Author's notes: As stated in the summary, this is movie-verse, a missing
scene from the movie. I have been working my way through the books but have
only gotten through about nine of them. I am enjoying them immensely, and
hoping to write some fanfic based on these lovely works, but for some
reason the first fic that came to me is based on the movie (probably
because I have been watching it so much, don't you think?)
This is set right after Hollom's suicide. I always wondered how Jack took the news, and I kept thinking about the impact of such a horrible sight upon poor Blakeney. He's seen violence and battle, now, but watching Hollom plunge into the deep must have shaken his world.
All feedback, public and private, is more than welcome.
............................................................................ ..............................................
"Sir?"
Jack finished writing the last word of his current sentence before looking up. He'd recognized young Will Blakeney's voice, of course, and he smiled inwardly. He'd grown even more fond of the lad in the past weeks, since the amputation: polite, gracious and quick-witted, Blakeney showed even more promise than Jack had hoped for. It was always awkward, taking along a youngster like this one, as a favor to his family; Jack had known his share of hopeless dullards in his time. Complete weeds, some of them, who merely took up food and space and never grasped either the intricacies of navigation or the mysteries of command, yet whose service could not be refused without offending or disappointing some hopeful relative..
He wiped the pen and set it down. "Come in, Mr. Blakeney," he murmured, finally looking up from the paper. "What can I... good Lord, boy, what has happened?"
That something had, indeed, happened was written starkly on the boy's face. Blakeney's expression normally varied from seriously pensive to cheerful. Now his usually pink cheeks were deathly pale and his eyes were swimming with unshed tears; even his bright hair seemed somehow dimmed. Jack gestured pointedly at the empty chair on the other side of the table.
"Sit down, lad. And for God's sake, speak up and tell me what is wrong."
Blakeney's voice shook only a little. He remained standing, and he spoke with a gravity and formality beyond his years. "Sir... I regret to inform you that Mr. Hollom is... dead."
"Dead... what?" For a few heartbeats, Jack speculated wildly. Hollom's delusions of being cursed, the crew's animosity toward him... had the awkward, too-old midshipman been murdered? God help them all... he would have to hang someone, then; no murderer could stay hidden aboard ship, and no secrets stayed hidden for long. Or perhaps... Hollom had been so frightened, so unreasonably terrified; had his heart simply failed him in a moment of rising panic? Jack had heard of such things happening. "Mr. Blakeney, you had better sit down, now, and tell me what you know."
Blakeney half-stumbled into the proffered chair. "He has drowned, sir. He—"
Jack started up. "What? Drowned? There's no wind, no current... I heard no shouting for help! Damn those fools! They all know full well that I can swim... why did no one come to me for help?"
The boy shook his head. "Sir, he... he did it to himself. He jumped overboard, in the dark... he told me good-bye, and I could not reach him quickly enough, nor stop him in any way, but I should have tried..." He rubbed his hand across his eyes.
"Slow down, Blakeney. Tell me again." Jack reached across the table and grabbed the boy's shoulder. "You saw this?"
"Yes, sir. He came up behind me... startled me, to speak it truthfully. We... spoke for a few minutes, just pleasantries. Then he picked up the shot, sir, and seemed to be looking at it, thinking about something."
Jack repressed a shudder. He knew, now, where this tale was headed. "And he jumped? With the shot in his hands?"
"Yes, sir," answered Blakeney, miserably. "He told me good-bye, and was up on the rail before I understood what he was going to do. I... I saw him going down, the water was so clear... he never came back up, sir."
Jack closed his eyes for a moment, in silent sorrow, and gave a gentle squeeze to the shoulder underneath his hand. So... Hollom's desperation and despair had led him to that most cowardly of crimes, that of taking his own life. Pity and revulsion gripped Jack as he thought of the hapless young man and his losing struggle with the challenges of command. He opened his eyes again and looked at the youngster who sat in front of him.
"Who else knows about this, Blakeney?"
The boy gulped. "Only Mr. Pullings, sir. I told him first, as officer of the watch, and he sent me to tell you."
