These Old Shades
Title: These Old Shades
Author: esteven
Characters: Jack, Stephen, a former naval officer, an eminent natural philosopher
Rating: (probably PG)
Spoilers: Spring 1827, therefore Post-Aubreyad, a bit of Treason’s Harbour
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Patrick O’Brian and Real Life in the early 19th century
Length: about 3400
Summary: If Jack and Cochrane ever met, the universe might implode?
Author's Note: thanks to feroxargentea for beta and suggestions.
These Old Shades
May 3rd London
Jack looked out of the window of his room at Black’s, chewed on his quill - a habit he had since his youth - , reached for a sheet and began his letter to Sophie. He and Stephen had been in London on business for some time, so he had a good deal to tell her.
Dearest Sophie,
It will not be long now until Stephen and I return to Woolcombe. These last weeks have been busy and much taken up with meetings at the Admiralty and the Royal Society.
What a true pleasure it has been to see Hen again recently. You know, my dear, that he and I no longer see each other as often as we used to when we were still captains and ‘roaming the seas for the glory of England’, as some newspapers would have it. I beg you to look into the recent edition of the Gazette which should have found its way to Dorset. Hen has been made Rear Admiral of the Red…
Here Jack paused and looked with deep satisfaction at his newly brushed uniform coat. It had not been long since he himself had advanced in rank, thanks to some timely demises amongst the senior levels of the Naval hierarchy. Despite the advantage to himself, however, he regretted those deaths wholeheartedly, having known most of those officers, known their valuable service to their country. Still, such was the way of life. He took up his pen and continued.
Stephen and I went to the reception Lord Melville gave on the occasion. You know that I am much indebted to his Lordship for the great kindnesses he had done me over many years, and it has always grieved me to see that his Lordship often did not view his brother favourably, so you will share my pleasure when I tell you that Hen and Lord Melville have come to an understanding. I do not think they will ever love each other, but since Hen has a seat in Parliament they will see each other more often.
Jack paused once more. It had been while the war with France was still raging when a bastard had been laid down at the doors of the Melville family seat. More than a decade ago! This, too, must have helped Hen to get back on equal terms with his brother.
Jack looked at the Breguet he had received when he had been made Rear Admiral of the White two years ago. What was it Stephen had said to him when he had given him the watch? ‘So you will no longer have to borrow mine when you want to have your longitude or latitude measured… You will never lose a minute again,’ Stephen had closed with a flourish. Jack shook his head, smiling at the memory.
He had another hour before he needed to shift into his uniform for the formal dinner that Sir Joseph was giving. Killick and Padeen would certainly take care that Stephen would be brushed up and dressed for the occasion on time.
Several days ago, I was returning to Black’s after a meeting at the Admiralty. It was already late and quite dark, but those gas lights lit the streets comfortably. Wish you were here to see for yourself the splendid effect of brightly lit streets, such as St James’ Street or The Mall. How convenient it would be if we had such lighting in Dorchester or Blandford Forum, or indeed in all larger towns. Surely, it would make the streets safer and easier to walk were they lit by a steady light. Anyway, I am rambling, when what I really want is to tell you about my chance encounter with a man who impressed me greatly.
When I reached Black’s, I went into the library for a nightcap before going upstairs. There was one other person there, a man who looked strangely familiar to me, but I did not wish to intrude on his reading the papers, as it would not have been genteel.
Still, I wondered where I could have met him, and looked at him over the rim of my glass of port. He seemed a few years younger than I, and about my height, with sandy coloured hair, even a bit portly, and I have no doubt Stephen would have lectured him about men of a sanguine temperament falling prey to apoplexy. Though he was in civilian clothes, he had the bearings of an officer, a naval officer. Then he lowered his papers and met my gaze. Sophie, I felt such a scrub. It does not do to be caught watching other gentlemen, so I could only hope he was not insulted by my impertinence.
‘Admiral Aubrey, John Aubrey?’ he addressed me, and on hearing his voice I knew who he was. Thomas, Lord Cochrane. You will surely remember him from many years ago. He commanded Pallas (32) and Imperieuse (38) in the years 1804 and 1807. I always thought him to be a bit too flashy, too unruly, a Radical! Still, a great commander to his men and a prime officer.
He was dismissed the service and stripped of all honours for reasons similar to those accusations levelled at me so many years ago. Lord Cochrane’s fate makes me see how very fortunate I was! Only your support, my dearest Sophie, and that of my friends, my officers and men who stood by me, kept me from despair. And Stephen, who went so far as to buy Surprise for me.
