Windfalls, Chapter Fifteen
I decided to try something a little different (and it may or may not be a mini-preview of a related nonsense project that I'll be doing after I complete the story) this time around.
TITLE: Windfalls, Ch. 15
RATING: PG to be on the safe side.
WORD COUNT: 3,375
PAIRING, IF ANY: Horatio Hornblower/Captain Amelia
SPOILER WARNING: Vague allusions to Ship of the Line. There is also a brief cameo by someone from yet another fandom…
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing here.
SUMMARY/NOTES: A few samples of correspondence between Horatio Hornblower and Amelia Drake.
A few notes for this chapter:
1. Because LJ doesn't do fonts, I put Amelia's letters in bold and Horatio's letters in Italics.
2. The chapter is intended to be a sample of the letters they wrote to each other, hence what appears to be missing information and some of the gaps in between letters. If it doesn't make any sense, let me know and I'll do some editing.
3. I tried, I really did, to make this section accurate to both the books and to postage time. I would assume that it would take at least a week, maybe more, for letters to reach sailors at sea, hence the dates seen in the story. Please correct me if something seems really off.
4. I cannot take full credit for the original name of the Betsey: It came from a video game where someone captured a Dutch ship that had that name. It was, however, too good to pass up.
And after all that...
September 21stMr. Hornblower,
I hope this letter finds you well. I have heard rumors from the supply ships that the flotilla you are a part of has met with some action of late, and I am sure your ship acquitted itself admirably.
For my part, my men and I have arrived safely at Portsmouth, where most of my men have flung themselves into their shoreleave. I remain, as usual, on board, and sent James out with a list of the supplies I will need for my cabin when we next put to sea. I appreciate the chance to rest, get some reading done, and, of course, catch up on my correspondence.
The contents of your letter astounded me. I had no idea that the Admiralty could be so…good-natured about my personal life. As you said, it does make it a bit easier for us. Not that they really need to worry at the moment, since we currently have half-a-league between us, and our letters, I hope, will remain between the two of us, and not with a curious purser in a supply ship. But that is something not worth dwelling on.
Archie’s recovery continues at an acceptable rate. I still denied him active duty until we reached land, for I feel that that, combined with the shoreleave, should be enough to return him to his old self. He has gone off to London to visit with his family-perhaps he will write to you too. I myself have written a letter to the Admiralty, putting forward a suggestion of promotion for him. I am sure they will take it under consideration, even if the source is not exactly one of the favored ones. They cannot punish men for serving under a shackled captain; that just wouldn’t be on, now would it? At any rate, I do not expect an answer until the end of our leave, and would not be surprised if one arrived after we had already put to sea again.
There is not much else I can say at the moment. I have no idea when this letter will reach you, so perhaps by the time you read these words, I will be back on the ocean. But as always, I will look forward to a response from you.
Yours Sincerely,
Captain Amelia Drake.
October 8thMy Dear Captain Drake,
I am indeed in fine health and fine spirits, all the more so now that I have read your charming letter. I could almost see you as you wrote, your hair framing your face as you bent over the inkpot, the stiff white quill a near-perfect contrast to your soft red hair. It was a magnificent image.
We have been kept quite busy here in the blockade. Several ships have attempted to slip through, and we beat them back with minimal effort. There was, however, a spectacular battle about a week ago, where we disabled several ships and sent the rest scurrying off. I believe only one of our ships was taken; a landing party crept to the French port and burned it so Napoleon can get no use from it. We ourselves were lucky enough to escape relatively unscathed, although it certainly exhilarated the crew-and myself is well, if I’m honest with myself.
Among the contents of the latest mail ship was a report of all the prize money our ship received for the privateers that the Sutherland and Legacy brought in this past summer. I was, quite frankly, astounded by the figures. Even for the cabin boys, the money is considerable. I am sure you received a similar report; is this really what privateers fetch in Britain? Extraordinary.
