Advent Calendar 2011 Day Two: In the Bleak Midwinter
In the Bleak Midwinter
by esteven
Characters: Jack, Stephen, James G and Thomas C.
Rating: gen
Spoilers: Yellow Admiral, chapter 10
Disclaimer: Patrick O'Brian created and owns Jack Aubrey, Stephen Maturin and their world. All material here is not-for-profit.
Length: about 1700 plus tons of notes
Summary: Stephen meets a fellow surgeon and misses Jack
Author's Note: My undying thanks to feroxargentea for beta-ing and patience.
Portsmouth in January was neither a place nor a season to be universally liked, and on that morning no one was out who could possibly avoid it. Snow had fallen, snow on snow, and snow still drifted across Common Hard and the harbour. One man, braving the weather, stood gazing steadfastly towards one of the large ships. The stranger wore a heavy weather cloak and had a long red scarf wrapped around his neck against the cold. From time to time he walked a few steps, turned, walked back, turned, stamped his feet and breathed into his hands to keep warm. Now and then he looked at his watch and towards the dockyards’ gates as if waiting for someone.
Stephen Maturin left The Crown, an inn often frequented by naval officers, wrapped in his cloak, his wig and hat made fast with a scarf. He was expected at a meeting with colleagues at Haslar to discuss the new directives from The Sick and Hurt Board. The meeting could not be avoided, and for the afternoon a dissection had been promised him by one of his colleagues. He took a moment to scan the street for anything - anybody - unusual. Old habits died hard, Dr Maturin being not only a naval surgeon, a physician no less, and an eminent natural philosopher, but also an intelligence agent who had worked tirelessly for Bonaparte’s downfall these many a year.
He noticed the man standing across the street, and when the harsh wind parted the stranger’s cloak Stephen saw that he wore a surgeon’s uniform.
Stephen was still obstructing The Crown’s door and was slightly jostled from behind as a lieutenant tried to squeeze past, begging his pardon. Before the officer could vanish down the street, the doctor spoke up, his meeting momentarily forgotten.
“Pray, sir, would you do me the kindness of telling me which vessel that is?” he asked, and, having squinted through the snow and counted the gun ports, added with a certain complacency, “that third-rate, over there?”
He received an astonished look in return, quickly veiled.
“Why, sir, she is Tonnant, Admiral Cochrane’s flagship, just being fitted out for the Americas. You see that officer coming through the dockyards’ gates? That is Lord Cochrane, her captain. Now, if you will excuse me.” The lieutenant hurried off, Stephen’s thanks wafting after him.
Across the street, captain and surgeon greeted each other with a firm handshake. To Stephen it looked rather as if they had really wanted to embrace, but had thought better of what might have been an excessively emotional public display.
The Breguet’s chimes told Stephen how very late he now was, and he set off at as brisk a pace as the icy uneven ground permitted. Watching the two officers had reminded him how much he wished Jack Aubrey were here, and not only in order to discuss the myriad details of Jack’s future, their mission, or even the possibility of a later reinstatement for Aubrey, but more importantly, because it had been months since his cello had spoken to his friend’s violin.
After the talks with the Chilean gentlemen had proved successful, Jack had left to supervise Surprise’s fitting out for her hydrographical journey across the ocean. It was a task that kept Jack’s thoughts from the depressing fact that his name had been removed from the captain’s list.
Stephen and Jack had agreed to meet at The Crown at a set date, when Jack planned to bring Surprise into Portsmouth during a trial run. They would have a few days together in town for business and for attending a few concerts, before returning to Seppings’ Yard in their frigate. By then it would surely be warmer, so the Woolcombe ladies and the children could join them as far as Madeira, the first leg of their journey to Chile.
When Stephen returned to The Crown late that evening, his mind was already forming a thesis on the anatomically anomalous spleen he and his colleague had discovered during their most amiable dissection, a dissection that had continued well into the late afternoon.
The biting wind was still driving flurries of snow across the street and the harbour, and the doctor was glad of the warmth from the open fires in The Crown. It was as crowded as it had been every evening these past days, and every table was taken. He was at the foot of the stairs, and had already resolved to have a meal sent up to one of his two rooms (one being for Jack, who was expected during the next few days), when he saw the surgeon from that morning sitting alone at a table in the snug, reading a letter. On a whim, he decided to join him.
