:D :D Horry and Willy sitting in a lemonade tree.

[quigonejinn]

1. Greatest moment in literature. Flying Colors:

   Bush's hand which lay outside the blanket twitched and stirred and moved towards him; he took it and he felt a gentle pressure. For a few brief seconds Bush's hand stroked his feebly, caressing it as though it was a woman's. There was a glimmer of a smile on Bush's drawn face with its closed eyes. During all the years they had served together it was the first sign of affection either had shown for the other. Bush's head turned on the pillow, and he lay quite still, while Hornblower sat not daring to move for fear of disturbing him.

   
   caressing it as though it was a woman's, yo. caressing it as though it was a woman's. Who still doesn't think that when they're both captains, Hornblower is the one who bends over and gives it up in their highly gender normative construction of homosexual relations? :D :D
   
   And man, when Hornblower is getting it on with his wife a few books later, you can guess what body part of his she fixates on, too. :>
   
   
2. Deck. Showers. Lieutenant Hornblower:

   Bush, looking at Hornblower revolving under the sparkling stream, was conscious of a prickling under his shirt in his heavy uniform coat, and actually had the feeling that it might be pleasurable to indulge in that sort of shower bath, however injurious it might be to the health.
   
   . . . lingering in Bush's mind's eye was the picture of Hornblower's grin. It blended with his memory of Hornblower's eager expression when they were discussing what Buckland had best do in the dilemma in which he found himself.

   
   
3. Lieutenant Hornblower:

   A marine was winding up the bucket, and Hornblower seized it. He raised the bucket to his lips, leaning back to balance the weight; and he drank and drank, water slopping in quantities over his chest as he drank, water pouring over his face, until the bucket was empty, and then he put it down with a grin at Bush, his face still dripping water. The very sight of him was enough to make Bush, who had already had one drink from the well, feel consumed with thirst all over again.

   
   
4. Flying Colours:

   There were the two nights when it rained, and they all slept huddled together under the shelter of a blanket stretched between willow trees — there had been a ridiculous pleasure about waking up to find Bush snoring beside him with a protective arm across him.

   
   Seriously. No explanation needed.
   
   
5. Every time I read this passage, I just crack up. Some people have happy ending massages; Bush has a . . . happy ending, um, walk to his cot? Lieutenant Hornblower:

   To him it was really excellent news; he leaned over and patted Hornblower's shoulder. He knew his face was one big smile, and he put his head on one side and his shoulder on the table so that Hornblower should get the full benefit of it.
   
   . . . He always remembered that afternoon as one of the most successful dinners he had ever attended. He could also remember Hornblower's smile at the end of dinner.
   "We can't send you back to the hospital today," said Hornblower. "You'd better sleep in your own cot tonight. Let me take you there."
   
   That was very agreeable. Bush put both arms round Hornblower's shoulders and walked with dragging feet. It did not matter that his feet dragged and his legs would not function while he had this support; Hornblower was the best man in the world and Bush could announce it by singing 'For He's a Jolly Good Fellow' while lurching along the alleyway. And Hornblower lowered him on to the heaving cot and grinned down at him as he clung to the edges of the cot; Bush was a little astonished that the ship should sway like this while at anchor.

   
   adslkjga;ldkf.
   
   
6. This was gay enough before it was pointed out to me by flameofdeath and then black_hound that fond had very specific, sexual period meanings. Root word of fondle, anyone? Beat to Quarters:

   The white sails glimmered in the brilliant moon; overhead the stars shone with strange
   brightness. But Bush was not talking of himself, as any sensible man would do under a tropic moon with a young woman beside him.
   
   "Aye, ma'am," he was saying. "He's like Nelson. He's nervous, just as Nelson was, and for the same reason. He's thinking all the time — you'd be surprised, ma'am, to know how much he thinks about."
   
   "I don't think it would surprise me," said Lady Barbara.
   
   "That's because you think, too, ma'am. It's us stupid ones who'd be surprised, I meant to say. He has more brains than all the rest of us in the ship put together, excepting you, ma'am. He's mighty clever, I do assure you."
   
   "I can well believe it."
   
   "And he's the best seaman of us all, and as for navigation — well, Crystal's a fool compared with him, ma'am."
   
   "Yes?"
   
   "Of course, he's short with me sometimes, the same as he is with everyone else, but bless you, ma'am, that's only to be expected. I know how much he has to worry him, and he's not strong, the same as Nelson wasn't strong. I am concerned about him sometimes, ma'am."
   
   "You are fond of him."
   
   "Fond, ma'am?" Bush's sturdy English mind grappled with the word and its sentimental implications, and he laughed a trifle selfconsciously. "If you say so I suppose I must be. I hadn't ever thought of being fond of him before. I like him, ma'am, indeed I do."
   
   "That is what I meant."
   
   "The men worship him, ma'am. They would do anything for him. Look how much he has done this commission, and the lash not in use once in a week, ma'am. That is why he is like Nelson. They love him not for anything he does or says, but for what he is."
   
   "He's handsome, in a way," said Barbara — she was woman enough to give that matter consideration.
   
   "I suppose he is, ma'am, now you come to mention it. But it wouldn't matter if he were as ugly as sin as far as we was concerned."
   
   "Of course not."
   
   "But he's shy, ma'am. He never can guess how clever he is. It's that which always surprises me about him. You'd hardly believe it, ma'am, but he has no more faith in himself than — than I have in myself, ma'am, to put it that way. Less, ma'am, if anything."
   