There isn’t much more I can think to mention on my end. A new ship joined the flotilla, bringing with it much of my crew from the prize ships. I’m glad to have them back, for while we are not short on hands, I would prefer to have a full crew. I have also dined with most of my fellow captains, and while they are fine conversationalists, I feel that the dinner table is missing wit and bite, and the only one who could provide it is currently half-a-league away. At least a recent letter assuaged that loss a little. My very best wishes go with you for a relaxing leave, and I remain,
Your Humble Servant,
Horatio Hornblower
October 29thMr. Hornblower,
There is no need for you to use such flowery language with me, sir. I am not some fair maiden who needs-nay, demands-pretty words from those who write to her. I do believe a fly landed on your letter as I read it and immediately expired from the sugary sweetness that exuded from the first and last paragraphs. With the greatest respect, you are clearly uncomfortable writing in that sort of way, and there is no need for you to write like that on my account. All I ask is that you write what you wish to write, in whatever way feels natural to you. Your middle passages were perfect; why spoil it with maudlin sentimentality?
I am half-a-league away no longer; I am back on the open sea, patrolling the trade routes once again (it seems the Admiralty quite likes a regular influx of ill-gotten French gains flowing into England’s coffers). Archie remains with me, for now, as I have received no response from the Admiralty, save a small note that they will take it under consideration. I am happy to report that he has completely recovered from his wounds, although the doctor informs me there will always be a slight scar on his shoulder. Archie doesn’t mind-he says it gives him a story to tell, and if he tells it right, “he might make a few ladies swoon”. He truly is incorrigible.
I, too, received a tally of our prize money. The Vacarme alone brought in a pretty penny, even though most of the proceeds went to you. I’ve grown used to those sorts of figures, having been at this post for at least a year, by my reckoning, but I remember being as floored as you when I got my first report. I may even have kept it in my trunk to remind myself that I have something waiting for me at war’s end. (I contacted my old solicitor shortly afterwards and asked him to look after it. Being an old friend of my father’s, he agreed, and has sent me regular updates since). I’m not sure what I intend to do with it; buy a small house in the country, perhaps…?
We haven’t seen action yet, so I am quite jealous of you. Nothing like cannon fire to rouse the men and thrill the blood. The Legacy will just have to make do with cannon drills and climbing exercises. At least it has allowed me to spend my evenings practicing whist; when next we meet, I want to give you an actual challenge.
My leave, before I forget, was peaceful, if uneventful. There is nothing to report there. Archie’s was apparently more eventful-has he written to you? If not, I will make him do so; such stories must be spread far and wide. In fact, perhaps I will make him start writing my letters, since he can spin quite a tale. Despite your assurances, I do not think these letters make for thrilling reading. Perhaps after our first battle.
Yours,
Amelia Drake.
November 4thMr. Hornblower,
Well, no sooner do I write to you that things are uneventful than something happens. Specifically, the Admiralty wrote to Archie and me and informed us that Mr. Kennedy shall, indeed, be gaining his own command. The men gave him a rousing cheer when they heard the news, and I allowed them an extra ration of rum. I presented Archie himself with a bottle of scotch-he seemed to appreciate the gesture.
The unfortunate after-effect of this, of course, is that we must return to London at once for him to claim his command. Afterwards, the Legacy must wait in port until we can take on a new officer. Yarrow, I believe, will be promoted to my first lieutenant, which means that I shall either keep promoting men down the line and wind up with a new Midshipman, or just promote all my lieutenants and take on a Junior Lieutenant. Decisions, decisions…
I will write you again when all of this is settled. But I felt, as a friend of Archie’s, that you should be informed of the happy news.
Yours,
Amelia Drake.
November 10thMy Dear Captain Drake,
I genuinely apologize for my letter from October. I suppose I was just in the habit of writing like that. At your request, I will leave off on such things in future.
I have received a letter or two from Archie, including an accounting of his shoreleave. I’m not sure whether to be impressed, bewildered, horrified, or some combination of the three. Perhaps gaining a new command will mellow him a bit. I already wrote to him to congratulate him on his new ship, but if this letter arrived before he sets off, pass along my good wishes a second time.
