"Jellyfish and Rosin" by Major-Jim - Patrick O'Brian - Aubrey and Maturin
TITLE: Jellyfish and Rosin
AUTHOR: Major Jim
CHARACTERS: Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin
RATING: G
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, however much I'd like to; I'm just playing with them.
CHALLENGE PROMPT: Superstitions
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm a complete newbie to LJ so I really hope this all works! Also many thanks to jadesfire2808 for beta-ing
WORDCOUNT: 1,995 (sorry, it's a little long...)
Jellyfish and Rosin
Seven knots: a respectable speed for the conditions, a light topsail breeze blowing true from the depths of the Mediterranean, and carrying HMS Surprise, a elderly 28-gun frigate of antiquated design but captained by John Aubrey Esq., (quite high on the Post-Captains list, parliamentary member for Milport, and one of the best-known captains in the Royal Navy having, in his first command, that of the small sloop Sophie, captured the far more powerful Caçafuego) on the starboard tack towards that distant forest, eight miles on the horizon and clearly visible from the quarterdeck, at which point the frigate would wear, retracing her path back towards the Ile de Porquerolles in the east.
Respectable, but not remarkable, and Jack, glancing out of the stern galley windows, made a mental note to mention it to the Master at the next opportunity: it was possible that an extra half-knot could be found be re-stowing some of the water barrels which had been loaded up the week before, and which the hands, impatient to finish and to change into their shore-going rig for what could be their last night of freedom, had taken little care over. Little care indeed, and even after five days of tolerably sweet sailing, Jack's brow furrowed as he considered the state of his command. The drunkenness of practically all hands, from the Gunner, (a sullen beast of a man, but one who loved to point a brass nine-pounder) to the smallest of the ship's boys had been nothing new; tolerated and, providing it resulted in nothing too gross, ignored; but the desperate hurry of the men to spend what little they had, together with whatever could be found, borrowed or stolen, depressed him still even after so very many years at sea. The phrase "the immemorial custom of the service" floated across his mind before the arrival of Stephen Maturin, Jack's particular friend, with permanent access to the great cabin, as well as the ship's surgeon and member by right of the gunroom, drove it from his consciousness.
"Good day to you, Jack. Would there be coffee, at all?"
"By all means," Jack replied, and, directing his voice towards the door to the cabin, "Killick. Killick, there. Alight along a pot of coffee and some of those petit fours."
"Which they're on their way" came the high-pitched, shrewish voice, adding, by way of afterthought, "Sir." The door swung back, propelled by Killick's foot, and a silver tray, laden with two sea-going mugs, a coffee-pot, and a plate containing four petit fours (no more, since they were adored by Killick and, in rare moments of magnanimity, his mate Bill) appeared.
"Put them on the table," said Jack, and, when Killick had retired, leaving the door slightly ajar (so as not to miss a word), he turned back to Stephen with a quick smile and said, "now, tell me how you are doing. I have barely seen you these last few days."
"I might, too," said Stephen, "once I have quenched my desire for that coffee."
How well it went down, strong and black, grinding coffee and polishing silver being close on the sole two qualities Killick possessed, yet having each in such high degree that they almost outweighed his petulance, his frequent drunkenness, his laziness and his tyranny over servants, marines, and junior officers.
"Well now," said Stephen, putting down his third cup and wiping his lips, "we have the usual cases, for which I am prescribing the Venice treatment, two spilt heads, and Robertson has proved a most interesting case" - the unlucky Robertson had tripped, or been propelled, down a steep flight of stairs, the resulting broken rib quite puncturing one lung, "but I have mostly been kept busy with my specimens."
Jack suppressed a shudder; the memory of the gunroom table bestrewn with numerous jellyfish in various stages of decay was a disquieting one, but making a civil effort to maintain his composure said "will you tell me about them?"
"Certainly I will," replied Stephan, visibly pleased. "Well now, you will recall that article in the Proceedings a couple of years ago - Thompson prating on as usual about his scyphomedusae?"
Jack inclined his head, and allowed the familiar litany to wash over him.
