Of Men I Have Known
Title: Of Men I Have Known
Characters: Stephen, Jack, Bonden & Killick.
Rating: G
Spoilers: The Mauritius Command
Disclaimer: Characters borrowed from Patrick O'Brian & his heirs on a non-profit basis
Of Men I Have Known
Jack stared out over the ocean, relaxed and content. He was happy. The crew now were all as well-trained as he could make them and the Boadicea’s rate of sailing was much improved by all the adjustments that he and the bosun, Fellowes had made. A pity that Buchan, the master was so resistant to restowing the hold. Jack knew he could get a few more knots from her, if she were properly stowed. This slight blot on his overall contentment was wiped away as he followed Stephen’s eager hurrying figure. The topmen had called down to the forecastle to tell the Doctor there was some great bird afore them, a point or two off the starboard bow. He nodded his head and thought, ‘Yes the sea has had its effect on Stephen too. I remember how low and utterly fagged out he has been these last few years. But now he is quite cheerful, busy as a bee down there with Farquhar, busy concocting ways to foment revolution in the Mauritius.’
Jack looked around and noted how the other officers followed Stephen with their eyes and they all smiled at his eagerness to keep the bird in sight. He was liked by most of the other officers for his own sake, not just because he was Jack’s particular friend. He was attached to Mr Farquhar as his political adviser but at this time, it was on an unofficial, secret basis, only known to himself and Mr Farquhar. Those men who had served with him on other ships had soon passed the word to the others that they had a real physician on board, not just your ordinary naval surgeon. As on all ships that Stephen had served with Jack, Stephen was much caressed and treasured for his skills with physic and the saw by the men, though he puzzled them somewhat. ‘But none treasure Stephen more than me. If it wasn’t that damned Villiers woman letting him down … it was his work tiring him out … made him so low at times. He has been so busy … so he tells me. Not that he tells me much of his doings by land … not as it stands with his line of work. I’ve hardly seen him this last year or two with him being away so much and his visits, so brief. I missed him so. In Spain, I suppose … stirring up rebellion there, no doubt.’ Jack smiled briefly, ‘How he loved that I’m sure. He has no respect for authority, well authority that he disagrees with anyway. I wonder how it is that I get on so well with him. I don’t worship authority and yet … one should show the proper respect to constituted government. Where would we be without it? Anarchy … led by hot-headed democratical Jacobites …’ Jack glowered at the thought of that, his deeply Tory soul, offended to the core at the thought of revolution and rebels. He then snorted, ‘And yet I love one dearly. My dear rebel, Stephen can be as revolutionary as they come. His views on slavery, he grows quite outrageous at times, his loathing of it, so extreme. Then there are his views on judges and women and all sorts of things, quite different … well, not the ordinary man’s point of view, to be sure. Yet he is not an ordinary man is he? He is such an extraordinary being … perhaps that is why I love him so. It’s not just the learning … perhaps it is his truly passionate soul, for he is passionate in every way, behind that façade he presents to the world. Yes I have felt it in the music, felt it when the mask drops and I see his suffering … heard it on that long voyage, his fevered ramblings …’ Jack shook his head, dismissing that time, of how disturbed he was by the doubts and insecurities Stephen voiced in his delirium.
He walked forward to the forecastle to join Stephen who was still intent on his bird and jumped slightly when Jack touched his shoulder, “Good morning Stephen, how are you this morning?”
“Oh well, quite well my dear … Mr Farquhar and I have made great progress, great progress. We have almost completed our preparations. I shall have plenty of time to pursue my researches now, before we reach the Cape.” Stephen replied.
“Have you time for a swim before dinner?” Jack asked.
“Yes, of course my dear, shall we take the jolly-boat?”
“If you like, though we seemed to have escaped Admiral Brown, the water is quite clear around the ship.” Jack replied amiably.
Jack wanted to just be alone with Stephen. Mr Farquhar, the potential Governor of Mauritius also shared the great cabin with them and though a pleasant man he broke into the intimacy of their friendship. Their music was disrupted by him rustling his papers, tapping his snuff box and blowing his nose. They could not go deep nor reach that feeling of harmony and of closeness that required an intensity of concentration, that concentration dispersed by the presence of another. Jack so longed for that intense intimacy with Stephen and resented Farquhar’s presence. There were other longings, longings he tried to repress, though they were never far from his mind and when Jack had time to think on other things than the working of the ship, his dreams and fantasies centred round Stephen and himself, not Sophie. He found himself looking at Stephen’s face, his lips, remembering the taste of them, the feel of them from their closeness before his marriage. A marriage that yielded little physical pleasure, Sophie loved him he had no doubt but she had no interest in the pleasures of the bed. He remembered how when resorting to relieving his desires with his hand he fantasised, not of her but of Stephen beneath him, Stephen kissing him. At first, this disturbed him but these fantasies brought such pleasure and almost immediate relief that they grew stronger as he remembered the feel of him under his hands as he massaged Stephen’s body, the furtive touching of his body when teaching him to swim and holding him close when they had shared a bed in times past.
“My dear Jack what are you thinking? You can slow down. I think we’re far enough from the ship. Now what was it that you wanted to speak of with me?” Stephen’s voice cut across his fevered imaginings.
Jack blushed and stammered, “No, nothing important, just wanted to be with you without someone else around. Come, come swim with me.” Jack shipped the oars and stood and began to remove his clothes. “Come Stephen.” He slipped from the boat and watched as Stephen stripped and then waited until he joined him in the water. They were shielded from view from the ship by the jolly-boat and so he swam close to Stephen and held him around the waist for a few minutes, the temptation almost overwhelming him, the desire to touch, to take what he wanted, a kiss at least. No one would see.
Stephen felt the heat of his gaze and the desire behind it. He shook his head, thinking, ‘No, no, mustn’t let this happen. There is Sophie. It’s just a passing fancy. Jack burns and he is just seeking relief, but no, not with me. It would not end … or if it did, it would be with recriminations, guilt. No … I can’t.’
Jack pushed himself back, muttering, “I’m sorry.” He turned from Stephen and swam as far and as fast as he could, the tears of shame and of hurt flowing and mixing with the salt of the sea, all one. ‘Of course Stephen does not want me that way. What a fool. I’ve offended him now. What have I done … oh God what have I done?’
Stephen floated alone and forlorn, clinging to the boat and feeling empty, seeing his dearest friend, the man he loved most swim away from him, hurt and ashamed. He too, regretted his actions, “Jack, I would that I could love you? But I can’t, we can’t … Yet are there not nights when I burn too?” He murmured.
For a good half hour Jack thrashed back and forward and when he dared look back, noticed Stephen bobbing in the water. He looked a sad and lonely figure, afloat and alone on the emptiness of the wide ocean, his face turned toward him. ‘Stephen … he’s still in the water. No … it’s been too long for him, he’ll cramp up.’ He swam towards him and stopped for a minute, calling out, “Stephen, Stephen get back in the boat … you’ll get chilled.”