Again, I digress. Lord Cochrane kindly recalled some of the actions I had taken part in during the wars, and spoke highly of the need for good, loyal officers and men. I could only agree. Dearest, it is difficult to believe that he is a Radical! Some of his views even made sense. He will be away to Greece soon, where he will be employed in structuring their Navy. The poor man, having to seek employment elsewhere! Was it not similar for me when I undertook to help build the Chilean Navy? But those sad times are well behind me, behind us, my dearest love, and with God’s blessing, our future will continue to be bright.
Since I knew his Lordship to be an eminent inventor, I mentioned that a friend of mine, Herr von Humboldt, had gone down to the bottom of the Thames a few days ago with young Brunel in his father’s diving bell, much as Stephen and I had done this many a year ago in the Red Sea.
Lord Cochrane was deeply interested, and told me that he and the older Mr Brunel had developed the Tunnel Shield that was now being used to build the Thames Tunnel near Rotherhithe. Do but imagine it: a tunnel under the river! Prince William is much in favour of the project and supports it whole-heartedly. What a fascinating modern age we live in!
When Lord Cochrane had to leave, to get ready for his departure to Greece with the next tide, we parted on the kindest of terms, and I do wish his Lordship well. During our conversation he rose much in my esteem.
I have forgotten to mention this to Stephen and I must do so when he returns. He should be here in a few minutes - indeed, I already heard Killick muttering and cursing down the corridor a while ago. He will surely be here soon to help me shift into my uniform. Hopefully Padeen will do the same - not the muttering and cursing, mind - for old Stephen. It may be fashionable to be late, but it is still not the done thing.
Jack turned in his seat when he heard the door open, and smiled when he saw Stephen, the only person who could walk into his room unannounced.
‘You do look handsome when you want to, joy.’ Jack admired Stephen in his severely-cut black coat and satin breeches.
‘So will you, Admiral dear, once Killick has helped you into the Blue and the Gold.’ Stephen had crossed the room and now stood close to Jack’s chair, smiling down at his friend. He took advantage of this reversed difference in their heights by kissing Jack’s brow and running his hands through Jack’s grey-blond hair, regretting that Jack had finally yielded to Sophie’s wishes to have his hair cut. Now it was short, and though it still suited Admiral Aubrey, Stephen missed threading his fingers through those long blond strands that had belonged to Captain Aubrey and another age.
They looked at each other and Stephen saw a lingering concern in Jack’s eyes. He could well guess what it was about.
‘I told you tonight, and I will not tire of telling you again; Mahon is long in the past. Do not be disturbed any longer, soul, I beg you.’
Jack leaned against Stephen and closed his eyes. Each of them was remembering the previous night, when they had been at a Royal Society dinner. Jack had heard that his friend, Alexander von Humboldt, was in England, and so had asked that he and Stephen be seated next to him.
**********
‘In climbing up from 56 inches pressure to 28 at the surface, I experienced as on the Chimborazo the rupture of small blood vessels in the nose and throat. I spat and sneezed blood till the next day, but in a very innocent manner; the young Brunel never bleeds: it is a Prussian’s privilege.’ Nearly sixty, Alexander von Humboldt was still a good teller of tales, so they had been listening intently to how he and Brunel had descended to the bottom of the Thames in a diving-bell.
Jack and Stephen then described their descent into the Red Sea with a smaller version of Halley’s diving-bell (no mention being made of their reason, its having had to do with naval intelligence), and they and their neighbours speculated as to why those small blood vessels might have ruptured. Neither Jack, nor Stephen, nor two of their friends had experienced any such bleeding during their ascents. The discussion moved to diving bells in detail - Halley’s or Brunel’s, how their designs could be enhanced - their merits, their disadvantages… and from there it went on to the construction of the Thames Tunnel.
When the cloth was drawn, Stephen went off to see another Fellow whom he had been meaning to ask about his latest findings on the human spleen. On their way to the Mitre, he had spoken to Jack at length about this valuable opportunity of meeting his learned colleague. Jack, who had not felt comfortable with the subject, had kept quiet, only inserting appropriate noises now and then. Fortunately the subject had been exhausted before they had reached the inn, and they had instead spoken of their anticipated pleasure in meeting friends and colleagues at the dinner, and of their sadness that the tavern was soon to be demolished for the sake of a mere bank extension. Jack had considered changing from Messrs Hoare when he had first heard about it, but - in fairness - he had to admit that they had treated him kindly at a time when his fortunes had been at a low ebb, a very low ebb, so he had decided to stay with them.