"-and you will recall that each had been found only in the waters around the southern tip of India." Here Stephen paused, nodded to himself and continued. "The southern tip. Well, I have made the most unexpected discovery amongst the local scyphozoae - a veritable harvest of what I take to be a related species. Bonden was good enough to take me a small distance from the ship and I counted no less than nine of the creatures within the reach of my little net. Should it prove non-descript, I shall write a paper on it for the Transactions; there is a peculiarity in the length and distribution of its tentacles that I have not seen described before."
A witticism about scyphomedusae, untameable hair and tentacles swept across Jack's mind, but, unable to make it take shape, he allowed himself no more than a smile and a kindly "Well, that would be marvellous, to be sure. Have another cup of coffee."
"Thank you, Jack," said Stephen, "and then I must return to my specimens. I dare not leave them unattended; some are in spirits of wine."
Jack poured the remaining coffee into their cups, and stepped over to the wide stern-galley window. The sun, late in the sky, imparted the sea a curious turquoise property, and presently, in a diffident voice, Stephen asked "Jack, do you care to tell me your plans?"
"Why, of course," said Jack. "But you realise these are very much the ideal case. A thousand things could happen to make them all redundant; however, I don't think that events will be so very far out."
The explanation ran on, complex details explained in a manner suitable to the meanest understanding, and illustrated with biscuit pieces on the broad expanse of table, cleared for the purpose, before Jack, drawing to a close, said "of course, I can't be sure, and as I've said it all depends entirely, entirely on the wind, but that said, I would expect him to show his nose tomorrow, at high tide, or thereabouts."
"I thank you, Jack," said Stephen, "and with that I shall attend to my collections."
The evening - a pleasant one, with the phosphorescent wake stretching out straight and true with never a kink - wound along its usual course, with memories of mutual friends and acquaintances, family, and the retelling of favourite stories. After the toasted cheese had made its appearance, still bubbling with a light golden crust, and, the dishes scraped out, the aroma being the only remaining evidence of its existence, Stephen yawned and, reaching out to refill his glass of wine, said "Jack, what do you say to a game of cards?"
"Cards, Stephen? With you? Alas, I must refuse: tomorrow, all being well, we may see action, and, besides, you know that you always triumph over me. You have the most infernal luck I've ever known, and what could be more inauspicious than for a ship's commander to be hipped when he requires all of his concentration to take, sink or destroy?"
"Come, brother, hipped? Surely not. And fie on you for a weak superstitious woman - inauspicious, forsooth. Admit it: you cannot face writing to Sophie to inform her that her husband, pride of the Royal Navy and a member of the Royal Society to boot, has lost again in a game that is, after all, mostly luck."
"But that is where you have me," said Jack. "I shall need all of my luck tomorrow, and would not care to diminish my stock by even so much as one iota if it would mean risking losing- but come, I nearly said something very improper. I mean, I would not chose to do anything that might make Dame Fortune look less kindly upon the barky. I care not for myself, but owe it to the rest, you understand."
Stephen said nothing, but pursed his lips and shrugged. Picking up the deck, he dealt a random assortment of cards onto the table top and, in silence, began to rearrange them in ascending order.
"Besides," said Jack, ignoring him, "I cannot in all conscience risk our prize money on the mere drawing of cards. Sophie don't approve."
"As for that, Jack," said Stephen, looking up with a smile, "do not let it worry you. I know dear Sophie has strong views on the matter. But what say you to a new game? - the young gentlemen were playing in the midshipmen's berth and I persuaded one of them, the amiable Mr Callamy to teach me. Would you care for me to show you? And, if I should triumph, I ask nothing more than that you would treat yourself to your own piece of rosin when next we are ashore."
"Very well, Stephen," said Jack. "I give in. I surrender. I lay myself open to what will no doubt merely reinforce my initial reluctance. But what should happen if fortune should abandon her habits?"
"Why, in that case," said Stephen, "I propose that I should name my newest discovery after you. The scyphozoae…"
"No, no, Stephen," cried Jack. "I could not hear of it. Besides, you have already done me far too much honour - Testudo aubreii - and people would think that I was blowing my own harp - no, come, that ain't it -"
"Never fear, brother," cried Stephen, laughing. "If you should win, I shall name him after the ship. We both owe her much."
