JacobkoshGamble a stamp.I can show you how to be a real man!Moderatormod
edited August 2021
There's a lot of low-key humor, too, like the dryly sardonic third-person narration (the merchant convoy is going slowly, "no doubt for fear of tripping over the lines of longitude").
The part where Dillon wakes up, goes to the rail of his old ship, takes in the view of the harbor and smiles satisfiedly at a sloop he assumes is the Sophie, only for someone to go "no, it's the smaller one, there in back...no, further back..." could be straight out of a comedy movie. You can see the shot framing in your head.
There's something of a fundamental contradiction in Jack - he's not a bloody-minded killer, he doesn't enjoy violence, indeed he's already got traumatic memories of particular battles. And yet he also loves the contest, he loves the excitement, he's most alive when people are trying to shoot or stab him. Stephen, in contrast, volunteers to take the surgeon's station in the cockpit, where he'll treat the injured, as he'd prefer not to fight himself, he dislikes violence.
It's moments like this that totally make me think of Kirk and Spock. Jack is all passion and Stephen is all cerebral.
Though I just thought of some examples where this isn't true. Kirk often loses his temper while Jack remains cool headed. Likewise Spock isn't exactly enamored with the fauna they run into all the time.
"Simple, real stupidity beats artificial intelligence every time." -Mustrum Ridcully in Terry Pratchett's Hogfather p. 142 (HarperPrism 1996)
There's a lot of low-key humor, too, like the dryly sardonic third-person narration (the merchant convoy is going slowly, "no doubt for fear of tripping over the lines of longitude").
The part where Dillon wakes up, goes to the rail of his old ship, takes in the view of the harbor and smiles satisfiedly at a sloop he assumes is the Sophie, only for someone to go "no, it's the smaller one, there in back...no, further back..." could be straight out of a comedy movie. You can see the shot framing in your head.
There's also the bit in the last chapter where they're talking about Marshall's obvious crush on Jack, which only Jack doesn't notice, and Dillon is like, "Your friend is kinda lacking in penetration, isn't he?"
A trap is for fish: when you've got the fish, you can forget the trap. A snare is for rabbits: when you've got the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words are for meaning: when you've got the meaning, you can forget the words.
Okay look you can't discuss the humor in the Aubrey/Maturin series without talking about the sloth.
For you folks that haven't gotten there yet: Stephen brings a sloth on board; he's always finding animals, and it usually results in mishaps such as sailors drinking the fluid he's embalmed them in, or him converting a cabin into a beehive. The sloth, though, takes the cake. The first time the poor thing meets Jack, it literally weeps in distress. Jack is annoyed by this, and embarks upon a campaign to win the sloth over by getting it drunk, which succeeds, resulting in perhaps the greatest passage ever put to print:
"– what is the matter with the sloth?’ It was curled on Jack’s knee, breathing heavily: its bowl and Jack’s glass stood empty on the table. Stephen picked it up, peered into its affable, bleary face, shook it, and hung it upon its rope. It seized hold with one fore and one hind foot, letting the others dangle limp, and went to sleep.
Stephen looked sharply round, saw the decanter, smelt to the sloth, and cried, ‘Jack, you have debauched my sloth.’"
Book 1, Chapter 6 - "You catch an albatross and paint a red cross on his bosom, and the others will tear him to pieces before the glass is turned."
After the emotional reveals of the last chapter, this chapter is a good bit more relaxed, a few short anecdote-like scenes of everybody getting into trouble ashore and returning to the relative stability of life at sea.
We start with a bit of a subtle time skip, Stephen's chilling at Port Mahon after having come back on the gunpowder ship prize, and the Sophie's back too, in possession of a third captured prize. Stephen's writing in code in his diary, (with occasional breaks to admire his fine new asp, preserved in a big jar of spirits), and he's a lot more philosophical in his own private mind than he lets out in person, pondering on the corrupting influences of age and power. I quite like how we've got these impressions of these various men, and now we get to hear Stephen's take on them, which in many cases echoes what I was thinking last chapter. In particular his thoughts on Dillon:
[...]I am concerned for James Dillon: he is as mercurial as ever he was - more so - only now it is all ten octaves lower down and in a darker key; and sometimes I am afraid in a black humour he will do himself a mischief. I would give so much to bring him cordially friends with Jack Aubrey. They are so alike in so many ways, and James is made for friendship: when he sees that he is mistaken about JA's conduct, surely he will come round? But will he ever find this out, or is JA to be the focus of his discontent? If so there is little hope; for the discontent, the inner contest, must at times be very severe in a man so humourless (on occasion) and so very exigent upon the point of honour. He is obliged to reconcile the irroconcilable more often than most men; and he is less qualified to do so.
Maybe James of a few years ago before the rebellion was much more like the open-hearted Jack, Jack if things hadn't quite worked out for him. Jack was certainly willing to duel a man for a minor slight back in chapter 1, would he have just continued down that road if he never got his lucky promotion?
A very unimportant minor description made me chuckle, Stephen taking a look down into the harbor to see the Sophie
Jack was still aboard, conspicuous in his best uniform, fussing amidships with Dillon and the bosun over some point of the upper rigging: they were all pointing upwards, and inclining their persons from side to side in ludicrous unison.
If that bit had been from Jack's POV it definitely would've been like a page and a half of in depth conversations about cross carpathings and twice hitched knots and very earnest weighings of the merits of it all, but it's not, so instead it's all just a bit ridiculous.
