Squee Challenge #4: Episode Re-cap: Horatio Hornblower and the Slash-Pirates.
And by episode re-cap, I mean short story re-read! Because I can never answer a single one of these prompts straight, it appears (except for the fanmix, whee!).
I haven't done one of my horrible reviews in a while, and I also feel like we should collectively give that drinking game a try. For that occasion I thought I might give the verreiss_mich treatment to a story I actually enjoy very much, which is none the less, if not a bad story, a slightly weird one.
In this story Hornblower is kidnapped by the Worst Pirates Ever™ - pirates who are also scarily violent shippers (yes, "shippers" as in "fandom OTP shippers"!) and who know the secret of eternal youth.
The story we’re going to have a look at today is taken from Hornblower in the West Indies, an anthology collecting the chronologically last canonical Hornblower stories (with the exception of The Last Encounter which is also part of the canon, but has been published only posthumously, and which I do not think I have to mention is a brilliant short story, since it features a retired Hornblower encountering what he - and the reader - is made to believe is a clinically insane Napoléon-Cosplayer).
Anyway, Hornblower in the West Indies takes place quite some time after the bulk of the Hornblower canon, as Hornblower has by then been promoted to rear-admiral and has just hauled up his flag as Commander-in-Chief in the, you guessed it, West Indies Station (that would be the Caribbean - and bits of North America - for you landlubbers).
Other highlights in this anthology include
The book also introduces us to a host of new characters, of which a couple are of particular importance for the story we are going to have a look at:
First of all, there is Hornblower’s shiny new secretary, a young man with the awesome name of Erasmus Spendlove, whom Hornblower is actually quite fond of. Presumably that is the case not only because he is a good secretary, and came by recommendation from Hornblower’s old friend Lord Exmouth (drink!), but also because they can bond over their awkward names. Yes, Forester delighted in gracing his characters with some of the most terrible names imaginable, why do you even ask?
Spendlove is said to know simply everything there is to know in his field work, yet, he simply can’t get any respect in this story or any other for that matter.
And then there is Lt. Gerard, Hornblower’s flag-lieutenant. This Gerard is indeed related to Stupid Sexy Gerard from the earlier books (drink!), in fact, he is Sexy Gerard’s son: He had been Hornblower’s flag-lieutenant for several months now, and knew nearly as much about Hornblower’s moods as a wife might have done. He knew, too, of Hornblower’s kindly interior. He had received his appointment as the son of an old friend, at a moment when admiral’s sons and duke’s sons had yearned to serve as flag-lieutenant to the fabulous Hornblower.
Awww.
Although the truth of the matter is probably simply that Hornblower still felt guilty about having had to abandon Gerard Sr. in a French prison more than a decade ago.
Gerard Jr. also acts as Hornblower’s nanny, on behest of Lady Hornblower, of course, making sure he eats and sleeps regularly and wears his warm clothes when it’s nasty and cold outside. Yes, this makes Gerard the guy with the most stressful job in the whole series. You go try and tell your grumpy admiral to put on his warm underpants, if you don’t believe me.
But let’s start at the beginning. Or rather, let’s begin with our story’s title: THE BEWILDERED PIRATES
Okay.
What.
What?
On the one hand, the title aptly describes the defining qualities of the villains you will encounter in the story, on the other hand, Forester, were you even trying?
I know the titles of the Hornblower books and short-stories seldom have a stroke of genius about them (in fact, the only series in the genre whose titles are currently giving me more joy, is Dudley Pope’s Ramage series. My next read is going to be book 6, Ramage and the Guillotine. Which sounds hilariously like it should be the last book of the series, but it isn’t) but this has got to be the worst by far. I guess Forester probably patted himself on the back for remembering to put the fact that the story is about pirates in the title - because everyone loves reading about pirates - and then called it a day, the lazy bum.
As the story begins we’re in the Admiralty House on Jamaica, and we learn that there is going to be an epic party in the neighbourhood! Spendlove and Gerard are so abuzz with anticipation that they end up annoying their Chief with singing “lustily”: The fact that those two young men were singing - and still more the fact that they had forgotten he was within earshot - was proof that they were feeling lighthearted, as might be expected, seeing they were dressing for a ball. Yet it was no excuse, for they knew well enough that their tone-deaf Commander-in-Chief detested music, and they should also have realised that he would be more testy than usual, on account of that very ball, because it meant that he would be forced to spend a long evening listening to those dreary sounds, cloying and irritating at the same moment. There would certainly be a table or two of whist - Mr Hough would be aware of his principal guest’s tastes - but it was too much to hope for that all sound of music would be excluded from the card-room.
Yeah, because if Hornblower cannot have fun his entourage shouldn’t be allowed any either. So the least they could do is pretend to be as miserable as he is. Young people these days! That’s classic Hornblower, that is.
Btw. Hornblower doesn’t understand music and there is talk of playing whist. So, drink!
Meanwhile Hornblower finishes dressing and admires himself in the mirror. It’s the peacetime fashion for naval and military personnel to wear civilian clothes to social gatherings: Barbara had helped him select this one, and had supervised its fitting by the tailor. The cut was excellent, Hornblower decided, turning back and forth before the mirror, and black and white suited him. “Only gentlemen can wear black and white,” Barbara had said, and that was very gratifying.
Because it would have been simply unbearable to be seen in the same clothes as some mere peasant! Classy, Horny.
Oh, and our hero is tall, dark and handsome. Drink!
Hornblower meets with his entourage, but because his sexy reflection has put him in a good mood he decides to tease them a bit instead of reprimanding them for viciously assaulting his ears. : “I must apologise on behalf of Spendlove and myself for the singing, My Lord,” said Gerard.
The softening effect of the black dresscoat was evident when Hornblower refrained from a rasping reprimand.
“What would Miss Lucy say, Spendlove, if she heard you singing about the dames of France?” he asked.
Spendlove’s answering grin was very attractive.
“I must ask Your Lordship’s further indulgence not to tell her about it,” he said.
“I’ll make that conditional upon your further good behaviour,”
Well, he learned from the best.
Hornblower decides that the ball might turn out okay after all, as he and Spendlove bond over their awkward names in the coach: “A rich marriage might be desirable, My Lord,” replied Spendlove’s voice out of the darkness, “but I must remind you that in affairs of the heart I have been handicapped from birth - or at least from my baptism.”
“From your baptism?” repeated Hornblower, puzzled.
“Yes, My Lord. You remember my name, perhaps?”
“Erasmus,” said Hornblower.
“Exactly, My Lord. It is not adapted to endearments. Could any woman fall in love with an Erasmus? Could any woman bring herself to breathe the words ‘Razzy, darling’?”
“I fancy it could happen,” said Hornblower.
“May I live long enough to hear it,” said Spendlove.
Believe him. “Horry” speaks from experience.
However, let’s hope you didn’t jinx yourself with that last line there, Spendlove. But then, it’s not like bad things ever happen to attractive young men in Hornblower novels, eh?
Seeing how that bit of foreshadowing was almost done subtly, the dialogue is followed by this paragraph: It was remarkably agreeable to be driving thus through the Jamaican night behind two good horses and with two pleasant young men; especially, as he told himself smugly, because he had done work satisfactory enough to justify relaxation. His command was in good order, the policing of the Caribbean was proceeding satisfactorily, and smuggling and piracy were being reduced to small proportions. Tonight he had no responsibilities. He was in no danger at all, not any. Danger was far away, over the horizons both of time and space. He could lean back, relaxed, against the leather cushions of the carriage, taking only moderate care not to crease his black dresscoat or crumple the careful pleats of his shirt.
Fuck the police! That’s shirt’s gonna get crumpled, Hornblower’s feeling wild tonight!
The ball is held at the estate of a planter, whose daughter is the Miss Lucy that Spendlove is so interested in. Hornblower feels a bit awkward about that since Lucy keeps sneaking glances at him, so he quickly excuses himself from the dancing to play a round of whist (drink!) instead. Hornblower, from the weary age of forty-six, could look with condescension at these young men and women in their immature teens and twenties, tolerant of their youth and enthusiasm.
Forty-six! He’s got a foot in the grave already! (Keep this number in mind, please. It is going to be important later.)
