were alone again, with the issue at hand open and on the table between them. A table on which, as Kennedy now reflected, Horatio himself may have lain scant hours before. The thought was galling, but only steeled his resolve.

"I can assure you sir, that Lieutenant Hornblower has shared no confidences of any kind with me since we first made Valletta. He is possessed of more discretion than is perhaps entirely wise in the circumstances, and more than you seem to credit him."

"How in God's name do you... ?"

"If I had no guide but suspicion, your reaction would have been confirmation enough. But I have eyes, and wits, and an - unusual - degree of education in these matters." Kennedy leaned forward and hissed, "I can smell you on his skin."

Pellew sat, heavily, and in the silence that followed, years seemed to settle on him. His reply, when it came, was more quietly bitter than Kennedy had reckoned for.

"I am disappointed by your vulgarity, Mr Kennedy. I had little thought you could stoop to soil your fingers with blackmail. What is your price? Your commission is assured. My fortune is wide and deep enough to satisfy the most prodigal greed. Have you been calculating the worth of every prize we've taken before bargaining for an extra share?"

"Only of one." Oh, Sir Edward, you shall learn the depths to which I have stooped soon enough. "I have a price, and one you may strive harder to meet. I know you have taken him, and I have no claim that would be upheld in any prize court in this world. But I know a little too much of the whims of men of power, and I will not see him come to harm. This is my price. If you prove unworthy of the trust you have taken on, if on your part he lose sleep, reputation, advancement, well being, if his eyes so much as water in the smoke, then I will make your life an unsupportable hell on earth."

This was the moment for which he had prepared through long sleepless nights for the past few weeks, when he must trade information long hoarded, like miser's gold, and place his own secrets and reputation in another's hand. He placed both hands palm down on the table to steady himself, and leaned forward to bring his face within a foot of Pellew's.

"I am no peacher, I won't need to mire your name in the lobbies of Whitehall - I had some rather more select and private houses in Deptford and the Strand in mind. Do him harm and my word goes out to every madge, cully and roaring boy on the town, and the next time a certain 'Truro Mary', darling of the Fleet, takes herself to London for a night of sport in the knocking kens, she'll find a cooler welcome in her old haunts than she was wont to."

That shot had just as clearly hit home - Pellew's face had at first flushed a furious red, but at the mention of the carefully stored pseudonym, it had drained white with recognition. Kennedy ploughed onward before the lady in question could muster wit enough to interrupt his flow. "Abuse the trust placed in you, and a dozen bobbish lads and 'prentice boys will swear to the bench that the Captain offered a guinea and a handkerchief to lie with him and play with his baubles - you will spend the rest of your life wondering if the next arse you fondle is in your pay or mine. You think I don't have the power? You but dip your toes in a world where I have learned to swim."

Kennedy's head swam, his knees felt weak, but his voice remained steady and implacable. "And if you so much as hint to any man or woman, or any officer of this ship the substance of this conversation, I will swear you myself for a pederast, even if I have to swing with you."

It was done. Perhaps, Kennedy belatedly realised, it would have been wiser to have his retreat planned before hand. He had bearded the lion in his den, but this feat would be somewhat undermined if his legs were now to collapse beneath him. With no exit line prepared, and his powers of improvisation exhausted, he had no choice but to wait Pellew's barked response.

"Are you done? Then sit. Now!"

Kennedy's legs folded obediently and abruptly - luckily enough with a chair somewhere beneath him. Pellew rose and paced, pale with shock and anger, but not, it appeared at a loss for words. "Never, in all my long years at sea, have I heard such obscene insolence from a commissioned officer to his captain's face. Where - who? Who has been filling your head with these extraordinary phantasies, boy?"

"No phantasy. Perhaps the next time Poll Pinkerton decides to decorate one of his intimate receptions with a half-dozen pretty thugs in paint and powder personating Cupid, it might be wise to look a little closer at the lads beneath the gilt and paper wings."

"But that was - more than, at least..."