We also spot some of the Sophies on shore, skipping coins across the water just out of the sheer hedonistic joy of being able to literally throw away money. Like Jack said in the last chapter, sailors will try to desert on shore, but not when they've got a pocket full of prize money and a notion of more to come. Shortly afterwards Jack comes ashore to pick up Stephen, as they've got a musical evening ahead of them - first to Mr. Brown's house (the guy in charge of the dockyards, from back in chapter 2 or 3?), where they play a Mozart quartet together, amateurishly but in good spirits, just for the joy of playing. Jack remains sober during the quarter, but he starts to get lubricated during dinner, trading old sailor war stories with Mr Brown. After that it's time to head back over to Molly Harte's house, where she's got a big party going featuring all the local bigwigs. Molly hasn't made a huge impression so far, but I love her here:
'Allow me to name my friend - my particular friend - and surgeon, Dr Maturin,' said Jack, leading Stephen up to their hostess. 'Mrs Harte.'
'Your servant, ma'am,' said Stephen, making a leg.
'I am very happy to see you here, sir,' said Mrs Harte, instantly prepared to dislike him very much indeed.
'Dr Maturin, Captain Harte,' went on Jack.
'Happy,' said Captain Harte, disliking him already but for an entirely opposite reason, looking over Stephen's head and holding out two fingers, only a little way in front of his sagging belly. Stephen looked deliberately at them, left them dangling there and silently moved his head in a bow whose civil insolence so exactly matched his welcome that Molly Harte said to herself, 'I shall like that man.'
We also hear that the Sophie's - once notable as a very boring set of men - got into a big fight on shore with the men of another ship. Jack isn't exactly drowning in concern over it, either:
'[...] And now they have two pennies to rub together they kick up bob's a-dying like - well, I don't know. Like a set of mad baboons. They beat the crew of my cousin Oaks's barge cruelly, upon the absurd pretence of having a physician aboard, and so having the right to tie up ahead of a barge belonging to a ship of the line which carries no more than a surgeon - a very absurd pretence. Their two pennies have sent them out of their wits.'
'I am sorry Captain Oak's men were beat, sir,' said Jack, with a decent look of concern, 'But the fact is true. We do have a physician aboard'
Jack continues to get very, very drunk, and Stephen way over on the other side of the room can hear him declare that more of his sailors are coming ashore, "they are lining the rail in their shore-going rig, with money in their pockets, their eyes staring out of their heads and their pricks a yard long.' Molly intervenes - though rather too late - and grabs Stephen and tells him to take his friend back to his ship immediately, before he can do any more damage to himself.
Back onboard the Sophie in the morning and half of the Sophie's are nursing horrible hangovers (including their captain), the other half are still drunk, and Jack orders his ship back to sea as quietly, gently, and swiftly as possible, so that hopefully no one will even notice them leaving until they're already gone. We also find out about some of the other misadventures of the Sophie's - James Dillon is rumored to have fought a duel, Babbington had to be "rescued" from the clutches of aged prostitutes, and a few of the men don't make it back in time before they leave, though as they're still owed prize money everyone expects they'll show up eventually.
Out at sea "an air of surly virtue hung over the Sophie" as she prepares to witness punishment. All the punishments are for, unsurprisingly, drunkenness, which is of course quite ironic since the punishments are getting handed down by their captain, who already made quite a drunken ass of himself not that long ago. But I do like the sense of ritual and propriety involved here
the marines were lined up with their usual precision from number three gun aft; and the little quarter-deck was crowded with the officers.
'Mr Ricketts, where is your dirk?' said James Dillon sharply.
'Forgot it, sir. Beg pardon, sir,' whispered the mid-shipman.
'Put it on at once, and don't you presume to come on deck improperly dressed.'
Young Ricketts cast a guilty look at his captain as he darted below, and he read nothing but confirmation on Jack's frowning visage. Indeed, Jack's views were identical with Dillon's: these wretched men were going to be flogged and it was their right to have it done with due ceremony
Stephen sees flogging as purely an act of humiliation and inducing fear, whereas for Jack's its more ritualistic, a punishment, but one in which the flogged are due to certain respects and forms. The flogging itself is perfectly fine, but to do so out of proper uniform is almost irreligious, a sinful breaking of ritual.
Jack wonders how the hell men are still getting drunk several days out at sea (O'Brian seems to like doing this, he'll timeskip ahead a few days or weeks, and then only tell us exactly how long he skipped a few pages later, he doesn't like to break up the narrative flow by immediately letting us know there even was a time skip), and how some son of a bitch smuggled alcohol aboard. At any rate it's a mystery for now, but we do get a few other little naval life scenes - Jack realizes that the midshipmen are all sharing (horribly inaccurate) notes to work out the ship's position each day, and so he sits them all down and gives them one of those big insincere speeches about learning their business, becoming proper men, etc etc. It is kind of an interesting aspect of naval life, though - the captain is expected to be something of an educator to his younger officers, and he can spend several hours a day just children mathematics and spelling and penmanship. It's not very typically what we'd think of for a naval commander!
Down in the sickbay Stephen has a new sailor who's now not eating - he got drunk and admitted to his mates that on shore he was previously employed as a sin eater, someone who ritually ate the sins of the newly dead, who is then chased off by the family, and with him the sins. It's a very pagan bit of superstition, which is of course exactly the kind of superstition that the sailors believe in most deeply, and now they've expelled him from their mess as bad luck. Is our sin-eater supposed to be a metaphor for Stephen and James - sick of being a "white raven" ashore they've joined the navy to escape their previous lives? Or maybe it's just an interesting anecdote that O'Brian read somewhere in his research and wanted to share it. At any rate during this story we also get our first reference to the slave trade - the purser mentions he once served on a slave ship, sailing the middle passage. The purser really is just the worst - pretty much everybody else on board is pretty likeable, and then there's Ricketts who
We end with a charming little scene of the Brothers Sponge - a couple of pressed Greeks - who present Stephen with a remora, the famed sucker fish that can hold on to a ship with such strength that it will slow the entire ship to almost a dead stop. The Sophies clearly love Stephen by now, and they delight in giving him these sorts of gifts, since they know he's a naturalist. Trivia note: Pliny the Elder credits the remora with the defeat of Marc Antony's fleet, and also indirectly for the death of Caligula!
now the Sophie would run along like a swan. For a moment Stephen felt inclined to argue, to appeal to their common sense, to point to the nine-inch fish, to the exiguity of its fins; but he was too wise, and too happy, to yield to this temptation, and he jealously carried the bucket down to his cabin, to commune with the remora in peace.