The seas have been a bit rough here, although there has fortunately been nothing too damaging. We even had a light snowfall yesterday. Is the weather any milder in London (for I am sure you’re in London by now)? The one good thing about the change in temperature is that it keeps the Frogs at bay somewhat. There isn’t much to do, but we’re mostly glad of it.
I look forward to hearing of your new officer, and how your ship runs with a new man at the ropes. The Legacy is indeed a force to be reckoned with, and new blood will surely strengthen it. And I say that with all sincerity.
Warmly,
Horatio Hornblower
November 16thMr. Hornblower,
We’re leaving tomorrow morning to resume our position, but I wanted to quickly send out a message to inform you of the details of Archie’s command, and my own.
I am certain you will not believe me on this, but I swear it’s true. Archie’s ship is a captured Dutch ship that used to be known, marvelously, as The Disgraceful Strumpet. I have no idea if it was a privateer, a merchant ship, or an actual part of the Dutch Navy. All I know is that I nearly collapsed with laughter when Archie told me. Perhaps because it offended English sensibilities, the ship was renamed The Betsey. Their attempts to make the ship modest have failed, because Archie himself called her “the lewdest ship in the Navy” and is considering painting the figurehead’s dress crimson and giving her a diamond necklace. He drew the line at painting a naked woman on the sails to distract the enemy, however; he didn’t think the Admiralty would approve, for some reason.
As for the Legacy, I gained not one, but two crewmen. Inspired by Archie’s example, Midshipman Jones (promoted to Acting-Lieutenant Jones by me after we arrived in London) decided to request a transfer so he could gain experience on a new ship before taking his Lieutenant’s exam. I agreed, and informed the Admiralty of the change. In response, they have sent me two men, one relatively green, one extraordinarily experienced, although they are both the same age.
Mr. Phelps, my Midshipman, was obviously informed of the unorthodox nature of my ship before he came aboard, for while he still stared at my ears when he came aboard, he wasn’t taken aback by my gender. He has only four months of experience at sea, and is a ruddy young man of fourteen. I believe he requires a little training, but he should do quite nicely.
But it is my Junior Lieutenant who truly impresses me. It seems that Mr. Blakeney, at the age of twelve, lost his arm in a gun battle. Despite this, he took command of his ship during a raid, and has learned to function with just his right arm. Perhaps he cannot hold a spyglass without aid, but he has a brilliant mind and an eagerness to see the world around him. I almost feel bad taking him aboard; he would do much better on a ship bound for the West Indies. I will take him, however, if only for this reason. When he came aboard, he looked around for the captain, saw me, and stopped in his tracks, eyes widening. He remained like that for perhaps fifteen seconds, then he shook his head, approached me, and held out his hand. “Lieutenant Blakeney come aboard, Captain Drake. I look forward to working with you.” It was clear that he meant every word. Since then, he has not given either my chest or my ears a second glance. I will be sorely disappointed if this young man isn’t given his own ship by war’s end.
I will write again soon, if only to tell you how our new crew handles privateers.
Yours,
Amelia Drake.
Postscript: We have had light snow too, although not enough to stick to the ground. I believe we can safely say that winter has come.
December 25thMy Dear Captain Drake,
Who knows when this letter will find you-the new year, I expect-but I wished to write this at the proper date.
Thank you for your marvelous Christmas present. My only worry is that you spent entirely too much on me; while I appreciate having more than enough to last me to my next shoreleave (which, if Admiral Pellew is to be believed, will be sometime in March), three bags of coffee would have been sufficient, and not the five different bags you sent along. I’d never even heard of three of those types. Where did you find these?
I apologize for not having sent along a gift for you; as you know, my ship has not left the blockade since I returned to it in September. Otherwise, I would have tried to find something for you. For now, you will have to make do with me wishing you a Happy Christmas.
With my best wishes,
Horatio
January 15thDear Horatio,
Don’t trouble yourself about a gift for me; I understand your position, and there is no need to make it up to me (believe me, I know that’s what you’re thinking). I have all I need at the moment, and while I certainly believe in planning for the future, I would not want a gift from you to be set aside for some later date. I will accept your Christmas greetings as a present and be content with it.