Jack rose from his chair and gestured for the boy to follow. "Then the rest of your comrades must be told, first. I will come down to the midshipmen's berth with you, and we will break the news to them."
............................................................................ ..............
Briefly, and with as little emotion as he could manage, Jack informed the remaining midshipmen of the loss of one of their number. Knowing that there would be no keeping the fact of the suicide quiet on board ship, he left out none of the details.
His news was met with shocked silence, for the most part. Peter Calamy looked ill and wretched; Jack remembered that the promising dark-haired boy had often seemed impatient with Hollom's indecision and had lately been verging on contempt in his treatment of the oldster. The others looked down at the table and would not meet Jack's eyes. The guilt and regret in the crowded midshipmen's berth was almost visible. None of them looked in the direction of the battered Spanish guitar, still propped carelessly in the corner.
Only little Will Blakeney wept, the tears that he had fought back so successfully in Jack's cabin now spilling down his cheeks. He made no sound, but the sight of the boy's honest grief tore at Jack's heart. Calamy, who sat next to him, finally slipped an arm around Blakeney's thin shoulders, and Jack saw the older boy's face soften with concern. Watching them, he cleared his throat, self-consciously.
"The ship's log will merely note that he fell overboard and was drowned before a rescue could be effected. The burial ceremony will be tomorrow. If... if any of you wish to speak in his remembrance, you may certainly do so."
As he turned to leave, he was surprised to hear Blakeney's tear-clogged voice addressing him. "Sir... I would like to say some words on his behalf, if I might."
Jack nodded. "I think that would be most appropriate, Mr. Blakeney."
............................................................................ ...............................................
After all hands had gathered, Jack addressed the ship's company. Just as he had done the previous evening, he spoke briefly of the facts of Hollom's death. He was quite aware that the news would have circulated by now but felt it important to quell any gruesome rumors... as if suicide by self- drowning, witnessed by a mere child, were not grisly enough.
Jack saw regret on many faces, stony indifference on others. He avoided looking at Nagel and the others who had become Hollom's chief tormentors. Finishing his brief announcement, he stepped aside and looked pointedly at Will Blakeney.
Blakeney stepped a few paces forward, then turned around and looked at the men. Despite his own low spirits, Jack almost smiled to see the boy, half the size of many of the old hands, addressing them with such gravity in his still-childish voice.
"Mr. Hollom was not a man given much to talking about himself, and, like me, this was his first voyage with many of you. So, I think it quite likely that many of you did not know him very well at all. I thought, perhaps, I could tell you about him.
"When I first came aboard the Surprise, I knew very little. Mr. Hollom, as the most senior of the midshipmen, took it upon himself to teach me... oh, so many things. He showed me how to tie knots, how to sew with a palm and needle, and how to climb the rigging carefully so as not to lose my balance or become dizzy. And he helped us all with our navigation problems, since he had ever so much more experience.
"My first few weeks on board, I longed for my home and my family. Mr. Hollom listened to me talk about them, then he brought out his guitar and taught me some lovely sad tunes. Only, I can't sing them the way he did. He helped me, too, with geography and mathematics."
Jack thought of those early weeks of the voyage, of Hollom the awkward misfit, so much older than the other midshipmen, seeking acceptance by befriending and helping the cheeky lads. He could imagine how it must have been: the younger men, soon tiring of Hollom's idiosyncrasies and becoming aware of his ineffectualness, eventually treating the oldster with contempt. Only Blakeney had remained faithful, reciprocating the friendship, repaying the kindness, finding qualities in the older man that he could respect.
"He wanted to teach me to play his guitar, but somehow we never found the time... and then I lost my arm," the boy said in his matter-of-fact way. "He kept trying to come up with some other instrument that I could learn to play, even after that. I... I shall miss him very much."
He stepped aside, then, and looked expectantly at Jack, who cleared his throat and took the Bible from Killick. Looking down at the page, open to the story of Jonah, he frowned slightly and closed the book.
Jack had lain awake the previous night, pondering what he should say at the burial service for this unfortunate man... a failure, so it had seemed, in all he had attempted. He knew, now, that no words of his could come near to having the value of that artless eulogy from the mouth of a child. Even if most of the officers and crew had undervalued poor Hollom, had, in the end, failed their fellow man... here was one soul in whose heart Hollom would always be kindly remembered.