And he was too much of a philosopher to feel much vexation a little later when a pretty sea breeze reached them, coming in over the rippling sea just abaft the larboard beam, so that the Sophie (released from the wicked remora) heeled over in a smooth, steady run that carried her along at seven knots until sunset, when the mast-head cried, "land ho! Land on the starboard bow.'
A trap is for fish: when you've got the fish, you can forget the trap. A snare is for rabbits: when you've got the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words are for meaning: when you've got the meaning, you can forget the words.
Book 1, Chapter 7 - "Do you not find it happens very often, that you are as gay as Garrick at dinner and then by supper-time you wonder why God made the world?"
Shit kinda hits the fan this chapter! Jack gets a proper fight, Dillon gets an emotional rollercoaster, and Stephen... Actually Stephen is doing just peachy ever since he got his remora.
I'm always surprised by the way Marshall is written in this book. I don't think he's written as empathetically as like he would be nowadays, but for a book written in 1969 he's handled pretty darn well. He's also very non-stereotypical gay, he's a "hard-faced, formidable man", middle aged, an expert sailor and navigator, and he's also just stutteringly crushing on Jack. Him being gay is also basically an open secret on this ship (at least to everyone who's not Jack), the men under him refer to him as "Old Sodom and Gomorrah," but it's a nickname, not a negative moral judgment.
The men are once again practicing at the great guns, this time in the evening, so they can get practice firing at nighttime as well. I like the description here, really showing us that where once they approached gun practice casually, they're now serious and driven:
The gun-crews were stripped to the waist; their heads were tied up in their black silk handkerchiefs; they looked keenly attentive, at home and competent. There was to be a prize, naturally, for any gun that should hit the mark, but a better one for the watch that should fire the faster, without any wild, disqualifying shots.
Jack thinks they still have room to improve, but at least they're holding their own now. Stephen is... Less impassioned about gunnery, "I am happy you are pleased; and certainly the mariners seemed to ply their pieces with a wonderful dexterity; but you must allow me to insist that that note is not A." While Jack and Stephen play their music the narrator (and this passage is kinda weird, cuz we don't normally get an all-knowing narrator, it feels like a little bit of a book 1 stylistic misstep) lets us know that only a mile away the spanish frigate Cacafuego passes by them, but neither ship sees the other in the darkness.
In the morning however the Sophie does spot a Spanish convoy only a short distance away, 3 merchant ships with an armed escort. The convoy doesn't immediately recognize them as a threat - assuming that they must be that Danish brig which the Sophie met a few chapters ago, and the Sophie closes distance. I really like the way Jack thinks in hard silence for a minute or two, and then comes out with this very well realized plan, making sure Dillon understands every step of the plan:
You see that slovenly little snow between us and the ship [the escort]?' said Jack, breaking across him. 'If we gently square our foreyard we shall be within a hundred yards of her in ten minutes, and she will mask us from the ship. D'ye see what I mean?'
'Yes, sir.'
'With the cutter and the launch full of men you can take her before she's aware. You make a noise, and the ship bears up to protect her: he has no way on him to tack - he must wear; and if you put the snow before the wind, I can pass through the gap and rake him once or twice as he goes round, maybe knocking away a spar aboard the settee at the same time."
By the way, here's a helping description of what tacking and wearing is via wikipedia, since I'm sure it'll come up again:
Tacking is a sailing maneuver by which a sailing vessel, whose desired course is into the wind, turns its bow toward and through the wind so that the direction from which the wind blows changes from one side of the boat to the other, allowing progress in the desired direction. The opposite maneuver to tacking is called jibing, or wearing on square-rigged ships, that is, turning the stern through the wind. No sailing vessel can move directly upwind, though that may be the desired direction, making this an essential maneuver of a sailing ship. A series of tacking moves, in a zig-zag fashion, is called beating, and allows sailing in the desired direction.
So tacking is generally faster and takes less space, but it's tougher to pull off and during the middle portion you'll basically be stuck with your foot off the gas, which can obviously go wrong. Wearing is instead making the full turn, so it's slower, takes more space, but it's easier to execute.
Dillon is able to catch two of the merchantmen, meanwhile Jack in the Sophie pursues the escort ship, who puts up a decent fight for a short time but is mostly interested in just getting away, which they're able to do fairly easily versus the relatively slow Sophie. Despite a few wounds Jack's delighted to hear there were no serious casualties. The uncaptured ships run for cover into a nearby port, and Jack and James reunite. James, of course, was a bit busy to be observing Jack's fight, and he's coldly shocked by Jack's happy declaration that there were no casualties. But it doesn't add up in Jack's mind until a few hours later, as they're planning an attack on the harbor itself, "'Could the fellow possibly think I am shy?' he thought. 'That I left off chasing because I did not choose to get hurt and hurried back for a prize?'"