"Amen to that, brother," said Jack.
The cards were dealt out, and presently, after a time in which Stephen explained the bare rudiments of the game, the familiar sounds filled the cabin.
"Three aces."
"Not good. Four kings."
"A deux."
The light dimmed, and, as the ship ran on, the score sheet gradually filled, first Stephen ahead, then Jack, then Stephen again. Finally, Jack cocked his head, and said with a smile "It's getting late, Stephen. Three bells in the graveyard watch" - seeing Stephen's dull heaviness - "half past one. I think we should call it a night here - I must sleep before tomorrow."
"True, Jack, true. I think I too shall retire; in addition, a small cigar may calm my spirits and allow me to awake fully refreshed; tomorrow may prove to be a tiring day."
"But come," said Jack. "What's the score? When last I looked you were thirty points ahead."
Stephan glanced at his cards, added the total onto the sheet and smiled. "Jack, I have a most prodigious surprise for you. And one that will make you regret your decision not to play for cash. I find that, desipite your not inconsiderable natural disadvantages - especially your habit of leaving your hand face up when you leave the room - you have triumphed by no less than three points!"
"No, Stephen," cried Jack. "Surely not. Is there some mistake - some number that is not quite right?"
"No," said Stephen, checking his addition. "You have genuinely won. My heartiest congratulations -although now, alas, I fear I may never know the sinful pride caused by the sole ownership of one's own rosin - but I wish you joy. What could be a better omen for tomorrow?"
"What indeed?" said Jack. "I am amazed, struck down. But Stephen, you weren't serious about the jellyfish, were you? I mean, surely you must have other, worthier patrons, who would, in receipt of a certificate bearing their name and made out all official, be grateful to have a fish named after them, even one so gelatinous as yours?"
"Never in life, brother," said Stephen, rising from his chair with a fond smile. "I meant every word. And what could be more auspicious for tomorrow than to honour the dear Surprise? I therefore name my scyphomedusa Aurelia admiratio."
THE END
AUTHOR: Major Jim
CHARACTERS: Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin
RATING: G
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, however much I'd like to; I'm just playing with them.
CHALLENGE PROMPT: Superstitions
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm a complete newbie to LJ so I really hope this all works! Also many thanks to jadesfire2808 for beta-ing
WORDCOUNT: 1,995 (sorry, it's a little long...)
Jellyfish and Rosin
Seven knots: a respectable speed for the conditions, a light topsail breeze blowing true from the depths of the Mediterranean, and carrying HMS Surprise, a elderly 28-gun frigate of antiquated design but captained by John Aubrey Esq., (quite high on the Post-Captains list, parliamentary member for Milport, and one of the best-known captains in the Royal Navy having, in his first command, that of the small sloop Sophie, captured the far more powerful Caçafuego) on the starboard tack towards that distant forest, eight miles on the horizon and clearly visible from the quarterdeck, at which point the frigate would wear, retracing her path back towards the Ile de Porquerolles in the east.
Respectable, but not remarkable, and Jack, glancing out of the stern galley windows, made a mental note to mention it to the Master at the next opportunity: it was possible that an extra half-knot could be found be re-stowing some of the water barrels which had been loaded up the week before, and which the hands, impatient to finish and to change into their shore-going rig for what could be their last night of freedom, had taken little care over. Little care indeed, and even after five days of tolerably sweet sailing, Jack's brow furrowed as he considered the state of his command. The drunkenness of practically all hands, from the Gunner, (a sullen beast of a man, but one who loved to point a brass nine-pounder) to the smallest of the ship's boys had been nothing new; tolerated and, providing it resulted in nothing too gross, ignored; but the desperate hurry of the men to spend what little they had, together with whatever could be found, borrowed or stolen, depressed him still even after so very many years at sea. The phrase "the immemorial custom of the service" floated across his mind before the arrival of Stephen Maturin, Jack's particular friend, with permanent access to the great cabin, as well as the ship's surgeon and member by right of the gunroom, drove it from his consciousness.