Stephen was attempting to pull himself into the boat when Jack’s powerful strokes brought him up behind him and he clasped him by the waist and boosted him over the side of the boat and waited till he scrambled to the stern and sat down and then followed him over the side. He looked at him, concerned, “Are you all right … no pain Stephen?” He leant forward and touched his arm looking into his eyes.
Stephen shook his head and smiled and patted his hand, the other reached up and for a brief second caressed his face. “No, joy I am fine. I haven’t … I thought I might have upset you. You …”
“No, oh no, just needed a good swim, bit of exercise. You know you’re always nagging me about my weight.” Jack said blushing again and looked up furtively and seeing the warmth and concern in Stephen’s eyes laughed again, relieved to see that he had not ruined their friendship. Stephen still loved him. “And now a little bit more, so that I can eat a little extra figgy-dowdy at dinner today.” With that he began to row with a steady, sure stroke and looked directly at Stephen, now unafraid. Things were all right, he hadn’t offended him … they could go on as before. ‘I will just have to keep my fantasies to myself, must keep a tighter rein on my emotions, that’s all. I can’t lose him just for the sake of a kiss or two. In a few weeks we’ll be in action and too busy to think about that.’
Stephen tried to look severe, “Jack, the point of exercise is to reduce the pounds that you have already gained, not to give you extra licence to overeat. I can see I shall have to supervise you more closely to ensure you take more exercise and less food. We must continue swimming and you must certainly climb the rigging more frequently than you have of late.”
“Yes Stephen,” was Jack’s only reply.
…………………………………………………………………………………………
“It is over … all over … a victory … a most bitter victory indeed,” Stephen murmured as he sat on the taff rail bench and stared down at the wake of the Boadicea as she sped down to the Cape. His face, his whole body quite clearly displayed his mood. He had been low, extremely low since Port-Louis. What should have been one of his greatest victories, now seemed as nothing. He had helped foment an almost bloodless coup with his propaganda and pamphlets and he’d successfully delivered valuable assets, the Mauritius and La Réunion into British hands and struck a blow against Napoleon’s ambitions to regain a footing in Asia but he could not rejoice in his success. It seemed all for nothing, so much like everything in his life now. ‘My sole motivation for living now is my hatred of Buonaparte, very little else touches or stirs me. What will happen to me when Buonaparte is finally defeated? Will I, like Clonfert take my life with my own hand? Was McAdam right? Am I spiritually dead? Perhaps … it is so hard to feel anything these days.’ Stephen sighed and sat up and stared fixedly forward.
Jack glanced at him, worried for his friend. Stephen had sunk so low since he had learnt of Clonfert’s death. There had been no music and Stephen had been exceedingly morose, in a world apart and Jack did not know how to reach him. ‘I know he takes the loss of every one of his patients personally, but this seems more extreme than usual. Did he love the man so? I can’t believe that … there must be something else worrying him. I wish he would talk to me but he is so close mouthed and I don’t know how to ask? I know I will sound like some jealous woman if I ask him about Clonfert, his feelings for him. No, I can’t ask. I am jealous though and I feel something of a scrub.’
Stephen looked up at Jack and saw his concern for him in his expression and he felt a lifting of his spirits, his heart beat a little more rapidly, his spirit warmed by the care he saw there in Jack’s eyes. ‘No, I was wrong. There is still someone who stirs me. Yes he stirs me and I would …’ Stephen’s eyes stretched in surprise, feeling the old, almost forgotten stirrings, the feeling of heat at his groin. ‘McAdam said I might be saved by my prick. But it isn’t a woman that is pulling me by my prick out of the void. Yet, no I cannot act on these desires, must not. Yet, can I not warm my cold and almost dead soul with the warmth and love of my dearest friend, my Jack.’
Jack was surprised at the warmth of Stephen’s smile and encouraged, drew near to him and bent down and whispered, “Joy, will you come down with me to the cabin? Play with me?”
“With all my heart my dear,” Stephen replied staring into those blue, blue eyes. Jack laughed with pleasure and pulled him up and would have embraced him but pulled back just in time and placed an arm round Stephen’s shoulders instead, urging him forward and below.
For the next hour or two the music swelled up from the Great Cabin and Killick and Bonden who were seated in the mizzen top combing out and re-plaiting each other’s hair listened contentedly. “The Doctor’s back in form it seems,” muttered Killick.
“Yes, he’s been right low since Port-Louis. Someone said he was upset about Lord Clonfert a-dying on ’im.” Bonden replied as he finished plaiting Killick’s queue.
Killick shook his head scornfully, “Nah, I don’t think so, though that old drunk of a surgeon on the Néréide, McAdam blamed our Captain for Clonfert topping himself, or so the Néréide’s steward, old Clarges told me. That sot McAdam called our Doctor Maturin a damned whore.”
Bonden looked surprised, “He didn’t … not our Doctor … He wouldn’t well … not with that quizz, Clonfert who was always poncing about … look at how he decked out his barge crew, like a right bunch of merry Andrews … supposed to be a lady’s man, so I heard … though I can’t see it, meself.”
“No you great Jack Pudden, I don’t mean that. Gawd if the Captain ever thought that, he wouldn’t be happy, no he wouldn’t. The thought of him pawing the Doctor … no. no …” Killick shook his head, “No, Lord Clonfert took him in hand and looked after him when Doctor Maturin had an accident when going aboard the Néréide. Nearly drowned him they did … all looking down, not one of those useless swabs did a thing while he was sinking and a-drowning … the blackie in the boat jumped in and hauled him out, saved him like. Then well he went down fast, quite poorly … all on the chest … terrible cough and a fever. Lord Clonfert put the Doctor in his own cabin, nursed him back to health, himself. Took a lot of attention of our Doctor, grateful for curing him of the colic I suppose. But no … nothing funny like that going on. That McAdam was just jealous because our Doctor is better than him and his Captain preferred his company to his I suppose.”
Bonden had frowned on hearing this, “The Néréide’s cox’n never told me that. If I’d been a ferrying him over, he’d never have been hurt. Damned lubbers, the whole lot of the Néréides, I wouldn’t trust them with the safety of our Doctor, not again. Though what he had me carrying ashore …”
Killick looked at him, “What? You didn’t tell me.”
Bonden looked guilty now for saying something and lowered his voice, “It was a secret. I wasn’t supposed to tell.”
Killick tsked and said, “Tosh, it’s all over now. You can tell me. I don’t gossip. Silent as a tomb is old Killick and right you know it.”
“All right, but not a word you hear, not a word. The Captain will find out and he’ll know it was me who told you,” Bonden whispered and looked around warily. “It was purses, purses of gold, bloody great lots of them, to pay off some of the Frenchies ashore, so they would help us like. Lots of little trips like that.”
