All was quiet on the Hotspur as William Bush put pen to paper. Every night he performed the same ritual: every night he lay down on the pages the events of the day, his feelings about this or that particular happening that had affected him, observations on the state of his captain, jokes about the Frogs and poor sailing conditions, and, finally, wishes of good health. And every night upon finishing his letter, he would fold it carefully into an envelope, seal it tightly with wax, and inscribe the day's date in a corner on the back. He did this for he promised his good friend Archie Kennedy that he would.

But tonight, he had something different to write about. For the first time since he had begun his missives, he was fearful of how his friend would react. At first he considered avoiding the topic entirely, but upon reflection he knew that to omit it would go against the grain of their friendship, for Archie prized honesty highly. So, knowing the risk, his stomach knotted with dread, he forced himself to write the words.

"Things have changed between Horatio and I, Archie, and I am uncertain if it is for the better. You asked me to care for him in your absence and I have; we have formed a friendship that is solid, though not deep. You spoke true when you said that he would be difficult, for he keeps his thoughts to himself more often than not. I have already written to you of Maria, the woman he met in Portsmouth. Tonight, Horatio invited me to his cabin for drinks, as we are still two days' sail to port and have an uneventful journey ahead of us, and he spoke to me at length about his feelings for her.

"He does not love her, Archie. But he feels responsibility towards her, for she comforted him in his time of need. He feels he cannot abandon her, that he is bound and obligated to return her kindness. Horatio is a generous man, but he lacks understanding--again, you are proven correct--about the finer points of charity. Already he has set aside too much of his pay for her, surely a dozen times over what she has given him. He plans to present the money as a gift to her upon our return to Portsmouth, but I know she will refuse. He gives more than she can accept.

"I fear he will insist upon giving her yet more than that.

"But Horatio's charity is not all I have to write to you about this evening. I said that things have changed; they have changed because of what transpired between us after he spoke of Maria. I do not understand what occurred, yet I must find a way to put the events into words for you to read, in the weeks from now when this letter finds you.

"The fault could be placed upon the rum, for both of us drank deeply. Horatio drank to strengthen himself to speak, and his tongue loosened with every cupful. I drank to keep his company, and to deaden my own from action, for I have not been entirely honest with you. In my defense, until tonight I had not been honest with myself concerning my feelings towards Horatio. You have told me before that I hold myself close, at times even more than him, and I fear this time my closeness has been my undoing.

"Since our reunion in Portsmouth, I have felt a tug in my heart at the sight of him. At first I ascribed it to gladness at seeing him after so many months apart. He brings me thoughts of you, Archie, and I thought us to be one step closer to our eventual reunion. But soon I realized that I felt more than affection towards him. It pains me to write this to you, but I know I must.

"I desired him. Despite myself I yearned for him. But so hopeless was that desire that I tucked it away more deeply than any I have ever had. To admit it would only strengthen the ache in my heart and I was certain that Horatio's response to it would not be welcoming. The drink was an excuse, but when the opportunity came I responded freely and gladly, loosening my heart as he had loosened his tongue.

"He kissed me, and I kissed him back. We lay together in the warmth of his captain's bed and I thought 'At last, at last!' I felt strangely light, as if part of me that had been wound impossibly tight for all of my life had been sprung free. He whispered sweet words to me, and stroked my skin with a touch so caring that it began a new ache inside of me to replace the old. Once begun, I could not stop: I laid myself bare to him, told him of my desire so long withheld. It all seemed like a strange, wonderful dream.

"And at the end of it, I asked him if I was his and he mine. I had to know: did he care for me as I cared for him? Again I place only part of the blame on the rum, for if I had not held such feelings then they would not have been there for the drink to let out.

"He did not answer no, but only because he did not answer at all. He simply said that he cared for me and that the drink and our activities had made him tired. He asked--politely ordered, in truth--that I return to my cabin to sleep so that I may be ready for tomorrow's work. But I could not rest, still cannot; my mind is storming with thoughts and no action can still them. Were you here on the ship with me, I would come to you and your sensible words would ease my worries, but you are not, so in place of this I pour out my thoughts to you in ink.

"I know that he does not feel for me as I feel for him. If I make demands of him then I become another Maria, an obligation to him that he suffers under, and I do not wish to add to his burdens. I know that you write to him as you write to me, and because of this I will now call upon the favor that you asked of me so many long months ago: Please, let this be. Tomorrow he may claim forgetfulness for his cups were many and full. If he does then I will oblige him. He does not need to know of the ache in my heart. Time will heal it as best it can.

"I fear upon reading this letter, you will wish to hear no more. Until word to that end reaches me, I will continue to write, for I promised you that I would and will not break my word to you. I realize that I have already broken it once, in failing to remain a friend to Horatio, for I do not know if our friendship, solid but not deep, will survive events such as this. But as I continue to write to you in hope that what I have done is not beyond repair, I will continue to serve as his lieutenant and friend.

"As always, I hope that my words find you well.

"Your friend,
William"

Bush carefully folded the papers and tucked them into their waiting envelope. His fingers shook only slightly as he pressed the wax seal and inscribed the date upon the back. Then, with deliberate care, he placed the envelope in with the stack of fellows that were tucked into a safe corner of his chest.

What was done could not be undone, and he would bear the consequences. Tomorrow he would face his captain once more, and if he must harden his heart then it was good that he let the wound in it quickly.

He climbed into bed, extinguished his lantern, and waited for sleep to come.