“Excuse me, sir, but would that seat already be taken?”
The man looked up, folded the letter and put it on the table. He smiled. “Not at all, not at all, pray take it. I would welcome a gentleman’s company.”
“Thank you kindly. Please, let me introduce myself. I am a surgeon in the Royal Navy, and my name is Maturin.” From habit long ingrained, Stephen threw a quick look at the partly folded paper and had just made out the words ‘God bless you. Believe me ever my dear friend most sincerely your…’** when the pot-boy came over to ask for his order. Turning his attention from the letter, he called for mulled wine, for the sake of warmth.
His opposite introduced himself as James Guthrie, a surgeon like Stephen himself, and within a few moments they were deep in conversation about the Coalition armies’ thumping defeat of Napoleon at the battles near Leipsic a few months previously. They were soon speculating how long Bonaparte and his men could hold out, now that the Sixth Coalition forces were marching towards Paris.
This turned their conversation to the prospects for surgeons in the Royal Navy should peace break out. Guthrie mentioned that he had come into port the previous autumn in Asia and had stayed several months with a good friend. He had hardly dared hope for another ship. He had been very astonished, therefore, when he received his appointment into Spencer, patrolling the Gulf of Maine, at the beginning of February. He was glad to have found passage aboard Tonnant to meet up with Spencer on the North American station.
They leaned back in their seats and stayed quiet while Stephen’s hot drink was served.
When the servant had left, Guthrie leaned forward. “Please forgive me for not having recognized your name sooner. Would I be addressing the Dr Maturin of ‘Modest Proposals for the Preservation of Health in the Navy’ or that standard work ‘The Diseases of Seamen’? Your works have been invaluable to me and I have turned to them whenever complex questions of health arose aboard any of the ships I served on.” Soon Stephen and Guthrie were animatedly discussing effective ways to treat scurvy when lemons or vegetables were in short supply, a subject of grave importance in any navy.
A shadow fell across them, and they looked up to see the captain from that morning. Stephen contemplated the man as he stood by their table. He is tall, but not handsome, he thought in his bosom. His countenance though does induce people to look not only once, but again and again*, and he was much reminded of Jack, whose absence he felt again keenly.
“I hope I am not disturbing you gentlemen in the middle of a serious medical discourse?”
The intruder’s soft burr told Maturin that his lordship was a Scot like his surgeon. The two doctors rose and Guthrie made the introductions.
“Pleased to meet you, Dr Maturin.” The voice was soft and very deep and resonant, another reminder of Jack. “My surgeon has often spoken of your publications with the highest praise.”
Stephen bowed, murmured his thanks and was encompassed in that smile formerly reserved for Guthrie alone.
“Mr Guthrie and I have sailed together nearly as long as you and Captain Aubrey.”
From another man, Stephen would have resented these words as an uncalled-for familiarity, but he could not find it in him to be insulted by Cochrane’s plain unassuming statement. He was spared continuing the conversation when another tall man in a captain’s uniform entered The Crown, brushing the snow from his winter cloak.
The melancholy that had enveloped Stephen ever since he had seen Lord Cochrane and Guthrie together vanished at the sight of Jack arriving a day early. Stephen very nearly smiled at his lordship. “I am pleased to have made your acquaintance, my lord, but I must crave your indulgence for having to leave you and Mr Guthrie so soon. I promised a friend to meet him here, and he has just arrived.” Stephen turned to take his cloak and hat from the nearby hook. “Captain Lord Cochrane, Mr Guthrie,” he bowed to them. “My best wishes for your future.” Their gazes followed him with a hint of a smile as he pressed through the crowd. His eyes had already met Jack’s.
“I take it you had an uncommon good run into Portsmouth, being this early, Captain Aubrey?”
Jack looked at his friend with infinite benevolence and answered merrily. “Why, yes, doctor, we had indeed. Would you believe, I saw Hen just a few minutes ago? We nearly ran into each other in that vile snowstorm outside; we could hardly see a thing. Told him that I was come to see you here at The Crown. He absolutely insisted that we join him for dinner at The Keppel’s Head, and since I could not in honesty refuse, I accepted for both of us. You would not already be spoken for?”
Stephen shook his head. “No, I would not. It has been a long time since I saw Captain Dundas last. I will rejoice in thanking him for the invitation in person.”