"Seven years ago. I have a very good memory for a - face. And as you may now appreciate, I am very good at keeping secrets." he paused, reflected, "Perhaps too good for my own happiness."

"But what in God's name leads you believe that I would harm..."

"You are the Captain. He is your most junior officer."

"Ballocks. You are - were, damn it - are - my most junior officer."

"He lies about the bruises on his wrists!"

"Of course he bloody well lies - a mark on the wrist is a great deal less disfiguring than a rope burn about the neck! Oh hell. Those are not marks of resistance, I assure you. Anything but!"

"He lies to me!"

"He is a 23 year old man, with more sense and experience of the world than you seem to credit him..."

" - not of the world where you would drown him..."

"... and you were a 14 year old child, who, in a Christian city, should not have been whoring for Paul Pinkerton."

"It happens in the best of families."

"Not in mine."

The smart reply evaporated from Kennedy's mouth with his breath.

Pellew's words buzzed unpleasantly in his head. A familiar numb warmth was unfolding him, the narrowing of vision that presaged a fit. The world was going from him, and he was falling into the light that sparkled on the windows behind Pellew's head.

Christ, here we go again. First fit of the year, and it has to be in the Great Cabin... He watched Pellew's lips moving with fascination, hearing nothing but a dull quacking emerged. As he watched, felt something ease in his chest.

As abruptly it was over, and he was still sitting, and Pellew was still speaking, as if nothing untoward had happened, and time was not stitched together like a quilt. Then came the slower realisation that he was not on the deck in a pool of his own piss, with a head full of rocks and a mouth full of blood. Sound rushed back into his ears.

"...drink. I think we both need it."

There was movement in front of him. Kennedy looked down a little nervously. At some point Pellew must have poured a glass of brandy. Two glasses, and was now pushing one across the table towards him.

He drained it in one.

"You are a strange and bold creature, young man. You take a great deal upon yourself."

"I think it behoves those of us who know a little more of that other world to take some responsibility for another's health and happiness."

"If that is so, let us talk for a moment as citizens of that world. You spoke a prize. It was taken in good faith - he didn't fly your colours, nor gave me any reason to believe he was not free to engage with me. You would seem to have no rights to enforce here."

"Then let that rest on Lt. Hornblower's conscience, not ours. My warning stands."

"I don't doubt it! I wonder if he knows the value of what he has traded away. Mr Kennedy, I am a man of my word, in which ever world we meet. Lt. Hornblower's well-being shall be as much my charge as the Indefatigable. Whatever God's will, neither will come to harm by my negligence. He will be as safe in my hands, as I would hope my reputation will be in yours. Will that satisfy you?"

"It will have to."

"Good." Pellew refilled the glasses. "Let us drink to our bargain, as gentlemen."

"As gentlemen and sodomites of honour, sir" said Kennedy, and was pleased to see Pellew splutter and choke.

"Mr Kennedy - satisfy my curiosity, one further question," he said, as he recovered.

"Sir?"

"At Poll's - did I... did we...?"

"Alas, no" Kennedy drained the last drops from his glass. "To the best of my recollection you enjoyed - 'conversation'- with one Will Prestwick, an ostler at the Red Lion in Southwark."

"Well, in the circumstances that may be a blessing. Now, this interview is at an end, and will never be referred to again."

Kennedy rose, a little too quickly to avoid a momentary dizziness. He brought himself to attention.

"As you must know, I cannot let your insolence towards a senior officer pass without censure. You are on continuous watch for the next twelve hours, and will report at two hour intervals to Lieutenants Bracegirdle and Graves, as appropriate."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"You are dismissed. Send Tregorran in with my breakfast."

Kennedy's hand was already on the latch when Pellew called him back.

"Mr Kennedy, that was a singular and suicidal act of loyalty and courage. I only pray that you are capable of such boldness elsewhere in your career. If so, it would appear the Navy has recruited at least one young dog with a set of real balls on him"

"Why, I hope so sir - and not always my own!"

Authors note: Original written in 2002, revised and reposted in 2007