Eventually Spendlove shows up. Wooing Lucy is not going too well (wonder why?), so instead he invites his admiral to take a stroll in the garden with him, which is lit only by starlight - how romantic! - where they are promptly set upon by strangers who bundle them onto a train of mules at knifepoint.
Well it's not a happy trip from here on, okay?
Twice Hornblower nearly fell off, to be heaved back again by the man beside him. Soon he was atrociously saddle-sore - if the word could be considered appropriate when he was riding bareback - and the ridge of the mule’s spine caused him agony. He was drenched with sweat, his mouth was parched, and he was desperately weary. He grew stupefied with misery, despite the pain he suffered.
Eh, stop complaining, you’ve probably barely been travelling for half an hour!
The group arrive at a river:
The water seemed immeasurably wide and dark. Even while Hornblower struggled at the water’s edge he had a horrible realisation of the indignity he was undergoing, as a Commander-in-Chief, acting like a child in the hands of these people.
C’mon, Horny! For how many books has the series been going by this point? Indignity is basically the defining keyword of your whole life!
Anyway, they eventually cross the river and climb up a cliff on its far side by rope ladders, up to the kidnappers’ lair, where they confront Hornblower with their demands for his release: “Write us a letter,” said the man with the sword.
“A letter? To whom?”
“To the Governor.”
“Asking him to come and hang you?” asked Hornblower.
Stupefied by so much sass in the face of danger the kidnappers quickly reveal to our protagonist that they are, in fact, stranded pirates (drink!), who plan to ransom Hornblower in exchange for a pardon from the Governor of Jaimaica. Presumably the plan had been made and executed by this rather stupid-seeming fellow, almost bewildered in appearance, before him. Appearances might be deceitful, or else the desperate need of the situation had stimulated that dull mind into unusual activity.
Get it? He’s bewildered AND a pirate!
Anyway, Hornblower points out a flaw in Mr Eponymous’ plan:
“The Governor would never do that.”
“Then I send him your ears. Then I send him your nose,” said Johnson.
That was a horrible thing to hear.
And the award for the understatement of the year goes to…
He conjured up in his mind the picture of fussy old General Sir Augustus Hooper, and tried to imagine the reaction produced by Johnson’s demand. His Excellency would come near to bursting a blood vessel at the thought of granting pardons to two dozen pirates. The home government, when it heard the news, would be intensely annoyed, and without doubt most of the annoyance would be directed at the man whose idiocy in allowing himself to be kidnapped had put everyone in this absurd position.
Yes, I can imagine the collective reaction at Whitehall.
While Hornblower talks to the pirates’ spokesperson, Spendlove tries to relieve one of their captors of a weapon, earning himself a beating until Hornblower steps in. What was that again? “May I live long enough to hear it,” said Spendlove. Yeah, we’ll see how well that goes.
It occurred to Hornblower that he was in the situation common in popular romances; he was in the pirates’ lair.
Wow. Let’s all hope this is not a bodice-ripper then, okay?
The pirates demand Hornblower write his own ransom note, which he does after they threaten Spendlove some more. Then the plot thickens: “There you are,” he said, holding out the volume to Johnson, who took it and looked at it curiously, and turned back to the group of a dozen or so of his followers who had been squatting on the ground behind him silently watching the proceedings.
They peered at the writing over Johnson’s shoulder; others came to look as well, and they fell into a chattering debate.
“Not one of them can read, My Lord,” commented Spendlove.
So eventually they have to have Hornblower read to them what he wrote.
You pirates did not think this one through, did you?
Afterwards the pirates fight over who is to deliver the note, because they don’t trust one another. So, they really did not think this one through! Because Hornblower cannot simply be kidnapped by pirates, they have to be incompetent pirates too! Just to add insult to injury.
Any other author would not have had his heroes beset by anyone other than the ghost of Blackbeard himself, but these guys didn’t even think to ask if anyone of them could read before deciding they would use a ransom note! What pros!
While the pirates are distracted by fight and food their prisoners manage to get a bearing of their surroundings. They identify a few nearby landmarks, and Hornblower gathers they must be “[a]bout the height of a frigate’s mainyard, sixty feet or so” above the river below (keep this in mind).
Only Hornblower’s famous intellect is hampered in its planning of a neat escape by a bout of sleepiness. And since the rocky floor is decidedly uncomfy, Spendlove suggests Hornblower rest his head in his secretary’s lap instead.
When he awakes again the pirates confront him with the ingenious idea that Hornblower is to deliver his ransom note himself.
Worst. Pirates. Ever.
Or are they? He lifted his head, a little surprised to find where it had been resting; it took him several seconds to recall where he was and how he had come there. Johnson and one or two other pirates were standing before him; in the background one of the women was looking on, in an attitude that conveyed the impression that she had contributed to the conclusion that had evidently been reached.
[…]
They had perceived something of the relationship between Hornblower and Spendlove - they may have been guided by the sight of Hornblower sleeping with his head pillowed on Spendlove’s thigh. They knew that Hornblower could never abandon Spendlove to the mercy of his captors, that he would do everything possible to obtain his freedom.
That woman is evidently a shipper. And she ships Hornblower/Spendlove!
Best. Pirates. Ever.
However, if Hornblower doesn’t manage to extricate pardons for them all from the Governor they will cut Spendlove to pieces. No surprise there. We all know shippers can get awefully invested and really do not take kindly to their ships being sunk. “[…] We can cut off his nose, we can dig out his eyes.”
“Good God Almighty,” said Hornblower.
Took the words right out of my mouth!
Still, dear slash-pirates, wouldn’t it make more sense to send the less valuable hostage away with the ransom note instead of the guy you came all the long way to kidnap?
Just saying, a lot of planning and logistics had to have gone into that. Being in the right place at the right time with a bunch of mules, and all that. Yet, now their plan seems to be falling apart.
Did the guy who made up the first half of the plan spontaneously combust, leaving the other pirates to subsequently figure out what they had to do next by trying to piece together some notes he left in his lunchbox? But they could not imagine what they were supposed to do with the cactus and the tiny dwarf marmoset, so they decided to wing it and make it up as they went along?
Still, like all good cannon fodder the pirates know instinctively who the protagonist of this short-story is, so it’s Hornblower who has to go: Spendlove had risen to his feet too.
“Are you all right, My Lord?” he asked, anxiously.
“Only stiff and rheumaticy,” replied Hornblower. “But what about you?”
“Oh, I’m all right, My Lord. Please don’t give another thought to me, My Lord.”
That was a very straight glance that Spendlove gave him, a glance that tried to convey a message.
“Not another thought, My Lord,” repeated Spendlove.
He was trying to tell his chief that he should be abandoned, that nothing should be done to ransom him, that he was willing to suffer whatever tortures might be inflicted on him so long as his chief came well out of the business.
“I’ll be thinking about you all the time,” said Hornblower, giving back glance for glance.
Guys, stop it.
I know it sounds all heroic and dutiful and honorable and wonderful with the explanatory narration there to provide context, but what will the shipper-pirates think? They must be bewildered!
Seriously, don’t encourage them. Should they get away they will make billions with self-published fanfic - if they can find someone to dictate it to.
A couple of pirates escort Hornblower part of the way back to civilisation before they set him lose with a mule and return to their pirate lair. Or maybe they simply fucked off, because they realised that their plan is stupid. Who knows? They haven’t got names or descriptions to tell them apart from their colleagues anyway, and there’s steamy fanfic to be published!
Yeah, and then it rains a bit on Hornblower. Because having been abandoned on a skinny mule, whose back that hurts your ass, on top of being kidnapped by pirates - bloody stupid pirates, too! - who ruined your shiny best clothes and had you swimming through rivers and climbing cliffs half the night isn’t humiliating enough. Welcome to Hornblower’s everyday life.
After the Rain of Shame has stopped, Hornblower eventually comes across a group of random people who inform him that the whole island has been looking for him.
“I was kidnapped by pirates,” he said. He tried to speak nonchalantly, as if that was something that could happen to anyone any day but it was difficult.
Well, it does sound like a wild tale, even considering all the other shit that keeps happening to you on a regular basis. Who would have thought that the guy who put a stopper on piracy in the region could become a target for pirates? It’s too much irony for people to handle!
