Chapter Text
The sound of the shot rang clear through the sky, so loud that it almost drowned out the pain that blossomed through Tom’s arm. He stumbled back, but before he could slip on the jagged stones beneath his feet, he felt the Captain’s hands around him, steadying him. More than that, Crozier has turned them so Tom’s body is shielded by his own.
“Let me have a look, Tom.” Crozier’s voice is calm, reassuring as he gently pries Tom’s right hand off the wound on his left arm. “Deeper than a graze, for sure, but clear through. Some stitches back at camp will do it.”
Tom nods, swallows down his shock and forces what words he can out, “Yes, sir.”
“Mr. Hickey wants Crozier to come with us,” des Voeux’s voice cuts through the moment. He’s trying to sound confident, intimidating, but there’s a quaver to his voice that gives Tom pause. Maybe he feels guilty for shooting him? Tom can only hope that there’s compassion left in at least some of the mutineers.
Crozier turns to look at the mutineers, but he keeps his body blocking Tom, “Give me a moment to bind his wound. If you let Hartnell and Little go, I’ll come with you willingly. No struggle.”
The captain’s already pulled a piece of cloth from his pocket and begun wrapping it around Tom’s arm, before des Voeux responds to his words with an imperious, “Very well.”
Lt. Little has inched towards them, eyes still on the mutineers, but words only for Crozier, “Captain, you can’t go with them. The men need you.”
Crozier shakes his head, “We’re out-numbered, Edward, and Tom’s injured. My going with them is the only way for the two of you to escape.”
Tom shakes his head in horror, whispers hoarsely, “Please, sir, don’t sacrifice yourself for-”
The captain cuts him off, puts a gentle hand on his shoulder and looks him straight in the eyes, “You’ve done well. You’ve done so well, son. I want you to live.” He turns his firm gaze on Lt. Little, “I want you both to live. Let me hear it.”
Little’s voice comes out choked, “We will live.”
Des Voeux’s patience is clearly running thin, “Alright, enough! Hurry up Captain!”
Crozier gives them both one last look, “Keep heading south. And take care of each other, that’s an order.” Then he turns away and heads over to the mutineers.
It’s Lt. Little who moves first. He puts his arm around Tom and starts leading him back toward camp. The walk back is a blur. Lt. Little says nothing, no doubt lost in his own thoughts as Tom is.
Lt. Les Vesconte and a few others hurry to meet them. The grey haired lieutenant looks them over with grim concern, “Where is the Captain?”
Lt. Little’s face twists in disgust, the first show of anger Tom’s seen from him all day, “Golding betrayed us to the mutineers. They captured the Captain and shot Mr. Hartnell. We need to stitch up his arm.”
There’s a moment of quiet as the others digest this new, awful, information. Lt. Les Vesconte clears his throat, “Right, Lt. Little, we need to have a meeting, now. Mr. Hartnell, there’s room in Lt. Jopson’s tent, have a seat there and we’ll send someone to stitch your arm.”
“Yes, sir.” Tom says. He realizes that Lt. Little still has his arm around him, and it seems the older man hesitates before letting him go.
“Get some rest, Mr. Hartnell.” Lt. Little says softly, before heading after Lt. Les Vesconte.
Tom staggers into Lt. Jopson’s tent. The other man appears fast asleep, but when Tom sits down on the cot opposite him, his bleary eyes open. “Captain?”
A wave of guilt overcomes Tom, moving him to kneel next to Jopson, “I’m sorry, sir, the Captain was captured by Hickey’s men... It’s me, Tom Hartnell.”
Jopson reaches out a thin, pale hand. Tom takes it in both of his, holding it gently. “Don’t worry, sir. I’m sure Lt. Little will lead the men to the mutineers camp and rescue the Captain. Maybe we’ll be able to rescue Dr. Goodsir too. I know he never would’ve sided with Hickey.”
The lieutenant’s eyes slowly close and Tom gently lowers his hand to his chest. He carefully tucks the other man’s blankets around him. He’s just sitting down on his own cot, when Lt. Little steps in. Tom feels his stomach drop to his feet at the look on Lt. Little’s face. Something has gone terribly wrong.
“Sir?”
The older man looks down at him, clearly struggling with his emotions. When he finally speaks, his voice sounds like he’s swallowed broken glass. “The others have voted. They don’t want to rescue the Captain. They want to continue south. Without the sick.”
Tom shakes his head in horror, “We can’t abandon the sick. There’s still hope! If we can rescue the Captain and Dr. Goodsir, we could save the sick, I’m sure of it!”
The lieutenant runs a hand through his hair and sighs in frustration, “That’s what I tried to tell them, but no one will listen to me.”
“I’ll go with you, sir.”
Lt. Little looks at him in shock, “What?”
An idea is forming in Tom’s head, and a sense of surety he hasn’t felt in a long time overtakes him, “You and I, sir. Under cover of night. We’ll sneak into the mutineers camp. Rescue the captain, Goodsir too, if we can find him.”
“What do we tell the others? They expect us to haul with them.”
Tom scoffs, “We tell them that we have no intention of abandoning the sick, that’s what we tell them.” He raises his chin, “Captain’s orders.”
The lieutenant’s dark eyes stare into his for a moment, before a slow smile turns up the corners of his lips. “That’s the spirit, Hartnell. By God, that’s the spirit.”