Advent Calendar Day 11: Ficlet: Gifts of Gold and Paper
Merry Christmas, perfect_duet!
Title: Gifts of gold and paper
Author: jasmasson
Rating: G
Words: 900
Pairing: Jack Aubrey/Stephen Maturin
Summary: A ship’s Christmas
***
Stephen could, perhaps, be less than generally observant when he was sufficiently engrossed in his studies, he would admit.
The crew had, happily, been generally well, barring one of the newest seaman’s continual insistence he had scarlet fever (he had, in fact, a chronic case of laziness, which Stephen was certain a few more weeks at sea would either kill or cure), and there had been no recent battles (to Jack’s disgust) and so Stephen had been at leisure to conduct as detailed studies as he had wished on the flora and fauna he’d been able to collect from the island at which they’d last stopped to take on water.
Stephen had been aware of Jack’s boredom, though, of course. Jack would never admit to such - too much a stoic man of the sea in his own mind - but he was restless and irritable when inactive, and it was impossible not to notice a man of Jack’s size and demeanour when he was sulking. The young midshipman were having quite a torrid time, Stephen knew, as Jack alleviated his boredom by intensifying their training in the mysterious (to Stephen at least) arts of seamanship.
Even Stephen, however, could not fail to notice the change in the ship’s attitude today. There was a general level of excitement, Stephen noticed, but, if he was entirely honest, what he mostly noticed was the small, but numerous, evergreen garlands now decorating the ship. If Jack was anything, he was a stickler for naval tidiness (Stephen had heard many a diatribe on the potential dangers in battle of something being out-of-place or, hypothetically of course, filled with rare rodents rather than gunpowder, for example), so there must be a reason for Jack to allow such a thing.
Stephen squinted thoughtfully at the wide, bright blue sky and beaming sun. He wasn’t entirely sure where they were, and also, not entirely certain of the date. He tried some mental calculations and came up short. Certainly from the date they left Portsmouth some months ago he believed it to be an English wintertime, as unlikely as the current weather made that seem to his instincts, but surely more November than December?
***
“What is the date today, Jack?”
Jack glanced up from his papers. “Christmas Eve,” he said with a slight smile. “Surely you have heard Killick’s rendition of O come all ye faithful?”
Stephen had heard Killick’s rendition of something, certainly, but he’d be hard pressed to have identified either lyrics or tune.
“Are there any traditions to be observed on ship at Christmas?” Stephen asked. Naval men were as superstitious as any backwater witch-doctor, and Stephen would not have been surprised at all at tales of ritually slaughtered goose, or the burning of evergreen effigies.
Jack shrugged. “An extra measure of grog for the men, and the best the storerooms can offer for my table tomorrow. Alas, I fear they may not yield turkey, or goose, but I believe a pudding may not be too much to hope for. Sadly, there will have to be a service in the morning that I shall have to read.”
“Will you give gifts to the officers?” Stephen asked.
“Of course not,” Jack scoffed. “None will expect it.”
Stephen considered the youngest boys with a frown, many of whom he had seen hastily stifle tears in his sickroom when the Captain had visited eager even in their youth to appear as men, and all of whom would be far more likely to worship Lucky Jack than the One whom Christmas was intended to honour.
“I’m sure you know best, Jack.”
***
The boys had positively glowed over their Christmas gifts the next day.
They were nothing but pages of old logs that Jack had kept of his past voyages. Pages from important days carefully cut out; Christmases past, or noticeable battles, but the young midshipman had handled them like they were made of gold leaf rather than old, yellowed paper.
“Those were thoughtful gifts for the boys, Jack,” Stephen commented as he picked up his cello Christmas evening. They had sheet music for Christmas songs, and he was feeling rather festive, as the Christmas dinner had, in fact, yielded a goose and an excellent pudding.
Jack snorted a laugh, fetching his violin and another small case, “They were the best I could do from what I had on the ship last night. It was that or old breeches cut into handkerchiefs.”
Stephen laughed. “I think they preferred what you went with.”
Jack smiled, and brought the small case over to Stephen. “Merry Christmas, Stephen.”
“I have enough handkerchiefs, thank you, Joy,” Stephen said, smiling, but he opened the box anyway.
The box contained a small microscope, an excellent size for insects. Stephen sucked in a breath. It was an incredibly expensive gift. He blinked at it, staring for a long moment before looking over to Jack.
“Something you had lying around the cabin last night?” he asked Jack softly.
Jack smiled, and picked out the first bars of Joy to the World on his violin.
***
Merry Christmas, perfect_duet!
Paranoid author note: O come all ye faithful would probably still have been known as Adeste Fideles in Jack’s time, but it just fitted Killick for me.