Hornblower is taken to the house where the ball was held, since the place is nearest. On his way he is slightly disturbed that nobody he encounters shares his urgency to organise Spendlove’s speedy release before the pirates decide to cut off any bits that might not grow back: No one seemed to have a care about Spendlove, except Lucy Hough, presumably.
Yeah, this is probably going to surprise you, Horny, but you are going to be disappointed, again.
For as soon as Lucy lays eyes on him, she throws herself at his feet, literally: “I care for nothing as long as you’re safe!” she said, looking up at him and still clasping his hand; tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I’ve been through torment today. You’re not hurt? Tell me! Speak to me!”
This was horrible. She was pressing her lips, her cheek, against his hand again.
“Miss Lucy! Please! Compose yourself!”
How could a girl of seventeen act like this towards a man of forty-five? Was she not enamoured of Spendlove?
Holy shit! Hornblower’s torments have made him lose a whole year in age in less than 15 pages! Forget your anti-aging products; spend some time kidnapped by pirates instead! After only four days your cheeks will be as soft and rosy as a baby’s! And you might have caught syphilis as a freebie…
But, yeah, Horny’s right. Come on, Forester! You really want us to believe a young woman would be all over some old, wrinkly admiral when there are all these lovely young secretaries and flag-lieutenants arou-oh, hai, Ned!
Anyway, Lucy swears that she does not like Spendlove like that, for ever since the first time she saw our gallant, grumpy admiral she’s been in love with Hornblower. This is … a complete waste of page-time, and reads about as ridiculous as it sounds, but it wouldn’t be Hornblower without a bit of random romance. At least he doesn’t sleep with her only to catch typhoid infested fleas again. You can bet he had enough trouble explaining himself to Barbara the last time that happened.
Seriously, it’s the most asinine throw-away side-plot ever, comes completely out of the blue and serves no purpose other than to make Spendlove’s fate even more pathetic and miserable and to provide a punch line later. Like getting kidnapped, beat up and threatened with unspeakable tortures by pirates weren’t punishment enough! *
A carriage eventually arrives to take Hornblower to the Governor and he can’t wait to leave the house fast enough - poor Lucy is probably still clinging to his legs! Before arriving at the Governor’s place they come across Gerard who has gone bananas ever since Hornblower went missing. Spendlove was very much of an afterthought with everyone, even with Gerard who was his friend. But to Gerard must be given the credit at least for appreciating Hornblower’s difficulty the moment it was pointed out to him.
Poor Spendlove! Even his friends tend to forget he exists. This whole island is populated by jerks!
They finally meet with the Governor, General Hooper (Forester and his character names, it’s a beautiful relationship!), and it, uh, it does not go well: Hooper is already rather upset at having had to organise a search on such a big scale and certainly is not in favour of granting pardons to a bunch of pirates. And incompetent pirates at that! “Pardons! Par -” Hooper could not even finish the word a second time. He could only gobble like a turkey for several seconds before with a gulp he was able to continue. “Are you insane, My Lord?”
Fans have tried to answer that question for ages.
Since Hooper refuses to agree to the ransom, Hornblower explains that it is now his duty to go back and be tortured to death by pirates, along with his secretary. Predictably the Governor is not amused by this blatant emotional blackmail. Luckily for everyone involved, he outranks Hornblower and has no scruples about pulling rank basically sending our protagonist to his room without supper.
So Hornblower then promises himself to stay up all night until he has figured out a way to round up the pirates AND keep Spendlove alive, but is overcome by sleep. Perhaps he is getting on in his old middle age, despite the time spend with the anti-aging pirates.
The next day the Governor invites Hornblower to breakfast, and Hornblower thinks feverishly about how he is to convince Hooper of his half formed plan to rescue Spendlove when this happens: There was a bustle at the door, and a whole group of people came hurrying in, not merely the butler but two aides-de-camp and Gerard and - and - who was that? Pale and ragged and weary, almost unable to stand on tottering legs.
“Spendlove!” said Hornblower, his spoon clattering to the floor as he rose and hurried to him.
Yup. The matter has been resolved off-screen. How bloody anticlimactic. Spendlove is already rescued.
In fact, he rescued himself: “But what did you do, man?” demanded Hornblower. “How did you get away?”
“I jumped, My Lord. Into the water.”
“Into the water?”
What. “Yes, My Lord. There was eight feet of water in the river at the foot of the cliff; enough to break my fall from any height.”
What.
The important word here is break Spendlove.
While a fall of sixty feet into a body of water sounds just about plausible and can indeed be performed without harm to the human body, please do not attempt this at home. People have died from less.
“[…]But - but - in the dark?”
Oh, yeah, and it was night time too. Bloody hell.
“That was easy, My Lord. I looked over the parapet during the day. I did when I said goodbye to Your Lordship. I marked the spot and I measured the distance with my eye.”
What.
“And then I jumped when it was fully dark, and raining hard.”
What.
“So I took a run, Your Excellency, and jumped the parapet, as I said, and came down feet first into the water.”
What.
“Unhurt?”
“Unhurt, Your Excellency.”
What.
I repeat. Do not attempt to recreate this stunt at home. Remember, Spendlove is a professional self-resucing damsel in distress and trained for this kind of situation.
Seriously, I don’t blame you if you are now convinced Spendlove had actually been in league with the pirates all along, or had otherwise convinced them to simply let them go (after all, they must have felt bad about breaking up the cute couple), and now is making shit up.
Especially since Hornblower himself cannot rightly believe what he’s hearing: “Was it an easy journey?” asked Hornblower. Something was stirring in his mind, demanding his attention despite the strong emotions he was experiencing.
However, this comment is never explained or expanded upon. It’s like the narration only wants to point out that it does know about its own audacity but won’t be bothered by whatever questions any contrivances might raise.
Our protagonist is at last convinced that Spendlove is simply a miracle worker. To Hornblower it was not the least of Spendlove’s achievements (guessed at from a glance at his plate) that Spendlove had contrived somehow to gulp down a whole plateful of steak and onions while making his report. The man must have learned to dispense with chewing.
Spendlove’s is a magical boa constrictor then. It’s the only explanation.
Anyway, now that Spendlove is safe, Hornblower is finally free to bomb the shit out of those pirates, which is basically what his intricately laid plan amounts to that he fretted about all night: When in doubt, blow shit up.
There they were, in the warm morning air, sitting, the three of them, Hornblower, Spendlove, and Gerard, in the carriage.
Reunited and off to blow up some pirates. Aww, yeah!
Hornblower takes a landing party of seamen and marines out of his flagship and has them float a mortar up the river on a raft.
As they arrive at the foot of the pirate lair Hornblower almost gets himself shot by the his former hosts: Now he suddenly realised that the almost legendary career of the great Lord Hornblower might have been terminated then and there, that his future biographer might have had to deplore the ironic chance which, after so many pitched battles, brought him death at the hands of an obscure criminal in an unknown corner of a West Indian island.
And an incompetent, illiterate criminal at that! He found he was holding his neck rigid, his muscles tense; it had been a long time since his life was last in danger.
Uh, don’t you mean since yesterday?
Anyway, they set up the mortar and Spendlove wants to get to the exploding: “If you please, My Lord,” asked Spendlove. “What range can you expect with a boat mortar?”
“The encyclopedic Spendlove displaying ignorance! Seven hundred yards with a one-pound charge of powder, and a time of flight of fifteen seconds. But here we have to burst the shell sixty feet above the firing-point. A nice problem in ballistics.” Hornblower spoke with perfect indifference, confident that no one knew that at one o’clock that morning he had been studying those figures in the manual.
I cannot tell you how much I adore this character, but being a little shit like this is one of the reasons why. ♥ It is exactly what I would do too!
After a few ranging shots our smug git of a protagonist suddenly remembers that pirates are people too, and considers sending a white flag, to allow them to surrender. It would be a dangerous mission. If the pirates were determined not to surrender they would not respect a flag of truce, and would fire on the bearer of it. There were a score of muskets and at least one rifle up there. Hornblower wanted neither to order someone forward nor to ask for a volunteer.
“I’ll do it, My Lord,” said Spendlove. “They know me.”