When Stephen had left to speak to his colleague, Jack and von Humboldt sat down at one of the side-tables for their first private words since they had last seen each other. Jack spoke of the results of some of his more recent water and temperature measurements, results that he had not yet had time to send.
Von Humboldt listened attentively at first, but soon seemed pre-occupied. He hardly said a word himself, though he was usually the first to prose away at the slightest excuse; he was not uninteresting, or God forbid boring, but when he started on a subject, it was not generally easy to stop him. Being this quiet and withdrawn was usually not in his nature.
Jack noticed von Humboldt’s distraction. ‘I hope I have not bored you, talking away for so long about water temperatures near the Cape?’ he asked, and continued quietly, ‘There is something amiss, is there not, Alexander? I do not mean to pry, but I cannot fail to notice that your thoughts are elsewhere.’ Jack had often been accused of being slow, but this time at least a thought occurred to him. ‘Perhaps you have had notice from Paraguay, heard of Bonpland?’
Von Humboldt shook his head. ‘I would be easier, then. No, it has been ages since I had any news of Aimé.’ So distraught was he, that he did not appear even to notice his use of Bonpland’s first name. ‘It has been six years, John, six years since he was detained. I have petitioned that vile man de Francia many times, have asked colleagues and other influential people to speak up for my dear friend. Alas, to no avail.’ Von Humboldt sighed and fell silent for a few minutes.
Jack’s voice and eyes conveyed his sincerity. ‘I have experienced this horror of not knowing a friend’s fate. It is the worst thing, much worse than death; but you must never lose heart. Bonpland will be returned to the world.’
Von Humboldt shook himself and looked at Jack. ‘You are a good friend to listen to me, John Aubrey. My heart and mind will delight if your words come true.’
‘Not if, Alexander, when.’ Jack got up to give von Humboldt time to compose himself. ‘Now, I think it is time we rejoined the rest of the party?’
The Prussian nodded, and after they had agreed to meet again before von Humboldt left for his country, they returned to the folds of the other Royal Society Fellows.
Later, on their way home, Jack told Stephen of von Humboldt and his despair over Bonpland’s fate. Stephen only listened, without comment. It was not lost on him that Jack, too, was deeply affected by the situation. When they reached Black’s, they parted at their rooms.
‘You will be well, Jack?’ Stephen did not like the look of despondency on Jack’s face, and heard the lie in his reply, ‘I am fine, dear. Just tired, no more.’ Stephen did not insist, reasoning instead that nothing could keep Jack from sleep. He would be fine again the next morning.
Stephen, still not sleepy, settled into bed and reached for one of the books on his nightstand. He chose a copy of von Humboldt’s Geognostical Essay on the Superposition of Rocks, in Both Hemispheres, and made another start on the essay. It was written with great knowledge, to be sure, but his interests did not lie that way. A comfortable drowsiness overcame him and he felt deliciously close to sleep as he realized that he had read the same paragraph several times. He put the book away, blew out the candle and settled deeper into his cushion. Blessed sleep, so near! He sighed, his lids dropped, and the next instant he sat up straight as he heard Jack in the next room cry out his name.
Stephen was wide awake again, rushing to the door which linked their rooms. (Apologies for this had been made by a trusted servant: all other rooms had been taken, but since Admiral Aubrey and Doctor Maturin were friends, they surely would not mind? The door could be easily locked.) Thankfully, the key had been left in the lock, so Stephen was quickly in Jack’s room.
Jack was tossing in his sleep, obviously in the throes of a nightmare. He groaned and would have cried out again, had not Stephen put a hand over his mouth. Stephen shook him, calling him by name again and again. When none of this helped, when it was clear that Jack was becoming more agitated by the moment, he backhanded him.
Jack’s eyes flew open, he gulped for air, and it seemed as if he still did not know where he was, even as he gripped Stephen’s arm with an almost crushing strength.
Stephen ignored the pain and bent to stroke Jack’s sweaty brow. ‘Jack, you are in your room at the club. You are safe.’ He continued to murmur soothingly, and was relieved when Jack’s eyes finally focussed on him. The grip lessened.
‘Stephen, is it you? You really are safe?’ These low, dejected words alarmed the doctor, but it would not do to agitate Jack’s mind further.
‘What a fellow you are! We are at Black’s, so why should I not be safe?’ Stephen caressed the side of his friend’s face. ‘Will you tell me what disturbed you, so?’
‘May I have something to drink first? I feel near parched.’
‘Certainly, you may.’ Stephen poured water from the carafe on the nightstand and held the glass to Jack’s lips. ‘Slowly, love, there is plenty of water.’ He put the glass down when Jack indicated that he had had enough.