Killick not to be outdone bent forward and whispered conspiratorially, “Well you know what I heard. The Governor, you know that Farquhar well he tore strips off of Admiral Bertie, cursed him high and low, mighty strong language he used for a Methody. Was so angry when the Admiral left the Doctor out of the signing over ceremony with the Frenchies … said the Doctor should have been invited and demanded that he sit next to him at the official dinner that night, in the place of honour too. He made a good night of it, drank up all the wine and Farquhar’s too, though he didn’t look much happier as far as I could see. Who can blame him? Lord can those Generals and the Admiral go on and on with their speeches. I could see from where I was standing behind the Captain that he perked up when the Admiral announced we were taking the news of the victory back home.”
Bonden mulled this over and suggested, “Maybe the Doctor’s low because he don’t get to share in the prize money, as he wasn’t a part of the officer’s mess. Him being Farquhar’s assistant cheated him out of a good pot.”
“Nah, he was part of the mess all the way down to the Cape and so the officers all voted that he should get a share, so he got his cut, don’t you worry about that. The only problem now is that with the Captain as rich as Croesus from the prizes won on this cruise and the news of a son, well we won’t be afloat for a long time to come. We’ll be ashore for a great while yet.” Killick groused and frowned.
“Don’t worry me. We’ll help Miss Sophie keep the house shipshape and with plenty of money, it’ll be Fiddler’s Green.” Bonden laughed as he mentally counted his winnings. He may have come late to writing but when it came to the determination of his share of the wealth, he like any other seamen could calculate to the penny the amount they were due and he was certainly content with the haul he would receive from this cruise.
“Yeah … maybe I should get me a wife,” Killick pondered, running his hand under his chin as he contemplated the fleshpots and pubs of Portsmouth.
Bonden looked unimpressed, “What would you want with a wife?” He shook his head and looked askance at Killick.
“No, I might buy me one. They come in right handy now and then.” Killick mused again. The music had stopped at least ten minutes before and a midshipman’s head appeared, “Killick to the Great Cabin, the Captain is calling for coffee.”
Killick looked singularly unimpressed and sighed and to Bonden said, “See you later, mate, it’s back to work for me.”
Jack and Stephen sipped on their coffee and sat in contented silence. Jack reached over and placed his hand on Stephen’s thigh and asked, “My dear ever since Port-Louis you have been so low. How can I help you or cheer you?”
Stephen patted the hand and shook his head, “Yes I have been, but no my dear there is nothing really. I just have to resolve this myself. The music and your company helps. I shall be all right, truly Jack.”
A tap on the door forestalled any further conversation and Jack stood up and called, “Come in.”
“Sir, you were to take our extra class,” Spotted Dick was not at all downcast at the extra tuition imposed on him, though the other midshipmen were not so happy. An extra mathematics class on Saturday afternoon, on top of the punishment already meted out to the more culpable members of the midshipmen’s mess was considered severe indeed. For several of them had already been beaten on the bare breech by the Captain for their misdemeanours, right swingeing wallops too. Some of them still found it difficult to sit down with any degree of comfort. Punishment entirely deserved, in Jack’s opinion for a particularly outrageous drunken spree that resulted in the loss of the ship’s goat, much broken crockery in the gunroom and one or two bottles of the finest Constantia.
“Yes thank you for reminding me Mr Richardson. Bring the rest of that motley crew in, and with the exception of your good self, I fear my time and effort is entirely wasted. For all my attempts at drumming some knowledge into their thick skulls, I doubt the rest of them have even the simplest understanding of the mathematics.” Jack turned to Stephen, “I’m sorry my dear but I must attend to this. I have threatened them with the appropriate punishment and it will be enforced.”
“I must be off myself. I should visit the sick berth, though the effect of the anticipation of great piles of prize money does have quite a restorative effect I find and very few have reported sick in the last week since leaving Mauritius. Or perhaps it is merely the thought of going home that cheers the men. I am also glad to see that you are adopting a less brutal means of punishment for the young gentlemen and I heartily applaud your interest in their continuing education.”
“Don’t worry about that Stephen. Half of them have kissed the gunner’s daughter this week and the extra lessons are just additional punishment for some of them.” Jack glared at the nervous-looking young gentlemen as they filed into the cabin with their books. The bottles of Constantia were to be served as a special celebration on the first dinner with his officers since their victory and he had been looking forward to the wine. Stephen as the officer responsible for the gunroom’s wine and spirits had acquired them specifically for him. Stephen stood up and Jack called after him, “Supper this evening and perhaps some more music.”
Stephen turned and smiled, “My pleasure, my dear.”
As he expected there was little to be done in the sick berth and Stephen came back on deck and climbed to the mizzen top to sit and contemplate the bright sea and the sky, on the lookout for any birds but today the skies and sea were swept clean of all life. He settled down on some studding sails and peered westward in hope of sighting the East African coast. As this hope died too, Stephen being well aware of Jack’s loathing of a lee shore, he indulged his other illicit habit and picked up his diary and a pencil and began to write -
‘What is it about Jack that to my eyes he is far superior to any other man that I have met? Other than my love for him which makes me undoubtedly biased in his favour, what else? I look at all the other naval commanders that were under him in this last series of actions and others like, Admiral Bertie and the rather brisk Colonel Keating and none of them compare in moral stature, emotional intelligence or strength. What makes Jack seem to be the greater man by far?
Jack has certainly justified all my pleadings on his behalf at the Admiralty as the only man to handle this venture. He has certainly done all that I claimed he would and more. Hopefully those with the power in their hands to make decisions concerning such crucial appointments will be so impressed they will consider him for other expeditions of this nature. He has all the skills needed to make daring raids upon the French and to make the most of the opportunities presented and yet at the same time has always carefully judged the odds, no headstrong and ill-considered actions like those of Clonfert. No profligate and heartless gambling with his men’s lives and the safety of the ships in his care. Jack is everything that Clonfert was not. He considered every side of a proposed action before embarking on it, evaluating the risks and the enemy before committing himself to it. This mature and balanced approach taken by Jack was in marked contrast to the lesser men he commanded. My Jack has grown up indeed!
