Hornblower: Retribution Page #3

on surprise. And a little Spanish apathy.

Careful, Mr Wellard.

We don't want to let the dagos know

we're here for breakfast, do we?

No.

You stick by me, and

I'll see you're all right.

That's right, Mr Hobbs.

We stand by each other.

As you did,

when you picked up that nasty head wound.

I'm ready to do my duty, Mr Matthews.

Ha.

Horatio?

- What is it?

- It's Randall and the deserters, sir.

Well, get down, man.

There's nothing to fear, sir.

Oh, my God.

Well, I take it we are all agreed that

Captain Sawyer's good name

must be preserved.

Of course.

Good. Yes.

But together with the lives of those

young officers caught up in a situation...

(Sighs) not of their making.

Quite so.

I am simply concerned

that we need a clear outcome.

What do you propose, Hammond?

Hang them all from the nearest yardarm?

No, no. Nothing so spectacular.

But if there were one man...

A scapegoat.

No. A guilty party.

Maliciously motivated.

Jealous.

Ambitious.

Who do you have in mind?

It's early days.

But we will find someone...

(Fly buzzes)

.. to take away the smell.

(Sighs)

(Grunts)

It seems the Dons were more vigilant

than we thought.

So much for the virtue of surprise.

Horatio?

You think this the work of the Spanish?

No gunfire. No sign of a struggle or alarm.

It looks like they were taken

in their sleep.

- Permission to bury the dead, sir?

- I fear we have no time. Come on. Move up.

Mr Hobbs.

Hey, Hobbs.

Randall's a crab's breakfast affer all.

I heard, Styles.

If you weren't such a decent sort

you'd be lying there with him.

(Whispers) Styles?

Raise your voice one more time,

I swear, if the Spanish don't get to

you first,I'll kill you. Understand me?

Yes, sir.

Bloody hell. I thought Sawyer was a bastard.

A friendly word of advice, Styles. Shut it.

Soffly, now. Quiet as you can.

So if it wasn't the Spanish...

Then, with luck, they won't

be expecting us.

Mr Hornblower,

if it wasn't the Spanish, who was it?

I wouldn't like to guess, sir.

(Knocking)

Come in.

Is he asleep?

It looks like it.

Paperwork, Dr Clive.

The burden of rank, Mr Buckland.

Every page read by the Admiralty.

I fear I can't be careful enough.

This always helps me.

Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.

Isn't that so, Acting Captain?

Especially when your head's

not born to lead.

He's awake.

You're not well.

I'll work in the wardroom.

That's it. Go on. Run away.

Captain, be still.

Oh, my ancient lieutenant.

Can't decide. Can't control. No authority.

Dither. Dither. Dither.

Sir, with respect...

Untie me, and I'll speak for

you in Kingston.

You're too young for the noose.

Pray, be silent.

Even though too old for anything else.

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