‘Do you feel ready to tell me now? Dear, I might become concerned, else.’ Stephen’s mock-stern voice had the desired effect of calming down Jack even further. Stephen teased, ‘You are blushing. How well a little bashfulness becomes you, my dear,’ and was rewarded with a tiny smile.
Jack swallowed, and licked his lips nervously. He owed Stephen an explanation. ‘I must have…I think the reason was…I feel…’ He stopped, blushing more and feeling three kinds of fool, now that he was awake again.
Stephen nodded encouragingly, still caressing Jack’s face, running his fingers through Jack’s hair.
‘Stephen, I can no longer bear this…not knowing where you are, not knowing how they might be treating you. I have been in such a situation several times. Ever since Mahon...’ His eyes shone the brightest blue from the tears threatening to fall. ‘Stephen, promise me not to take any chances any more.’
‘What has brought this agitation on? Now, when it has been so many years since Mahon? Now, when I have returned safely to you from dangerous situations so many times?’ Stephen could guess at the answer.
‘Bonpland has been in the hands of the Paraguayan dictator for seven years. Von Humboldt has not had any news since then, apart from a short note several years ago. Please, Stephen, promise me,’ Jack said in a much firmer voice.
Stephen thought carefully before he replied, continuing to thread his fingers through soft, greying hair meanwhile.
‘Jack, for the past few months, and for the moment, I am safe. You know as well as I do that I cannot give such a promise, but what I can do is to promise to be careful. That is the best I can offer. Were I to tell you anything else, I would be lying to you.’
Jack nodded. He took one of Stephen’s hands and gently caressed the old scars - reminders of a Menorca long past - with his thumb. Then he looked at Stephen. ‘Will you stay here tonight?’
Stephen knew it would not be wise, it would not be sensible, but he saw Jack’s need for his presence. ‘Make space then, my dearest heart, so that we can both find some peace tonight.’
Jack’s arms pulled the blankets around them. Stephen snuggled close, and before sleep claimed them, he kissed Jack’s jaw. ‘Mahon is long in the past, love... long in the past.’
**********
'Mahon is long past, dear,' Stephen repeated, and more felt than saw his friend nod.
‘The thought of you in the hands of an enemy…’ Jack’s voice trailed away as he bowed his head and sat quietly, a picture of despair. Stephen heard his ragged breathing and raised Jack’s face. With his lips, he gently brushed across his friend’s lids, and then wandered to Jack’s welcoming half-open mouth. Their kiss was light but might have turned into something more ardent, had there not been a loud cough in the corridor, unmistakably Killick’s. They moved apart.
Coughing was Killick’s usual way of warning that he was about to enter. It was also his only acknowledgement that he knew of the more intimate relationship between his captain and the doctor. Otherwise, he was as shrewish as ever.
Stephen watched him shave Jack and help him into the dress uniform of a Rear Admiral of the White. Jack had resisted any suggestion of wearing a belt, even though it had become the latest fashion with officers, and Stephen agreed with him. He would never tell him to his face, but he always enjoyed the bulk that was his lover, viewed it as a sign of Jack’s generosity in flesh and in spirit… and Stephen loved all of him, without bounds and reason.
footnotes:
My timeline only needed an extension of eight or nine weeks, so Thomas, Lord Cochrane leaves for Greece in May 1827, instead of March
Ages:
TC - born 1775 - 52 yrs
JA - born 1771 - 56 yrs
SM - maybe a bit younger, maybe a bit older than Jack
AvH - born 1769 - 59 yrs
Hen - born 1778 - 49 yrs
1818 Marc Brunel and Thomas Cochrane have the Tunnel Shield patented
March 1827 TC resumes responsibility of building up the Greek Navy
April 17th to May 5th 1827 AvH is in London
April 30th, 1827 Diving Bell experience for von Humboldt, who is accompanied by the son of Marc Brunel. Humboldt’s narrative In climbing up… and
May 4th, 1827 for the dinner at the Mitre
I have spent the morning with the boring Dr. Konig and after lunching yesterday with the Duchess of Clarence, I have dined at the Royal Society where one gets poisoned.
are both excerpts from Humboldt’s letters of April, 30th 1827 to Arago and of May 4th, 1827 to Valenciennes
as cited in:
Author(s): Jean Théodoridès
Source: The British Journal for the History of Science, Vol. 3, No. 1 (Jun., 1966), pp. 39-55
Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of The British Society for the History of Science, page 46
1821 to 1831 While journeying to Bolivia he was arrested in 1821, by command of José Gaspar Rodríguez de Francia, the dictator of Paraguay, who detained him until 1831 (excerpt from wiki on Bonpland)
Author: esteven
Characters: Jack, Stephen, a former naval officer, an eminent natural philosopher
Rating: (probably PG)
Spoilers: Spring 1827, therefore Post-Aubreyad, a bit of Treason’s Harbour
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Patrick O’Brian and Real Life in the early 19th century
Length: about 3400
Summary: If Jack and Cochrane ever met, the universe might implode?
