Hornblower: The Even Chance

Synopsis:
Year:
1998
32 Views

January 1793.

The british fleet lies at

anchor at Spithead.

Ships and men rot in idleness.

Across the channel,

revolution in France is sweeping away

the old order.

- Shore boat, ahoy!

- Aye, aye!

Jump!

You'll be all right!

Welcome to purgatory.

Mr. Eccleston, sir.

- Come aboard, sir.

- Your name?

H- h- Horatio Hornblower, sir.

Midshipman.

Eccleston, first lieutenant.

Mr. Chadd, lieutenant of the watch.

Did you bring your dunnage

aboard with you?

My seachest is coming

aboard for'ard.

I'll see it's sent below,

where you should go too.

Get out of those wet clothes.

Yes, sir. I mean, aye, aye, sir.

Mr. Kennedy, take Mr.Hornblower down

to the midshipmen's birth.

Aye, aye, sir.

Mind your step.

Difficult to say

who smells the worst,

the men or the beasts in

the manger for'ard.

One gets used to it.

Watch your head.

There goes His Majesty's latest

bad bargain.

Belay that, Styles

unless you want

to find yourself at the gratings.

Aye, aye, sir.

They're not bad men for

the most part,

provided they're kept busy.

But this, endless waiting

most of us have been here

six months already.

Discipline, you see?

Things will be different once

we transfer to a fighting vessel,

I don't doubt, but who knows

when that may be.

Our only hope is that the

unpleasantness in France

might come to something.

You've heard the latest rumours,

of course?

that Louis was captured just

before Christmas.

What do you think they'll do

with him? You can't kill a king.

It's as my father explained

to his gillie

Perhaps some of these people

have missed the odd meal or two

but lopping the heads of the nobility

isn't going to fill their bellies,

is it?

Still, that's Johnny Crapaud for you.

Well, allow me to introduce

the midshipmen of His Majesty's

ship of the line, Justinian

Known elsewise to her intimates

as the good ship

Slough of Despond.

What's this, Archie?

Another mess mate, gentlemen.

And whose pretty rear did you neglect

kissing to find yourself

among the fleet's forgotten, eh?

- Well, speak, Apparition!

- My name is Hornblower.

What an infernal piece of

bad luck for you.

How old are you, Mr. Hornblower?

Seventeen, sir.

Seventeen, sir! You hear

that Cleveland?

If you wanted to be a seaman, boy,

you should have started at twelve.

I doubt he even knows the difference

between

a head and a halyard.

No, but I'll make sure it's the first

thing I look up in...

in Norrie's Seamanship.

Now, gentlemen, if you will

excuse me.

- Seasick!

- Seasick in Spithead!

Your pardon, sir.

There. Just lie quiet until you

feel yourself again.

The captain's coming aboard.

Captain Keene...

if ever a man was wrongly named.

He looks frailer by the day.

I must thank you for your

earlier kindness, Mr

Clayton.

You mustn't mind Hether

and Cleveland.

It's just their way till they

get used to you.

Present arms!

Your father writes that

you are a solitary boy.

Well, on a vessel of over 800 souls,

you are unlikely to find either time

or place for solitude.

How is the good Doctor Hornblower?

Well, I trust?

Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

He said to be sure to thank

you for accepting me

in Justinian as midshipman, sir.

One good turn deserves another.

Your father is an excellent

physician.

Yes, sir.

The son of a doctor! Ha!

You'd have done better to choose

a lord for your father

if you wanted to make a career

in His Majesty's navy.

How far did your education go?

I was a Grecian at school, sir.

- Speak up.

- I was a Grecian, sir, at school.

You construed Xenofot, then,

as well as Cicero.

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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