I like how Jack's just sort of mildly, amusedly surprised at the revelation that his first lieutenant thinks he's a coward. It's so far from the truth that Jack can't even really take offense at it, James might as well believe that he's illiterate, or secretly French. Jack orders Dillon to command the ship while Jack leads the assault party, they'll sail in under the cover of darkness, spike the guns in the defensive fortifications, and then cut out the docked ships. Jack leads the assault, the spike the guns, and prepare to detonate the fort's magazine.
The town they raid is Almoraira (I think it's properly just called Moraira) and boy it looks just lovely. You can also see the little fort at the harbor!
Skip ahead a few hours and Jack's back on board, victorious but quite singed, as whoopsies it turns out there was another magazine below the first, which they had not expected. "His head and neck were horribly painful from all the left-hand half of his long hair having been burnt off - his scalp and face were hideously seared and bruised." Jack's not particularly bothered though, and the Sophie seems to be transforming into a harmonious, perfectly-moving machine of war. During the day they lurk out at sea, practicing gunnery and boarding, at night they sail in along the coast to raid harbors and shipping, James is markedly more respectful to the captain now and they're finally in sympatico. The only problem is that they're running out of water - they with rationing they still use half a ton of water a day - but Stephen reveals that he knows a nearby coastal stream. In exchange he asks for a brief leave to go ashore and visit a friend, which Jack is happy to grant.
Before Stephen leaves he has dinner with Dillon, who has some thoughts about discipline
[talking about how Jack's primary goal isn't prizetaking]
'Just so. Though in passing I may say not everyone would know it - he does himself injustice. I do not think the men know it, for example. If they were not kept well in check by the steady officers, the bosun and the gunner, and I must admit that fellow Marshall too, I think there would be trouble with them. There may be still: prize-money is heady stuff. From prize-money to breaking bulk and plunder is no great step - there has been some already. And from plunder and drunkenness to breaking out entirely and even to mutiny itself is not a terrible long way further. Mutinies always happen in ships where the discipline is either too lax or too severe.
[Stephen's surprised that Dillon considers the Sophie undisciplined]
'No. What is commonly called discipline is quite strict with us, what I mean is something else - the intermediate terms, they might be called. A commander is obeyed by his officers because he is himself obeying; the thing is not in its essence personal; and so down. If he does not obey, the chain weakens.'
They take on water, and Jack is alarmed to spot two frigates on the horizon. Luckily, they turn out to be British... But unluckily, they have orders for Jack. The captain orders the Sophie to take on 50 of their prisoners (and the Sophie was already fully crewed and loaded with prisoners of their own!), and to be on the lookout for an American ship, which is carrying two fugitives - United Irishmen, wanted by the crown. James is, of course, silently shocked by the order, though Jack of course doesn't have any clue why he seems so depressed and prickly all of a sudden. A few nights later Jack is woken up by the feeling that the ship has changed sail, and he goes on deck, to find a fuming Mr Marshall, and James Dillon informs him that he overrode Marshall to change course, as he thought he saw a light on the horizon. It's totally out of regulation, but Jack doesn't really push it, as James already knows it is too. However that morning they spot a ship, and Jack congratules James on his sharp eyesight, and sends him to go board the wanted American ship.
I really like this pov sequence of James:
On the way out James had not known what he would do. All that day, ever since he had heard of the squadron's mission, he had been overwhelmed by a sense of fatality; and now, although he had had hours to think about it, he still did not know what he would do. He moved as though in a nightmare, going up the American's side without the slightest volition of his own; and he had known, of course, that he would find Father Mangan. Although he had done everything possible, short of downright mutiny or sinking the Sophie to avoid it; although he had altered course and shortened sail, blackmailing the master to accomplish it, he had known that he would find him. But what he had not known, what he had never foreseen, was that the priest should threaten to denounce him if he did not turn a blind eye. He had disliked the man the moment recognition flashed between them, but in that very first moment he had made up his mind - there was not the slightest possibility of his playing the constable and taking them off. And then came this threat. For a second he had known with total certainty that it did not affect him in the least, but he had hardly reached another breath before the squalor of the situation became unbearable. He was obliged to make a slow pretense of examining all the other passports aboard before he could bring himself under control. He had known that there was no way out, that whatever course he took would be dishonourable; but he had never imagined that dishonour could be so painful.
[James returns to the ship and reports that the fugitives weren't actually on board, to Jack's cheerful relief. Noticing that James is looking quite ill Jack invites James to breakfast, but]
'You must excuse me, sir,' whispered James, disengaging himself with a look of utter hatred. 'I am a little out of order.'
Poor James Dillon.
Kana on
A trap is for fish: when you've got the fish, you can forget the trap. A snare is for rabbits: when you've got the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words are for meaning: when you've got the meaning, you can forget the words.
Book 1, Chapter 7 - "Do you not find it happens very often, that you are as gay as Garrick at dinner and then by supper-time you wonder why God made the world?"
By the way, here's a helping description of what tacking and wearing is via wikipedia, since I'm sure it'll come up again:
Tacking is a sailing maneuver by which a sailing vessel, whose desired course is into the wind, turns its bow toward and through the wind so that the direction from which the wind blows changes from one side of the boat to the other, allowing progress in the desired direction. The opposite maneuver to tacking is called jibing, or wearing on square-rigged ships, that is, turning the stern through the wind. No sailing vessel can move directly upwind, though that may be the desired direction, making this an essential maneuver of a sailing ship. A series of tacking moves, in a zig-zag fashion, is called beating, and allows sailing in the desired direction.
So tacking is generally faster and takes less space, but it's tougher to pull off and during the middle portion you'll basically be stuck with your foot off the gas, which can obviously go wrong. Wearing is instead making the full turn, so it's slower, takes more space, but it's easier to execute.
