Fate: Lachesis

A travesty.

There is no better word for what has befallen you, Mr. Kennedy. Fate has dealt us all a cruel blow, and I do not know how Mr. Hornblower will recover from this. Nor, for that matter, how I myself will.

Never in my life have I witnessed such an act of honor, of integrity, of friendship. When I looked up in that courtroom, to see you walking down that aisle, barely able to keep your feet, held up only by your own determination and raw courage, my heart fell into my stomach. I knew immediately what you were doing, and the reason you were doing it, and it took all my restraint not to halt the proceedings immediately, before you had a chance to speak. I curse myself now for my weakness. Hammond and Collins wanted a scapegoat, but it should not have been you, it should not have been an innocent man of such honor.

Yes, Mr. Kennedy, I know that is what you are. I know that you did not push your captain into the hold, that you only confessed so that a good man would be spared. Another innocent man. Damn the Admiralty for wanting to protect the reputation of one man, while being perfectly happy to blacken the name of another. The absolute injustice of it infuriates me. After all you have done to build up your good name, everything you overcame to become the man you are, they wanted to tear it from you, to destroy your reputation in favor of a mad captain.

I *do* know what you had to overcome, Mr. Kennedy, and it breaks my heart to know it. There were whispers aboard Indefatigable, of your fits, and especially the cause of them, and though I tried mightily to ignore them, it became impossible. I did hear the truth, finally, from the one man you had confided in. Do not fear, Mr. Kennedy, he did not tell me directly, but it was enough for me to realize that the rumors did, indeed, have basis in fact. It is beyond appalling what was done to you. Had I known, I never would have allowed that blackguard Simpson to draw a single breath upon my deck, much less allowed him along on the Papillion mission. Your being lost during that mission was my responsibility. It is a guilt I have carried all these years. I feared that the repercussions of that mission would be the end of you, but thankfully, you proved me wrong. For I did not know you then as I know you now, did not know the incredible reserves of strength you possessed, the will to live.

I do not know all of what occurred in Spain, but I do know that you came back a better man, albeit a slightly paler, thinner version of the man we lost, with new scars both external and internal. I know of your month-long ordeal in the oubliette, and your care of the man Hunter when he was injured, a man who had thought nothing of leaving you behind to die, in order to secure his own freedom. It was very telling, that a midshipman lost to us for two years, was more representative of the kind of officer we want in His Majesty's Navy than one who had been serving aboard ship for years. But, that was so typical of the man you are. Were. Will always be, in my memory.

Your conduct after that episode was commendable. You took what would have beaten down a lesser man, and turned it around, into something that made you better and stronger. I confess, that until the moment you volunteered to return to El Ferrol, I had not taken much notice of you, other than as Hornblower's friend, and one of many midshipmen I have known through the years. I think that you, with that self-deprecating wit you possessed, would agree that until then, you had done nothing to distinguish yourself from the other young officers aboard. But something happened when you spoke up that day on deck, volunteering to return to the hell you had finally been able to leave, simply because your friend and superior officer had given his word that you would. You stepped forward and presented yourself as someone worthy of notice and respect. Not every man would have followed Hornblower then. I was very proud of him at that moment, yes, but no more so than I was of you, and every other man who returned with you. It was that day, Mr. Kennedy, that I decided to promote you to acting-lieutenant, even though you had been removed from active duty for so long, because a man who would follow like that, shows the men that he will not ask them to do something he would not do himself. It is the mark of a true leader.

I find myself wishing that you would have had a chance to demonstrate that leadership, that you would have someday had a command of your own. I think that your ship would have been the envy of many. Times are changing, Mr. Kennedy, and I think you would have been at the forefront of that change - a new breed of leader who does not distance himself from his men, but instead rolls up his shirtsleeves and joins in the work. It truly saddens me that that will never happen.

I will miss you. I find myself surprised by that thought. From someone I had barely taken notice of, to a man committing the truest, most unselfish act of friendship and loyalty, you have become a part of my world and everything in it. You truly have a way of imprinting yourself on someone, without their even being aware. I know it is true of me. And I can see that it is true of Mr. Hornblower, who sits at your bed, his shoulders bowed with his grief. I pray that this will not be his downfall, yet I fear his heart has now closed itself off. I wonder if he ever really knew how much he needed you.

I fear I will never be able to forget what has happened here, nor my role in this whole fiasco. It was I, after all, who pushed to have you transferred along with Mr. Hornblower, so that the two of you would not be separated when he went to Renown. If only I had kept you aboard Indefatigable, you would not now be lying dead, your reputation in tatters, your name vilified, and Mr. Hornblower would not be sitting beside your empty deathbed, his heart torn from his body. I wonder if he shall ever forgive me. I do know that I shall never forgive myself. If only I had not allowed you to speak…

Rest easy, Mr. Kennedy, for your sacrifice shall not be in vain. He will, I promise you, become the man you knew he would, and I shall do everything in my power to see that he is well, and safe, and successful. Not that he needs my help. Still, he shall have it nonetheless. I shall also make it my sacred duty to see that those who know the truth of your actions, keep it within their hearts, and remember you fondly, as an officer and a man of honor.

I swear this to your memory, Mr. Kennedy. I will take care of him. His will be a long and successful life, though it will be one much poorer for having lost you. And yet, I truly believe that the lives of all who knew you are richer for the experience, and we will all hold you up as the epitome of honor, someone we shall strive to emulate in our own fashion. I suspect, however, that we shall all fall short in that endeavour.

Godspeed, Archie. I think you would not mind me using your Christian name after all of this. It will, I think, be the way I will always think of you - fondly, as a brave and honorable man, and, if I may be so bold, a friend. I am honored to have had the pleasure of your acquaintance. Be free now, and with God's good grace, we shall meet once more. I look forward to seeing you again.