(And a heartfelt thank you for your other letters as well. They came at just the right moment, for I had been forced to deal with the supply ship that brought the letter on the very day that I started my convalescence period. It took far too long to deal with them, and by the time I got back to my cabin, I was dangerously close to either passing out or stalking down to the kitchen and murdering poor James for not heating up the water fast enough. Seeing no less than five letters with your handwriting on them, however, assured me that it was in my best interest to be patient, for then I could crawl into bed and read them at my leisure.)
As for your coffee, I found it in a little shop on my way to the Admiralty to request a new Midshipman. I cannot take all the credit for the gift; it was Archie who informed me that you were fond of the stuff. Since I would have the opportunity to send you a Christmas gift, and considering that it is the nature of the season to be generous, I decided to send you one of each of the kinds the shop had for sale. The clerk assured me that all of them taste marvelous, but you, of course, will have to be the judge of that.
One thing in your Christmas letter caught my eye; your mention of a March leave. The Admiralty tends to make a practice of calling the Legacy back to England every six months so I can pick up the men from my various prize ships. If we coordinate it right, we may be able to spend some of our leave visiting each other. I am eager to hear of your exploits in person, and to regale you with tales of my own. Do you think it would be possible to manage that?
The Legacy remains in excellent form. I believe the new year sparked some concern among the French, because the privateers were out in force in the past week. The merchant ships have seen six or seven different ships in the waters. So far, we’ve tracked down four of them, and we’re on the tail of the fifth. I’ve made a bet with Yarrow that If I don’t sent the last ship home by February, I’ll be forced to give him the bottle of Rum I bartered for. I’m looking forward to taking one of the fine embroidered neckerchiefs his mother sent him; I’ve had my eye on that black-and-white one since he first wore it.
The rest of my men are in similar spirits. All of my officers agree that Phelps has been cured of his recklessness and has now settled into a relatively comfortable state whenever there’s a battle on, so I no longer have to worry about getting an entire cannon crew killed when he takes it upon himself to “load the cannon himself to speed up the process.” Blakeney appears to have adopted one of the ducks we got from the last supply ship, and I’m allowing it for as long as we still have meat for the men. If it survives until March, I’ll let him keep it. Never say that I’m not charitable.
I trust that you’re well, and I damn well hope that you’re warm. I sent you that coffee for a reason, you know.
Yours, as always,
Amelia Drake.
Postscript, added Jan. 23rd: My new neckerchief is magnificent. Also, the duck is still alive.
January 30thMy Dear Captain Drake,
Rest assured, the coffee is being drunk. I do believe Captain Rhodes is jealous of my selection.
It’s in poor form to discuss potential leave with my Admiral, of course, but I believe that I will be given leave in mid-March. It’s entirely possible that we could find a way to meet. You’ll have to keep me informed about your own status.
Have you heard from Archie recently? He was apparently assigned to guard a ship travelling back from the Americas. He said something in his last letter to me about “the audacity of the ex-colonists” and I was wondering if he had elaborated on that in a letter to you.
I’m about to depart for a meeting with the Captains regarding another assault on the mainland. I’ll write again if there’s anything interesting planned.
Horatio
February 7thMy Dear Captain Drake,
Due to the circumstances I told you about in my letter from the 1st, Admiral Pellew has not only given us a date for our shoreleave, but informed me that the Sutherland is going to be reassigned, although he won’t give me any details on that as yet. I am to keep the date a secret from my men, but I felt it wise to inform you that we will be leaving the flotilla on March 12, and will probably arrive in England by the 29th. At that point, I will have to wait until the Admiralty informs me of my new orders, which could take up to a month-I gather that it’s something relatively important, and must be planned out perfectly. Do you think this will correspond with your projected leave?
Hoping for a quick response,
Horatio
March 19thHoratio,
I’ve settled myself in the Pale Rose inn. It’s about two miles from the port. Write to me when you arrive and we’ll figure out where and when to meet.