This is one of those things that's going to be absolutely key for the entire rest of the series* - and which is well-known to anyone who is a sailor, but which is not immediately obvious to anyone who isn't.
The thing is that modern sailboats (mostly) use what's called a fore-and-aft, Bermuda, or sloop rig.** The majority of the sail goes along a line from the front of the boat (the forward part, the bow) to the back (the after part, the stern). One of the main benefits of this type of rig is that it is, relatively speaking, very weatherly - it can head up towards the wind pretty far before the wind is no longer passing cleanly over the surface of the sail, causing it to stall and the boat to lose power. 45 degrees off the wind is usually a good limit-of-thumb for how close you can head into the wind before your sail starts getting inefficient. So, if the wind is coming from the north, the best you can do is to sail north-east or north-west.
Ship-rigged vessels - those with primarily square sails designed to go across the ship widthwise, which is why they're also called square-rigged vessels*** - do not sail into the wind as well as fore-and-aft-rigged ships, giving up 5, 10, or even 15 degrees of angle. That may not sound like much, but it has a huge effect on the tactics of the day, as it is even harder to move your sailing ship into the direction in which the wind is coming from. (This is also why, sometimes, ships get trapped in port. If the wind is blowing directly on-shore or from an otherwise inconvenient direction, it may not be possible to head far enough up into the wind to not run into land on your way out.)
Accordingly, occupying the weather-gauge, being the ship "higher up" towards the wind, is a huge advantage, often allowing you to start a fight on your own terms or just keep distance from your opponent until they get tired of chasing you. And if your ship is more weatherly - as differences in design, rigging, weight distribution, keel weight, number and location of your guns, battle damage, etc., all have effects on how far into the wind your ship can point - then it's possible to just run away into the wind, even from a nominally faster ship.
So, tacking vs. jibing. As mentioned, when you're tacking, there's a part in the middle where your boat is pointed directly into the wind. At this point, not only are your sails not providing any forward thrust to your boat, they're actually doing the opposite - acting as gigantic brakes - and with enough time actually making you back up. (You can make a boat intentionally go in reverse by pointing into the wind and just letting the wind push you backwards.) So if your crew is not on-the-ball, and getting you through the middle of your tack very, very quickly, you will lose a bunch of speed when tacking. The thing about sailboats is that forward speed is what lets their rudders provide direction to the boat. So as you slow down, your ability to make the boat turn is reduced as well. If you are very unlucky, you can end up "in irons," with your ship pointing into the wind, having lost sufficient speed to lose rudder control, and now you're stuck. There are lots of tricks to getting out of being in-irons (including reversing your ship to get sufficient speed, manually backing your sails to get the bow pointing away, etc.), but the important point is that you've stopped turning and largely stopped moving. As you might guess, this is a very, very bad place to be in a running ship battle - not only are you much easier for your opponent to hit, but your main weaponry is probably in your broadsides (e.g., you can shoot primarily to port or starboard, but not so much ahead and behind), and those are now almost certainly not pointing at your opponent any more.
Jibing, or wearing, on the other hand, doesn't suffer from the same issue because your ship's sails are providing power the entire time - there's no point at which they are into the wind and acting as breaks, because the wind is always behind them. Accordingly, you lose a lot less speed when you wear your ship. Unfortunately, wearing your ship means that you're keeping your foot on the gas as you're pointing away from the direction in which you want to go, meaning that you're giving up a whole lot of extra distance that you're going to have to fight to get back (and, remember, you're probably getting something like 55 degrees off the wind at best). Or, to continue with the earlier example of the wind coming from the north (and me wanting to go north), then when I'm wearing my ship I'm going to move south a whole bunch every time I wear the ship, and since I'm moving east-north-east or west-north-west at best, every mile I lose to the south is going to take me a lot of sailing to get back.
Anyway, more on this later.
* And any other Age of Sail books you might pick up ...
** Note that there are tons of variations on this based on how many sails there are, their relative sizes, and locations. Anyway ...
*** Note that ship-rigged is actually a subset of square-rigged, but that's not super important right now.
I read the first one a couple of years ago, and it was a great book, but towards the end I'll admit I'd completely lost track of who was where and which way the wind was blowing and which sails meant what, which took some of the impact out of it.
I'll admit in the beginning I largely treated the series exactly as I would Star Trek. I simply replace any unfamiliar terminology with Star Trek-ese and it works well enough.
"Doctor, we cannot sail into the wind since our Bussard ramscoops cannot generate enough thrust!"*
After about 4 books or so eventually you get the idea on what's going on aboard a Royal Navy ship. At the end of the day though, it's really the interplay of the characters that make the series. If one can enjoy Star Trek without knowing how a matter-antimatter reactor works, one can just as easily enjoy Aubrey-Maturin not knowing how to sail into the wind. Enough to know that it is not easy.
*I know what a Bussard ramjet is. Used here only for illustrative purposes.
**A long time ago, I did find this Youtube clip to be very illustrative on how tacking is done, which helps visualize what the Sophies run around the deck doing:
I wonder if that French privateer captain will show up again. It feels like when you make a dude that cool and then make him escape, it's because you're gonna bring him back.
Book 1, Chapter 8 - 'I dare say they call me Beelzebub. But that don't make me Beelzebub.
This chapter's about half of our crew struggling with their various relationships and feelings, and then we spent the second half of the chapter relieving the tension with some pretty excellent comedy of manners misadventures. Also, we meet the Cacafuego!
So Jack is laying out his relationship problems with James to an entirely imaginary Stephen, who in reality is still off in Spain somewhere until they can pick him up, much to Jack's worry. It's actually really interesting how so much of this book is about men's relationships and feelings, and yet its in such a ultra-masculine, military setting. Narratives don't usually have adult men worrying about feelings and friendships like this, especially not like in historical fiction. I'm kinda struggling to think of other books to compare it to.