Let me number these lesser beings. Clonfert that poor man, a man that in other circumstances and less driven by his fears and insecurities, I might have esteemed and even loved. His gentleness, kindness and consideration to me and what I would call an almost female tenderness that he showed me when I was ill did much to endear him to me. But his pointless bragging and fantastical storytelling and bombast were sad to see and brought him down in my estimation and it was all so unnecessary. The man’s fragile ego drove him to make poor decisions. The selection of his ill-bred and toadying officers did much to undo him, for surrounding himself with such inconsequential fellows fatally weakened him. None of his officers were strong enough and sufficiently respected by Clonfert to be able to present an alternate plan of action or oppose some of his more ill-considered adventures. Clonfert could not stand someone who may have attracted more respect and praise than him on board; his ego would not allow it. Clonfert’s overwhelming concern with his personal honour and repute was such that he would willingly gamble with the safety of his men’s lives and take risks that with more sober and considered thought no man would take. Due to his personal insecurities and ambitions he felt he must outdo Jack in any endeavour and appear more courageous and achieve more and faster than all the other captains in the squadron. His ill-considered actions, temperamental responses and jealousies alienated all those who were meant to be working with him, first Corbett and then Pym. Clonfert’s inability to work in a team, the desire for pre-eminence was disastrous in the end. He cared far more for his own personal glory than the success of the squadron overall, so eager was he to be seen a hero and to wipe Jack’s eye with his personal successes. How many of his men’s lives was he willing to sacrifice to achieve that goal? Then the final act, a man who could not bear to see that there was someone better, more skilful and more successful than he and rather than face that fact he would destroy himself. One should feel pity for such a being, his family background and upbringing had certainly helped to create the fatal flaw within his character that led him on this sorry path but no, there surely must be a point when one is mature enough to accept that there may be others with a higher claim on esteem and respect based on their superior qualities. Alas poor Clonfert could never attain that degree of maturity and remained a stunted individual, incapable of achieving even a fraction of his potential. Such a waste of a life, a sorry waste indeed!
A maturity that my Jack has achieved after many disappointments in his career and which he displayed so clearly in his careful and considered handling of the men under his command and in his cool and masterful dealing with the untrustworthy and dishonourable Admiral Bertie. I was very pleased with the equable manner he accepted the disgraceful way Admiral Bertie chose to take command of all the operations against the Mauritius, after it was clear that they would be successful, seeking to take all the honour for the victory to himself. What a scrub he is! For if everything had fallen apart and Jack had failed, he would have turned on him and placed all the blame on Jack’s shoulders and would have heaped ignominy on him without regret or guilt, so eager not to be associated with failure. Jack’s coolness and equanimity when faced with such a dishonourable individual certainly worked in Jack’s favour as it made the scrub nervous of him. I don’t believe it was a result of Jack’s joy at the news of his son and I was glad to add my tuppenny’s worth by ensuring some interesting and quite misleading intelligence concerning Jack reached Admiral Bertie. It pleased me to see the Admiral so discomfited.
Jack’s emotional intelligence in his dealings with his crew was of course in sharp contrast to the bullying and brutality of such a one as Corbett. For him I feel no sorrow whatsoever. His beating of our Bonden was sufficient to earn my anger and almost immediate dislike. Imagine beating and abusing such a willing and worthy man as Bonden, always willing to serve and serve faithfully those he respects and a man to whom I owe much for his tender care of me. Corbett’s death was entirely predictable based on his unreasonable and tyrannical abuse of power. He had no understanding or sympathy with any of his men and I’m surprised that so many men of his type have attained such a level of power and responsibility in the Royal Navy. Surely they have learned some lessons from the almost general mutiny at the Nore but then privilege and those with the greatest interest attain success regardless of their merits and many good men, like Jack and dear Tom Pullings do not receive the rewards commensurate with their talents. Jack in contrast is the paragon of Captains in my opinion. His treatment and consideration for his men is well known throughout the service and he would never be short of volunteers, so many wish to serve with him. I may not agree with his use of the cat or his methods of disciplining the midshipmen with physical force but he has never overstepped the mark. Even with unruly and unwilling men his understanding of their motivations and yes patience with them has been repaid a thousand fold with the consequent gains of respect and loyalty from almost all of his crew helping him achieve feats many other commanders could never hope to attain with their authoritarian and brutal style of command.
Captain Pym though a regular and quite proper commander was somewhat of a disappointment to Jack, for he may be quite an orthodox and willing Captain when under orders but seemed to lack any real imagination and drive and when caught in such an untenable situation as at Port South-East behaved poorly. I sympathise with Captain Lambert, the young commander of the Iphigenia who wanted to take the initiative and attack the grounded French ships directly, taking the chance to destroy them while it was possible. He, like Jack had a spark of initiative, unlike Pym who being the senior captain forbade such activity in favour of trying to haul the Sirius off the reef to escape the range of the batteries. This lack of initiative condemned the whole convoy to destruction and perhaps it could have sunk all our hopes in the enterprise. If only Jack had more commanders like Captain Lambert or those with the zeal of Colonel Keating, though the Colonel did not appreciate my intervention in brokering a truce on La Réunion and so preventing a sad waste of life in my opinion, but I did appreciate his willing support for Jack. He certainly cheered him when he was disheartened. The two of them certainly astounded Mr Farquhar with their energy and persistence. I’m sure he believed them quite crazed to believe that they could succeed with such unpromising prospects after the losses at Port South-East, but he did not have my faith and trust in Jack’s genius and his ability to make his own luck. For no matter how unreasonable it may seem and in my opinion a totally irrational proposal, but there is something in Jack’s nickname of “Lucky Jack Aubrey” in the service, for he does seem to be blessed by fortune in a way that I can not explain.
He possesses that quality called baraka by the Arabs to an inordinate degree and I consider that it has been an element that has come into play in many of his more successful actions. This is not to discredit his real abilities, for this quality would have no impact whatsoever in the fortunes of a less talented and deserving leader of men than my Jack. If only I can make him see the importance of maintaining a healthier attitude to his constitution and show some degree of that excellent self-discipline I know he possesses in the matter of his overindulgence in the pleasures of the table or at least exercise more. Yet my mind flits back to my night time fantasies and what manner of exercises I would indulge myself with Jack in my cot I must not write here. I must not think too much on him, these thoughts, these desires can never be. No I must stop torturing myself. He has no thoughts for me now. All his thoughts are with Sophie and his son who will be the centre of his world, as they should be. I fear for his daughters. How he has longed for a son. Shall they be completely overshadowed in his affections and attention?
It is very likely that it may be many years before we have the opportunity to sail together again. I must return to Spain and France quite soon after I arrive back in London. Sir Joseph’s letters tell me how urgently they need me. Yes my duty must come first. There is also a letter from Tomas, Miquel has come home. It will be good to see him again.’
Jack had climbed up to the top and stood there quietly looking down on his friend his head bent,as he scribbled away in his diary. He smiled at him and bent down beside him, “There you are Stephen and very busy I see. What are you writing?”
“Oh just my diary and notes for myself, nothing important.” Stephen shut the book and looked up at Jack, tempted all too easily again by the sight of him, his desire for him strong and as vibrant as ever. He stood up and tucking the little book in his coat was about to turn to climb down and the ship lurched and he would have been pitched down the lubber’s hole if Jack had not caught him in his arms.
He held Stephen close to him and bent to his ear, whispering, “Be careful my dear, I have to bring you home safe or Sophie will never forgive me.” He brushed Stephen’s cheek and ear with his lips, the feel of them sending a shiver of desire through Stephen who clasped Jack convulsively in response. Jack pulled back and looked down at him, “Are you all right?”
Stephen leant against Jack for a minute, controlling his response to the smell and feel of Jack’s body so close to him. He nodded his head and looked up and smiled, now master of his body, “Quite all right my dear. Shall we go down and have supper? What say you to the Corelli piece?”