Hurry home,
Amelia.
TITLE: Windfalls, Ch. 15
RATING: PG to be on the safe side.
WORD COUNT: 3,375
PAIRING, IF ANY: Horatio Hornblower/Captain Amelia
SPOILER WARNING: Vague allusions to Ship of the Line. There is also a brief cameo by someone from yet another fandom…
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing here.
SUMMARY/NOTES: A few samples of correspondence between Horatio Hornblower and Amelia Drake.
A few notes for this chapter:
1. Because LJ doesn't do fonts, I put Amelia's letters in bold and Horatio's letters in Italics.
2. The chapter is intended to be a sample of the letters they wrote to each other, hence what appears to be missing information and some of the gaps in between letters. If it doesn't make any sense, let me know and I'll do some editing.
3. I tried, I really did, to make this section accurate to both the books and to postage time. I would assume that it would take at least a week, maybe more, for letters to reach sailors at sea, hence the dates seen in the story. Please correct me if something seems really off.
4. I cannot take full credit for the original name of the Betsey: It came from a video game where someone captured a Dutch ship that had that name. It was, however, too good to pass up.
And after all that...
September 21stMr. Hornblower,
I hope this letter finds you well. I have heard rumors from the supply ships that the flotilla you are a part of has met with some action of late, and I am sure your ship acquitted itself admirably.
For my part, my men and I have arrived safely at Portsmouth, where most of my men have flung themselves into their shoreleave. I remain, as usual, on board, and sent James out with a list of the supplies I will need for my cabin when we next put to sea. I appreciate the chance to rest, get some reading done, and, of course, catch up on my correspondence.
The contents of your letter astounded me. I had no idea that the Admiralty could be so…good-natured about my personal life. As you said, it does make it a bit easier for us. Not that they really need to worry at the moment, since we currently have half-a-league between us, and our letters, I hope, will remain between the two of us, and not with a curious purser in a supply ship. But that is something not worth dwelling on.
Archie’s recovery continues at an acceptable rate. I still denied him active duty until we reached land, for I feel that that, combined with the shoreleave, should be enough to return him to his old self. He has gone off to London to visit with his family-perhaps he will write to you too. I myself have written a letter to the Admiralty, putting forward a suggestion of promotion for him. I am sure they will take it under consideration, even if the source is not exactly one of the favored ones. They cannot punish men for serving under a shackled captain; that just wouldn’t be on, now would it? At any rate, I do not expect an answer until the end of our leave, and would not be surprised if one arrived after we had already put to sea again.
There is not much else I can say at the moment. I have no idea when this letter will reach you, so perhaps by the time you read these words, I will be back on the ocean. But as always, I will look forward to a response from you.
Yours Sincerely,
Captain Amelia Drake.
October 8thMy Dear Captain Drake,
I am indeed in fine health and fine spirits, all the more so now that I have read your charming letter. I could almost see you as you wrote, your hair framing your face as you bent over the inkpot, the stiff white quill a near-perfect contrast to your soft red hair. It was a magnificent image.
We have been kept quite busy here in the blockade. Several ships have attempted to slip through, and we beat them back with minimal effort. There was, however, a spectacular battle about a week ago, where we disabled several ships and sent the rest scurrying off. I believe only one of our ships was taken; a landing party crept to the French port and burned it so Napoleon can get no use from it. We ourselves were lucky enough to escape relatively unscathed, although it certainly exhilarated the crew-and myself is well, if I’m honest with myself.
Among the contents of the latest mail ship was a report of all the prize money our ship received for the privateers that the Sutherland and Legacy brought in this past summer. I was, quite frankly, astounded by the figures. Even for the cabin boys, the money is considerable. I am sure you received a similar report; is this really what privateers fetch in Britain? Extraordinary.