Leave it, Spendlove! It’s not worth it! You don’t get paid enough for this shit, and nobody will cry for you once the pirates have murdered you to death, as the story has taken pains to establish (except for Hornblower - when no one’s looking).
This was the price he had to pay, thought Hornblower, for his lofty position, for being an Admiral. He had to order his friends to their death. Yet on the other hand -
On the other hand you get a shiny flag, a prettier uniform, as well as higher pay and a large administrative staff to shout at, and I guess there might be free ice-cream to be had too?
The pirates do indeed ignore the flag of truce. Luckily, being the magical boa that he is, Spendlove returns unscathed, and the mortar shells reduce the pirate health & beauty resort to rubble (alas, no more fanfic from that corner), and we end the scene on a typical Hornblower monologue: He did not have to see the horrors of the cave, the mutilated dead and the screaming wounded. He could see them in his mind’s eye when Seymour made his report of what he found when he ascended the ladder. It was done, finished.
The wounded could be bandaged and carried down to the beach on litters to the death that awaited them, the unwounded driven along with them with their wrists bound. A courier could be sent off to the Governor to say that the pirate horde had been wiped out, so that the patrols could be called in and the militia sent home. He did not have to set eyes on the wretched people he had conquered. The excitement of the hunt was over. He had set himself a task to do, a problem to solve, just as he might work out a longitude from lunar observations, and he had achieved success. But the measure of that success could be expressed in hangings, in dead and in wounded, in that shattered, broken-backed figure lying on the rocks, and he had undertaken the task merely on a point of pride, to re-establish his self-esteem after the indignity of being kidnapped.
It was no comfort to argue with himself - as he did - that what he had done would otherwise have been done by others, at great cost in disease and in economic disturbance. That only made him sneer at himself as a hair-splitting casuist. There were few occasions when Hornblower could do what was right in Hornblower’s eyes.
(And this is the other reason why we love Hornblower.)
Hornblower returns to his flagship to enjoy a quite dinner with Gerard and Spendlove, while he leaves his other subordinates to clean up the mess the mortar has made, but, alas, his embarrassments are not yet at an end: Nevertheless, there was one more unexpected crumpled petal in his roseleaf bed, and he discovered it, contrariwise, as a result of what he intended to be a kindly action.
Roseleaf? Has Mr Bush been decorating your bedroom again, Horny?
For Spendlove has the indignity to remind us of the matter of Clingy Lucy. He asks Hornblower to put in a good word for him with her, since he has noticed that she greatly respects the admiral’s opinion - if not his personal space. Awkward. This pleading creature, this poor love-lorn fellow, was the Spendlove whose cool daring had risked a leap in the darkness down a sixty-foot precipice. Hornblower remembered Lucy’s lips on his hands, remembered how she had followed him on her knees across the floor. The less he had to do with any of this the better, he decided.
But the passion of a child hardly out of the schoolroom for a man of mature years was likely to be fleeting, transient, and the memory of her lost dignity would later be as painful to her as it was to him. She would find need to assert herself, to show him that he was not the only man in the world - and how could she demonstrate that more plainly than by marrying someone else?
To use a vulgar phrase, there was quite a chance that Spendlove might catch her on the rebound.
Oh, Horny. You always say the most terrible things!
The story ends as Hornblower takes leave of the Governor so he can bugger off before any of the pirates learn the steps to the hemp fandango: “Hangings don’t agree with me, Your Excellency.”
It was not merely an unnecessary explanation; it was a foolish one, as he knew as soon as he saw the open astonishment in Hooper’s face. Hooper could hardly have been more surprised at hearing that hangings did not agree with Hornblower than he would have been if he had heard that Hornblower did not agree with hangings - and that was very nearly as correct.
Indeed. Hornblower prefers blowing people up instead!
All quotes taken from the eBook edition of Hornblower in the West Indies.
*Seriously guys, I am disappointed. Where is all the happy!Spendlove fic? He deserves it! ^
So that was The Bewildered Pirates, with some very bewildering goings-on indeed!
So what can I say? I like it! Not exactly despite the flaws, but rather because of them. C'mon, the anti-aging slash-pirates are cool -- in their own, pathetic way.
Horrible me hacked this poor story apart for comedic effect, but I would say Forester’s qualities still shine through. First of all there is the subtle humour, in Hornblower’s teasing of his young followers, his annoyance at the social events he has to endure as part of his position, his exasperation (!) with his kidnappers. All of it is as typical for these books as the narration not missing a single opportunity to gently poke fun at its hero, e.g., by pointing out his vanity and the silly joy he derives from his crumpled shirt. Also, I simply could not cut apart Hornblower’s self recriminations about attacking and killing the people who would have had no qualms about brutally murdering him and his poor beleaguered secretary, and who, in the end, would have ended up getting hanged anyway. The futility of his regret after the fact is obvious even to him, but Hornblower wouldn’t be Hornblower if he could stop himself from beating himself up over it.
Also, as with basically all Hornblower stories this pirate yarn is centred on an ethical conflict, in this case on Hornblower’s refusal to save himself by sacrificing Spendlove (this being the honourable decision, but one ignoring his duties and responsibility as CiC), and it certainly makes for some excellent drama!
What is so bewildering (ahaha) about the plot progression of this particular story, however, is not that the choice is taken out of the hero’s hands by Hooper, but that it becomes completely irrelevant through Spendlove’s off screen escape, as neither character suffers any negative consequences. Our hero had to do nothing to achieve this happy ending for both of them, except sit on his ass all night only to wake up and find the situation already resolved by breakfast-time. Even this would not have hurt a good adventure story too much if we, as readers, had had a bit more of the actual adventure than a quick summary by Spendlove himself - and a very convenient sounding summary at that. Seriously, the first time I read this story I was convinced he was lying his ass off!
Worst of all, though, Hornblower only had a single night to angst about his loss of control! Which is a shame, because Hornblower is good at angsting and feeling sorry for himself. Luckily, for all our melodramatic needs we will always have the scenes in the pirates’ lair. Forester is great at creating a melancholy atmosphere and delicious Weltschmerz! As usual Hornblower continues to be able to function under pressure. He assesses his situation and his kidnappers’ desperation correctly and even faces his opponents with a bit of snark, but his physical and mental exhaustion still seeps thickly through every page of that part of the narrative.
There is an especially impressive bit, just as they arrive at the cave in the cliff side, at which point Hornblower simply feels like breaking down and sobbing, because he’s getting too old for this shit. But Spendlove is there and brings him back to senses, so they may quickly take stock of their surroundings and possible escape routes like the professional badasses they are. Meanwhile the camaraderie and loyalty between them is very tender and touching.
In fact, and this goes for the whole book, not just this one story, I really enjoy the relationship Hornblower has with both his young followers: gruff (he still is the notoriously moody Admiral Grumpy-pants after all!), but ultimately affectionate. Hornblower is still Hornblower, but he has gotten a bit softer with age and there is a noticeable fondness in his interactions with Spendlove and Gerard Jr.
Where this story really does fall apart (even if we ignore Spendlove’s magical escape and Lucy’s-well, just Lucy!) is the lack of quality villains. I’m not even sure if the pirates should count as villains, you know? ‘Cause you kind of have to feel sorry for them a bit for their bad luck, don’t you?
They have this super convenient, almost impenetrable hideout, organise the mules to be in the right place at the right time, and the actual kidnapping goes off without a hitch - the fact that they take two hostages instead of one, actually seems to turn out in their favour at first! But they still lose! I bet there is some metaphysical wisdom in there somewhere.
Of course it is certainly not unimaginable that none of them would be able to read and write, but - let’s be honest - they are just a bit too pathetic to be taken seriously as the fearsome villains who we are to believe would torture and murder their victims in stomach turning fashion without second thoughts. The kidnapping itself involved good logistics, but still they never figure out being literate would have come in handy before they put that part of their plan into action. It’s so cute! AND they set lose their most valuable hostage based on faith in his principles alone?! Yes, Horny does believe in honour, congrats for finding the one guy your stupid plan might have worked with, pirates, but sadly the Governor ain’t got time for that shit. How sad.
You know, this might be the only moral tale in existence of how believing in principles will kill you. If you're a pirate.