The End
Characters: Stephen, Jack, Bonden & Killick.
Rating: G
Spoilers: The Mauritius Command
Disclaimer: Characters borrowed from Patrick O'Brian & his heirs on a non-profit basis
Of Men I Have Known
Jack stared out over the ocean, relaxed and content. He was happy. The crew now were all as well-trained as he could make them and the Boadicea’s rate of sailing was much improved by all the adjustments that he and the bosun, Fellowes had made. A pity that Buchan, the master was so resistant to restowing the hold. Jack knew he could get a few more knots from her, if she were properly stowed. This slight blot on his overall contentment was wiped away as he followed Stephen’s eager hurrying figure. The topmen had called down to the forecastle to tell the Doctor there was some great bird afore them, a point or two off the starboard bow. He nodded his head and thought, ‘Yes the sea has had its effect on Stephen too. I remember how low and utterly fagged out he has been these last few years. But now he is quite cheerful, busy as a bee down there with Farquhar, busy concocting ways to foment revolution in the Mauritius.’
Jack looked around and noted how the other officers followed Stephen with their eyes and they all smiled at his eagerness to keep the bird in sight. He was liked by most of the other officers for his own sake, not just because he was Jack’s particular friend. He was attached to Mr Farquhar as his political adviser but at this time, it was on an unofficial, secret basis, only known to himself and Mr Farquhar. Those men who had served with him on other ships had soon passed the word to the others that they had a real physician on board, not just your ordinary naval surgeon. As on all ships that Stephen had served with Jack, Stephen was much caressed and treasured for his skills with physic and the saw by the men, though he puzzled them somewhat. ‘But none treasure Stephen more than me. If it wasn’t that damned Villiers woman letting him down … it was his work tiring him out … made him so low at times. He has been so busy … so he tells me. Not that he tells me much of his doings by land … not as it stands with his line of work. I’ve hardly seen him this last year or two with him being away so much and his visits, so brief. I missed him so. In Spain, I suppose … stirring up rebellion there, no doubt.’ Jack smiled briefly, ‘How he loved that I’m sure. He has no respect for authority, well authority that he disagrees with anyway. I wonder how it is that I get on so well with him. I don’t worship authority and yet … one should show the proper respect to constituted government. Where would we be without it? Anarchy … led by hot-headed democratical Jacobites …’ Jack glowered at the thought of that, his deeply Tory soul, offended to the core at the thought of revolution and rebels. He then snorted, ‘And yet I love one dearly. My dear rebel, Stephen can be as revolutionary as they come. His views on slavery, he grows quite outrageous at times, his loathing of it, so extreme. Then there are his views on judges and women and all sorts of things, quite different … well, not the ordinary man’s point of view, to be sure. Yet he is not an ordinary man is he? He is such an extraordinary being … perhaps that is why I love him so. It’s not just the learning … perhaps it is his truly passionate soul, for he is passionate in every way, behind that façade he presents to the world. Yes I have felt it in the music, felt it when the mask drops and I see his suffering … heard it on that long voyage, his fevered ramblings …’ Jack shook his head, dismissing that time, of how disturbed he was by the doubts and insecurities Stephen voiced in his delirium.
He walked forward to the forecastle to join Stephen who was still intent on his bird and jumped slightly when Jack touched his shoulder, “Good morning Stephen, how are you this morning?”
“Oh well, quite well my dear … Mr Farquhar and I have made great progress, great progress. We have almost completed our preparations. I shall have plenty of time to pursue my researches now, before we reach the Cape.” Stephen replied.
“Have you time for a swim before dinner?” Jack asked.
“Yes, of course my dear, shall we take the jolly-boat?”
“If you like, though we seemed to have escaped Admiral Brown, the water is quite clear around the ship.” Jack replied amiably.
Jack wanted to just be alone with Stephen. Mr Farquhar, the potential Governor of Mauritius also shared the great cabin with them and though a pleasant man he broke into the intimacy of their friendship. Their music was disrupted by him rustling his papers, tapping his snuff box and blowing his nose. They could not go deep nor reach that feeling of harmony and of closeness that required an intensity of concentration, that concentration dispersed by the presence of another. Jack so longed for that intense intimacy with Stephen and resented Farquhar’s presence. There were other longings, longings he tried to repress, though they were never far from his mind and when Jack had time to think on other things than the working of the ship, his dreams and fantasies centred round Stephen and himself, not Sophie. He found himself looking at Stephen’s face, his lips, remembering the taste of them, the feel of them from their closeness before his marriage. A marriage that yielded little physical pleasure, Sophie loved him he had no doubt but she had no interest in the pleasures of the bed. He remembered how when resorting to relieving his desires with his hand he fantasised, not of her but of Stephen beneath him, Stephen kissing him. At first, this disturbed him but these fantasies brought such pleasure and almost immediate relief that they grew stronger as he remembered the feel of him under his hands as he massaged Stephen’s body, the furtive touching of his body when teaching him to swim and holding him close when they had shared a bed in times past.
“My dear Jack what are you thinking? You can slow down. I think we’re far enough from the ship. Now what was it that you wanted to speak of with me?” Stephen’s voice cut across his fevered imaginings.
Jack blushed and stammered, “No, nothing important, just wanted to be with you without someone else around. Come, come swim with me.” Jack shipped the oars and stood and began to remove his clothes. “Come Stephen.” He slipped from the boat and watched as Stephen stripped and then waited until he joined him in the water. They were shielded from view from the ship by the jolly-boat and so he swam close to Stephen and held him around the waist for a few minutes, the temptation almost overwhelming him, the desire to touch, to take what he wanted, a kiss at least. No one would see.
Stephen felt the heat of his gaze and the desire behind it. He shook his head, thinking, ‘No, no, mustn’t let this happen. There is Sophie. It’s just a passing fancy. Jack burns and he is just seeking relief, but no, not with me. It would not end … or if it did, it would be with recriminations, guilt. No … I can’t.’
Jack pushed himself back, muttering, “I’m sorry.” He turned from Stephen and swam as far and as fast as he could, the tears of shame and of hurt flowing and mixing with the salt of the sea, all one. ‘Of course Stephen does not want me that way. What a fool. I’ve offended him now. What have I done … oh God what have I done?’
Stephen floated alone and forlorn, clinging to the boat and feeling empty, seeing his dearest friend, the man he loved most swim away from him, hurt and ashamed. He too, regretted his actions, “Jack, I would that I could love you? But I can’t, we can’t … Yet are there not nights when I burn too?” He murmured.
For a good half hour Jack thrashed back and forward and when he dared look back, noticed Stephen bobbing in the water. He looked a sad and lonely figure, afloat and alone on the emptiness of the wide ocean, his face turned toward him. ‘Stephen … he’s still in the water. No … it’s been too long for him, he’ll cramp up.’ He swam towards him and stopped for a minute, calling out, “Stephen, Stephen get back in the boat … you’ll get chilled.”
