Date: 2017-06-06 06:27 am (UTC)
his_majestys_navy: (038)
James understands. The guilt does not ebb as rank increases, not when suddenly one has the responsibility for the health and well-being of several hundred men or more, not simply one gun crew or one ship. Norrington has the lives of over a thousand men on his shoulders, navy seaman and marines, and he knows the crushing weight of that responsibility.

"Listen," He says, pulling back so he can watch Horatio's face, watch his eyes and make sure the words sink in. "You must serve the memory of those men. You must serve to the best of your abilities, for as long and as hard as you can. God has their souls but you have their memories, and you must honour them. No one else, do you understand? You must be well, you must be fit for duty, or you disgrace them."

He will not order Horatio to stay ashore, not in so many words, not directly, not if he can get the lieutenant to understand by any other means. He knows Horatio wants to earn his atonement now, he wants to throw himself into work to survive the guilt, but he can not. If he were not so gravely injured, James would take him in a heartbeat.

But it is not to be.

"Do you understand? We will repair the Hotspur and you will have her again, but you are no use to me, or your men, or the Navy unless you recover. If you were better, if the surgeons were not concerned about your life, I would take you. This is not to punish you, I know you do not want to be left here."
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