We've heard Barret Bonden's name in previous chapters, he's the captain of the maintop and the coxswain (so vaguely sorta like a non-commissioned officer), and Jack's been impressed by his leadership and professionalism. So he offers Bondon a promotion, but Bondon with great cheer turns him down. He also lets on that the men are quite aware of Jack's, uh, spotted history as an officer, which is a touch mortifying for Jack. Jack really kinda took his time to grow into his current self, it seems like, cuz he just sounds like an unreliable dumbass growing up.
I think this chapter's probably gonna be a lot of quotes of things that made me chuckle, cuz there were a lot of them:
'Mr Babbington,' [Jack] said, suddenly stopping in his up and down. 'Take your hands out of your pockets. When did you last write home?'
Mr Babbington was at an age when almost any question evokes a guilty response, and this was, in fact, a valid accusation. He reddened, and said, "I don't know, sir.'
[...]
'Give your father my compliment and tell him my bankers are Hoares.' For Jack, like most other captains, managed the youngsters' parental allowance for them. 'Hoares,' he repeated absently once or twice, 'my bankers are Hoares,' and a strangled ugly crowing noise made him turn. Young Ricketts was clinging to the fall of the main burton-tackle in an attempt to control himself, but without much success.
Jack playing nursemaid to a bunch of baby officers while still calling them Mister and Sir is always amusing.
They're finally able to pick up Stephen, who contrary to all of Jack's worrying had a perfectly pleasant vacation in Spain, technically an enemy nation. As Jack and Stephen sit down for a welcome-back breakfast, they have an interesting conversation about Stephen's new assistant, the sin-eater, and his adoption of this new identity.
'Identity?' said Jack, comfortably pouring out more coffee, 'Is not identity something you are born with?'
'The identity I am thinking of is something that hovers between a man and the rest of the world: a mid-point between his view of himself and theirs of him - for each, of course, affects the other continually. A reciprocal fluxion, sir. There is nothing absolute about this identity of mine. Were you, you personally, to spend some days in Spain at present you would finds yours change, you know, because of the general opinion there that you are a false harsh brutal murdering villain, an odious man.'
Jack is now seen as such a villain in Spain, in fact, that a merchant has influenced the government to send a ship, the Cacafuego, to specifically hunt down the Sophie and put an end to her piratical reign of terror. Stephen did, however, forget to ask about like, how many guns she had, or how her sails were set up. Stephen has the potential to be a heck of a spy, but he declines - while he's at peace with finding out information about their enemies, he's not gonna go spying for info about their prey. We also find out from Jack that they pulled a bit of a dirty trick with those prisoners he was forced to take - they landed them all on Dragon island, off of Majorca.
I was picturing way more of like, totally stranded on a deserted island, but really it's only a short distance from the mainland, especially for a bunch of sailors
'But is that not wrong? Will you not be reproved - courtmartialled?'
Jack winced, and clapping his hand to wood he said, 'Pray never say that ill-conditioned word. The mere sound of it is enough to spoil the day.'
'But will you not get into trouble?'
'Not if I put into Mahon with a thundering great prize at my tail,' said Jack laughing
This bit seems a bit significant, considering Dillon's worries about discipline on board the Sophie just last chapter. Men follow the captain because he in turn is following his own orders. But Jack has no problem with avoiding the rules, so... On the other hand, Dillon might just be speaking about why men would follow Dillon - Aubrey is obviously more charismatic and naturally commanding, will the men follow Jack just for Jack? Later, James and Stephen are finally able to get a little privacy to talk about the United Irishmen thing, as James inspects the paintwork from a boat, and Stephen tries to figure out how to comfort James.
Stephen sat there, weighing the advantage of saying 'Do not hate Jack Aubrey for it: do not drink so much: do not destroy yourself for what will not last' against the disadvantage of setting off an explosion; for in spite of his apparent calm, James Dillon was on a hair-trigger, in a state of painful exacerbation. Stephen could not decide, shrugged, lifting his right hand, palm upwards, in a gesture that meant 'Bah, let it go.'
James is changing up the paint scheme because they've decided that the best solution to being hunted is to disguise themselves more thoroughly as that Danish sister-sloop they met a while ago. Despite the distraction of transforming themselves into lubberly merchantmen, the Sophie is still in a sad state. James's anguish can't quite decide whether to stick to self-hatred or hatred of everything else, Marshall is worried and anxious about being exposed by Dillon, the midshipmen are all exhausted to tears due to the increased workload as the older midshipmen have taken prizes back to port, and Jack's depressed because he knows his ship is unhappy and he can't understand why or how to fix it.
That morning the worry turns into true fear, as the Sophie wakes up to realize what they thought was their next prey was, instead, the Cacafuego itself, a big ol' proper frigate. They're outmanned, outgunned, and outweighed, and the Cacafuego just needs to board them to realize that they are definitely not a bunch of harmless Danes. But as soon as the boat comes near Stephen frantically begs them to board, and to send a surgeon aboard - do they know anything about the plague? What does it look like? We have men very sick and we're afraid, please send us your surgeon! The Spanish lieutenant is immediately like oh, FUCK THAT, and refuses to board. Stephen has saved the day! Everyone's delighted except for James, who thought that as the boat was heading back would've been the perfect moment to launch a surprise attack. Dude really is quite desperate for a fight.