Stephen was attempting to pull himself into the boat when Jack’s powerful strokes brought him up behind him and he clasped him by the waist and boosted him over the side of the boat and waited till he scrambled to the stern and sat down and then followed him over the side. He looked at him, concerned, “Are you all right … no pain Stephen?” He leant forward and touched his arm looking into his eyes.
Stephen shook his head and smiled and patted his hand, the other reached up and for a brief second caressed his face. “No, joy I am fine. I haven’t … I thought I might have upset you. You …”
“No, oh no, just needed a good swim, bit of exercise. You know you’re always nagging me about my weight.” Jack said blushing again and looked up furtively and seeing the warmth and concern in Stephen’s eyes laughed again, relieved to see that he had not ruined their friendship. Stephen still loved him. “And now a little bit more, so that I can eat a little extra figgy-dowdy at dinner today.” With that he began to row with a steady, sure stroke and looked directly at Stephen, now unafraid. Things were all right, he hadn’t offended him … they could go on as before. ‘I will just have to keep my fantasies to myself, must keep a tighter rein on my emotions, that’s all. I can’t lose him just for the sake of a kiss or two. In a few weeks we’ll be in action and too busy to think about that.’
Stephen tried to look severe, “Jack, the point of exercise is to reduce the pounds that you have already gained, not to give you extra licence to overeat. I can see I shall have to supervise you more closely to ensure you take more exercise and less food. We must continue swimming and you must certainly climb the rigging more frequently than you have of late.”
“Yes Stephen,” was Jack’s only reply.
…………………………………………………………………………………………
“It is over … all over … a victory … a most bitter victory indeed,” Stephen murmured as he sat on the taff rail bench and stared down at the wake of the Boadicea as she sped down to the Cape. His face, his whole body quite clearly displayed his mood. He had been low, extremely low since Port-Louis. What should have been one of his greatest victories, now seemed as nothing. He had helped foment an almost bloodless coup with his propaganda and pamphlets and he’d successfully delivered valuable assets, the Mauritius and La Réunion into British hands and struck a blow against Napoleon’s ambitions to regain a footing in Asia but he could not rejoice in his success. It seemed all for nothing, so much like everything in his life now. ‘My sole motivation for living now is my hatred of Buonaparte, very little else touches or stirs me. What will happen to me when Buonaparte is finally defeated? Will I, like Clonfert take my life with my own hand? Was McAdam right? Am I spiritually dead? Perhaps … it is so hard to feel anything these days.’ Stephen sighed and sat up and stared fixedly forward.
Jack glanced at him, worried for his friend. Stephen had sunk so low since he had learnt of Clonfert’s death. There had been no music and Stephen had been exceedingly morose, in a world apart and Jack did not know how to reach him. ‘I know he takes the loss of every one of his patients personally, but this seems more extreme than usual. Did he love the man so? I can’t believe that … there must be something else worrying him. I wish he would talk to me but he is so close mouthed and I don’t know how to ask? I know I will sound like some jealous woman if I ask him about Clonfert, his feelings for him. No, I can’t ask. I am jealous though and I feel something of a scrub.’
Stephen looked up at Jack and saw his concern for him in his expression and he felt a lifting of his spirits, his heart beat a little more rapidly, his spirit warmed by the care he saw there in Jack’s eyes. ‘No, I was wrong. There is still someone who stirs me. Yes he stirs me and I would …’ Stephen’s eyes stretched in surprise, feeling the old, almost forgotten stirrings, the feeling of heat at his groin. ‘McAdam said I might be saved by my prick. But it isn’t a woman that is pulling me by my prick out of the void. Yet, no I cannot act on these desires, must not. Yet, can I not warm my cold and almost dead soul with the warmth and love of my dearest friend, my Jack.’
Jack was surprised at the warmth of Stephen’s smile and encouraged, drew near to him and bent down and whispered, “Joy, will you come down with me to the cabin? Play with me?”
“With all my heart my dear,” Stephen replied staring into those blue, blue eyes. Jack laughed with pleasure and pulled him up and would have embraced him but pulled back just in time and placed an arm round Stephen’s shoulders instead, urging him forward and below.
For the next hour or two the music swelled up from the Great Cabin and Killick and Bonden who were seated in the mizzen top combing out and re-plaiting each other’s hair listened contentedly. “The Doctor’s back in form it seems,” muttered Killick.
“Yes, he’s been right low since Port-Louis. Someone said he was upset about Lord Clonfert a-dying on ’im.” Bonden replied as he finished plaiting Killick’s queue.
Killick shook his head scornfully, “Nah, I don’t think so, though that old drunk of a surgeon on the Néréide, McAdam blamed our Captain for Clonfert topping himself, or so the Néréide’s steward, old Clarges told me. That sot McAdam called our Doctor Maturin a damned whore.”
Bonden looked surprised, “He didn’t … not our Doctor … He wouldn’t well … not with that quizz, Clonfert who was always poncing about … look at how he decked out his barge crew, like a right bunch of merry Andrews … supposed to be a lady’s man, so I heard … though I can’t see it, meself.”
“No you great Jack Pudden, I don’t mean that. Gawd if the Captain ever thought that, he wouldn’t be happy, no he wouldn’t. The thought of him pawing the Doctor … no. no …” Killick shook his head, “No, Lord Clonfert took him in hand and looked after him when Doctor Maturin had an accident when going aboard the Néréide. Nearly drowned him they did … all looking down, not one of those useless swabs did a thing while he was sinking and a-drowning … the blackie in the boat jumped in and hauled him out, saved him like. Then well he went down fast, quite poorly … all on the chest … terrible cough and a fever. Lord Clonfert put the Doctor in his own cabin, nursed him back to health, himself. Took a lot of attention of our Doctor, grateful for curing him of the colic I suppose. But no … nothing funny like that going on. That McAdam was just jealous because our Doctor is better than him and his Captain preferred his company to his I suppose.”
Bonden had frowned on hearing this, “The Néréide’s cox’n never told me that. If I’d been a ferrying him over, he’d never have been hurt. Damned lubbers, the whole lot of the Néréides, I wouldn’t trust them with the safety of our Doctor, not again. Though what he had me carrying ashore …”
Killick looked at him, “What? You didn’t tell me.”
Bonden looked guilty now for saying something and lowered his voice, “It was a secret. I wasn’t supposed to tell.”
Killick tsked and said, “Tosh, it’s all over now. You can tell me. I don’t gossip. Silent as a tomb is old Killick and right you know it.”
“All right, but not a word you hear, not a word. The Captain will find out and he’ll know it was me who told you,” Bonden whispered and looked around warily. “It was purses, purses of gold, bloody great lots of them, to pay off some of the Frenchies ashore, so they would help us like. Lots of little trips like that.”
