It was a clear cold night. The voyage started, seemed endless. For many days now the ship had lain along the eastern coast of the cold Scandinavian Peninsula, with no other incident to beguile the monotony of the course than the occasional meeting with some small, brown whales and the habitual fights between shipmates. The air was intolerably cold and loaded with stubborn snowflakes refusing to fall. As night came on, every breath of wind died away and a more portentous calm revealed itself. The candle flames on deck burned without perceptible motion, and if one would hold a long hair between the finger and thumb, it would hang still without the possibility of detecting a single vibration.

Yet Archie had not been able to sleep for the past few nights. It was not the enemy that kept him awake. It was the quiet and dullness of the voyage that had left the young lieutenant behind with the haunts of common men. Even in a four-poster bed with damask curtains, linen sheets and the softest blankets of Irish wool, it would be hard to put a troubled mind to rest.
And all the young acting lieutenant had was a flea-invested hammock.

So Archie found himself standing on deck on this cold November night with billions of stars above him and emptiness in his heart. He hoped the cold wind would blow his demons away, but just like the past few days, not the slightest breeze fluttered through the sails. The night was dark, but his soul felt darker still.

There was little movement upon deck. The steersman at the wheel, all bundled up, was but a shadow in the gloom.

And then there was Horatio; proud to wear the uniform; proud to look out for enemies threatening his Majesty the King; proud to be able to give his life, perhaps some day, in another man's war; and proud to stand guard in the middle of this dark expanse of water. From the cradle to the grave, Hornblower had obviously been meant to lead this life; to watch over the always-changing seas; to lead men into battle and actually have them follow him.

Archie went to stand next to the young Lieutenant.
“Mr. Kennedy.”
Archie nodded silently, unwilling, unable to speak. The air stretched thin.
“The sea has always been my haven”, Horatio smiled.
Archie wished the quietude had not been breached by the comment.
“Whenever I see it, it feels like coming home. It doesn’t matter if it’s the blue depths in the West Indies or the black ice of the Northern seas. It’s where I belong.”
Archie smiled at Horatio’s words. It made him think of an old Spanish saying about two men looking out of the window of a prison cell. The first inmate sees only weeds and mud, while the second one looks up and sees the stars. The young man couldn’t help but think the saying probably continued to where the first inmate killed the second one. It is almost unbearable to see someone make something out of his life while you are doing nothing else but ruining yours in every possible way. Anybody can sympathize with the suffering of a friend, but it requires a very fine nature to sympathize with a friend's success. Archie knew that while he saw a limpid pool of blackness, Horatio saw his future. He also realized his decision had been made a long time ago; he was only reluctant to tell his friend.

It was freezing on deck. Lifetimes ago, Archie remembered being warm. His gaze followed the little white clouds of exhalation as they rose in the air, then looked back to the water. Thousand and thousands of white needlepoints set in the darkest of frame looked down on them. The only sound in the night was of their shipmates in the belly of the ship. While cards were being dealt, gin was being knocked back and dices were being thrown, one sailor found himself lost at sea.

“Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, Archie?” Horatio asked while he looked up at the green velvet waves moving through the dark. Archie didn’t glance up but took his friend’s word that the northern lights were breathtaking. His eyes were fixed on the slender figure next to him. The whole time Horatio exalted about the ocean and the sky above, Archie could only think of how to say ‘adieu’. Without knowing it, Horatio was breaking him into pieces, cherishing each blow.
“The northern lights are believed to be the ocean of another world”, Horatio monologued, unaware he was his only audience. “It’s believed to be the ocean of another world. With sailors upon them that sail between the scattered stars.” Horatio paused, trying to recall the rest of the story. “Wait, yes, they make sure the stars stay in their places so the fishermen can find their way home.”
“But once in awhile still one of them dies”, Archie continued the tale, still not averting his gaze from his friend, for he wouldn’t miss the Northern lights back home. “And to let the whole world know about his death: their mothers and wives”
“Their lovers and friends”
“Their fathers and brothers”
“Their sisters and the vicar”
“Their dog and the milkman”
Archie couldn’t help but smile; Horatio always did that to him. No matter how angry or how upset he was, at the end he always ended up laughing. Apparently, Horatio had been raised on the same silly fairytales he had been.
“They throw down one star”, Horatio continued.
“One star for every dead sailor”
“I don’t think so, it is for every sailor that is going to die”
“Maybe they tell the story differently in your part of …” The universe. Archie smiled “the country.”
“We are more or less from the same part of the country.” The smirk in Horatio’s voice was unmistakable.
“True enough.”
Not that it mattered how the legend ended; Archie knew it well enough. Even now, when he was on watch alone, he removed his hat upon seeing a falling star. Once he had caught Matthews doing the same. As a child he remembered he had picked out his very own personal star. The brightest one of them all and the only one he could see from his bedroom window. He felt that if he would have to die, that star would have to die with him, as it had been his only companion during the long nights.
“It is, by far the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, Horatio”, Archie lied.

