*Honour thy Father (I)*
The letter was waiting when Renown docked. Lt Hornblower had to brace himself before going to the captain’s cabin, but fortunately it was one of Sawyer’s better days. One of the days that occurred less and less frequently. He was granted two weeks shore leave on the spot.
“The boat is ready,” Lt Kennedy said, coming in to the small cabin where Hornblower was swiftly putting clothes in a valise. He paused for a moment, then asked quietly, “How long ago was the letter dated?”
“Three weeks - well, two and a half.”
“That’s not so long. In any case, it’s not your fault we were at sea.” Hornblower did not answer. “Don’t forget to pack your shaving gear.”
“What? Oh. No.” He swept the gear into the valise.
“There’s no point in getting frantic, Horatio. You told me yourself, the stage doesn’t leave till evening.”
“I’d thought of hiring a chaise, but I probably don’t have the money. I don’t know how much they cost.”
“Nor do I, but you’re welcome to take my purse. Pay me back when you can.”
Hornblower hesitated, then took it. “Thank you, Archie.”
“That’s all right.” Kennedy watched Renown’s third lieutenant hastily fasten his valise, then reached out to grip his arm. “Godspeed, Horatio.”
~~#~~
“Is Mr. Hornblower close to his father?” Lt Buckland asked in the wardroom that evening.
“He has always spoken highly of him,” Kennedy replied, with perfect truth. “He writes to his father frequently.” The replies were far less frequent, but that was no business of Buckland’s. Nor were the other opinions he had formed about Dr. Hornbower, based not on anything Horatio had said, but on the things he did not say.
“It is fortunate that he has a relatively short distance to travel,” Buckland said, “It would be far less easy for yourself, I imagine.”
“Far less,” Kennedy acknowledged. “I’ve not been home since I joined the Navy.” Nor had he seen his parents in that time, a thought much on his mind since hearing of Horatio’s news. His harassed, well-meaning father, worn-down from the strains of trying to maintain an impoverished estate, his faded, once-pretty mother, generally in ill-health. Neither was strong. It was a hard thought that he might not see them again, but at least there were no wounds to heal....
None of that was Buckland’s business either. He changed the conversation with a question about how duties were to be divided in the third lieutenant’s absence.
~~#~~
The stage was mercifully deserted - even their combined funds had not been enough for a post-chaise. His teeth set against the jolting, Horatio Hornblower watched the landscape pass in a blur.
He had written. So many letters. But he had never said the things that were important.
“I have been transferred to a new ship, the frigate Indefatigable. Captain Keene assures me that this is a fine opportunity.”
*A good man is dead because of me. Because he wanted to protect me from my own folly. If I could only have endured matters for a few more days he would be living.*
“Because of our losses in the cutting-out expedition Captain Pellew has promoted me to Acting Lieutenant. Naturally I am greatly honoured and mean to make every effort to show myself worthy.”
*My only friend is dead or in enemy hands. Because of me. Because I angered a man who would stop at nothing for revenge and involved him in my defiance.*
“I conducted the supply ship safely into harbour.”
*I had to kill a man. Not a bad man, just unhappy. I should have been able to reach him. I failed.*
“The result of the expedition was disappointing, but we withdrew in good order, and Captain Pellew considers that no blame attaches to the men of our ship.”
*I got a young girl killed. She was beautiful and brave and I ... did I love her? I’m not sure. But I got her killed. She died in my arms and there was nothing I could do.*
He had been home on shore leave from time to time. But he had never spoken the important things then either.
~~#~~
At the far end he had to hire a horse - an old, quiet one - to take him the last stage of the journey.
His aunt opened the door. “The letter got to you in time then,” were her first words, and the ones that told him all he needed to hear.