I haven't done one of my horrible reviews in a while, and I also feel like we should collectively give that drinking game a try. For that occasion I thought I might give the verreiss_mich treatment to a story I actually enjoy very much, which is none the less, if not a bad story, a slightly weird one.
In this story Hornblower is kidnapped by the Worst Pirates Ever™ - pirates who are also scarily violent shippers (yes, "shippers" as in "fandom OTP shippers"!) and who know the secret of eternal youth.
The story we’re going to have a look at today is taken from Hornblower in the West Indies, an anthology collecting the chronologically last canonical Hornblower stories (with the exception of The Last Encounter which is also part of the canon, but has been published only posthumously, and which I do not think I have to mention is a brilliant short story, since it features a retired Hornblower encountering what he - and the reader - is made to believe is a clinically insane Napoléon-Cosplayer).
Anyway, Hornblower in the West Indies takes place quite some time after the bulk of the Hornblower canon, as Hornblower has by then been promoted to rear-admiral and has just hauled up his flag as Commander-in-Chief in the, you guessed it, West Indies Station (that would be the Caribbean - and bits of North America - for you landlubbers).
Other highlights in this anthology include
- Napoléon dying so that Hornblower doesn’t have to feel bad about lying like a girl to the man’s fanclub;
- Hornblower meeting a man with a more ridiculous name than his own and enjoying the occasion immensely;
- A man being sentenced to death for having too many strong feelings about music.
The book also introduces us to a host of new characters, of which a couple are of particular importance for the story we are going to have a look at:
First of all, there is Hornblower’s shiny new secretary, a young man with the awesome name of Erasmus Spendlove, whom Hornblower is actually quite fond of. Presumably that is the case not only because he is a good secretary, and came by recommendation from Hornblower’s old friend Lord Exmouth (drink!), but also because they can bond over their awkward names. Yes, Forester delighted in gracing his characters with some of the most terrible names imaginable, why do you even ask?
Spendlove is said to know simply everything there is to know in his field work, yet, he simply can’t get any respect in this story or any other for that matter.
And then there is Lt. Gerard, Hornblower’s flag-lieutenant. This Gerard is indeed related to Stupid Sexy Gerard from the earlier books (drink!), in fact, he is Sexy Gerard’s son: He had been Hornblower’s flag-lieutenant for several months now, and knew nearly as much about Hornblower’s moods as a wife might have done. He knew, too, of Hornblower’s kindly interior. He had received his appointment as the son of an old friend, at a moment when admiral’s sons and duke’s sons had yearned to serve as flag-lieutenant to the fabulous Hornblower.
Awww.
Although the truth of the matter is probably simply that Hornblower still felt guilty about having had to abandon Gerard Sr. in a French prison more than a decade ago.
Gerard Jr. also acts as Hornblower’s nanny, on behest of Lady Hornblower, of course, making sure he eats and sleeps regularly and wears his warm clothes when it’s nasty and cold outside. Yes, this makes Gerard the guy with the most stressful job in the whole series. You go try and tell your grumpy admiral to put on his warm underpants, if you don’t believe me.
But let’s start at the beginning. Or rather, let’s begin with our story’s title: THE BEWILDERED PIRATES
Okay.
What.
What?
On the one hand, the title aptly describes the defining qualities of the villains you will encounter in the story, on the other hand, Forester, were you even trying?
I know the titles of the Hornblower books and short-stories seldom have a stroke of genius about them (in fact, the only series in the genre whose titles are currently giving me more joy, is Dudley Pope’s Ramage series. My next read is going to be book 6, Ramage and the Guillotine. Which sounds hilariously like it should be the last book of the series, but it isn’t) but this has got to be the worst by far. I guess Forester probably patted himself on the back for remembering to put the fact that the story is about pirates in the title - because everyone loves reading about pirates - and then called it a day, the lazy bum.
As the story begins we’re in the Admiralty House on Jamaica, and we learn that there is going to be an epic party in the neighbourhood! Spendlove and Gerard are so abuzz with anticipation that they end up annoying their Chief with singing “lustily”: The fact that those two young men were singing - and still more the fact that they had forgotten he was within earshot - was proof that they were feeling lighthearted, as might be expected, seeing they were dressing for a ball. Yet it was no excuse, for they knew well enough that their tone-deaf Commander-in-Chief detested music, and they should also have realised that he would be more testy than usual, on account of that very ball, because it meant that he would be forced to spend a long evening listening to those dreary sounds, cloying and irritating at the same moment. There would certainly be a table or two of whist - Mr Hough would be aware of his principal guest’s tastes - but it was too much to hope for that all sound of music would be excluded from the card-room.
Yeah, because if Hornblower cannot have fun his entourage shouldn’t be allowed any either. So the least they could do is pretend to be as miserable as he is. Young people these days! That’s classic Hornblower, that is.
Btw. Hornblower doesn’t understand music and there is talk of playing whist. So, drink!
Meanwhile Hornblower finishes dressing and admires himself in the mirror. It’s the peacetime fashion for naval and military personnel to wear civilian clothes to social gatherings: Barbara had helped him select this one, and had supervised its fitting by the tailor. The cut was excellent, Hornblower decided, turning back and forth before the mirror, and black and white suited him. “Only gentlemen can wear black and white,” Barbara had said, and that was very gratifying.
Because it would have been simply unbearable to be seen in the same clothes as some mere peasant! Classy, Horny.
Oh, and our hero is tall, dark and handsome. Drink!
Hornblower meets with his entourage, but because his sexy reflection has put him in a good mood he decides to tease them a bit instead of reprimanding them for viciously assaulting his ears. : “I must apologise on behalf of Spendlove and myself for the singing, My Lord,” said Gerard.
The softening effect of the black dresscoat was evident when Hornblower refrained from a rasping reprimand.
“What would Miss Lucy say, Spendlove, if she heard you singing about the dames of France?” he asked.
Spendlove’s answering grin was very attractive.
“I must ask Your Lordship’s further indulgence not to tell her about it,” he said.
“I’ll make that conditional upon your further good behaviour,”
Well, he learned from the best.
Hornblower decides that the ball might turn out okay after all, as he and Spendlove bond over their awkward names in the coach: “A rich marriage might be desirable, My Lord,” replied Spendlove’s voice out of the darkness, “but I must remind you that in affairs of the heart I have been handicapped from birth - or at least from my baptism.”
“From your baptism?” repeated Hornblower, puzzled.
“Yes, My Lord. You remember my name, perhaps?”
“Erasmus,” said Hornblower.
“Exactly, My Lord. It is not adapted to endearments. Could any woman fall in love with an Erasmus? Could any woman bring herself to breathe the words ‘Razzy, darling’?”
“I fancy it could happen,” said Hornblower.
“May I live long enough to hear it,” said Spendlove.
Believe him. “Horry” speaks from experience.
However, let’s hope you didn’t jinx yourself with that last line there, Spendlove. But then, it’s not like bad things ever happen to attractive young men in Hornblower novels, eh?
Seeing how that bit of foreshadowing was almost done subtly, the dialogue is followed by this paragraph: It was remarkably agreeable to be driving thus through the Jamaican night behind two good horses and with two pleasant young men; especially, as he told himself smugly, because he had done work satisfactory enough to justify relaxation. His command was in good order, the policing of the Caribbean was proceeding satisfactorily, and smuggling and piracy were being reduced to small proportions. Tonight he had no responsibilities. He was in no danger at all, not any. Danger was far away, over the horizons both of time and space. He could lean back, relaxed, against the leather cushions of the carriage, taking only moderate care not to crease his black dresscoat or crumple the careful pleats of his shirt.
Fuck the police! That’s shirt’s gonna get crumpled, Hornblower’s feeling wild tonight!
The ball is held at the estate of a planter, whose daughter is the Miss Lucy that Spendlove is so interested in. Hornblower feels a bit awkward about that since Lucy keeps sneaking glances at him, so he quickly excuses himself from the dancing to play a round of whist (drink!) instead. Hornblower, from the weary age of forty-six, could look with condescension at these young men and women in their immature teens and twenties, tolerant of their youth and enthusiasm.
Forty-six! He’s got a foot in the grave already! (Keep this number in mind, please. It is going to be important later.)