The northern lights were amazing, but it didn’t give him butterflies in his belly or brought tears to his eyes. The most beautiful thing for him was not to be found on the sea or aboard the ship. But when he closed his eyes, he could still see it, almost touch it even. The red velvet curtains, the stories of all eras and all places re-enacted by the most beautiful and stunning stars. The heavy scent of talcum powder and greasepaint, the nervosity and anxiousness pervading the dressing room before the play, the music and the loud voices declaiming immortal words of long-dead masters. Archie did not need a ship to see the world.

“Mr. Hornblower, Sir…”
Archie hadn’t come on deck to tell old legends or reminisce about times past and lives wasted. He was here to discuss the future, no matter how painful.
“Horatio.”

Horatio remained silent. The night’s dark veil had a way of hiding things, but it could not even begin to cover the breaking voice. He knew what was coming. He knew Archie well enough; he didn’t need to hear the words. They would be no surprise. Archie had tried, but Horatio knew the oceans were no place for him. Lately, instead of fire, Horatio only saw emptiness in his friend's immaculate blue eyes. He understood that he might have freed this man out of the Spanish prison, he never had been able to release his soul.

“This isn’t where I belong,” Archie said as he gazed into the cold distance, the empty night. “I have to go…but only if you’ll let me.” He swallowed and whispered, “Let me go, Horatio.”

Horatio refused to look at the dark figure standing next to him; too afraid his tears would show. He didn’t want to understand Archie’s decision, the feelings behind it because it hurt him. He would kill for Archie, die for him, move the sun for him, and do anything and everything…. And yet, he did not want to be the gaoler of that particular golden cage; no matter how much pleasure Archie’s company would bring him. His friend’s happiness should and would always come first. If Archie no longer wanted to spend time on the sea, then so be it. Yet, the words to tell him this proved nearly impossible to find.

“It is not that I’m afraid to die for a noble cause,” Archie continued, unaware of his friend’s struggle. “But I’m reluctant to end up a statistic in a history book. I’m too young to live without desire, Horatio.”

Horatio thought about his own desires. The only images the word stirred in him were of the ship and the ocean. He couldn’t imagine what his life would be like if someone took that dream away from him; even if it was a dear friend doing so. The sea had been duty for Archie, obedience to a strict father and a family’s demands. It had been imposed. Horatio himself seemed to be born with the sea in his veins; it was part of his soul.
“You’re not like me, are you Archie?”
“It would seem I am not, Horatio.”
“And thank God for that!”
Horatio’s words brought a faint smile to Archie’s tear-stained face. The silence hung heavy between them.
“Is this goodbye?” Archie finally asked. Horatio had been the main reason he had stayed so long anyway. He would miss his friend beyond words and they had yet to be parted. An honest friend is hard to find and even harder to let go. He knew he couldn’t ask Horatio to come back with him; knowing how hard it was to stay somewhere you didn’t belong. The Northern light undulated and started to fade away; a soft breeze made the candles upon the deck flicker.
“No, absolutely not!” Horatio replied, shocked. “I want the best seats in the house for that opening night of yours. But I also want your last trip to be the biggest adventure of them all; not like this scam.”
Horatio cast a disgusted glance at the limp sails hanging as if wind didn’t even exist.
“Imagine it, Archie! We will sail under command of Captain Sawyer, one of Nelson’s own. Us!”
“Ah, yes. You have been going on and on about this. The honor will be tremendous.”
“So, you shall stay?”
“Aye, for this last adventure I will.”
Archie grinned. “Besides, you still owe me 70 pound and five bottles of fine gin; I will not be leaving without them.”
“Amen to that.” Horatio replied. “My watch is finished, I’ll buy you the first bottle now if you’re interested.”
Archie groaned. “I did say ‘fine’ gin, Horatio”.
The young men laughed and descended below decks. Neither noticed how a star fell in a fine trail of silver fire and disappeared behind the horizon.