Dr Hornblower had been a tall man, like his son, but broader of shoulder. His hair, when he wore it unpowdered, had been a thick, straight chestnut, his eyes grey, his features classically regular. To the young Horatio he had been the epitome of all that was strong and handsome. Age had treated him lightly, he had been still strong and handsome the last time his son had seen him, although his hair was silvered. Now his flesh was shrunken, one side of his face twisted and rigid. He’s only fifty-nine, the younger Hornblower thought numbly, as he had over and over since first receiving the letter. Only fifty-nine.
His father’s eyes were open. “You decided to come then, Horace.”
The younger Hornblower suppressed the perennial, disloyal thought that having saddled him with a name like Horatio the least his father could do was use it.
“Yes, Father. I came as soon as I could, as soon as I heard.” His voice wavered.
“I don’t want to hear explanations, Horace. And I certainly don’t want any womanish sentiment. I’m dying, rather more slowly than I’d have chosen, but faster than I’ve seen men go. Leave it at that. Now I’m tired and I want to sleep.”
~~#~~
The evening light shone on the village green. Boys were playing a rough form of cricket. The young Horatio had tried hard at such games, but had never succeeded, he was slow in reaction and, no matter how hard he concentrated, couldn’t seem to judge where the ball would be. It had been the same in school games, the same, later, in sword practice on ship.
* “Watch it, Horatio!” Cleveland exclaimed, exasperated. “You can slice your own ear off if you want, but keep well away from mine!” *
* “You’ve got two left feet, Hornblower,” the other boy - he couldn’t remember who it had been now - sneered. “On the ends of your wrists!” *
No wonder his father had always been so disappointed in him. The older Hornblower had been a noted sportsman in youth and even in middle age a bruising rider and excellent shot. Horatio had been a sickly, undersized child, and although his health had improved as he got older, he had remained a thin youth - skinny his father called him - and a complete failure at sport. He was shy also, socially awkward, whereas his father was a popular guest who liked nothing better than mixing in such society as their country district offered. All his life he had been miserably conscious of his failure. Of how far short he fell of the kind of son his father had desired.
~~#~~
“This new posting,” his father said, “You wrote that it is a larger ship.”
“Yes, Father, a ship of the line. A good opportunity, Captain Sawyer has a fine reputation.”
“A step up for you then.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Is this new ship larger than Justinian?”
“No, around the same.”
“So your transfer from Justinian was a step down. I always assumed it.”
“No, Father. It was not like that. Captain Keene -”
“Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes, Horace. No doubt you gave Keene cause for dissatisfaction.”
It was no use arguing, never any use arguing.
“I notice that this transfer has been accompanied by a marked falling off in the support you have been sending.”
“I’ve done my best, Father. Renown has not taken any prizes since I joined her.”
“You say that, although you admit she is a better ship?”
“It’s... it doesn’t work that way. The frigates are the predators of the fleet.”
“You always did have a good excuse, Horace. I only hope you’ve not been squandering the money on pox-ridden women.”
“No, Father! I wouldn’t do that!”
“No, I don’t suppose you would.” A slight gleam came into the dying man’s eyes. “I hope you’re not celibate, but you’re not the kind to be debauched, are you?”
“No, Father.” He couldn’t work out how much humour there had been in the last words.
“Don’t worry, I won’t pry further. I need to sleep now, in any case. I must apologise for taking such a time over my dying.”
“Father-”
“I’m tired, Horace. Let me sleep.”
~~#~~
“What will you do?” Horatio asked his aunt.
Grace Garrowby was a plain, angular woman, not at all like her brother. She had come to be his housekeeper after her own widowhood, some years earlier. The young Horatio, then usually away at school and soon to enter the Navy, had never known her well.
“Go to live with Joshua,” she replied. “He has his own home now.”
“Oh. Good. I’m sure that’s right.” Since Horatio had never even met his cousin he found it hard to pursue the conversation.
“He has invited me before,” his aunt said, “but Philip is my brother, and I considered it my Christian duty to stay with him.” There was little Horatio could answer to that.
~~#~~
“He’s... gone?”
“I’m afraid so, Horace.”
“And I wasn’t there.”
“You had to sleep sometime. I would have woken you if I’d known, I promise. But he just.... stopped. Everything stopped.”