The gang head back to port Mahon, where Jack gets a proper chewing out by Lord Keith, and a long, thorough listing of all of Jack's sins which will doubtless prevent him from ever attaining a higher rank. Jack is pissed, and it's the kinda pissed where he's even saltier because he can feel the truth in Lord Keith's criticism. However, Keith is also willing to grant Jack another cruise - for now, at least, Jack is lucky, and if someone is lucky that you have to make the most of it, because luck never lasts forever.
Stephen meanwhile is taking great joy in watching a couple of mantis's fuck, and then one mantis eat. Quoth Stephen, "You do not need a head, nor even a heart, to be all a female can require." Jack and Stephen are going to a dinner at Molly Harte's place again ('Dinner?' cried Stephen, as though the meal had just been invented), and the entire thing has a bit of a sitcom quality to it. Stephen really enjoys poking fun at rich assholes in a way that they don't realize they're being mocked.
'Dr Maturin, I am so glad you were able to come,' cried Mrs Harte, turning towards the door. 'I have a very learned lady to introduce you to.'
'Indeed, ma'am? I rejoice to hear it. Pray what is she learned in?'
'Oh, in everything,' said Mrs Harte cheerfully; and this, indeed, seemed to be Laetitia's opinion too, for she at once gave Stephen her views on the treatment of cancer and on the conduct of the Allies - prayer, love, and Evangelism was the answer, in both cases.
'[...] How come you to be in the Navy if you are a real doctor?'
'Indigence, ma'am, indigence. For all that clysters is not gold, on shore. And then, of course, a fervid desire to bleed for my country.'
[Poor Mr Maturin, why you even have to take care of the common sailors, instead of the proper officers!]
'Why, ma'am, I cut 'em off pretty short, I assure you. Oil of cat is my usual dose.'
Also, Stephen's judgment of the woman's husband:
'Oh, he was a dull ignorant superficial darting foolish prating creature in himself, to be sure, but I found him truly fascinating. The pure bourgeois in a state of social ferment.
The chapter ends with Jack informing glumly that before they get to do another cruise they have to run some mail down to boring ol' Alexandria. Stephen is, of course, fucking delighted. Alexandria! One of the great classical cities!
A trap is for fish: when you've got the fish, you can forget the trap. A snare is for rabbits: when you've got the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words are for meaning: when you've got the meaning, you can forget the words.
Basically the lesson we need to take from this book is that the Spanish Mediterranean coast is - shocker - just lovely
A trap is for fish: when you've got the fish, you can forget the trap. A snare is for rabbits: when you've got the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words are for meaning: when you've got the meaning, you can forget the words.
I especially love Stephen dropping his napkin accidentally and climbing under the table to retrieve it.
While under the table, he discovers that Mrs. Harte is playing footsies with Jack on one side and the soldier with whom she'd gone out riding in an earlier chapter on the other. Her feet are quite far apart, so that neither one suspects the other.
Mrs. Harte later limps away from the table, as both men have been basically crushing her feet for the entirety of the dinner.
Wasn't really into the dinner party scene. I've never really liked scenes like that, where the author creates characters designed to be completely unlikeable so they can have the other characters be like 'ugh, those sorts of people'.
Still, liked the rest of the chapter well. I'm definitely starting to see why you guys like Jack so much. There was this:
‘Well, Bonden, think of what I have said. It would be a pity to stand in your own way.’
when he was talking to Bonden, the maintopman. Jack is genuinely pretty supportive of his men, it's nice.
He also showed some guile in his plan for tricking the frigate, even if Stephen ended up needing to come in clutch for it. And at the same time there's this"
‘Back the foretopsail slowly, Mr Marshall,’ murmured Jack, ‘and keep the hands to the braces.’ He murmured, for he knew very well that the frigate’s officers had their glasses trained on the quarter-deck, and a persuasive fallacy assured him that the glasses would magnify his voice as well.
He's still showing his cleverness there! But he is also rather goofy.
We've seem all of these qualities before, but I guess just having them all in the same chapter makes it stand out more to me.
Book 1, Chapter 9 - 'Th'impervious horrors of a leeward shore'
Chapter 9 opens with Stephen feeling a bit more philosophical, as he weight the pluses and minuses of "Yay I got to see so many cool places!" versus "...But we just sailed right past them all."
Again, these weeks have been among the most peaceful I have known: they might have been among the happiest, if I had not been so aware that JA and JD might kill one another, in the civillest way in the world, at the next point of land: for it seems these things cannot take place at sea.
Dillon continues in his downward spiral of self-hatred and resentment, and with nowhere else to go it just boils out at Jack. Jack, meanwhile, is in the dumps both because his honor is being insulted, and Lord Keith's warnings to him about his behavior have really wormed into him. Don't worry about, says Stephen, you're already a captain, what does it matter to get appointed to some meaningless "post-captain" list, anyway? You're already a captain, who cares if you only get to wear 1 epaulette instead of two? Quoth Jack, 'That does occupy a great share of my heart, of course, along with eagerness for an extra eighteenpence a day. But you will allow me to point out, sir, that you are mistaken in everything you advance.' Technically right now Jack's only a commander, he's called Captain out of courtesy, he holds the position of captain of his ship, but he doesn't truly hold the rank of Captain Aubrey, not until he's appointed to the Post-Captains list. Once you make it onto the list from then on out it's purely a matter of seniority, live long enough and you'll get promoted to admiral. But he could easily languish away the rest of his career without ever making it.