There isn’t much more I can think to mention on my end. A new ship joined the flotilla, bringing with it much of my crew from the prize ships. I’m glad to have them back, for while we are not short on hands, I would prefer to have a full crew. I have also dined with most of my fellow captains, and while they are fine conversationalists, I feel that the dinner table is missing wit and bite, and the only one who could provide it is currently half-a-league away. At least a recent letter assuaged that loss a little. My very best wishes go with you for a relaxing leave, and I remain,
Your Humble Servant,
Horatio Hornblower
October 29thMr. Hornblower,
There is no need for you to use such flowery language with me, sir. I am not some fair maiden who needs-nay, demands-pretty words from those who write to her. I do believe a fly landed on your letter as I read it and immediately expired from the sugary sweetness that exuded from the first and last paragraphs. With the greatest respect, you are clearly uncomfortable writing in that sort of way, and there is no need for you to write like that on my account. All I ask is that you write what you wish to write, in whatever way feels natural to you. Your middle passages were perfect; why spoil it with maudlin sentimentality?
I am half-a-league away no longer; I am back on the open sea, patrolling the trade routes once again (it seems the Admiralty quite likes a regular influx of ill-gotten French gains flowing into England’s coffers). Archie remains with me, for now, as I have received no response from the Admiralty, save a small note that they will take it under consideration. I am happy to report that he has completely recovered from his wounds, although the doctor informs me there will always be a slight scar on his shoulder. Archie doesn’t mind-he says it gives him a story to tell, and if he tells it right, “he might make a few ladies swoon”. He truly is incorrigible.
I, too, received a tally of our prize money. The Vacarme alone brought in a pretty penny, even though most of the proceeds went to you. I’ve grown used to those sorts of figures, having been at this post for at least a year, by my reckoning, but I remember being as floored as you when I got my first report. I may even have kept it in my trunk to remind myself that I have something waiting for me at war’s end. (I contacted my old solicitor shortly afterwards and asked him to look after it. Being an old friend of my father’s, he agreed, and has sent me regular updates since). I’m not sure what I intend to do with it; buy a small house in the country, perhaps…?
We haven’t seen action yet, so I am quite jealous of you. Nothing like cannon fire to rouse the men and thrill the blood. The Legacy will just have to make do with cannon drills and climbing exercises. At least it has allowed me to spend my evenings practicing whist; when next we meet, I want to give you an actual challenge.
My leave, before I forget, was peaceful, if uneventful. There is nothing to report there. Archie’s was apparently more eventful-has he written to you? If not, I will make him do so; such stories must be spread far and wide. In fact, perhaps I will make him start writing my letters, since he can spin quite a tale. Despite your assurances, I do not think these letters make for thrilling reading. Perhaps after our first battle.
Yours,
Amelia Drake.
November 4thMr. Hornblower,
Well, no sooner do I write to you that things are uneventful than something happens. Specifically, the Admiralty wrote to Archie and me and informed us that Mr. Kennedy shall, indeed, be gaining his own command. The men gave him a rousing cheer when they heard the news, and I allowed them an extra ration of rum. I presented Archie himself with a bottle of scotch-he seemed to appreciate the gesture.
The unfortunate after-effect of this, of course, is that we must return to London at once for him to claim his command. Afterwards, the Legacy must wait in port until we can take on a new officer. Yarrow, I believe, will be promoted to my first lieutenant, which means that I shall either keep promoting men down the line and wind up with a new Midshipman, or just promote all my lieutenants and take on a Junior Lieutenant. Decisions, decisions…
I will write you again when all of this is settled. But I felt, as a friend of Archie’s, that you should be informed of the happy news.
Yours,
Amelia Drake.
November 10thMy Dear Captain Drake,
I genuinely apologize for my letter from October. I suppose I was just in the habit of writing like that. At your request, I will leave off on such things in future.
I have received a letter or two from Archie, including an accounting of his shoreleave. I’m not sure whether to be impressed, bewildered, horrified, or some combination of the three. Perhaps gaining a new command will mellow him a bit. I already wrote to him to congratulate him on his new ship, but if this letter arrived before he sets off, pass along my good wishes a second time.