Eventually Spendlove shows up. Wooing Lucy is not going too well (wonder why?), so instead he invites his admiral to take a stroll in the garden with him, which is lit only by starlight - how romantic! - where they are promptly set upon by strangers who bundle them onto a train of mules at knifepoint.
Well it's not a happy trip from here on, okay?
Twice Hornblower nearly fell off, to be heaved back again by the man beside him. Soon he was atrociously saddle-sore - if the word could be considered appropriate when he was riding bareback - and the ridge of the mule’s spine caused him agony. He was drenched with sweat, his mouth was parched, and he was desperately weary. He grew stupefied with misery, despite the pain he suffered.
Eh, stop complaining, you’ve probably barely been travelling for half an hour!
The group arrive at a river:
The water seemed immeasurably wide and dark. Even while Hornblower struggled at the water’s edge he had a horrible realisation of the indignity he was undergoing, as a Commander-in-Chief, acting like a child in the hands of these people.
C’mon, Horny! For how many books has the series been going by this point? Indignity is basically the defining keyword of your whole life!
Anyway, they eventually cross the river and climb up a cliff on its far side by rope ladders, up to the kidnappers’ lair, where they confront Hornblower with their demands for his release: “Write us a letter,” said the man with the sword.
“A letter? To whom?”
“To the Governor.”
“Asking him to come and hang you?” asked Hornblower.
Stupefied by so much sass in the face of danger the kidnappers quickly reveal to our protagonist that they are, in fact, stranded pirates (drink!), who plan to ransom Hornblower in exchange for a pardon from the Governor of Jaimaica. Presumably the plan had been made and executed by this rather stupid-seeming fellow, almost bewildered in appearance, before him. Appearances might be deceitful, or else the desperate need of the situation had stimulated that dull mind into unusual activity.
Get it? He’s bewildered AND a pirate!
Anyway, Hornblower points out a flaw in Mr Eponymous’ plan:
“The Governor would never do that.”
“Then I send him your ears. Then I send him your nose,” said Johnson.
That was a horrible thing to hear.
And the award for the understatement of the year goes to…
He conjured up in his mind the picture of fussy old General Sir Augustus Hooper, and tried to imagine the reaction produced by Johnson’s demand. His Excellency would come near to bursting a blood vessel at the thought of granting pardons to two dozen pirates. The home government, when it heard the news, would be intensely annoyed, and without doubt most of the annoyance would be directed at the man whose idiocy in allowing himself to be kidnapped had put everyone in this absurd position.
Yes, I can imagine the collective reaction at Whitehall.
While Hornblower talks to the pirates’ spokesperson, Spendlove tries to relieve one of their captors of a weapon, earning himself a beating until Hornblower steps in. What was that again? “May I live long enough to hear it,” said Spendlove. Yeah, we’ll see how well that goes.
It occurred to Hornblower that he was in the situation common in popular romances; he was in the pirates’ lair.
Wow. Let’s all hope this is not a bodice-ripper then, okay?
The pirates demand Hornblower write his own ransom note, which he does after they threaten Spendlove some more. Then the plot thickens: “There you are,” he said, holding out the volume to Johnson, who took it and looked at it curiously, and turned back to the group of a dozen or so of his followers who had been squatting on the ground behind him silently watching the proceedings.
They peered at the writing over Johnson’s shoulder; others came to look as well, and they fell into a chattering debate.
“Not one of them can read, My Lord,” commented Spendlove.
So eventually they have to have Hornblower read to them what he wrote.
You pirates did not think this one through, did you?
Afterwards the pirates fight over who is to deliver the note, because they don’t trust one another. So, they really did not think this one through! Because Hornblower cannot simply be kidnapped by pirates, they have to be incompetent pirates too! Just to add insult to injury.
Any other author would not have had his heroes beset by anyone other than the ghost of Blackbeard himself, but these guys didn’t even think to ask if anyone of them could read before deciding they would use a ransom note! What pros!
While the pirates are distracted by fight and food their prisoners manage to get a bearing of their surroundings. They identify a few nearby landmarks, and Hornblower gathers they must be “[a]bout the height of a frigate’s mainyard, sixty feet or so” above the river below (keep this in mind).
Only Hornblower’s famous intellect is hampered in its planning of a neat escape by a bout of sleepiness. And since the rocky floor is decidedly uncomfy, Spendlove suggests Hornblower rest his head in his secretary’s lap instead.
When he awakes again the pirates confront him with the ingenious idea that Hornblower is to deliver his ransom note himself.
Worst. Pirates. Ever.
Or are they? He lifted his head, a little surprised to find where it had been resting; it took him several seconds to recall where he was and how he had come there. Johnson and one or two other pirates were standing before him; in the background one of the women was looking on, in an attitude that conveyed the impression that she had contributed to the conclusion that had evidently been reached.
[…]
They had perceived something of the relationship between Hornblower and Spendlove - they may have been guided by the sight of Hornblower sleeping with his head pillowed on Spendlove’s thigh. They knew that Hornblower could never abandon Spendlove to the mercy of his captors, that he would do everything possible to obtain his freedom.
That woman is evidently a shipper. And she ships Hornblower/Spendlove!
Best. Pirates. Ever.
However, if Hornblower doesn’t manage to extricate pardons for them all from the Governor they will cut Spendlove to pieces. No surprise there. We all know shippers can get awefully invested and really do not take kindly to their ships being sunk. “[…] We can cut off his nose, we can dig out his eyes.”
“Good God Almighty,” said Hornblower.
Took the words right out of my mouth!
Still, dear slash-pirates, wouldn’t it make more sense to send the less valuable hostage away with the ransom note instead of the guy you came all the long way to kidnap?
Just saying, a lot of planning and logistics had to have gone into that. Being in the right place at the right time with a bunch of mules, and all that. Yet, now their plan seems to be falling apart.
Did the guy who made up the first half of the plan spontaneously combust, leaving the other pirates to subsequently figure out what they had to do next by trying to piece together some notes he left in his lunchbox? But they could not imagine what they were supposed to do with the cactus and the tiny dwarf marmoset, so they decided to wing it and make it up as they went along?
Still, like all good cannon fodder the pirates know instinctively who the protagonist of this short-story is, so it’s Hornblower who has to go: Spendlove had risen to his feet too.
“Are you all right, My Lord?” he asked, anxiously.
“Only stiff and rheumaticy,” replied Hornblower. “But what about you?”
“Oh, I’m all right, My Lord. Please don’t give another thought to me, My Lord.”
That was a very straight glance that Spendlove gave him, a glance that tried to convey a message.
“Not another thought, My Lord,” repeated Spendlove.
He was trying to tell his chief that he should be abandoned, that nothing should be done to ransom him, that he was willing to suffer whatever tortures might be inflicted on him so long as his chief came well out of the business.
“I’ll be thinking about you all the time,” said Hornblower, giving back glance for glance.
Guys, stop it.
I know it sounds all heroic and dutiful and honorable and wonderful with the explanatory narration there to provide context, but what will the shipper-pirates think? They must be bewildered!
Seriously, don’t encourage them. Should they get away they will make billions with self-published fanfic - if they can find someone to dictate it to.
A couple of pirates escort Hornblower part of the way back to civilisation before they set him lose with a mule and return to their pirate lair. Or maybe they simply fucked off, because they realised that their plan is stupid. Who knows? They haven’t got names or descriptions to tell them apart from their colleagues anyway, and there’s steamy fanfic to be published!
Yeah, and then it rains a bit on Hornblower. Because having been abandoned on a skinny mule, whose back that hurts your ass, on top of being kidnapped by pirates - bloody stupid pirates, too! - who ruined your shiny best clothes and had you swimming through rivers and climbing cliffs half the night isn’t humiliating enough. Welcome to Hornblower’s everyday life.
After the Rain of Shame has stopped, Hornblower eventually comes across a group of random people who inform him that the whole island has been looking for him.
“I was kidnapped by pirates,” he said. He tried to speak nonchalantly, as if that was something that could happen to anyone any day but it was difficult.
Well, it does sound like a wild tale, even considering all the other shit that keeps happening to you on a regular basis. Who would have thought that the guy who put a stopper on piracy in the region could become a target for pirates? It’s too much irony for people to handle!