"Good day to you, Jack. Would there be coffee, at all?"
"By all means," Jack replied, and, directing his voice towards the door to the cabin, "Killick. Killick, there. Alight along a pot of coffee and some of those petit fours."
"Which they're on their way" came the high-pitched, shrewish voice, adding, by way of afterthought, "Sir." The door swung back, propelled by Killick's foot, and a silver tray, laden with two sea-going mugs, a coffee-pot, and a plate containing four petit fours (no more, since they were adored by Killick and, in rare moments of magnanimity, his mate Bill) appeared.
"Put them on the table," said Jack, and, when Killick had retired, leaving the door slightly ajar (so as not to miss a word), he turned back to Stephen with a quick smile and said, "now, tell me how you are doing. I have barely seen you these last few days."
"I might, too," said Stephen, "once I have quenched my desire for that coffee."
How well it went down, strong and black, grinding coffee and polishing silver being close on the sole two qualities Killick possessed, yet having each in such high degree that they almost outweighed his petulance, his frequent drunkenness, his laziness and his tyranny over servants, marines, and junior officers.
"Well now," said Stephen, putting down his third cup and wiping his lips, "we have the usual cases, for which I am prescribing the Venice treatment, two spilt heads, and Robertson has proved a most interesting case" - the unlucky Robertson had tripped, or been propelled, down a steep flight of stairs, the resulting broken rib quite puncturing one lung, "but I have mostly been kept busy with my specimens."
Jack suppressed a shudder; the memory of the gunroom table bestrewn with numerous jellyfish in various stages of decay was a disquieting one, but making a civil effort to maintain his composure said "will you tell me about them?"
"Certainly I will," replied Stephan, visibly pleased. "Well now, you will recall that article in the Proceedings a couple of years ago - Thompson prating on as usual about his scyphomedusae?"
Jack inclined his head, and allowed the familiar litany to wash over him.
"-and you will recall that each had been found only in the waters around the southern tip of India." Here Stephen paused, nodded to himself and continued. "The southern tip. Well, I have made the most unexpected discovery amongst the local scyphozoae - a veritable harvest of what I take to be a related species. Bonden was good enough to take me a small distance from the ship and I counted no less than nine of the creatures within the reach of my little net. Should it prove non-descript, I shall write a paper on it for the Transactions; there is a peculiarity in the length and distribution of its tentacles that I have not seen described before."
A witticism about scyphomedusae, untameable hair and tentacles swept across Jack's mind, but, unable to make it take shape, he allowed himself no more than a smile and a kindly "Well, that would be marvellous, to be sure. Have another cup of coffee."
"Thank you, Jack," said Stephen, "and then I must return to my specimens. I dare not leave them unattended; some are in spirits of wine."
Jack poured the remaining coffee into their cups, and stepped over to the wide stern-galley window. The sun, late in the sky, imparted the sea a curious turquoise property, and presently, in a diffident voice, Stephen asked "Jack, do you care to tell me your plans?"
"Why, of course," said Jack. "But you realise these are very much the ideal case. A thousand things could happen to make them all redundant; however, I don't think that events will be so very far out."
The explanation ran on, complex details explained in a manner suitable to the meanest understanding, and illustrated with biscuit pieces on the broad expanse of table, cleared for the purpose, before Jack, drawing to a close, said "of course, I can't be sure, and as I've said it all depends entirely, entirely on the wind, but that said, I would expect him to show his nose tomorrow, at high tide, or thereabouts."
"I thank you, Jack," said Stephen, "and with that I shall attend to my collections."
The evening - a pleasant one, with the phosphorescent wake stretching out straight and true with never a kink - wound along its usual course, with memories of mutual friends and acquaintances, family, and the retelling of favourite stories. After the toasted cheese had made its appearance, still bubbling with a light golden crust, and, the dishes scraped out, the aroma being the only remaining evidence of its existence, Stephen yawned and, reaching out to refill his glass of wine, said "Jack, what do you say to a game of cards?"