............................................................................ .................................................
This is set right after Hollom's suicide. I always wondered how Jack took the news, and I kept thinking about the impact of such a horrible sight upon poor Blakeney. He's seen violence and battle, now, but watching Hollom plunge into the deep must have shaken his world.
All feedback, public and private, is more than welcome.
............................................................................ ..............................................
"Sir?"
Jack finished writing the last word of his current sentence before looking up. He'd recognized young Will Blakeney's voice, of course, and he smiled inwardly. He'd grown even more fond of the lad in the past weeks, since the amputation: polite, gracious and quick-witted, Blakeney showed even more promise than Jack had hoped for. It was always awkward, taking along a youngster like this one, as a favor to his family; Jack had known his share of hopeless dullards in his time. Complete weeds, some of them, who merely took up food and space and never grasped either the intricacies of navigation or the mysteries of command, yet whose service could not be refused without offending or disappointing some hopeful relative..
He wiped the pen and set it down. "Come in, Mr. Blakeney," he murmured, finally looking up from the paper. "What can I... good Lord, boy, what has happened?"
That something had, indeed, happened was written starkly on the boy's face. Blakeney's expression normally varied from seriously pensive to cheerful. Now his usually pink cheeks were deathly pale and his eyes were swimming with unshed tears; even his bright hair seemed somehow dimmed. Jack gestured pointedly at the empty chair on the other side of the table.
"Sit down, lad. And for God's sake, speak up and tell me what is wrong."
Blakeney's voice shook only a little. He remained standing, and he spoke with a gravity and formality beyond his years. "Sir... I regret to inform you that Mr. Hollom is... dead."
"Dead... what?" For a few heartbeats, Jack speculated wildly. Hollom's delusions of being cursed, the crew's animosity toward him... had the awkward, too-old midshipman been murdered? God help them all... he would have to hang someone, then; no murderer could stay hidden aboard ship, and no secrets stayed hidden for long. Or perhaps... Hollom had been so frightened, so unreasonably terrified; had his heart simply failed him in a moment of rising panic? Jack had heard of such things happening. "Mr. Blakeney, you had better sit down, now, and tell me what you know."
Blakeney half-stumbled into the proffered chair. "He has drowned, sir. He—"
Jack started up. "What? Drowned? There's no wind, no current... I heard no shouting for help! Damn those fools! They all know full well that I can swim... why did no one come to me for help?"
The boy shook his head. "Sir, he... he did it to himself. He jumped overboard, in the dark... he told me good-bye, and I could not reach him quickly enough, nor stop him in any way, but I should have tried..." He rubbed his hand across his eyes.
"Slow down, Blakeney. Tell me again." Jack reached across the table and grabbed the boy's shoulder. "You saw this?"
"Yes, sir. He came up behind me... startled me, to speak it truthfully. We... spoke for a few minutes, just pleasantries. Then he picked up the shot, sir, and seemed to be looking at it, thinking about something."
Jack repressed a shudder. He knew, now, where this tale was headed. "And he jumped? With the shot in his hands?"
"Yes, sir," answered Blakeney, miserably. "He told me good-bye, and was up on the rail before I understood what he was going to do. I... I saw him going down, the water was so clear... he never came back up, sir."
Jack closed his eyes for a moment, in silent sorrow, and gave a gentle squeeze to the shoulder underneath his hand. So... Hollom's desperation and despair had led him to that most cowardly of crimes, that of taking his own life. Pity and revulsion gripped Jack as he thought of the hapless young man and his losing struggle with the challenges of command. He opened his eyes again and looked at the youngster who sat in front of him.
"Who else knows about this, Blakeney?"
The boy gulped. "Only Mr. Pullings, sir. I told him first, as officer of the watch, and he sent me to tell you."
Jack rose from his chair and gestured for the boy to follow. "Then the rest of your comrades must be told, first. I will come down to the midshipmen's berth with you, and we will break the news to them."
............................................................................ ..............
