Bush hangs back regardless of Hornblower's invitation, watching Hebe flirt with Gerard when Lady Barbara allows her attentions to be taken by Hornblower. It is difficult to watch even though Bush understands the inclinations that drive both men. Barbara is the kind of woman that Hornblower desires, far beyond his feelings toward his wife, and Hebe is the sort that Gerard likes in that she is willing and ready at just a word and a private moment. Gerard also seems to have the level of sophistication that Bush lacks, that ability to speak to those considered his social betters with ease and grace. Bush lacks those skills, as he does so many, content to just be a man of the sea.

He retires before the rest, his body aching in the pleasant way of hard work, different work. He sees the ship coming together under his hands, and he sleeps hard every night, though oftentimes he is awake before the sun, standing on the edge of the beach well away from the women and listening to the waves. The island is the closest to the sea that Bush can get, and he spends much of his day in and on the water, but he longs for the ship righted and set to sail more than most anything else.

It surprises him when Gerard follows on his heels not ten minutes later, settling on the ground not far from the small fire Bush is tending. He had expected not to see Gerard for at least an hour, plenty of time to lure Hebe away and seduce her as well as granting Hornblower his time alone with Lady Barbara, letting them discuss at length everything but that which they obviously wished to do and say.

"How long, do you think?" Gerard looks back toward the water.

Bush deliberately misunderstands him, no interest in discussing what Gerard wishes too; at least none that he will admit. "Another three days."

Gerard's smile is not hard to read in the firelight, but he leaves Bush to his reticence. Without another word he stretches out before the fire, his muscles shifting beneath his shirt. They've taken to walking around stripped of all but their essentials, and even still the humid air bathes them in sweat. The entire island is ripe with scents; all of them lent an air of the exotic, even the fetid musk of men.

"I've never seen a man more possessed of will than Captain Hornblower." Gerard rests one arm under his head as he stares up at the sky, his other hand resting at his waist, fingers on the placket of his trousers. Bush is no fool, but he can't help but watch the fingers play against the fabric. "I wonder if the stories of Renown are true then, that he is in part mad."

Bush remains silent, glancing at the fire as is snaps in the clear air. Gerard does not look his direction, but Bush feels he is watching just the same, waiting for a movement from Bush, an acknowledgement of something, anything.

"He is a good captain. An exceptional man." Bush's voice allows no argument, and he can see the curve of Gerard's lips from the corner of his eye.

"I would think being part mad would be a benefit to being captain, to be honest." He shifts to his side, looking directly at Bush. "You've served with him a long time."

"I have."

"It must be difficult."

It takes a moment before it occurs to Bush that Gerard's voice has the same lilt to it that it carries when he speaks with Hebe or any of the women they find in ports, on leave. It is that teasing lift that offers something more than what is spoken. Bush looks at Gerard full on and does not ask the question on his lips.