*A Matter of Necessity*
I turn the paper in my hands and curse the cold and hollow feeling I cannot shake off. This was what I wanted wasn’t it? This was what I hoped would happen when I wrote out the report. Even before that when I let him take charge of the cutting out against my own desires, from planning through to final execution. And fairly so, it was his idea although I like to believe that I would have thought of it if he had not.
No, it is not what I wanted. It is what I contrived for and aimed for and tried to hope for. It is not what I want.
But he must take the offer, not just because he deserves it. It is not good that he should stay here. His nature does not suit being second fiddle, and why should it? He should be free to shine, not accept the perpetual eclipse of second-in-command. It irks him, although he would deny the fact. I have seen the spurts of irritation that he never showed in the better times when we served side-by-side, not one before the other.
And it weighs on me to see it, to feel that I hold him back, that he agreed to come with me from affection when there would surely have been better postings open. Sometimes I feel that I should not have asked, but the fear of unfamiliar command was so strong upon me then. I needed him, needed a man I could rely on, one who would not despise or undermine. But I feel guilty too, over the luck that put the gulf of rank between us. Sometimes I feel the Papillon raid haunts us even now. Without those lost years he might have had his own command long since.
I cannot pretend that I do not like being captain. But I do not like it when I feel the gap, when damned formality steps between all that we have shared. When sometimes I feel the gulf is widening with every passing day and I find it hard to shake the captain’s rank even when we snatch stolen time together. It should not be like this with him. With any other, but not him.
He must take the offer. But I am cold afraid, for what shall I do alone? That I can manage as a captain I know now, but as a man? I feel so cut off, so often. How will I fare without him? Will he even know me, when we meet again?
***
Of course I knew we could not stay this way. One way or another I had to gain command, or I would lose him surely. Yes, lose, for the gap would grow too wide. He is set on the track to Admiral’s rank, and I? Already we are strained, but between captain and lieutenant the gap is just acceptable. Between admiral and lieutenant it would be too great. Oh, he would try I daresay, but we would both feel it too sharply. What we have would cease to be.
It does matter. We could never have been so close if we had not been, if not equals, at least on equal footing. That was his acceptance, for which I will never cease to feel grateful, but there are limits. Even now we can still put aside rank in private, although it grows harder month by month. Let him once get too far ahead and all will slide from us and be lost.
Lord, once I would not have thought that I could think this way! What of my own ambition? Have I none? Yes, but I’ve learned not to expect too much. Sharing a ship with him does put a damper on one’s expectations. I learned to admire him because I could not hate him, but I had to accept in doing so that I am not like him. When dreams have long been put aside it’s hard to take them up again, but I’ve known a while now that I had to make this happen if I could, for him and me and us. Or I will have given all my chances for him and we will have only memories left.
Perhaps I should have told him to find someone else to be his First. But he came to me with that beseeching look, the one that is more like the midshipman who was seasick in Spithead than the Navy’s rising star and I never can resist that gaze.
I refuse to wind up the admiral’s mistress, for both our sakes, and that’s what I would be if I cannot gain successes of my own. Rank does matter. It matters to him and to me, and we could not prevent it from mattering between us. Admiral and post-captain, yes we might manage that. But the responsibility is on me to achieve it.
If I mess this up than I will have lost him forever. I would not cling to him in disgrace, that in the end would only stain a thing which has been fine. So I must get this right and I don’t know if I can. I’m not like him. After so long in his shelter the thought of standing alone frightens me unspeakably, but that’s all the more reason why I have to do it. If I can’t do this, then he will be right to look down on me, and if he once starts that, then it will be the end. I have to grow, because he will. And I have to do it alone.
The irony is rather neat. We must part now if we are to have a chance of staying linked. Maybe I will fail. Maybe once apart he will cease to want me. There are those chances.
But if I can’t take a gamble then I have no business in the Navy.
It is time.
**End**