The seas have been a bit rough here, although there has fortunately been nothing too damaging. We even had a light snowfall yesterday. Is the weather any milder in London (for I am sure you’re in London by now)? The one good thing about the change in temperature is that it keeps the Frogs at bay somewhat. There isn’t much to do, but we’re mostly glad of it.
I look forward to hearing of your new officer, and how your ship runs with a new man at the ropes. The Legacy is indeed a force to be reckoned with, and new blood will surely strengthen it. And I say that with all sincerity.
Warmly,
Horatio Hornblower
November 16thMr. Hornblower,
We’re leaving tomorrow morning to resume our position, but I wanted to quickly send out a message to inform you of the details of Archie’s command, and my own.
I am certain you will not believe me on this, but I swear it’s true. Archie’s ship is a captured Dutch ship that used to be known, marvelously, as The Disgraceful Strumpet. I have no idea if it was a privateer, a merchant ship, or an actual part of the Dutch Navy. All I know is that I nearly collapsed with laughter when Archie told me. Perhaps because it offended English sensibilities, the ship was renamed The Betsey. Their attempts to make the ship modest have failed, because Archie himself called her “the lewdest ship in the Navy” and is considering painting the figurehead’s dress crimson and giving her a diamond necklace. He drew the line at painting a naked woman on the sails to distract the enemy, however; he didn’t think the Admiralty would approve, for some reason.
As for the Legacy, I gained not one, but two crewmen. Inspired by Archie’s example, Midshipman Jones (promoted to Acting-Lieutenant Jones by me after we arrived in London) decided to request a transfer so he could gain experience on a new ship before taking his Lieutenant’s exam. I agreed, and informed the Admiralty of the change. In response, they have sent me two men, one relatively green, one extraordinarily experienced, although they are both the same age.
Mr. Phelps, my Midshipman, was obviously informed of the unorthodox nature of my ship before he came aboard, for while he still stared at my ears when he came aboard, he wasn’t taken aback by my gender. He has only four months of experience at sea, and is a ruddy young man of fourteen. I believe he requires a little training, but he should do quite nicely.
But it is my Junior Lieutenant who truly impresses me. It seems that Mr. Blakeney, at the age of twelve, lost his arm in a gun battle. Despite this, he took command of his ship during a raid, and has learned to function with just his right arm. Perhaps he cannot hold a spyglass without aid, but he has a brilliant mind and an eagerness to see the world around him. I almost feel bad taking him aboard; he would do much better on a ship bound for the West Indies. I will take him, however, if only for this reason. When he came aboard, he looked around for the captain, saw me, and stopped in his tracks, eyes widening. He remained like that for perhaps fifteen seconds, then he shook his head, approached me, and held out his hand. “Lieutenant Blakeney come aboard, Captain Drake. I look forward to working with you.” It was clear that he meant every word. Since then, he has not given either my chest or my ears a second glance. I will be sorely disappointed if this young man isn’t given his own ship by war’s end.
I will write again soon, if only to tell you how our new crew handles privateers.
Yours,
Amelia Drake.
Postscript: We have had light snow too, although not enough to stick to the ground. I believe we can safely say that winter has come.
December 25thMy Dear Captain Drake,
Who knows when this letter will find you-the new year, I expect-but I wished to write this at the proper date.
Thank you for your marvelous Christmas present. My only worry is that you spent entirely too much on me; while I appreciate having more than enough to last me to my next shoreleave (which, if Admiral Pellew is to be believed, will be sometime in March), three bags of coffee would have been sufficient, and not the five different bags you sent along. I’d never even heard of three of those types. Where did you find these?
I apologize for not having sent along a gift for you; as you know, my ship has not left the blockade since I returned to it in September. Otherwise, I would have tried to find something for you. For now, you will have to make do with me wishing you a Happy Christmas.
With my best wishes,
Horatio
January 15thDear Horatio,
Don’t trouble yourself about a gift for me; I understand your position, and there is no need to make it up to me (believe me, I know that’s what you’re thinking). I have all I need at the moment, and while I certainly believe in planning for the future, I would not want a gift from you to be set aside for some later date. I will accept your Christmas greetings as a present and be content with it.