Author's Note: thanks to feroxargentea for beta and suggestions.
These Old Shades
May 3rd London
Jack looked out of the window of his room at Black’s, chewed on his quill - a habit he had since his youth - , reached for a sheet and began his letter to Sophie. He and Stephen had been in London on business for some time, so he had a good deal to tell her.
Dearest Sophie,
It will not be long now until Stephen and I return to Woolcombe. These last weeks have been busy and much taken up with meetings at the Admiralty and the Royal Society.
What a true pleasure it has been to see Hen again recently. You know, my dear, that he and I no longer see each other as often as we used to when we were still captains and ‘roaming the seas for the glory of England’, as some newspapers would have it. I beg you to look into the recent edition of the Gazette which should have found its way to Dorset. Hen has been made Rear Admiral of the Red…
Here Jack paused and looked with deep satisfaction at his newly brushed uniform coat. It had not been long since he himself had advanced in rank, thanks to some timely demises amongst the senior levels of the Naval hierarchy. Despite the advantage to himself, however, he regretted those deaths wholeheartedly, having known most of those officers, known their valuable service to their country. Still, such was the way of life. He took up his pen and continued.
Stephen and I went to the reception Lord Melville gave on the occasion. You know that I am much indebted to his Lordship for the great kindnesses he had done me over many years, and it has always grieved me to see that his Lordship often did not view his brother favourably, so you will share my pleasure when I tell you that Hen and Lord Melville have come to an understanding. I do not think they will ever love each other, but since Hen has a seat in Parliament they will see each other more often.
Jack paused once more. It had been while the war with France was still raging when a bastard had been laid down at the doors of the Melville family seat. More than a decade ago! This, too, must have helped Hen to get back on equal terms with his brother.
Jack looked at the Breguet he had received when he had been made Rear Admiral of the White two years ago. What was it Stephen had said to him when he had given him the watch? ‘So you will no longer have to borrow mine when you want to have your longitude or latitude measured… You will never lose a minute again,’ Stephen had closed with a flourish. Jack shook his head, smiling at the memory.
He had another hour before he needed to shift into his uniform for the formal dinner that Sir Joseph was giving. Killick and Padeen would certainly take care that Stephen would be brushed up and dressed for the occasion on time.
Several days ago, I was returning to Black’s after a meeting at the Admiralty. It was already late and quite dark, but those gas lights lit the streets comfortably. Wish you were here to see for yourself the splendid effect of brightly lit streets, such as St James’ Street or The Mall. How convenient it would be if we had such lighting in Dorchester or Blandford Forum, or indeed in all larger towns. Surely, it would make the streets safer and easier to walk were they lit by a steady light. Anyway, I am rambling, when what I really want is to tell you about my chance encounter with a man who impressed me greatly.
When I reached Black’s, I went into the library for a nightcap before going upstairs. There was one other person there, a man who looked strangely familiar to me, but I did not wish to intrude on his reading the papers, as it would not have been genteel.
Still, I wondered where I could have met him, and looked at him over the rim of my glass of port. He seemed a few years younger than I, and about my height, with sandy coloured hair, even a bit portly, and I have no doubt Stephen would have lectured him about men of a sanguine temperament falling prey to apoplexy. Though he was in civilian clothes, he had the bearings of an officer, a naval officer. Then he lowered his papers and met my gaze. Sophie, I felt such a scrub. It does not do to be caught watching other gentlemen, so I could only hope he was not insulted by my impertinence.
‘Admiral Aubrey, John Aubrey?’ he addressed me, and on hearing his voice I knew who he was. Thomas, Lord Cochrane. You will surely remember him from many years ago. He commanded Pallas (32) and Imperieuse (38) in the years 1804 and 1807. I always thought him to be a bit too flashy, too unruly, a Radical! Still, a great commander to his men and a prime officer.
He was dismissed the service and stripped of all honours for reasons similar to those accusations levelled at me so many years ago. Lord Cochrane’s fate makes me see how very fortunate I was! Only your support, my dearest Sophie, and that of my friends, my officers and men who stood by me, kept me from despair. And Stephen, who went so far as to buy Surprise for me.