"Cards, Stephen? With you? Alas, I must refuse: tomorrow, all being well, we may see action, and, besides, you know that you always triumph over me. You have the most infernal luck I've ever known, and what could be more inauspicious than for a ship's commander to be hipped when he requires all of his concentration to take, sink or destroy?"
"Come, brother, hipped? Surely not. And fie on you for a weak superstitious woman - inauspicious, forsooth. Admit it: you cannot face writing to Sophie to inform her that her husband, pride of the Royal Navy and a member of the Royal Society to boot, has lost again in a game that is, after all, mostly luck."
"But that is where you have me," said Jack. "I shall need all of my luck tomorrow, and would not care to diminish my stock by even so much as one iota if it would mean risking losing- but come, I nearly said something very improper. I mean, I would not chose to do anything that might make Dame Fortune look less kindly upon the barky. I care not for myself, but owe it to the rest, you understand."
Stephen said nothing, but pursed his lips and shrugged. Picking up the deck, he dealt a random assortment of cards onto the table top and, in silence, began to rearrange them in ascending order.
"Besides," said Jack, ignoring him, "I cannot in all conscience risk our prize money on the mere drawing of cards. Sophie don't approve."
"As for that, Jack," said Stephen, looking up with a smile, "do not let it worry you. I know dear Sophie has strong views on the matter. But what say you to a new game? - the young gentlemen were playing in the midshipmen's berth and I persuaded one of them, the amiable Mr Callamy to teach me. Would you care for me to show you? And, if I should triumph, I ask nothing more than that you would treat yourself to your own piece of rosin when next we are ashore."
"Very well, Stephen," said Jack. "I give in. I surrender. I lay myself open to what will no doubt merely reinforce my initial reluctance. But what should happen if fortune should abandon her habits?"
"Why, in that case," said Stephen, "I propose that I should name my newest discovery after you. The scyphozoae…"
"No, no, Stephen," cried Jack. "I could not hear of it. Besides, you have already done me far too much honour - Testudo aubreii - and people would think that I was blowing my own harp - no, come, that ain't it -"
"Never fear, brother," cried Stephen, laughing. "If you should win, I shall name him after the ship. We both owe her much."
"Amen to that, brother," said Jack.
The cards were dealt out, and presently, after a time in which Stephen explained the bare rudiments of the game, the familiar sounds filled the cabin.
"Three aces."
"Not good. Four kings."
"A deux."
The light dimmed, and, as the ship ran on, the score sheet gradually filled, first Stephen ahead, then Jack, then Stephen again. Finally, Jack cocked his head, and said with a smile "It's getting late, Stephen. Three bells in the graveyard watch" - seeing Stephen's dull heaviness - "half past one. I think we should call it a night here - I must sleep before tomorrow."
"True, Jack, true. I think I too shall retire; in addition, a small cigar may calm my spirits and allow me to awake fully refreshed; tomorrow may prove to be a tiring day."
"But come," said Jack. "What's the score? When last I looked you were thirty points ahead."
Stephan glanced at his cards, added the total onto the sheet and smiled. "Jack, I have a most prodigious surprise for you. And one that will make you regret your decision not to play for cash. I find that, desipite your not inconsiderable natural disadvantages - especially your habit of leaving your hand face up when you leave the room - you have triumphed by no less than three points!"
"No, Stephen," cried Jack. "Surely not. Is there some mistake - some number that is not quite right?"
"No," said Stephen, checking his addition. "You have genuinely won. My heartiest congratulations -although now, alas, I fear I may never know the sinful pride caused by the sole ownership of one's own rosin - but I wish you joy. What could be a better omen for tomorrow?"
"What indeed?" said Jack. "I am amazed, struck down. But Stephen, you weren't serious about the jellyfish, were you? I mean, surely you must have other, worthier patrons, who would, in receipt of a certificate bearing their name and made out all official, be grateful to have a fish named after them, even one so gelatinous as yours?"
"Never in life, brother," said Stephen, rising from his chair with a fond smile. "I meant every word. And what could be more auspicious for tomorrow than to honour the dear Surprise? I therefore name my scyphomedusa Aurelia admiratio."
THE END