Hornblower is taken to the house where the ball was held, since the place is nearest. On his way he is slightly disturbed that nobody he encounters shares his urgency to organise Spendlove’s speedy release before the pirates decide to cut off any bits that might not grow back: No one seemed to have a care about Spendlove, except Lucy Hough, presumably.
Yeah, this is probably going to surprise you, Horny, but you are going to be disappointed, again.
For as soon as Lucy lays eyes on him, she throws herself at his feet, literally: “I care for nothing as long as you’re safe!” she said, looking up at him and still clasping his hand; tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I’ve been through torment today. You’re not hurt? Tell me! Speak to me!”
This was horrible. She was pressing her lips, her cheek, against his hand again.
“Miss Lucy! Please! Compose yourself!”
How could a girl of seventeen act like this towards a man of forty-five? Was she not enamoured of Spendlove?
Holy shit! Hornblower’s torments have made him lose a whole year in age in less than 15 pages! Forget your anti-aging products; spend some time kidnapped by pirates instead! After only four days your cheeks will be as soft and rosy as a baby’s! And you might have caught syphilis as a freebie…
But, yeah, Horny’s right. Come on, Forester! You really want us to believe a young woman would be all over some old, wrinkly admiral when there are all these lovely young secretaries and flag-lieutenants arou-oh, hai, Ned!
Anyway, Lucy swears that she does not like Spendlove like that, for ever since the first time she saw our gallant, grumpy admiral she’s been in love with Hornblower. This is … a complete waste of page-time, and reads about as ridiculous as it sounds, but it wouldn’t be Hornblower without a bit of random romance. At least he doesn’t sleep with her only to catch typhoid infested fleas again. You can bet he had enough trouble explaining himself to Barbara the last time that happened.
Seriously, it’s the most asinine throw-away side-plot ever, comes completely out of the blue and serves no purpose other than to make Spendlove’s fate even more pathetic and miserable and to provide a punch line later. Like getting kidnapped, beat up and threatened with unspeakable tortures by pirates weren’t punishment enough! *
A carriage eventually arrives to take Hornblower to the Governor and he can’t wait to leave the house fast enough - poor Lucy is probably still clinging to his legs! Before arriving at the Governor’s place they come across Gerard who has gone bananas ever since Hornblower went missing. Spendlove was very much of an afterthought with everyone, even with Gerard who was his friend. But to Gerard must be given the credit at least for appreciating Hornblower’s difficulty the moment it was pointed out to him.
Poor Spendlove! Even his friends tend to forget he exists. This whole island is populated by jerks!
They finally meet with the Governor, General Hooper (Forester and his character names, it’s a beautiful relationship!), and it, uh, it does not go well: Hooper is already rather upset at having had to organise a search on such a big scale and certainly is not in favour of granting pardons to a bunch of pirates. And incompetent pirates at that! “Pardons! Par -” Hooper could not even finish the word a second time. He could only gobble like a turkey for several seconds before with a gulp he was able to continue. “Are you insane, My Lord?”
Fans have tried to answer that question for ages.
Since Hooper refuses to agree to the ransom, Hornblower explains that it is now his duty to go back and be tortured to death by pirates, along with his secretary. Predictably the Governor is not amused by this blatant emotional blackmail. Luckily for everyone involved, he outranks Hornblower and has no scruples about pulling rank basically sending our protagonist to his room without supper.
So Hornblower then promises himself to stay up all night until he has figured out a way to round up the pirates AND keep Spendlove alive, but is overcome by sleep. Perhaps he is getting on in his old middle age, despite the time spend with the anti-aging pirates.
The next day the Governor invites Hornblower to breakfast, and Hornblower thinks feverishly about how he is to convince Hooper of his half formed plan to rescue Spendlove when this happens: There was a bustle at the door, and a whole group of people came hurrying in, not merely the butler but two aides-de-camp and Gerard and - and - who was that? Pale and ragged and weary, almost unable to stand on tottering legs.
“Spendlove!” said Hornblower, his spoon clattering to the floor as he rose and hurried to him.
Yup. The matter has been resolved off-screen. How bloody anticlimactic. Spendlove is already rescued.
In fact, he rescued himself: “But what did you do, man?” demanded Hornblower. “How did you get away?”
“I jumped, My Lord. Into the water.”
“Into the water?”
What. “Yes, My Lord. There was eight feet of water in the river at the foot of the cliff; enough to break my fall from any height.”
What.
The important word here is break Spendlove.
While a fall of sixty feet into a body of water sounds just about plausible and can indeed be performed without harm to the human body, please do not attempt this at home. People have died from less.
“[…]But - but - in the dark?”
Oh, yeah, and it was night time too. Bloody hell.
“That was easy, My Lord. I looked over the parapet during the day. I did when I said goodbye to Your Lordship. I marked the spot and I measured the distance with my eye.”
What.
“And then I jumped when it was fully dark, and raining hard.”
What.
“So I took a run, Your Excellency, and jumped the parapet, as I said, and came down feet first into the water.”
What.
“Unhurt?”
“Unhurt, Your Excellency.”
What.
I repeat. Do not attempt to recreate this stunt at home. Remember, Spendlove is a professional self-resucing damsel in distress and trained for this kind of situation.
Seriously, I don’t blame you if you are now convinced Spendlove had actually been in league with the pirates all along, or had otherwise convinced them to simply let them go (after all, they must have felt bad about breaking up the cute couple), and now is making shit up.
Especially since Hornblower himself cannot rightly believe what he’s hearing: “Was it an easy journey?” asked Hornblower. Something was stirring in his mind, demanding his attention despite the strong emotions he was experiencing.
However, this comment is never explained or expanded upon. It’s like the narration only wants to point out that it does know about its own audacity but won’t be bothered by whatever questions any contrivances might raise.
Our protagonist is at last convinced that Spendlove is simply a miracle worker. To Hornblower it was not the least of Spendlove’s achievements (guessed at from a glance at his plate) that Spendlove had contrived somehow to gulp down a whole plateful of steak and onions while making his report. The man must have learned to dispense with chewing.
Spendlove’s is a magical boa constrictor then. It’s the only explanation.
Anyway, now that Spendlove is safe, Hornblower is finally free to bomb the shit out of those pirates, which is basically what his intricately laid plan amounts to that he fretted about all night: When in doubt, blow shit up.
There they were, in the warm morning air, sitting, the three of them, Hornblower, Spendlove, and Gerard, in the carriage.
Reunited and off to blow up some pirates. Aww, yeah!
Hornblower takes a landing party of seamen and marines out of his flagship and has them float a mortar up the river on a raft.
As they arrive at the foot of the pirate lair Hornblower almost gets himself shot by the his former hosts: Now he suddenly realised that the almost legendary career of the great Lord Hornblower might have been terminated then and there, that his future biographer might have had to deplore the ironic chance which, after so many pitched battles, brought him death at the hands of an obscure criminal in an unknown corner of a West Indian island.
And an incompetent, illiterate criminal at that! He found he was holding his neck rigid, his muscles tense; it had been a long time since his life was last in danger.
Uh, don’t you mean since yesterday?
Anyway, they set up the mortar and Spendlove wants to get to the exploding: “If you please, My Lord,” asked Spendlove. “What range can you expect with a boat mortar?”
“The encyclopedic Spendlove displaying ignorance! Seven hundred yards with a one-pound charge of powder, and a time of flight of fifteen seconds. But here we have to burst the shell sixty feet above the firing-point. A nice problem in ballistics.” Hornblower spoke with perfect indifference, confident that no one knew that at one o’clock that morning he had been studying those figures in the manual.
I cannot tell you how much I adore this character, but being a little shit like this is one of the reasons why. ♥ It is exactly what I would do too!
After a few ranging shots our smug git of a protagonist suddenly remembers that pirates are people too, and considers sending a white flag, to allow them to surrender. It would be a dangerous mission. If the pirates were determined not to surrender they would not respect a flag of truce, and would fire on the bearer of it. There were a score of muskets and at least one rifle up there. Hornblower wanted neither to order someone forward nor to ask for a volunteer.
“I’ll do it, My Lord,” said Spendlove. “They know me.”