Again, I digress. Lord Cochrane kindly recalled some of the actions I had taken part in during the wars, and spoke highly of the need for good, loyal officers and men. I could only agree. Dearest, it is difficult to believe that he is a Radical! Some of his views even made sense. He will be away to Greece soon, where he will be employed in structuring their Navy. The poor man, having to seek employment elsewhere! Was it not similar for me when I undertook to help build the Chilean Navy? But those sad times are well behind me, behind us, my dearest love, and with God’s blessing, our future will continue to be bright.
Since I knew his Lordship to be an eminent inventor, I mentioned that a friend of mine, Herr von Humboldt, had gone down to the bottom of the Thames a few days ago with young Brunel in his father’s diving bell, much as Stephen and I had done this many a year ago in the Red Sea.
Lord Cochrane was deeply interested, and told me that he and the older Mr Brunel had developed the Tunnel Shield that was now being used to build the Thames Tunnel near Rotherhithe. Do but imagine it: a tunnel under the river! Prince William is much in favour of the project and supports it whole-heartedly. What a fascinating modern age we live in!
When Lord Cochrane had to leave, to get ready for his departure to Greece with the next tide, we parted on the kindest of terms, and I do wish his Lordship well. During our conversation he rose much in my esteem.
I have forgotten to mention this to Stephen and I must do so when he returns. He should be here in a few minutes - indeed, I already heard Killick muttering and cursing down the corridor a while ago. He will surely be here soon to help me shift into my uniform. Hopefully Padeen will do the same - not the muttering and cursing, mind - for old Stephen. It may be fashionable to be late, but it is still not the done thing.
Jack turned in his seat when he heard the door open, and smiled when he saw Stephen, the only person who could walk into his room unannounced.
‘You do look handsome when you want to, joy.’ Jack admired Stephen in his severely-cut black coat and satin breeches.
‘So will you, Admiral dear, once Killick has helped you into the Blue and the Gold.’ Stephen had crossed the room and now stood close to Jack’s chair, smiling down at his friend. He took advantage of this reversed difference in their heights by kissing Jack’s brow and running his hands through Jack’s grey-blond hair, regretting that Jack had finally yielded to Sophie’s wishes to have his hair cut. Now it was short, and though it still suited Admiral Aubrey, Stephen missed threading his fingers through those long blond strands that had belonged to Captain Aubrey and another age.
They looked at each other and Stephen saw a lingering concern in Jack’s eyes. He could well guess what it was about.
‘I told you tonight, and I will not tire of telling you again; Mahon is long in the past. Do not be disturbed any longer, soul, I beg you.’
Jack leaned against Stephen and closed his eyes. Each of them was remembering the previous night, when they had been at a Royal Society dinner. Jack had heard that his friend, Alexander von Humboldt, was in England, and so had asked that he and Stephen be seated next to him.
**********
‘In climbing up from 56 inches pressure to 28 at the surface, I experienced as on the Chimborazo the rupture of small blood vessels in the nose and throat. I spat and sneezed blood till the next day, but in a very innocent manner; the young Brunel never bleeds: it is a Prussian’s privilege.’ Nearly sixty, Alexander von Humboldt was still a good teller of tales, so they had been listening intently to how he and Brunel had descended to the bottom of the Thames in a diving-bell.
Jack and Stephen then described their descent into the Red Sea with a smaller version of Halley’s diving-bell (no mention being made of their reason, its having had to do with naval intelligence), and they and their neighbours speculated as to why those small blood vessels might have ruptured. Neither Jack, nor Stephen, nor two of their friends had experienced any such bleeding during their ascents. The discussion moved to diving bells in detail - Halley’s or Brunel’s, how their designs could be enhanced - their merits, their disadvantages… and from there it went on to the construction of the Thames Tunnel.
When the cloth was drawn, Stephen went off to see another Fellow whom he had been meaning to ask about his latest findings on the human spleen. On their way to the Mitre, he had spoken to Jack at length about this valuable opportunity of meeting his learned colleague. Jack, who had not felt comfortable with the subject, had kept quiet, only inserting appropriate noises now and then. Fortunately the subject had been exhausted before they had reached the inn, and they had instead spoken of their anticipated pleasure in meeting friends and colleagues at the dinner, and of their sadness that the tavern was soon to be demolished for the sake of a mere bank extension. Jack had considered changing from Messrs Hoare when he had first heard about it, but - in fairness - he had to admit that they had treated him kindly at a time when his fortunes had been at a low ebb, a very low ebb, so he had decided to stay with them.
When Stephen had left to speak to his colleague, Jack and von Humboldt sat down at one of the side-tables for their first private words since they had last seen each other. Jack spoke of the results of some of his more recent water and temperature measurements, results that he had not yet had time to send.