“The word ‘dinner’ alone has appeal, oh, such an appeal, do you not agree?”
Stephen smiled and nodded up at Jack. Aubrey glanced towards the table his friend had just left, where two men were in deep discussion as if the crowd and the noise around them did not exist, and then he looked back at the doctor.
“Friends?”
“A surgical colleague and his captain. But let us go. When dinner calls, there is never a moment to lose.”
Tons of notes and timeline:
Title: from “In the Bleak Midwinter,Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak midwinter, Long ago.” By Rosetti
Some may know that Patrick O’Brian based several of Jack Aubrey’s exploits (and some of his traits) on Thomas, Lord Cochrane Even the movie has a reference to his lordship (the float to deceive Acheron).
David Cordingly’s most recent biography Cochrane, the Dauntless (aka ‘The Real Master and Commander’) is the first to mention that the National Maritime Museum at Greenwich has a number of relevant documents including the correspondence between Cochrane and his Scottish surgeon, James Guthrie. (It would be interesting to know whether Patrick O'Brian was aware of the life-long friendship between Cochrane and Guthrie when he created the ingenious and fascinating character of Dr Maturin.)
Not a lot is known of James Guthrie, but you may find a few details here
*Quote from Maria Graham’s description: 'Though not handsome, Lord Cochrane has an expression of countenance which induces you, when you have once looked, to look again and again. It is variable as the feelings which pass within; but the most general look is that of great benevolence.
**Quote from a letter Cochrane had written to Guthrie
Guthrie, surgeon in most of Thomas Cochrane’s ships and his friend, was appointed into Asia in 1812 and arrived back in port in autumn 1813. In February 1814 he was then appointed surgeon into Spencer. During the American War of 1812-15 Captain Richard Raggett took that ship to North America escorting a convoy to Canada. Later in 1814 he patrolled in the Gulf of Maine.
Tonnant joined the War of 1812 late. She was fitted for sea in the first quarter of 1814 for the North American Station. It is poetic licence to have the ship fitted out in Portsmouth and for James Guthrie to have taken passage in her to meet Spencer.
Thomas Cochrane was posted into Tonnant in February 1814 as her flag captain. Not long after, J. Johnstone was appointed her acting captain because of the looming Stock Exchange Trial
by esteven
Characters: Jack, Stephen, James G and Thomas C.
Rating: gen
Spoilers: Yellow Admiral, chapter 10
Disclaimer: Patrick O'Brian created and owns Jack Aubrey, Stephen Maturin and their world. All material here is not-for-profit.
Length: about 1700 plus tons of notes
Summary: Stephen meets a fellow surgeon and misses Jack
Author's Note: My undying thanks to feroxargentea for beta-ing and patience.
Portsmouth in January was neither a place nor a season to be universally liked, and on that morning no one was out who could possibly avoid it. Snow had fallen, snow on snow, and snow still drifted across Common Hard and the harbour. One man, braving the weather, stood gazing steadfastly towards one of the large ships. The stranger wore a heavy weather cloak and had a long red scarf wrapped around his neck against the cold. From time to time he walked a few steps, turned, walked back, turned, stamped his feet and breathed into his hands to keep warm. Now and then he looked at his watch and towards the dockyards’ gates as if waiting for someone.
Stephen Maturin left The Crown, an inn often frequented by naval officers, wrapped in his cloak, his wig and hat made fast with a scarf. He was expected at a meeting with colleagues at Haslar to discuss the new directives from The Sick and Hurt Board. The meeting could not be avoided, and for the afternoon a dissection had been promised him by one of his colleagues. He took a moment to scan the street for anything - anybody - unusual. Old habits died hard, Dr Maturin being not only a naval surgeon, a physician no less, and an eminent natural philosopher, but also an intelligence agent who had worked tirelessly for Bonaparte’s downfall these many a year.
He noticed the man standing across the street, and when the harsh wind parted the stranger’s cloak Stephen saw that he wore a surgeon’s uniform.
Stephen was still obstructing The Crown’s door and was slightly jostled from behind as a lieutenant tried to squeeze past, begging his pardon. Before the officer could vanish down the street, the doctor spoke up, his meeting momentarily forgotten.
“Pray, sir, would you do me the kindness of telling me which vessel that is?” he asked, and, having squinted through the snow and counted the gun ports, added with a certain complacency, “that third-rate, over there?”