   "How strange!" said Lady Barbara. She was accustomed to the sturdy self-reliance of her brothers, unloved and unlovable leaders of men, but her insight made her comment only one of politeness — it was not really strange to her.
   
   "Look, ma'am," said Bush, suddenly, dropping his voice.
   
   Hornblower had come up on deck. They could see his face, white in the moonlight, as he looked round to assure himself that all was well with his ship, and they could read in it the torment which was obsessing him. He looked like a lost soul during the few seconds he was on deck.
   
   "I wish to God I knew," said Bush as Hornblower retreated again to the solitude of his cabin, "what those devils did to him or said to him when he went on board the lugger. Hooker who was in the cutter said he heard someone on board howling like a madman. The torturing devils! It was some of their beastliness, I suppose. You could see how it has upset him, ma'am."
   
   "Yes," said Lady Barbara softly.
   
   "I should be grateful if you could try to take him out of himself a little, ma'am, begging your pardon. He is in need of distraction, I suspicion. Perhaps you could — if you'll forgive me, ma'am."

   
   
7. Hornblower on the other hand, is a jealous BITCH. Hornblower and the Crisis:

   "Getting Hotspur into apple pie order ready for her new captain."
   
   "Y-yes, sir."
   
   "Doesn't matter about me, of course. I'm only a back number now."
   
   "Sir -- "

   
   
8. And why is Hornblower so pissy? Because he has to leave the Hotspur, yes, and the Hotspur is the loveboat. No, seriously. This is a big paragrpah, but. Hotspur:

   Most captains curtained -- and furnished -- their cabins with gay chintz, or even, if wealthy, with damask, but these curtains were of canvas. They were of the finest, No. 8, sailcloth to be found in the ship and had only hung there for the last two days. Hornblower thought about this pleasantly, for they had been a present to him from the wardroom; Bush and Prowse, and the surgeon, Wallis, and the purser, Huffnell, had made the presentation after a mysterious request from Bush that they should be allowed to enter his cabin for a moment in his absence. Hornblower had returned to the cabin to find the deputation there and the cabin transformed. There were curtains and cushions — stuffed with oakum — and a coverlet, all gay with red and blue roses and green leaves painted on with ship's paint by some unknown artist in the ship's company. Hornblower had looked round in astonishment that made it impossible to conceal his pleasure. There was no time to glower or look stern, as nine captains out of ten would have done at such an unwarrantable liberty on the part of the wardroom. He could do no more than thank them in halting phrases; and the greatest pleasure only came after later consideration, when he faced the situation realistically.

   
   WHAT YOU MEAN THAT YOUR BOYFRIEND HAS JUST DECORATED YOUR CABIN? HE DIDN'T DO IT WITH GAY CHINTZ; BEING THE OLD SEA DOG THAT HE IS, HE DID IT WITH GAY CANVAS.
   
   
9. They make each other so goddamn happy. From Commodore:

   This was the highest, the greatest moment of all — thousands upon thousands of naval officers could serve all their lives and never have a distinguishing pendant hoisted for them, never hear a single gun fired in their honour. Hornblower could not help smiling now. His last reserve was broken down; he met Bush's eye and he laughed outright, and Bush laughed with him. They were like a pair of schoolboys exulting over a successful bit of mischief. It was extraordinarily pleasant to be aware that Bush was not only pleased at serving with him again, but was also pleased just because Hornblower was pleased.

10. So, like, the first time he gets married? Hornblower spends the whole ceremony bitching about how much he dislikes his wife. And thinking about, um, you know. How much he loves. YOU KNOW. Hotspur:

    But here was Bush to disengage him, with outstretched hand and unusual smile, offering felicitations and best wishes.
    
    "Many thanks," said Hornblower, and added, "Many thanks for many services."
    
    Bush was positively embarrassed, and tried to brush away Hornblower's gratitude with the same gestures as he would have used to brush away flies. He had been a tower of strength in this wedding, just as he had been in the preparation of the Hotspur for sea.

    
    
    The lemonade/fruit basket/hospital visit came close. And "two hard days and nights," yeah, but ten! Only ten!
    
    ETA:

    Bush cocked an eye at him across the table and thought better of his first idea of making an appreciative comment on the food. If his queer Commodore chose to be in a bad mood it was best to leave him to it — Bush was better than a wife, thought Hornblower, his acute perceptions noting the gesture.

Comments

[black-hound.livejournal.com]

Getting the list down to 10 is impossible. Impossible.

A CH classic:

Bush was like a fussy parent with a venturesome child -- like a hen with one chick. He was always nervous about entrusting his precious Hornblower to these unpredictable Russians; Hornblower grinned at Bush's solicitude.

"Anything to keep you happy," he said.

LtH:

"I lodge in Highbury Street. I'll write the address down." Hornblower turned to a desk in the corner and wrote on a sheet of paper which he handed to Bush. "Would you care to share my room when next you come? My landlady is a sharp one. No doubt she will make a charge for a cot for you, but even so--"

"It'll ave money," said Bush, putting the paper in his pocket; his grin as he spoke masked the sentiment in his next words. "And I'll see more of you."

"By George, yes," said Hornblower. Words were not adequate.

I mean, really. XD

And one of my all time favorites, just because, in CH:

To distract himself he stepped over the rail into the other quarter-gallery, and peeped through the stern windows into Bush's cabin. Bush was asleep on his cot, flat on his back with his mouth open, his hands spread wide at his sides and his wooden leg hanging in a becket against the bulkhead.