But there are things that far outweigh the fear of his own neck stretched from the yardarm. Kennedy has lived through fear before and come out the other side. And he knows more than he cares to recount who have not been as fortunate.

The midshipmen's berth is empty and Archie walks around it slowly. It is as scarred as the Justinian's, but holds none of the heavy memories. It's strange how a plague infects a ship from the inside out, seeping into the wood and hanging in the air.

"Oh. Mr. Kennedy, sir."

Kennedy turns and manages a nod to Wellard, his jaw tightening at the drawn, pained look on the young man's face. "Mr. Wellard. I had hoped to speak with you."

"Of course, Mr. Kennedy."

Archie sighs and sits at the table, running his fingers along the grained wood. He opens his mouth to speak then closes it again, ducking his head and blowing out a long breath. "We have, one and all, been beaten, Mr. Wellard. It is…the way of the Navy. Discipline and pain seem well-acquainted."

"I have not complained of my punishment, Sir."

"No. No, of course not, Mr. Wellard. However, as much as discipline is needed in the Navy, on a ship, on this ship, it is also important that it be tendered with…" Archie pauses and glances away then back at Wellard, meeting the boy's eyes. "Judgment. Good judgment, Mr. Wellard, which is sorely lacking on this ship."

"Mr. Kennedy…"

"Mr. Wellard," Archie stands and takes a step toward the boy then leans back instead against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. "Mr. Wellard, you have done no wrong, for the Captain or any man to say otherwise…"

"Mr. Kennedy, I am aware that neither your nor Mr. Hornblower…" Wellard closes his eyes for a moment, his face lined with pain.

Archie straightens and touches a hand to Wellard's shoulder, bowing his head and resting it against the younger man's. "Scars fade and heal in time. The body is resilient. It can take punishment that you think would destroy it and stay alive…thrive. Wounds that sting and bleed will close and burn and then cease to exist everywhere but in your mind." He drops his voice, fully aware of the tableau this moment provides, aware that mutiny is not the only sin likely to find one punished with death. Archie closes his eyes and touches his face to one of Wellard's cheeks, his hand warm against the opposite one. "Think, Mr. Wellard. Think and plan and plot and do not let them own your mind, Mr. Wellard. Let the sickness work its way out through your flesh and keep your mind from them."

"Mr. Kennedy, I…"

"And live, Mr. Wellard." Archie releases the younger man and shifts back, staring him in the eyes; ghosts no doubt alive in his own blue ones. "Live to bury them all."