(And a heartfelt thank you for your other letters as well. They came at just the right moment, for I had been forced to deal with the supply ship that brought the letter on the very day that I started my convalescence period. It took far too long to deal with them, and by the time I got back to my cabin, I was dangerously close to either passing out or stalking down to the kitchen and murdering poor James for not heating up the water fast enough. Seeing no less than five letters with your handwriting on them, however, assured me that it was in my best interest to be patient, for then I could crawl into bed and read them at my leisure.)
As for your coffee, I found it in a little shop on my way to the Admiralty to request a new Midshipman. I cannot take all the credit for the gift; it was Archie who informed me that you were fond of the stuff. Since I would have the opportunity to send you a Christmas gift, and considering that it is the nature of the season to be generous, I decided to send you one of each of the kinds the shop had for sale. The clerk assured me that all of them taste marvelous, but you, of course, will have to be the judge of that.
One thing in your Christmas letter caught my eye; your mention of a March leave. The Admiralty tends to make a practice of calling the Legacy back to England every six months so I can pick up the men from my various prize ships. If we coordinate it right, we may be able to spend some of our leave visiting each other. I am eager to hear of your exploits in person, and to regale you with tales of my own. Do you think it would be possible to manage that?
The Legacy remains in excellent form. I believe the new year sparked some concern among the French, because the privateers were out in force in the past week. The merchant ships have seen six or seven different ships in the waters. So far, we’ve tracked down four of them, and we’re on the tail of the fifth. I’ve made a bet with Yarrow that If I don’t sent the last ship home by February, I’ll be forced to give him the bottle of Rum I bartered for. I’m looking forward to taking one of the fine embroidered neckerchiefs his mother sent him; I’ve had my eye on that black-and-white one since he first wore it.
The rest of my men are in similar spirits. All of my officers agree that Phelps has been cured of his recklessness and has now settled into a relatively comfortable state whenever there’s a battle on, so I no longer have to worry about getting an entire cannon crew killed when he takes it upon himself to “load the cannon himself to speed up the process.” Blakeney appears to have adopted one of the ducks we got from the last supply ship, and I’m allowing it for as long as we still have meat for the men. If it survives until March, I’ll let him keep it. Never say that I’m not charitable.
I trust that you’re well, and I damn well hope that you’re warm. I sent you that coffee for a reason, you know.
Yours, as always,
Amelia Drake.
Postscript, added Jan. 23rd: My new neckerchief is magnificent. Also, the duck is still alive.
January 30thMy Dear Captain Drake,
Rest assured, the coffee is being drunk. I do believe Captain Rhodes is jealous of my selection.
It’s in poor form to discuss potential leave with my Admiral, of course, but I believe that I will be given leave in mid-March. It’s entirely possible that we could find a way to meet. You’ll have to keep me informed about your own status.
Have you heard from Archie recently? He was apparently assigned to guard a ship travelling back from the Americas. He said something in his last letter to me about “the audacity of the ex-colonists” and I was wondering if he had elaborated on that in a letter to you.
I’m about to depart for a meeting with the Captains regarding another assault on the mainland. I’ll write again if there’s anything interesting planned.
Horatio
February 7thMy Dear Captain Drake,
Due to the circumstances I told you about in my letter from the 1st, Admiral Pellew has not only given us a date for our shoreleave, but informed me that the Sutherland is going to be reassigned, although he won’t give me any details on that as yet. I am to keep the date a secret from my men, but I felt it wise to inform you that we will be leaving the flotilla on March 12, and will probably arrive in England by the 29th. At that point, I will have to wait until the Admiralty informs me of my new orders, which could take up to a month-I gather that it’s something relatively important, and must be planned out perfectly. Do you think this will correspond with your projected leave?
Hoping for a quick response,
Horatio
March 19thHoratio,
I’ve settled myself in the Pale Rose inn. It’s about two miles from the port. Write to me when you arrive and we’ll figure out where and when to meet.
Hurry home,
Amelia.