Leave it, Spendlove! It’s not worth it! You don’t get paid enough for this shit, and nobody will cry for you once the pirates have murdered you to death, as the story has taken pains to establish (except for Hornblower - when no one’s looking).
This was the price he had to pay, thought Hornblower, for his lofty position, for being an Admiral. He had to order his friends to their death. Yet on the other hand -
On the other hand you get a shiny flag, a prettier uniform, as well as higher pay and a large administrative staff to shout at, and I guess there might be free ice-cream to be had too?
The pirates do indeed ignore the flag of truce. Luckily, being the magical boa that he is, Spendlove returns unscathed, and the mortar shells reduce the pirate health & beauty resort to rubble (alas, no more fanfic from that corner), and we end the scene on a typical Hornblower monologue: He did not have to see the horrors of the cave, the mutilated dead and the screaming wounded. He could see them in his mind’s eye when Seymour made his report of what he found when he ascended the ladder. It was done, finished.
The wounded could be bandaged and carried down to the beach on litters to the death that awaited them, the unwounded driven along with them with their wrists bound. A courier could be sent off to the Governor to say that the pirate horde had been wiped out, so that the patrols could be called in and the militia sent home. He did not have to set eyes on the wretched people he had conquered. The excitement of the hunt was over. He had set himself a task to do, a problem to solve, just as he might work out a longitude from lunar observations, and he had achieved success. But the measure of that success could be expressed in hangings, in dead and in wounded, in that shattered, broken-backed figure lying on the rocks, and he had undertaken the task merely on a point of pride, to re-establish his self-esteem after the indignity of being kidnapped.
It was no comfort to argue with himself - as he did - that what he had done would otherwise have been done by others, at great cost in disease and in economic disturbance. That only made him sneer at himself as a hair-splitting casuist. There were few occasions when Hornblower could do what was right in Hornblower’s eyes.
(And this is the other reason why we love Hornblower.)
Hornblower returns to his flagship to enjoy a quite dinner with Gerard and Spendlove, while he leaves his other subordinates to clean up the mess the mortar has made, but, alas, his embarrassments are not yet at an end: Nevertheless, there was one more unexpected crumpled petal in his roseleaf bed, and he discovered it, contrariwise, as a result of what he intended to be a kindly action.
Roseleaf? Has Mr Bush been decorating your bedroom again, Horny?
For Spendlove has the indignity to remind us of the matter of Clingy Lucy. He asks Hornblower to put in a good word for him with her, since he has noticed that she greatly respects the admiral’s opinion - if not his personal space. Awkward. This pleading creature, this poor love-lorn fellow, was the Spendlove whose cool daring had risked a leap in the darkness down a sixty-foot precipice. Hornblower remembered Lucy’s lips on his hands, remembered how she had followed him on her knees across the floor. The less he had to do with any of this the better, he decided.
But the passion of a child hardly out of the schoolroom for a man of mature years was likely to be fleeting, transient, and the memory of her lost dignity would later be as painful to her as it was to him. She would find need to assert herself, to show him that he was not the only man in the world - and how could she demonstrate that more plainly than by marrying someone else?
To use a vulgar phrase, there was quite a chance that Spendlove might catch her on the rebound.
Oh, Horny. You always say the most terrible things!
The story ends as Hornblower takes leave of the Governor so he can bugger off before any of the pirates learn the steps to the hemp fandango: “Hangings don’t agree with me, Your Excellency.”
It was not merely an unnecessary explanation; it was a foolish one, as he knew as soon as he saw the open astonishment in Hooper’s face. Hooper could hardly have been more surprised at hearing that hangings did not agree with Hornblower than he would have been if he had heard that Hornblower did not agree with hangings - and that was very nearly as correct.
Indeed. Hornblower prefers blowing people up instead!
All quotes taken from the eBook edition of Hornblower in the West Indies.
*Seriously guys, I am disappointed. Where is all the happy!Spendlove fic? He deserves it! ^
So that was The Bewildered Pirates, with some very bewildering goings-on indeed!
So what can I say? I like it! Not exactly despite the flaws, but rather because of them. C'mon, the anti-aging slash-pirates are cool -- in their own, pathetic way.
Horrible me hacked this poor story apart for comedic effect, but I would say Forester’s qualities still shine through. First of all there is the subtle humour, in Hornblower’s teasing of his young followers, his annoyance at the social events he has to endure as part of his position, his exasperation (!) with his kidnappers. All of it is as typical for these books as the narration not missing a single opportunity to gently poke fun at its hero, e.g., by pointing out his vanity and the silly joy he derives from his crumpled shirt. Also, I simply could not cut apart Hornblower’s self recriminations about attacking and killing the people who would have had no qualms about brutally murdering him and his poor beleaguered secretary, and who, in the end, would have ended up getting hanged anyway. The futility of his regret after the fact is obvious even to him, but Hornblower wouldn’t be Hornblower if he could stop himself from beating himself up over it.
Also, as with basically all Hornblower stories this pirate yarn is centred on an ethical conflict, in this case on Hornblower’s refusal to save himself by sacrificing Spendlove (this being the honourable decision, but one ignoring his duties and responsibility as CiC), and it certainly makes for some excellent drama!
What is so bewildering (ahaha) about the plot progression of this particular story, however, is not that the choice is taken out of the hero’s hands by Hooper, but that it becomes completely irrelevant through Spendlove’s off screen escape, as neither character suffers any negative consequences. Our hero had to do nothing to achieve this happy ending for both of them, except sit on his ass all night only to wake up and find the situation already resolved by breakfast-time. Even this would not have hurt a good adventure story too much if we, as readers, had had a bit more of the actual adventure than a quick summary by Spendlove himself - and a very convenient sounding summary at that. Seriously, the first time I read this story I was convinced he was lying his ass off!
Worst of all, though, Hornblower only had a single night to angst about his loss of control! Which is a shame, because Hornblower is good at angsting and feeling sorry for himself. Luckily, for all our melodramatic needs we will always have the scenes in the pirates’ lair. Forester is great at creating a melancholy atmosphere and delicious Weltschmerz! As usual Hornblower continues to be able to function under pressure. He assesses his situation and his kidnappers’ desperation correctly and even faces his opponents with a bit of snark, but his physical and mental exhaustion still seeps thickly through every page of that part of the narrative.
There is an especially impressive bit, just as they arrive at the cave in the cliff side, at which point Hornblower simply feels like breaking down and sobbing, because he’s getting too old for this shit. But Spendlove is there and brings him back to senses, so they may quickly take stock of their surroundings and possible escape routes like the professional badasses they are. Meanwhile the camaraderie and loyalty between them is very tender and touching.
In fact, and this goes for the whole book, not just this one story, I really enjoy the relationship Hornblower has with both his young followers: gruff (he still is the notoriously moody Admiral Grumpy-pants after all!), but ultimately affectionate. Hornblower is still Hornblower, but he has gotten a bit softer with age and there is a noticeable fondness in his interactions with Spendlove and Gerard Jr.
Where this story really does fall apart (even if we ignore Spendlove’s magical escape and Lucy’s-well, just Lucy!) is the lack of quality villains. I’m not even sure if the pirates should count as villains, you know? ‘Cause you kind of have to feel sorry for them a bit for their bad luck, don’t you?
They have this super convenient, almost impenetrable hideout, organise the mules to be in the right place at the right time, and the actual kidnapping goes off without a hitch - the fact that they take two hostages instead of one, actually seems to turn out in their favour at first! But they still lose! I bet there is some metaphysical wisdom in there somewhere.
Of course it is certainly not unimaginable that none of them would be able to read and write, but - let’s be honest - they are just a bit too pathetic to be taken seriously as the fearsome villains who we are to believe would torture and murder their victims in stomach turning fashion without second thoughts. The kidnapping itself involved good logistics, but still they never figure out being literate would have come in handy before they put that part of their plan into action. It’s so cute! AND they set lose their most valuable hostage based on faith in his principles alone?! Yes, Horny does believe in honour, congrats for finding the one guy your stupid plan might have worked with, pirates, but sadly the Governor ain’t got time for that shit. How sad.
You know, this might be the only moral tale in existence of how believing in principles will kill you. If you're a pirate.