MAES 39: Repaying the Debt
AN: This takes place in Chapter 6. Jack never has seemed able to grasp just how much certain of his followers adore him, and though I believe it was clear enough to all readers that Babbington would never try to cheat Jack out of his chance for glory, at the same time I felt his anxiety. Therefore, I thought it would be a good idea for Babbington to have a chance to express his gratitude to Jack.
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The offer he dreaded could not be refused, since if the Diane were captured the action would make William Babbington, now only a commander, a post-captain, the essential step to a flag and high command. Jack had been on the point of telling Stephen this: but it would not do. William must see it for himself, or not at all.
-The Letter of Marque, pg.171, Norton Press paperback
Repaying the Debt
Well, sir,” said Babbington unwillingly, “I shall do what you say; but I wish to God I were going with you.”
Jack smiled and said, a little consciously, “Before I go, William, I want to thank you for your cooperation in this, and for your allowing me to take the lead role, as it were. Your promotion aside, this is the sort of mission that would bring great glory to you, if it were successful.”
“Oh, no sir, not at all,” replied Babbington, smiling kindly. “I know full well what this means to you, and I should certainly never stand in your way. I should have to be a most ungrateful scrub to so rob you, after all you have done to help me.”
“I have not done so much as all that, William,” said Jack gravely. “If you had shown no skill at seamanship, and if I had not seen in you the makings of a good officer, I should never have done so much as I did. And it was little enough, in all conscience. You never needed my good word, being so well-connected otherwise.”
William looked suddenly serious, and after a moment asked, “May I speak plainly, sir, as one man to another?”
“If you please; I prefer candor, as you know.”
“Well sir,” Babbington looked at the floor, then finding his voice began, nervously at first, but gaining in resolution as he went on. “From the day I first entered the service, I knew that because of my family’s influence, I was pretty near sure of eventual promotion to flag rank, so long as I was not knocked on the head, or did nothing very wrong. Because of this, I was rather careless about certain things; I attended to my duty, but I did not particularly try to distinguish myself. ‘Why bother?’ I thought. It was not as though I were one of those coves who had no prospects or influence, and had to fight like demons to make it as far as lieutenant. But then, a few weeks after you joined the Sophie, I was on the watch, and you had the cabin windows open while you were speaking with the doctor; I was not eavesdropping sir, not exactly, but I could not help hearing. You were talking about personal influence versus personal merit in terms of promotion in the service, and you said it was a true pity that so many men unfit to command were given high rank based on little more than the high positions they were born into, and the influence that they or their family members could exert on those who made promotions. You said you had little opinion of ‘jumped-up young fellows who thought that just because their father was a peer, or a lord, or simply quite rich’ it meant that he was naturally more capable of leading a ship into battle than anyone else, regardless of real naval skill, and more deserving of higher rank than those fellows who were true seaman, but had the misfortune to be of obscure birth.”
He paused a moment, then went on.
“Now, I had never lorded my birth over the other mids, or anyone else. Indeed, I often stood aside for them, to give them their chances to distinguish themselves, since they needed it more, having so much less influence. Nor did I think I would be capable of commanding a ship earlier than they could - at least not then - but all the same your words haunted me. I realized I had not been far from being one of the entitled scrubs you described, if for different reasons. I did not want to overshadow the others by being both entitled and notably skilled, but I realized then that that was wrong! That if I did not prove myself I would be no better than them, and I determined then to learn everything I could about command and ship-handling, that I would strive for excellence in everything I did, so that when I rose through the ranks I would always know I had earned it, that it was not simply a gift I received based on station.”
“And so, sir, I really should be thanking you, d’you see? I might still be receiving a post-captain’s commission now even if I had never sailed with you, but if I had not, I never should have felt I deserved it. I may not have needed your good word to ensure my advancement, either, but it means a great deal to me, more than my promotion in certain respects. So what I mean to say is this: thank you, sir - for everything.”
He extended his hand, no longer nervous, but steady, looking at Jack as a successful student might look at the teacher who had helped him gain that success.
Jack took his hand, but instead of shaking it, or releasing him, he abruptly pulled Babbington closer, as he had done with Tom Pullings some years before, lifting the shorter man clear off his feet, and embracing him tightly.
Before Babbington could overcome his shock, he heard Jack’s voice in his ear, rough yet firm.
“If there is one thing I shall never regret from my time in the service,” he said, low and fierce. “It is how much I was able to teach you, and what you have chosen to do with it.” He set Babbington on his feet, drew back to look him straight in the eye, and stated, “I’m proud of you, William. You and all my boys. Don’t ever doubt that.”
He bent down, pressed his lips to Babbington’s forehead in a brief, fatherly kiss, and turned to leave. Babbington remained in the cabin, groping in his pocket for a handkerchief, half-blinded by tears.
0~0
Half an hour passed, the line of ships coming closer, closer, until Jack, filling his lungs, called “Tartarus, ahoy.”
“Surprise?” came the answer. “Boats will cast off directly and pull south-west. Will you show a glim?” Jack opened his dark-lantern for a moment and he heard the order “Boats away.” And then, as they passed on opposite tacks another voice, Babbington’s, “God bless you, sir.”
-The Letter of Marque, pg. 215, Norton Press paperback