Von Humboldt listened attentively at first, but soon seemed pre-occupied. He hardly said a word himself, though he was usually the first to prose away at the slightest excuse; he was not uninteresting, or God forbid boring, but when he started on a subject, it was not generally easy to stop him. Being this quiet and withdrawn was usually not in his nature.
Jack noticed von Humboldt’s distraction. ‘I hope I have not bored you, talking away for so long about water temperatures near the Cape?’ he asked, and continued quietly, ‘There is something amiss, is there not, Alexander? I do not mean to pry, but I cannot fail to notice that your thoughts are elsewhere.’ Jack had often been accused of being slow, but this time at least a thought occurred to him. ‘Perhaps you have had notice from Paraguay, heard of Bonpland?’
Von Humboldt shook his head. ‘I would be easier, then. No, it has been ages since I had any news of Aimé.’ So distraught was he, that he did not appear even to notice his use of Bonpland’s first name. ‘It has been six years, John, six years since he was detained. I have petitioned that vile man de Francia many times, have asked colleagues and other influential people to speak up for my dear friend. Alas, to no avail.’ Von Humboldt sighed and fell silent for a few minutes.
Jack’s voice and eyes conveyed his sincerity. ‘I have experienced this horror of not knowing a friend’s fate. It is the worst thing, much worse than death; but you must never lose heart. Bonpland will be returned to the world.’
Von Humboldt shook himself and looked at Jack. ‘You are a good friend to listen to me, John Aubrey. My heart and mind will delight if your words come true.’
‘Not if, Alexander, when.’ Jack got up to give von Humboldt time to compose himself. ‘Now, I think it is time we rejoined the rest of the party?’
The Prussian nodded, and after they had agreed to meet again before von Humboldt left for his country, they returned to the folds of the other Royal Society Fellows.
Later, on their way home, Jack told Stephen of von Humboldt and his despair over Bonpland’s fate. Stephen only listened, without comment. It was not lost on him that Jack, too, was deeply affected by the situation. When they reached Black’s, they parted at their rooms.
‘You will be well, Jack?’ Stephen did not like the look of despondency on Jack’s face, and heard the lie in his reply, ‘I am fine, dear. Just tired, no more.’ Stephen did not insist, reasoning instead that nothing could keep Jack from sleep. He would be fine again the next morning.
Stephen, still not sleepy, settled into bed and reached for one of the books on his nightstand. He chose a copy of von Humboldt’s Geognostical Essay on the Superposition of Rocks, in Both Hemispheres, and made another start on the essay. It was written with great knowledge, to be sure, but his interests did not lie that way. A comfortable drowsiness overcame him and he felt deliciously close to sleep as he realized that he had read the same paragraph several times. He put the book away, blew out the candle and settled deeper into his cushion. Blessed sleep, so near! He sighed, his lids dropped, and the next instant he sat up straight as he heard Jack in the next room cry out his name.
Stephen was wide awake again, rushing to the door which linked their rooms. (Apologies for this had been made by a trusted servant: all other rooms had been taken, but since Admiral Aubrey and Doctor Maturin were friends, they surely would not mind? The door could be easily locked.) Thankfully, the key had been left in the lock, so Stephen was quickly in Jack’s room.
Jack was tossing in his sleep, obviously in the throes of a nightmare. He groaned and would have cried out again, had not Stephen put a hand over his mouth. Stephen shook him, calling him by name again and again. When none of this helped, when it was clear that Jack was becoming more agitated by the moment, he backhanded him.
Jack’s eyes flew open, he gulped for air, and it seemed as if he still did not know where he was, even as he gripped Stephen’s arm with an almost crushing strength.
Stephen ignored the pain and bent to stroke Jack’s sweaty brow. ‘Jack, you are in your room at the club. You are safe.’ He continued to murmur soothingly, and was relieved when Jack’s eyes finally focussed on him. The grip lessened.
‘Stephen, is it you? You really are safe?’ These low, dejected words alarmed the doctor, but it would not do to agitate Jack’s mind further.
‘What a fellow you are! We are at Black’s, so why should I not be safe?’ Stephen caressed the side of his friend’s face. ‘Will you tell me what disturbed you, so?’
‘May I have something to drink first? I feel near parched.’
‘Certainly, you may.’ Stephen poured water from the carafe on the nightstand and held the glass to Jack’s lips. ‘Slowly, love, there is plenty of water.’ He put the glass down when Jack indicated that he had had enough.
