After scouring Renown’s decks several times over, Third Lt. Hornblower was out of breath. He stopped on the quarterdeck, adjusting his hat, and then – spying two familiar shapes – skipped down to the maindeck with all his customary false perkiness.

“Mathews! Styles!” he approached his loyal seamen, who were so loyal they had stopped what they were doing to gaze worshipfully upon their hero the instant they had spied him – at least that is what the biased Horatians would have us think. Really, they had been quick to fall silent so that none, least of all their priggish officer, would overhear their rather frank speculation of what the devilish Mr. Kennedy did to the dark and restrained Hornblower behind closed doors.

“Sir?” the two older men questioned in unison. Well, they did not question, because loyal seamen did not do so – only the surly ones, like Mr. Hobbs – but rather were anxious for Hornblower to get on with it so they might continue their rather nosey musings.

The young lieutenant looked to them with his soft brown eyes, puppy-like. “Have either of you seen Mr. Kennedy?” He sounded so pathetic that Mathews was reminded of the story of the little stork looking for its mother.

The two men looked to each other, mindful of what a naughty imp their Lt. Kennedy was, and turned equally naughty – thought not as hot – smiles upon their leader. “He took young Wellard to his cabin, sir,” Styles replied at last. “Said he didn’t want to be disturbed, and he was bloody serious.”

Serious? Horatio’s forehead creased. He reached up to stroke his luscious lips. Archie was never serious, except when trying to warn of impending disaster, or suicidal, or. . . . Horatio shook his head; that had all been before they started having mad passionate sex at every turn, well except for the impending disaster part anyway.

And what was Archie doing with Wellard in their cabin anyway? Oh yes, they shared a fondness for Shakespeare. Reading Shakespeare together . . . Horatio seethed inside; everyone knew that was code for a passionate love affair. All at once his world turned stormy. Was that what it really took to satisfy Archie? After all the times he had saved the day, all those nights of hammock gymnastics, and mastering that infernal deep- throating trick, all Archie wanted was a man who could keep his thees and thous straight?

No, that was ridiculous. Archie surely only wanted a word with the boy, perhaps to tutor him in mathmatics. Study mathmatics! Horatio balked at the idea. Everyone knew that was code for unspeakable acts of sodomy between senior and junior officers.

Horatio’s head spun, but he did his best to keep a stoic face. Archie would do no such thing. Archie was loyal, even more loyal than his loyal seamen, who were infallibly loyal. Archie would not cheat on Horatio Hornblower because the world revolved around Horatio Hornblower. In fact, Archie and Wellard were likely only discussing how loyal they were to him, because nothing so interesting as an illicit affair could possibly happen while he was off screen. But was it loyalty Archie felt for him, or was he merely part and parcel of a penchant for jumpy, dark-haired boys? Wheels turned in Horatio’s mind. First him, then that seaman who fell from the mast, then Wellard, and . . . and Jack Hammond if Archie could get his mitts on him.

“Beggin’ yer pardon, sir,” Mathews interrupted his thoughts, “are ye all right?”

All right? No! Horatio longed to scream that he was ready to shoot all the repressed, skittish, dark-haired, dark-eyed boys in the Navy. Instead he said, in his most repressed and restrained voice, the one he thought threw Archie into immeasurable lust but now was not so certain, “carry on,” and whirled toward the ladder leading below decks.

The door of their cabin was closed – and it was their cabin, where they got up to all sorts of randy mischief. Horatio rapped once on the door, his fist shaking with the urge to blacken both of Wellard’s Tollhouse Morsel eyes. There was no answer, only two distinctly different giggles bubbling from within.

Dear God, what were they doing? Were they twined together like two animals in heat, naked and heaving? Would they invite him to join? No, he did not want to join. He was going to throttle Wellard and throw him to the bottom of the sea.

Unable to stand the rage any longer, Horatio gripped the door handle with a surge of fury, bursting into the room. His heart stopped. There on the Fourth Lieutenant’s hammock lay Archie and Wellard in a tight embrace, the boy’s dark glossy head buried in his superior officer’s neck. Horatio stormed toward him, ready to deliver him naked to Hobbs and Randall and see how he liked that, but before he could move, Archie’s eyes opened, and Wellard lifted his head. All at once the two men erupted into a wild flood of laughter.

“April Fools, sir!” Wellard finally called through his giggles, clapping a hand over his mouth and kicking his feet until finally he rolled off the hammock with a great thump onto the deck.

What a woeful understatement it would be to say that Horatio Hornblower was not the least bit amused.