He received an astonished look in return, quickly veiled.
“Why, sir, she is Tonnant, Admiral Cochrane’s flagship, just being fitted out for the Americas. You see that officer coming through the dockyards’ gates? That is Lord Cochrane, her captain. Now, if you will excuse me.” The lieutenant hurried off, Stephen’s thanks wafting after him.
Across the street, captain and surgeon greeted each other with a firm handshake. To Stephen it looked rather as if they had really wanted to embrace, but had thought better of what might have been an excessively emotional public display.
The Breguet’s chimes told Stephen how very late he now was, and he set off at as brisk a pace as the icy uneven ground permitted. Watching the two officers had reminded him how much he wished Jack Aubrey were here, and not only in order to discuss the myriad details of Jack’s future, their mission, or even the possibility of a later reinstatement for Aubrey, but more importantly, because it had been months since his cello had spoken to his friend’s violin.
After the talks with the Chilean gentlemen had proved successful, Jack had left to supervise Surprise’s fitting out for her hydrographical journey across the ocean. It was a task that kept Jack’s thoughts from the depressing fact that his name had been removed from the captain’s list.
Stephen and Jack had agreed to meet at The Crown at a set date, when Jack planned to bring Surprise into Portsmouth during a trial run. They would have a few days together in town for business and for attending a few concerts, before returning to Seppings’ Yard in their frigate. By then it would surely be warmer, so the Woolcombe ladies and the children could join them as far as Madeira, the first leg of their journey to Chile.
When Stephen returned to The Crown late that evening, his mind was already forming a thesis on the anatomically anomalous spleen he and his colleague had discovered during their most amiable dissection, a dissection that had continued well into the late afternoon.
The biting wind was still driving flurries of snow across the street and the harbour, and the doctor was glad of the warmth from the open fires in The Crown. It was as crowded as it had been every evening these past days, and every table was taken. He was at the foot of the stairs, and had already resolved to have a meal sent up to one of his two rooms (one being for Jack, who was expected during the next few days), when he saw the surgeon from that morning sitting alone at a table in the snug, reading a letter. On a whim, he decided to join him.
“Excuse me, sir, but would that seat already be taken?”
The man looked up, folded the letter and put it on the table. He smiled. “Not at all, not at all, pray take it. I would welcome a gentleman’s company.”
“Thank you kindly. Please, let me introduce myself. I am a surgeon in the Royal Navy, and my name is Maturin.” From habit long ingrained, Stephen threw a quick look at the partly folded paper and had just made out the words ‘God bless you. Believe me ever my dear friend most sincerely your…’** when the pot-boy came over to ask for his order. Turning his attention from the letter, he called for mulled wine, for the sake of warmth.
His opposite introduced himself as James Guthrie, a surgeon like Stephen himself, and within a few moments they were deep in conversation about the Coalition armies’ thumping defeat of Napoleon at the battles near Leipsic a few months previously. They were soon speculating how long Bonaparte and his men could hold out, now that the Sixth Coalition forces were marching towards Paris.
This turned their conversation to the prospects for surgeons in the Royal Navy should peace break out. Guthrie mentioned that he had come into port the previous autumn in Asia and had stayed several months with a good friend. He had hardly dared hope for another ship. He had been very astonished, therefore, when he received his appointment into Spencer, patrolling the Gulf of Maine, at the beginning of February. He was glad to have found passage aboard Tonnant to meet up with Spencer on the North American station.
They leaned back in their seats and stayed quiet while Stephen’s hot drink was served.
When the servant had left, Guthrie leaned forward. “Please forgive me for not having recognized your name sooner. Would I be addressing the Dr Maturin of ‘Modest Proposals for the Preservation of Health in the Navy’ or that standard work ‘The Diseases of Seamen’? Your works have been invaluable to me and I have turned to them whenever complex questions of health arose aboard any of the ships I served on.” Soon Stephen and Guthrie were animatedly discussing effective ways to treat scurvy when lemons or vegetables were in short supply, a subject of grave importance in any navy.
A shadow fell across them, and they looked up to see the captain from that morning. Stephen contemplated the man as he stood by their table. He is tall, but not handsome, he thought in his bosom. His countenance though does induce people to look not only once, but again and again*, and he was much reminded of Jack, whose absence he felt again keenly.
“I hope I am not disturbing you gentlemen in the middle of a serious medical discourse?”