Killick not to be outdone bent forward and whispered conspiratorially, “Well you know what I heard. The Governor, you know that Farquhar well he tore strips off of Admiral Bertie, cursed him high and low, mighty strong language he used for a Methody. Was so angry when the Admiral left the Doctor out of the signing over ceremony with the Frenchies … said the Doctor should have been invited and demanded that he sit next to him at the official dinner that night, in the place of honour too. He made a good night of it, drank up all the wine and Farquhar’s too, though he didn’t look much happier as far as I could see. Who can blame him? Lord can those Generals and the Admiral go on and on with their speeches. I could see from where I was standing behind the Captain that he perked up when the Admiral announced we were taking the news of the victory back home.”
Bonden mulled this over and suggested, “Maybe the Doctor’s low because he don’t get to share in the prize money, as he wasn’t a part of the officer’s mess. Him being Farquhar’s assistant cheated him out of a good pot.”
“Nah, he was part of the mess all the way down to the Cape and so the officers all voted that he should get a share, so he got his cut, don’t you worry about that. The only problem now is that with the Captain as rich as Croesus from the prizes won on this cruise and the news of a son, well we won’t be afloat for a long time to come. We’ll be ashore for a great while yet.” Killick groused and frowned.
“Don’t worry me. We’ll help Miss Sophie keep the house shipshape and with plenty of money, it’ll be Fiddler’s Green.” Bonden laughed as he mentally counted his winnings. He may have come late to writing but when it came to the determination of his share of the wealth, he like any other seamen could calculate to the penny the amount they were due and he was certainly content with the haul he would receive from this cruise.
“Yeah … maybe I should get me a wife,” Killick pondered, running his hand under his chin as he contemplated the fleshpots and pubs of Portsmouth.
Bonden looked unimpressed, “What would you want with a wife?” He shook his head and looked askance at Killick.
“No, I might buy me one. They come in right handy now and then.” Killick mused again. The music had stopped at least ten minutes before and a midshipman’s head appeared, “Killick to the Great Cabin, the Captain is calling for coffee.”
Killick looked singularly unimpressed and sighed and to Bonden said, “See you later, mate, it’s back to work for me.”
Jack and Stephen sipped on their coffee and sat in contented silence. Jack reached over and placed his hand on Stephen’s thigh and asked, “My dear ever since Port-Louis you have been so low. How can I help you or cheer you?”
Stephen patted the hand and shook his head, “Yes I have been, but no my dear there is nothing really. I just have to resolve this myself. The music and your company helps. I shall be all right, truly Jack.”
A tap on the door forestalled any further conversation and Jack stood up and called, “Come in.”
“Sir, you were to take our extra class,” Spotted Dick was not at all downcast at the extra tuition imposed on him, though the other midshipmen were not so happy. An extra mathematics class on Saturday afternoon, on top of the punishment already meted out to the more culpable members of the midshipmen’s mess was considered severe indeed. For several of them had already been beaten on the bare breech by the Captain for their misdemeanours, right swingeing wallops too. Some of them still found it difficult to sit down with any degree of comfort. Punishment entirely deserved, in Jack’s opinion for a particularly outrageous drunken spree that resulted in the loss of the ship’s goat, much broken crockery in the gunroom and one or two bottles of the finest Constantia.
“Yes thank you for reminding me Mr Richardson. Bring the rest of that motley crew in, and with the exception of your good self, I fear my time and effort is entirely wasted. For all my attempts at drumming some knowledge into their thick skulls, I doubt the rest of them have even the simplest understanding of the mathematics.” Jack turned to Stephen, “I’m sorry my dear but I must attend to this. I have threatened them with the appropriate punishment and it will be enforced.”
“I must be off myself. I should visit the sick berth, though the effect of the anticipation of great piles of prize money does have quite a restorative effect I find and very few have reported sick in the last week since leaving Mauritius. Or perhaps it is merely the thought of going home that cheers the men. I am also glad to see that you are adopting a less brutal means of punishment for the young gentlemen and I heartily applaud your interest in their continuing education.”
“Don’t worry about that Stephen. Half of them have kissed the gunner’s daughter this week and the extra lessons are just additional punishment for some of them.” Jack glared at the nervous-looking young gentlemen as they filed into the cabin with their books. The bottles of Constantia were to be served as a special celebration on the first dinner with his officers since their victory and he had been looking forward to the wine. Stephen as the officer responsible for the gunroom’s wine and spirits had acquired them specifically for him. Stephen stood up and Jack called after him, “Supper this evening and perhaps some more music.”
Stephen turned and smiled, “My pleasure, my dear.”
As he expected there was little to be done in the sick berth and Stephen came back on deck and climbed to the mizzen top to sit and contemplate the bright sea and the sky, on the lookout for any birds but today the skies and sea were swept clean of all life. He settled down on some studding sails and peered westward in hope of sighting the East African coast. As this hope died too, Stephen being well aware of Jack’s loathing of a lee shore, he indulged his other illicit habit and picked up his diary and a pencil and began to write -
‘What is it about Jack that to my eyes he is far superior to any other man that I have met? Other than my love for him which makes me undoubtedly biased in his favour, what else? I look at all the other naval commanders that were under him in this last series of actions and others like, Admiral Bertie and the rather brisk Colonel Keating and none of them compare in moral stature, emotional intelligence or strength. What makes Jack seem to be the greater man by far?
Jack has certainly justified all my pleadings on his behalf at the Admiralty as the only man to handle this venture. He has certainly done all that I claimed he would and more. Hopefully those with the power in their hands to make decisions concerning such crucial appointments will be so impressed they will consider him for other expeditions of this nature. He has all the skills needed to make daring raids upon the French and to make the most of the opportunities presented and yet at the same time has always carefully judged the odds, no headstrong and ill-considered actions like those of Clonfert. No profligate and heartless gambling with his men’s lives and the safety of the ships in his care. Jack is everything that Clonfert was not. He considered every side of a proposed action before embarking on it, evaluating the risks and the enemy before committing himself to it. This mature and balanced approach taken by Jack was in marked contrast to the lesser men he commanded. My Jack has grown up indeed!