“He, he didn’t say anything? For me ...or about me?”
“No, Horace. I’m sure he didn’t know what was coming. That’s as well.”
~~#~~
“It’s a perfectly simple will. A small legacy to his sister, a few personal items bequeathed to friends, the rest of the property to yourself. I warn you, it will not amount to much. The house was leased for his lifetime, you know,”
“I know.”
“Frankly the estate will barely cover the debts.”
“That’s quite all right. I understand.”
~~#~~
The funeral was well attended. He could never afterwards be sure how many people had been there. Some he did not recognise after so many years at sea. Some he did not think he had ever known.
Many seemed genuinely grieved. There was no mistaking the sincerity of the tributes they came to pay him afterwards. The ones to his father’s skill as a doctor were fairly easy to handle. But the others, the ones to his father’s charm, his sociability, the ease with which he made friends.... the others were hard.
That evening, worn out, he made the mistake of voicing thoughts aloud.
“They are together now.”
“Who?”
“My parents.” He was surprised she had to ask.
“Perhaps.” His aunt must have been tired also, he had never heard her directly criticise her brother before, but now she said, “Of course he married her for her money.”
“They were happy. Weren’t they?”
“Oh, he treated her well enough,” Grace Garrowby said. “He had to, her father had settled it in such a way he couldn’t touch it without her consent. And she was pretty, your mother. Yes, I daresay they were as happy as most couples. It was you who suffered.”
“He was a good father to me, always….”
“You don’t believe that,” his aunt said, not unkindly. “Philip was my brother, but he was a selfish man. All he cared for was his own pleasure. So long as he could hunt with the squire, keep a full wine cellar and the rest of it, that was all that mattered. No matter what became of you. I knew he was running through the money, but I couldn’t stop him. It was his, when your mother died. And of course it ran out, it was bound to run out the way he spent. And you know what happened then.”
He couldn’t speak.
“Packed off to the Navy. No life for a boy like you. But he wouldn’t listen to me, said it was all he could afford. Well of course it was, he’d spent the money. You should have had a university education, instead you didn’t even finish schooling. All because of him and his squandering.”
“I - I’m happy in the service.”
“You’re a loyal liar, Horace, but a liar still. You don’t fool me. He even managed to convince you to support him. A share of your pay, all your prize money, oh yes, I know. Good money after bad. He could have lived well enough on what he earned, but that wasn’t enough for him. You’re a loyal boy, but you’re a fool.”
“I will not hear you speak so! He was my father! I will not hear you speak like that again.”
“If that’s how you want it,” his aunt said. “I daresay you’re right. One should not speak ill of the dead. But the truth is still the truth.”
~~#~~
It was late when Lt Hornblower came aboard Renown. He reported to the captain, who snapped at him, gave answers as brief as possible to the questions of the other lieutenants (chiefly Buckland), and retreated thankfully to the shelter of his tiny cabin.
Kennedy came in about fifteen minutes later, and pushed some kind of hot drink into his hands.
“Here. You look worn out.” Hornblower swallowed some of the drink gratefully but said nothing. “Was it very bad?”
“No. He didn’t suffer greatly. I’m just tired.” He wasn’t sure Kennedy believed him but his friend did not push further.
He was tired, and perhaps that was why he found himself speaking some of his thoughts aloud. “He was a fine man, everyone liked him, respected him. He had great charm. And skill, he was a very good doctor. I knew I can’t be like him, but I did want to make him proud.”
“I’m sure he was,” Kennedy said. “Even if he didn’t tell you. Some men don’t find it easy to say those things.”
A kind thing to say, but Kennedy hadn’t known his father. He handed back the empty mug.
“Thank you, Archie. I really must get some sleep. If you don’t mind.”
“Of course not, Horatio. Good night.”
He was tired, but sleep did not come easily that night. Lt. Hornblower lay staring into the darkness for a long time before exhaustion finally pulled him under.
~finis~