The intruder’s soft burr told Maturin that his lordship was a Scot like his surgeon. The two doctors rose and Guthrie made the introductions.
“Pleased to meet you, Dr Maturin.” The voice was soft and very deep and resonant, another reminder of Jack. “My surgeon has often spoken of your publications with the highest praise.”
Stephen bowed, murmured his thanks and was encompassed in that smile formerly reserved for Guthrie alone.
“Mr Guthrie and I have sailed together nearly as long as you and Captain Aubrey.”
From another man, Stephen would have resented these words as an uncalled-for familiarity, but he could not find it in him to be insulted by Cochrane’s plain unassuming statement. He was spared continuing the conversation when another tall man in a captain’s uniform entered The Crown, brushing the snow from his winter cloak.
The melancholy that had enveloped Stephen ever since he had seen Lord Cochrane and Guthrie together vanished at the sight of Jack arriving a day early. Stephen very nearly smiled at his lordship. “I am pleased to have made your acquaintance, my lord, but I must crave your indulgence for having to leave you and Mr Guthrie so soon. I promised a friend to meet him here, and he has just arrived.” Stephen turned to take his cloak and hat from the nearby hook. “Captain Lord Cochrane, Mr Guthrie,” he bowed to them. “My best wishes for your future.” Their gazes followed him with a hint of a smile as he pressed through the crowd. His eyes had already met Jack’s.
“I take it you had an uncommon good run into Portsmouth, being this early, Captain Aubrey?”
Jack looked at his friend with infinite benevolence and answered merrily. “Why, yes, doctor, we had indeed. Would you believe, I saw Hen just a few minutes ago? We nearly ran into each other in that vile snowstorm outside; we could hardly see a thing. Told him that I was come to see you here at The Crown. He absolutely insisted that we join him for dinner at The Keppel’s Head, and since I could not in honesty refuse, I accepted for both of us. You would not already be spoken for?”
Stephen shook his head. “No, I would not. It has been a long time since I saw Captain Dundas last. I will rejoice in thanking him for the invitation in person.”
“The word ‘dinner’ alone has appeal, oh, such an appeal, do you not agree?”
Stephen smiled and nodded up at Jack. Aubrey glanced towards the table his friend had just left, where two men were in deep discussion as if the crowd and the noise around them did not exist, and then he looked back at the doctor.
“Friends?”
“A surgical colleague and his captain. But let us go. When dinner calls, there is never a moment to lose.”
Tons of notes and timeline:
Title: from “In the Bleak Midwinter,Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak midwinter, Long ago.” By Rosetti
Some may know that Patrick O’Brian based several of Jack Aubrey’s exploits (and some of his traits) on Thomas, Lord Cochrane Even the movie has a reference to his lordship (the float to deceive Acheron).
David Cordingly’s most recent biography Cochrane, the Dauntless (aka ‘The Real Master and Commander’) is the first to mention that the National Maritime Museum at Greenwich has a number of relevant documents including the correspondence between Cochrane and his Scottish surgeon, James Guthrie. (It would be interesting to know whether Patrick O'Brian was aware of the life-long friendship between Cochrane and Guthrie when he created the ingenious and fascinating character of Dr Maturin.)
Not a lot is known of James Guthrie, but you may find a few details here
*Quote from Maria Graham’s description: 'Though not handsome, Lord Cochrane has an expression of countenance which induces you, when you have once looked, to look again and again. It is variable as the feelings which pass within; but the most general look is that of great benevolence.
**Quote from a letter Cochrane had written to Guthrie
Guthrie, surgeon in most of Thomas Cochrane’s ships and his friend, was appointed into Asia in 1812 and arrived back in port in autumn 1813. In February 1814 he was then appointed surgeon into Spencer. During the American War of 1812-15 Captain Richard Raggett took that ship to North America escorting a convoy to Canada. Later in 1814 he patrolled in the Gulf of Maine.
Tonnant joined the War of 1812 late. She was fitted for sea in the first quarter of 1814 for the North American Station. It is poetic licence to have the ship fitted out in Portsmouth and for James Guthrie to have taken passage in her to meet Spencer.
Thomas Cochrane was posted into Tonnant in February 1814 as her flag captain. Not long after, J. Johnstone was appointed her acting captain because of the looming Stock Exchange Trial