Let me number these lesser beings. Clonfert that poor man, a man that in other circumstances and less driven by his fears and insecurities, I might have esteemed and even loved. His gentleness, kindness and consideration to me and what I would call an almost female tenderness that he showed me when I was ill did much to endear him to me. But his pointless bragging and fantastical storytelling and bombast were sad to see and brought him down in my estimation and it was all so unnecessary. The man’s fragile ego drove him to make poor decisions. The selection of his ill-bred and toadying officers did much to undo him, for surrounding himself with such inconsequential fellows fatally weakened him. None of his officers were strong enough and sufficiently respected by Clonfert to be able to present an alternate plan of action or oppose some of his more ill-considered adventures. Clonfert could not stand someone who may have attracted more respect and praise than him on board; his ego would not allow it. Clonfert’s overwhelming concern with his personal honour and repute was such that he would willingly gamble with the safety of his men’s lives and take risks that with more sober and considered thought no man would take. Due to his personal insecurities and ambitions he felt he must outdo Jack in any endeavour and appear more courageous and achieve more and faster than all the other captains in the squadron. His ill-considered actions, temperamental responses and jealousies alienated all those who were meant to be working with him, first Corbett and then Pym. Clonfert’s inability to work in a team, the desire for pre-eminence was disastrous in the end. He cared far more for his own personal glory than the success of the squadron overall, so eager was he to be seen a hero and to wipe Jack’s eye with his personal successes. How many of his men’s lives was he willing to sacrifice to achieve that goal? Then the final act, a man who could not bear to see that there was someone better, more skilful and more successful than he and rather than face that fact he would destroy himself. One should feel pity for such a being, his family background and upbringing had certainly helped to create the fatal flaw within his character that led him on this sorry path but no, there surely must be a point when one is mature enough to accept that there may be others with a higher claim on esteem and respect based on their superior qualities. Alas poor Clonfert could never attain that degree of maturity and remained a stunted individual, incapable of achieving even a fraction of his potential. Such a waste of a life, a sorry waste indeed!
A maturity that my Jack has achieved after many disappointments in his career and which he displayed so clearly in his careful and considered handling of the men under his command and in his cool and masterful dealing with the untrustworthy and dishonourable Admiral Bertie. I was very pleased with the equable manner he accepted the disgraceful way Admiral Bertie chose to take command of all the operations against the Mauritius, after it was clear that they would be successful, seeking to take all the honour for the victory to himself. What a scrub he is! For if everything had fallen apart and Jack had failed, he would have turned on him and placed all the blame on Jack’s shoulders and would have heaped ignominy on him without regret or guilt, so eager not to be associated with failure. Jack’s coolness and equanimity when faced with such a dishonourable individual certainly worked in Jack’s favour as it made the scrub nervous of him. I don’t believe it was a result of Jack’s joy at the news of his son and I was glad to add my tuppenny’s worth by ensuring some interesting and quite misleading intelligence concerning Jack reached Admiral Bertie. It pleased me to see the Admiral so discomfited.
Jack’s emotional intelligence in his dealings with his crew was of course in sharp contrast to the bullying and brutality of such a one as Corbett. For him I feel no sorrow whatsoever. His beating of our Bonden was sufficient to earn my anger and almost immediate dislike. Imagine beating and abusing such a willing and worthy man as Bonden, always willing to serve and serve faithfully those he respects and a man to whom I owe much for his tender care of me. Corbett’s death was entirely predictable based on his unreasonable and tyrannical abuse of power. He had no understanding or sympathy with any of his men and I’m surprised that so many men of his type have attained such a level of power and responsibility in the Royal Navy. Surely they have learned some lessons from the almost general mutiny at the Nore but then privilege and those with the greatest interest attain success regardless of their merits and many good men, like Jack and dear Tom Pullings do not receive the rewards commensurate with their talents. Jack in contrast is the paragon of Captains in my opinion. His treatment and consideration for his men is well known throughout the service and he would never be short of volunteers, so many wish to serve with him. I may not agree with his use of the cat or his methods of disciplining the midshipmen with physical force but he has never overstepped the mark. Even with unruly and unwilling men his understanding of their motivations and yes patience with them has been repaid a thousand fold with the consequent gains of respect and loyalty from almost all of his crew helping him achieve feats many other commanders could never hope to attain with their authoritarian and brutal style of command.
Captain Pym though a regular and quite proper commander was somewhat of a disappointment to Jack, for he may be quite an orthodox and willing Captain when under orders but seemed to lack any real imagination and drive and when caught in such an untenable situation as at Port South-East behaved poorly. I sympathise with Captain Lambert, the young commander of the Iphigenia who wanted to take the initiative and attack the grounded French ships directly, taking the chance to destroy them while it was possible. He, like Jack had a spark of initiative, unlike Pym who being the senior captain forbade such activity in favour of trying to haul the Sirius off the reef to escape the range of the batteries. This lack of initiative condemned the whole convoy to destruction and perhaps it could have sunk all our hopes in the enterprise. If only Jack had more commanders like Captain Lambert or those with the zeal of Colonel Keating, though the Colonel did not appreciate my intervention in brokering a truce on La Réunion and so preventing a sad waste of life in my opinion, but I did appreciate his willing support for Jack. He certainly cheered him when he was disheartened. The two of them certainly astounded Mr Farquhar with their energy and persistence. I’m sure he believed them quite crazed to believe that they could succeed with such unpromising prospects after the losses at Port South-East, but he did not have my faith and trust in Jack’s genius and his ability to make his own luck. For no matter how unreasonable it may seem and in my opinion a totally irrational proposal, but there is something in Jack’s nickname of “Lucky Jack Aubrey” in the service, for he does seem to be blessed by fortune in a way that I can not explain.
He possesses that quality called baraka by the Arabs to an inordinate degree and I consider that it has been an element that has come into play in many of his more successful actions. This is not to discredit his real abilities, for this quality would have no impact whatsoever in the fortunes of a less talented and deserving leader of men than my Jack. If only I can make him see the importance of maintaining a healthier attitude to his constitution and show some degree of that excellent self-discipline I know he possesses in the matter of his overindulgence in the pleasures of the table or at least exercise more. Yet my mind flits back to my night time fantasies and what manner of exercises I would indulge myself with Jack in my cot I must not write here. I must not think too much on him, these thoughts, these desires can never be. No I must stop torturing myself. He has no thoughts for me now. All his thoughts are with Sophie and his son who will be the centre of his world, as they should be. I fear for his daughters. How he has longed for a son. Shall they be completely overshadowed in his affections and attention?
It is very likely that it may be many years before we have the opportunity to sail together again. I must return to Spain and France quite soon after I arrive back in London. Sir Joseph’s letters tell me how urgently they need me. Yes my duty must come first. There is also a letter from Tomas, Miquel has come home. It will be good to see him again.’
Jack had climbed up to the top and stood there quietly looking down on his friend his head bent,as he scribbled away in his diary. He smiled at him and bent down beside him, “There you are Stephen and very busy I see. What are you writing?”
“Oh just my diary and notes for myself, nothing important.” Stephen shut the book and looked up at Jack, tempted all too easily again by the sight of him, his desire for him strong and as vibrant as ever. He stood up and tucking the little book in his coat was about to turn to climb down and the ship lurched and he would have been pitched down the lubber’s hole if Jack had not caught him in his arms.
He held Stephen close to him and bent to his ear, whispering, “Be careful my dear, I have to bring you home safe or Sophie will never forgive me.” He brushed Stephen’s cheek and ear with his lips, the feel of them sending a shiver of desire through Stephen who clasped Jack convulsively in response. Jack pulled back and looked down at him, “Are you all right?”
Stephen leant against Jack for a minute, controlling his response to the smell and feel of Jack’s body so close to him. He nodded his head and looked up and smiled, now master of his body, “Quite all right my dear. Shall we go down and have supper? What say you to the Corelli piece?”
The End