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Archie watched him from across the ship, his eyes moving over the uniform worn to such spotless perfection. He could see the easy, relaxed smile that curved the wry mouth though he could not see anything of his eyes, blocked by his hat or blinded by the sun.
“I don’t trust him,” Archie mentioned quietly to Horatio, his head bent in the direction of his superior. “He has the Captain’s ear and chooses not to use it.”
“There is no guarantee that, were he to use it, the Captain would listen, Archie.” Horatio’s voice was soft but sure. “Best to have at least one man the Captain thinks fit for duty and not plotting against him.”
“A shining example to us all,” Archie smirked. “Good to know that as officers on this ship our job is to be maligned and ridiculed and accused by a madman.”
“Our job, Archie, is to fulfill our orders. Everything else is inconsequential unless and until it interferes with that.” Horatio offered a small smile to his friend. “Do not think that you’re alone in your frustration, Archie. We all feel it. Us, the men. And I would daresay even Mister Bush.”
“As you can tell by his stoic acceptance of every contrary and contradictory order from Sawyer.” Archie sighed. “It would not bother me so much if it weren’t a danger to us all, Horatio. But Sawyer, and by extension, his new lapdog, Mister Bush, are a danger. If we’re to get an approval from the Captain for every order that even a green midshipman would know was right, what are we to do in battle? Will the guns not fire until he has lit every fuse himself? And what after that, Horatio? If we’re shot, are we not to bleed to death until he gives the nod?”
“Fanciful as always, Archie.” Horatio nodded as Bush looked in their direction, his own smile matching the slight curve of the other man’s. “If it comes to battle, anything can happen. And often does.” He turned his gaze back to Archie. “And if it comes to it before, then it will come to it. And when it does, Mister Bush will prove himself a friend.”
“Or not.”
“And then, and only then, Archie, we will know.”
**
“You seem a wise sort of man, Mister. Bush.” Archie carefully shuffled the cards in his hands, sliding them against one another and tapping the deck against the table. “Each problem weighed carefully, no rash decisions.”
“I apply knowledge and logic to my decisions, Mister Kennedy, rather than emotion, if that is what you’re asking.” He walked over to the table and sat across from Archie, that damned grin still curving his lips. “A practice you might wish to employ yourself at some juncture.”
“As you say, Mister Bush.” Archie shuffled again then fanned the cards out in front of him. “Do you gamble?”
“It is rare I have the leisure and coin to do so.”
“An answer that isn’t one. A sure sign of a career officer.” Archie carefully dealt the cards, a third hand dealt to no one. “They say it’s all in the cards, and it’s true, you know. The deck never changes. The same cards come up every time eventually, passed hand to hand. If you know where one starts, you can figure out where it ends. Mister Hornblower lives and dies by the numbers. I imagine you are very much the same, though I fancy you’re a man who lets the cards fall where they may and hopes for luck to befall him.”
“As I said, Mister Kennedy, I have little time or money for gambling.”
“But I’m a believer in people’s faces.” He turned a card over and tapped it lightly. “Everyone gives something away. They way they react. The way they don’t. A few have mastered the emotionless countenance, but that gives away nearly as much. A simple blink of the eye in such a man, a pursing of the lips.” Archie shrugged and turned another card, watching Bush’s face as he did. “Every man gives himself away eventually.”
“Before he has cost you everything, Mister Kennedy? Or after he has swept the table clean of your winnings?”
“Always before, Mister Bush. I learned long ago that there is only one way to make sure you survive and that is to make sure you hold all the winning cards.” He tapped the back of the cards he dealt to Bush and turned them over, telling Bush with each turn which card he held before he revealed it. “And always know what your opponent holds in his hands.”
“One does not always own the cards, Mister Kennedy.” Bush gathered the cards and aligned them, sliding the small stack across the table to Archie. “And sometimes, no matter who deals, the deck is stacked against you.”
**
Archie approached the quarterdeck, his hands clasped behind his back. Horatio nodded at him as he climbed the steps, moving aside as Archie came up beside him. “Mister Kennedy.”
“Mister Hornblower.” Archie nodded, his gaze focused on the distance. “All is well?”
“Calm and quiet.” Horatio glanced over at Archie, a sly, knowing smiling on his face. “Did you have a fruitful discussion with Mister Bush?”
“We talked cards, actually.”
Horatio’s eyebrow rose. “Cards?”
“Yes.” Archie pursed his lips then exhaled, nodding slightly. “Winning. Losing.” He turned his head and met Horatio’s gaze. “Betting.”
“And what did you learn?”
“That Mister Bush is not a very good card player.”
Horatio laughed once, softly and then shook his head. “Good to know should I face him in a game of whist.”
“He is no fool though.” Archie frowned. “And no one’s fool.”
“No one’s. Does that include Sawyer’s?” Horatio nodded, his gaze surveying the night around them. “Not much in the way of answers, is it?”
“No, Mister Hornblower,” Archie agreed. “Merely more questions.”