Thirteenth evolution of sail - signalling by flag

[shakenandlimp]

[Public video]

[Bush is still spending most of his day shadowing Jones, though at a more polite distance now, but that doesn't mean he can't use his communicator.]

I know it's a poor chance, but if anyone is out there from eighteen-fifteen or so who knows how the war is going, some scrap of recent news, can tell me anything about England--

[History books paint the broadest strokes and he's desperate for real news, hopefully of old friends.]

Comments

[shakenandlimp]

The same way, however they do it, I'm able to talk to you in the year three, it can move to other years. It's all pretty daunting-- you really need to be clever here, I made a hash of it my first few weeks.

[He turns the screen, to show an inhuman figure sitting across the room. He is not close enough to invade Jones' conversations, except via network, as he's relaxed his distance since they spoke on the deck.] That is my inmate there, and he doesn't care for showers; a prison is a prison, to many of these people; freedom is better than its comforts. It is a hard thing-- it is honour, and principle, there's no swaying those. We know that, sir. [He smiles a little ruefully. Hornblower is so proud-- Bush is, himself, but he is a bit more willing to bend than Hornblower, a bit less jealous of his honour. ...He would move mountains to preserve Hornblower's, though.]

[selfdisparagement]

[At the sight of Jones, Hornblower gives a visible start, jumping about a half a foot and fumbling the device]


God-!!!

[When he recovers, he swallows shakily, attempting to regain from the ordeal of the shock]

...Mr. Bush, I have seen men go for long periods of time without showering. Worse, I have smelled them. But I doubt any measure of water will cleanse...ah, that.

I've...never seen anything like it. Him. It. I...and you are in charge of this creature?

[shakenandlimp]

Easy, sir, he ain't dirty. He is changed. [His voice is soothing, and not quite reproachful, but earnest-- in his way, defending his inmate, asking for some leniency.]

Davy Jones, sir. He's real. [Bush has always had faith in this; of the superstitions of the men. He knows Hornblower for more scientific minded, a bit of a skeptic; he is trying not to gloat, and finds it isn't hard when he's so happy simply to be talking.] And I... I try to remind him to be a man and not always seek to be a devil. You see, it's so strange around here, you have to keep your wits about you-- have to be ready for really everything.

[selfdisparagement]

[Calming himself as best he can, Hornblower seems to take strength in Bush's conviction, flushing again in embarrassment when he realizes his rudeness]

You truly weren't joking, were you?

Davy Jones. Real. Imagine that...

You've got quite a job cut out for you, if that's the case. There are some truths in appearances.

[shakenandlimp]

You aren't wrong, sir. [Bush sighs deeply, and smiles helplessly.]

Oh I wish you was here. You'd be so much better suited than me. But I'm doing my duty, sir, you've got my word I am-- I won't let the difficulty stop me. We never did, did we?

[selfdisparagement]

You may say so, but I have my doubts. I always felt you the more capable of us.

No. No, never.

[shakenandlimp]

[Rot. Rot and nonsense. But it's no good telling him so, he'll only get flustered, or surly.]

It's very good to see you, sir. For all the accommodations are so grand, we can't usually get messages from outside. This is a pretty unexpected bit of luck.

[selfdisparagement]

I'm glad to hear it. Despite seeing you not five minutes prior, I feel as if there's a vast ocean separating you from me at this moment.

I suppose I shouldn't make mention of this to your other self, should I?

[shakenandlimp]

No, sir. I'll find out in due time.

...there are a few young people here I am trying to teach good use of the sextant to, and I cannot remember those corrections, could you refresh me now?

[If Hornblower says anything-- rating him for still being poor at trigonometry, or patiently giving him the explanation again, it doesn't matter. It will be something he can listen to, for he's found that these devices save a history of what's been said.

It's a terrible trick for him to pull, all told.]

[selfdisparagement]

Oh, Bush..

[What follows is a slightly exasperated but warm smile. Hornblower sets off on yet another explanation, clear and concise with a tone that comes from not only reading the articles of seamanship, but understanding them as well]

/threadjack of love

[routemistress]

[Iris watches the conversation for a good long time before she makes up her mind to interrupt. She doesn't, she realises, even know this man's name; Bush has only ever referred to him as his Commodore, and she saw him deliberately not use that word now.]

...Sir?

[This may be the first time in nine hundred years Iris has ever addressed anyone that way unironically.]

Forgive the interrupt. Only we've all heard a lot about you. I'm one of Captain Bush's shipmates, 'ere aboard the Barge. 'E'll never say it to you 'imself: 'ow much valued 'e is 'ere, what excellent work 'e's doing. I don't reckon anyone else on board could make sense of Jones as well as our Captain.

And I get the feeling you'd want to know that.

[She's watching Bush's face for the blush. She does so love making him blush.]

[shakenandlimp]

[It appears as predictably as the tide; he clears his throat, looks away, looks back, tries to cover his face without making a show of covering his face.]

Iris, this is Captain Hornblower [He can explain about 'captain' and 'commander' later in the unlikely eventuality she much cares] and I would be delighted if you could make his acquaintance, but please don't tell him a lot of nonsense about me, he knows better than to believe it.

[But he will watch them talk-- it makes him happy, in a very bittersweet way, to see old friends and new meet each other.]

[selfdisparagement]

[When Hornblower reaches the end of his conversation, he pauses, uncertain in the face of regal women who know of Bush but not him]

I'm....afraid I know little about the Barge, and have only just now heard of you, madame.

But it doesn't surprise me either that Bush is highly valued or that he neglects to mention it. If there was ever a man I could put my entire faith ad trust in, it would be him.


Captain Horatio Hornblower, at your service.

[routemistress]

[Iris has been royalty (if briefly) on several planets before now, and faked it on many more. She actually can do gracious, if she sets her mind to it, and she inclines her head now in the manner of a duchess; though her warm and mischievous smile undercuts the formality.]

Iris Wildthyme, at yours. I'm so pleased to finally meet you. I think I'll spare the Captain any more blushes; you and I know very well what 'e's worth already. Shall I tell you about our Barge? It will sound a lot like nonsense, I'm afraid. But per'aps you'll come, one day, and see for yourself.

whoops my bad miscommunication over tagging turns. GOING FULL SPEED AHEAD

[selfdisparagement]

We do. Far more than he himself will ever own up to.


If you would, please, Madame Wildthyme. I admit I came into this conversation with a healthy dose of skepticism, but you, Mr. Bush, and your Davy Jones have convinced me that there is some truth in the legends sailors tell.

Are there really showers, and each man living like an admiral? The prisoners not too unruly, I hope?