No Longer Mourn

WARNING: If there's such a thing as one-sided slash, this is it. In other words, this story contains, indeed centres around, references to homosexuality.

Explanation: Am I the only person who finds Horatio's bland reaction to meeting Hammond again in 'Loyalty' hard to understand? He doesn't generally hide negative feelings as well as that. This, coupled with the thought that Archie would have hated to inflict a burden of grief and guilt on Horatio gave me to think.

Disclaimer: Characters and background do not belong to me but to the C. S. Forester estate and A&E productions.

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No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell
Shakespeare, Sonnet 71

Horatio,

If you are reading this then I am not only dead but disgraced in the eyes of the world and the Navy. I write this letter because it seems only fair to explain to you that, by their lights and yours, I deserve such an end, if not for the reasons under which I stand condemned. I may not be a mutineer (or am I? I did argue for removing Sawyer from command, still I'll let you decide on that one), yet I am most certainly guilty of serious and repeated breaches of the Naval articles. I am speaking of that section of the Articles concerned with sodomy.

I realise this will be a shock to you. It is the truth. I am a sodomite by inclination and occasionally by practice. Not, admittedly, on ship- board, that would be far too risky. But in every large port there are places where men like me can go to find others of our kind. I have frequented those places.

You, of course, have no idea about this. I have been at great pains to keep my true nature from you.

But that is not the end of my confession.

I desire you. I always have, from our very first meeting on Justinian. I have never met a man I wanted so badly.

You have no idea. No idea what a delight it has been to me to see you naked. No idea how I would lie awake and burning on those shore leaves where we shared a bed. No idea how I have dreamed of touching you in ways that are forbidden by all the laws of God and man. In Spain I even fooled myself into believing you felt as I did. That thought, that hope, was in my mind when I agreed to return to prison with you. Being alone with you, with the rest of the world locked out, that was almost the stuff of fantasy for me.

I am not apologising, nor asking for your forgiveness. I do not pretend to feel guilt for what I am. I acknowledge that I did wrong in deceiving you, but I would do the same again.

This is merely an attempt at honesty. At showing you that, in a way, my end is just. That I do not deny.

Farewell.

AK

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I wrote that letter the night following Sawyer's fall, and laid it in my sea-chest for him to find. I knew then the Navy would most likely demand a life, and I was determined it should not be his. The bullet made no difference really, it just provided a convenient way to cheat the gallows.

I take no pride in that decision, it was not even a choice. But anyone save Horatio himself would acknowledge that it is right, there is no doubt which of our lives has the greater value. He is loved by many. I will be mourned by none save him.

Therein lies the rub. For he does care for me. Not as I do for him, of course. As a friend, perhaps a brother, but he does care. And that will make my end a wound worse than he has ever suffered.

Battle would be different. It would pain him, but the wound would heal. But this... I know Horatio. He will blame himself, not just for my death, but for doing nothing to prevent my dishonour. He will not defend me, he will do as the service demands and he will never forgive himself. Nor, in his unacknowledged soul, will he forgive the service. He will know the trial was a mockery of truth, a monument to injustice, he will know the Navy treated the lives of good and loyal men as nothing and that he accepted it. He will serve still, but he will get little satisfaction from it. His triumphs will be stained, his acclamations sour. He will not break, but he will suffer, all his life long he will suffer.

And that is not right. It is not right that he should have to pay so high a price for life. He has not deserved that, and I could not lay such a burden on his shoulders when I have the power to lift it.

So I wrote the letter. And every word was true, and yet it was a lie, for it said much of lust and not a word of love.

I know Horatio. I have studied to know him, as he has studied his beloved sailing manuals. The dream he felt as I do died whilst we were still in Spain. Horatio despises relations between men. For years I have worked to hide from him my true nature, knowing the truth was one thing that would destroy our friendship. I know Horatio, and I knew if I reveal the truth aright he will be disgusted even now. He will despise me irredeemably.

Better that than to have him despise himself.

He will be hurt, knowing he was deceived, but that pain will pass as the other would not. He will determine it should pass, not wear it as a hair- shirt, as he would his guilt. He will forget, in time, because he will not deem me worth remembering. He will be lonely for a while, but he knows how to live with loneliness, and there may one day be another who can breach that isolation. Perhaps even – I am selfish enough to shrink from the thought – another who can make him laugh.

He will be free, and that is as it should be. I'll not have him drag my memory as a ball-and-chain. Better to leave no legacy than one of anguish.

But it is hard. Hard to lose all that he may have no more than he deserves. I hoped to show wrong those who held me worthless, now they will hold themselves shown right. Hard that my life should be a mere footnote in another's story, even his. Just another of those who can achieve nothing but a death, I should have known better than to let him give me hope for more. Hard to know I will leave no mark upon this world, not even in any heart. Oh, Styles and Matthews may remember for a little while, but not for long. They were never my men. Horatio's survival is what will matter to them.

Should I not take joy in that? Yet I should never have had to save him and the means sicken me to the soul. Not for my lost good name, but from the sheer sordidness of the business, a corruption I must lend myself to, for his sake. I could die saving him from the French or Spanish and there would be gladness there, but to die saving him from his own superiors is obscene.

Is this my punishment? For sodomy? For lying to him? Perhaps for ever befriending him in the first place when I knew my luck was bad. No. No, almost I wish to believe this was earned, but I have no faith in eternal justice. If there is a controlling power it is one to whom we are as flies to wanton boys. And now the last dark is on me and all is comfortless.

Horatio....

I am afraid. Not of Hell, though if the church has any knowledge I am surely damned. I am afraid of consciousness of any kind beyond the grave, memory of all that was and will never be. No paradise could take away this pain. I'll not see Horatio again, even if he could forgive me, for time creates too many changes. Admiral Hornblower will no doubt be a great man in his own way, but it will not be my way and he will not be the friend that I have loved. What can death's far side have to offer me, except eternal loss? If I dared hope it would be for oblivion.

But that's no matter. I will do what I must, because I must, and that is all.

Farewell, Horatio. Forget me. Forever.