Briefly, and with as little emotion as he could manage, Jack informed the remaining midshipmen of the loss of one of their number. Knowing that there would be no keeping the fact of the suicide quiet on board ship, he left out none of the details.
His news was met with shocked silence, for the most part. Peter Calamy looked ill and wretched; Jack remembered that the promising dark-haired boy had often seemed impatient with Hollom's indecision and had lately been verging on contempt in his treatment of the oldster. The others looked down at the table and would not meet Jack's eyes. The guilt and regret in the crowded midshipmen's berth was almost visible. None of them looked in the direction of the battered Spanish guitar, still propped carelessly in the corner.
Only little Will Blakeney wept, the tears that he had fought back so successfully in Jack's cabin now spilling down his cheeks. He made no sound, but the sight of the boy's honest grief tore at Jack's heart. Calamy, who sat next to him, finally slipped an arm around Blakeney's thin shoulders, and Jack saw the older boy's face soften with concern. Watching them, he cleared his throat, self-consciously.
"The ship's log will merely note that he fell overboard and was drowned before a rescue could be effected. The burial ceremony will be tomorrow. If... if any of you wish to speak in his remembrance, you may certainly do so."
As he turned to leave, he was surprised to hear Blakeney's tear-clogged voice addressing him. "Sir... I would like to say some words on his behalf, if I might."
Jack nodded. "I think that would be most appropriate, Mr. Blakeney."
............................................................................ ...............................................
After all hands had gathered, Jack addressed the ship's company. Just as he had done the previous evening, he spoke briefly of the facts of Hollom's death. He was quite aware that the news would have circulated by now but felt it important to quell any gruesome rumors... as if suicide by self- drowning, witnessed by a mere child, were not grisly enough.
Jack saw regret on many faces, stony indifference on others. He avoided looking at Nagel and the others who had become Hollom's chief tormentors. Finishing his brief announcement, he stepped aside and looked pointedly at Will Blakeney.
Blakeney stepped a few paces forward, then turned around and looked at the men. Despite his own low spirits, Jack almost smiled to see the boy, half the size of many of the old hands, addressing them with such gravity in his still-childish voice.
"Mr. Hollom was not a man given much to talking about himself, and, like me, this was his first voyage with many of you. So, I think it quite likely that many of you did not know him very well at all. I thought, perhaps, I could tell you about him.
"When I first came aboard the Surprise, I knew very little. Mr. Hollom, as the most senior of the midshipmen, took it upon himself to teach me... oh, so many things. He showed me how to tie knots, how to sew with a palm and needle, and how to climb the rigging carefully so as not to lose my balance or become dizzy. And he helped us all with our navigation problems, since he had ever so much more experience.
"My first few weeks on board, I longed for my home and my family. Mr. Hollom listened to me talk about them, then he brought out his guitar and taught me some lovely sad tunes. Only, I can't sing them the way he did. He helped me, too, with geography and mathematics."
Jack thought of those early weeks of the voyage, of Hollom the awkward misfit, so much older than the other midshipmen, seeking acceptance by befriending and helping the cheeky lads. He could imagine how it must have been: the younger men, soon tiring of Hollom's idiosyncrasies and becoming aware of his ineffectualness, eventually treating the oldster with contempt. Only Blakeney had remained faithful, reciprocating the friendship, repaying the kindness, finding qualities in the older man that he could respect.
"He wanted to teach me to play his guitar, but somehow we never found the time... and then I lost my arm," the boy said in his matter-of-fact way. "He kept trying to come up with some other instrument that I could learn to play, even after that. I... I shall miss him very much."
He stepped aside, then, and looked expectantly at Jack, who cleared his throat and took the Bible from Killick. Looking down at the page, open to the story of Jonah, he frowned slightly and closed the book.
Jack had lain awake the previous night, pondering what he should say at the burial service for this unfortunate man... a failure, so it had seemed, in all he had attempted. He knew, now, that no words of his could come near to having the value of that artless eulogy from the mouth of a child. Even if most of the officers and crew had undervalued poor Hollom, had, in the end, failed their fellow man... here was one soul in whose heart Hollom would always be kindly remembered.
............................................................................ .................................................