Title: Gifts of gold and paper
Author: jasmasson
Rating: G
Words: 900
Pairing: Jack Aubrey/Stephen Maturin
Summary: A ship’s Christmas
***
Stephen could, perhaps, be less than generally observant when he was sufficiently engrossed in his studies, he would admit.
The crew had, happily, been generally well, barring one of the newest seaman’s continual insistence he had scarlet fever (he had, in fact, a chronic case of laziness, which Stephen was certain a few more weeks at sea would either kill or cure), and there had been no recent battles (to Jack’s disgust) and so Stephen had been at leisure to conduct as detailed studies as he had wished on the flora and fauna he’d been able to collect from the island at which they’d last stopped to take on water.
Stephen had been aware of Jack’s boredom, though, of course. Jack would never admit to such - too much a stoic man of the sea in his own mind - but he was restless and irritable when inactive, and it was impossible not to notice a man of Jack’s size and demeanour when he was sulking. The young midshipman were having quite a torrid time, Stephen knew, as Jack alleviated his boredom by intensifying their training in the mysterious (to Stephen at least) arts of seamanship.
Even Stephen, however, could not fail to notice the change in the ship’s attitude today. There was a general level of excitement, Stephen noticed, but, if he was entirely honest, what he mostly noticed was the small, but numerous, evergreen garlands now decorating the ship. If Jack was anything, he was a stickler for naval tidiness (Stephen had heard many a diatribe on the potential dangers in battle of something being out-of-place or, hypothetically of course, filled with rare rodents rather than gunpowder, for example), so there must be a reason for Jack to allow such a thing.
Stephen squinted thoughtfully at the wide, bright blue sky and beaming sun. He wasn’t entirely sure where they were, and also, not entirely certain of the date. He tried some mental calculations and came up short. Certainly from the date they left Portsmouth some months ago he believed it to be an English wintertime, as unlikely as the current weather made that seem to his instincts, but surely more November than December?
***
“What is the date today, Jack?”
Jack glanced up from his papers. “Christmas Eve,” he said with a slight smile. “Surely you have heard Killick’s rendition of O come all ye faithful?”
Stephen had heard Killick’s rendition of something, certainly, but he’d be hard pressed to have identified either lyrics or tune.
“Are there any traditions to be observed on ship at Christmas?” Stephen asked. Naval men were as superstitious as any backwater witch-doctor, and Stephen would not have been surprised at all at tales of ritually slaughtered goose, or the burning of evergreen effigies.
Jack shrugged. “An extra measure of grog for the men, and the best the storerooms can offer for my table tomorrow. Alas, I fear they may not yield turkey, or goose, but I believe a pudding may not be too much to hope for. Sadly, there will have to be a service in the morning that I shall have to read.”
“Will you give gifts to the officers?” Stephen asked.
“Of course not,” Jack scoffed. “None will expect it.”
Stephen considered the youngest boys with a frown, many of whom he had seen hastily stifle tears in his sickroom when the Captain had visited eager even in their youth to appear as men, and all of whom would be far more likely to worship Lucky Jack than the One whom Christmas was intended to honour.
“I’m sure you know best, Jack.”
***
The boys had positively glowed over their Christmas gifts the next day.
They were nothing but pages of old logs that Jack had kept of his past voyages. Pages from important days carefully cut out; Christmases past, or noticeable battles, but the young midshipman had handled them like they were made of gold leaf rather than old, yellowed paper.
“Those were thoughtful gifts for the boys, Jack,” Stephen commented as he picked up his cello Christmas evening. They had sheet music for Christmas songs, and he was feeling rather festive, as the Christmas dinner had, in fact, yielded a goose and an excellent pudding.
Jack snorted a laugh, fetching his violin and another small case, “They were the best I could do from what I had on the ship last night. It was that or old breeches cut into handkerchiefs.”
Stephen laughed. “I think they preferred what you went with.”
Jack smiled, and brought the small case over to Stephen. “Merry Christmas, Stephen.”
“I have enough handkerchiefs, thank you, Joy,” Stephen said, smiling, but he opened the box anyway.
The box contained a small microscope, an excellent size for insects. Stephen sucked in a breath. It was an incredibly expensive gift. He blinked at it, staring for a long moment before looking over to Jack.
“Something you had lying around the cabin last night?” he asked Jack softly.
Jack smiled, and picked out the first bars of Joy to the World on his violin.
***
Merry Christmas, perfect_duet!
Paranoid author note: O come all ye faithful would probably still have been known as Adeste Fideles in Jack’s time, but it just fitted Killick for me.