‘Do you feel ready to tell me now? Dear, I might become concerned, else.’ Stephen’s mock-stern voice had the desired effect of calming down Jack even further. Stephen teased, ‘You are blushing. How well a little bashfulness becomes you, my dear,’ and was rewarded with a tiny smile.
Jack swallowed, and licked his lips nervously. He owed Stephen an explanation. ‘I must have…I think the reason was…I feel…’ He stopped, blushing more and feeling three kinds of fool, now that he was awake again.
Stephen nodded encouragingly, still caressing Jack’s face, running his fingers through Jack’s hair.
‘Stephen, I can no longer bear this…not knowing where you are, not knowing how they might be treating you. I have been in such a situation several times. Ever since Mahon...’ His eyes shone the brightest blue from the tears threatening to fall. ‘Stephen, promise me not to take any chances any more.’
‘What has brought this agitation on? Now, when it has been so many years since Mahon? Now, when I have returned safely to you from dangerous situations so many times?’ Stephen could guess at the answer.
‘Bonpland has been in the hands of the Paraguayan dictator for seven years. Von Humboldt has not had any news since then, apart from a short note several years ago. Please, Stephen, promise me,’ Jack said in a much firmer voice.
Stephen thought carefully before he replied, continuing to thread his fingers through soft, greying hair meanwhile.
‘Jack, for the past few months, and for the moment, I am safe. You know as well as I do that I cannot give such a promise, but what I can do is to promise to be careful. That is the best I can offer. Were I to tell you anything else, I would be lying to you.’
Jack nodded. He took one of Stephen’s hands and gently caressed the old scars - reminders of a Menorca long past - with his thumb. Then he looked at Stephen. ‘Will you stay here tonight?’
Stephen knew it would not be wise, it would not be sensible, but he saw Jack’s need for his presence. ‘Make space then, my dearest heart, so that we can both find some peace tonight.’
Jack’s arms pulled the blankets around them. Stephen snuggled close, and before sleep claimed them, he kissed Jack’s jaw. ‘Mahon is long in the past, love... long in the past.’
**********
'Mahon is long past, dear,' Stephen repeated, and more felt than saw his friend nod.
‘The thought of you in the hands of an enemy…’ Jack’s voice trailed away as he bowed his head and sat quietly, a picture of despair. Stephen heard his ragged breathing and raised Jack’s face. With his lips, he gently brushed across his friend’s lids, and then wandered to Jack’s welcoming half-open mouth. Their kiss was light but might have turned into something more ardent, had there not been a loud cough in the corridor, unmistakably Killick’s. They moved apart.
Coughing was Killick’s usual way of warning that he was about to enter. It was also his only acknowledgement that he knew of the more intimate relationship between his captain and the doctor. Otherwise, he was as shrewish as ever.
Stephen watched him shave Jack and help him into the dress uniform of a Rear Admiral of the White. Jack had resisted any suggestion of wearing a belt, even though it had become the latest fashion with officers, and Stephen agreed with him. He would never tell him to his face, but he always enjoyed the bulk that was his lover, viewed it as a sign of Jack’s generosity in flesh and in spirit… and Stephen loved all of him, without bounds and reason.
footnotes:
My timeline only needed an extension of eight or nine weeks, so Thomas, Lord Cochrane leaves for Greece in May 1827, instead of March
Ages:
TC - born 1775 - 52 yrs
JA - born 1771 - 56 yrs
SM - maybe a bit younger, maybe a bit older than Jack
AvH - born 1769 - 59 yrs
Hen - born 1778 - 49 yrs
1818 Marc Brunel and Thomas Cochrane have the Tunnel Shield patented
March 1827 TC resumes responsibility of building up the Greek Navy
April 17th to May 5th 1827 AvH is in London
April 30th, 1827 Diving Bell experience for von Humboldt, who is accompanied by the son of Marc Brunel. Humboldt’s narrative In climbing up… and
May 4th, 1827 for the dinner at the Mitre
I have spent the morning with the boring Dr. Konig and after lunching yesterday with the Duchess of Clarence, I have dined at the Royal Society where one gets poisoned.
are both excerpts from Humboldt’s letters of April, 30th 1827 to Arago and of May 4th, 1827 to Valenciennes
as cited in:
Author(s): Jean Théodoridès
Source: The British Journal for the History of Science, Vol. 3, No. 1 (Jun., 1966), pp. 39-55
Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of The British Society for the History of Science, page 46
1821 to 1831 While journeying to Bolivia he was arrested in 1821, by command of José Gaspar Rodríguez de Francia, the dictator of Paraguay, who detained him until 1831 (excerpt from wiki on Bonpland)