So Jack and Dillon are both in a state of restrained, furious truce right now, acting like everything's fine, they're too professional to let it boil out into professional time, but as soon as their voyage is over... One of them is quite likely to end up dead, and the other with his career ruined. Before they can get to shore though, they've got to escape a French frigate, who quite easily outguns them and they have to escape from. You sorta get the impression of naval life as one of those like petri dish games - merchantmen are fleeing from sloops, which are fleeing from frigates, which are fleeing from ships of the line... Even the hunters are somebody else's prey. The Sophie manages to get away thanks to some clever tricks (it's the fake rear lights trick that they borrowed for the movie!) but young Ellis, the son of the terrible couple from last chapter, accidentally falls overboard as he's watching the chase. They manage to retrieve him, and while he's not breathing initially Stephen's able to revive him with a set of bellows and tobacco smoke. QI had a segment about that method, iirc! It's one of those classic early medical treatments, where there's ASPECTS that are helpful, and then there's pointless parts of it, but hey whatever it's doing is working so we should just keep replicating this method! Young Ellis survives, which is nice because he seems like an OK kid.
The Sophie escapes, but unfortunately in the opposite direction from where they actually want to go, so now they have to crawl along right into the wind for days and days until they're finally able to return to Port Mahon. And even when they reach port, Jack's a bit disappointed and hurt to not find Molly Harte there for more than an afternoon, as she has - she says - a previous engagement with a cousin.
Jack also gets a letter from his dad, who we really haven't heard much about until now. Now it seems like there could be a good reason for that, as his father is enthusiastically detailing the advantages for older men of a certain age marrying a young, woman far below his station. Papa Aubrey's totally gonna marry some hot scullery maid, huh?
I like this little scene being what cheers Jack back up a bit:
He glanced across the quarter-deck at his lieutenant, who was showing young Lucock how to hold a sextant and bring the sun down to the horizon. Lucock's entire being showed a restrained but intense delight in understanding this mystery, carefully explained
Jack sincerely, wholeheartedly loves the naval life, and he loves people who love it, too. It's why he tries his best with the midshipmen to actually teach them their profession, and it's also part of why he loves Dillon, even as he also totally wants to strangle Dillon.
Another great little sequence, with Stephen excitedly spotting a bird:
'A bearded vulture! It is a bearded vulture! he cried. 'A young bearded vulture!'
'Well,' said Jack instantly - not a second's hesitation - 'I dare say he forgot to shave this morning.' His red face crinkled up, his eyes diminished to a bright blue slit and he slapped his thigh, bending in such a paroxysm of silent mirth, enjoyment and relish that for all the Sophie's strict discipline the man at the wheel could not withstand the infection and burst out in a strangled "hoo, hoo, hoo,' instantly suppressed by the quartermaster at the con.
[and then James's reaction to the moment]
'He derives a greater pleasure from a smaller stream of wit than any man I have ever known.'
We've seen time and time again, Jack might not be any great thinker (except for naval stuff), but he does have an incredibly disarming gregariousness. The kind of guy where when he laughs at his bad joke you just can't help but laugh along too. In better spirits now Jack decides to go take the ship's boat to go quickly visit Molly, but he comes back only a short time later, looking pale and shocked, and orders the Sophie back out to sea. Spoiler, but also not really because it was fairly obvious: Jack definitely just caught Molly with that army guy, and now he's all bummed.
It's a weird little tendency of Jack's, because up until now it's seemed like they were just having a purely friendly, non-serious, non-jealous sort of affair. Jack's never thought of Molly in any sort of romantic way, at least that I can remember, and he's been perfectly happy to fraternize with the big tiddy spanish lady at his inn, too. But this seems to have wounded him anyway.
So yeah, even with a chase and a near-drowning it was sort of a short, quieter chapter. The Sophie is theoretically enjoying nothing but success - the crew's trained up, the ship is in good condition, the officers are excellent, the prize money is flowing - and yet repeatedly we get line after line about impending doom, the end of luck, and depression and dissatisfaction from both Jack and Dillon.
Kana on
A trap is for fish: when you've got the fish, you can forget the trap. A snare is for rabbits: when you've got the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words are for meaning: when you've got the meaning, you can forget the words.
Pray tell the purser we need three of his largest butts
A trap is for fish: when you've got the fish, you can forget the trap. A snare is for rabbits: when you've got the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words are for meaning: when you've got the meaning, you can forget the words.
Honestly surprised it took me all the way until chapter 9 before I did that
A trap is for fish: when you've got the fish, you can forget the trap. A snare is for rabbits: when you've got the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words are for meaning: when you've got the meaning, you can forget the words.
Book 1, Chapter 10 - 'So much pain; and the more honest the man the worse the pain.
Chapter 10 opens once again with Stephen writing in his diary. For book 1 of what is titled the Aubrey-Maturin series, it's kinda surprising how Stephen sorta feels like a bit of a third wheel in the book so far. Like he's a useful pov character, as someone who knows both Aubrey and Dillon, but he's much less active than the other two, for now at least he's content to earn some pay as a surgeon and sail around looking at birds and beetles.
Anyway, Stephen's writing in his diary and his concern for his two friends has kinda drifted into sheer exasperation,
much as I love them, I could wish them both to the Devil, with their high-flown, egocentrical points of honour and their purblind spurring one another on to remarkable exploits that may very well end in unnecessary death. In their death, which is their concern: but also in mine, to say nothing of the rest of the ship's company. A slaughtered crew, a sunken ship, and my collections destroyed - these do not weigh at all against their punctilios.
[...]
if they had the scrubbing of the decks, the hoisting of the sails, the cleaning of the heads, we should hear little enough of these fine vapourings.
Punctilio, that's a great word! "a fine or petty point of conduct or procedure." I love how Stephen's gone from concern to just, "omg stop with these first world problems and go do some honest work." Also he's at least getting slightly more nautical, he couldn't have managed even those basic descriptions of sailor work at the beginning of the book.
Later Stephen and James are making small talk about differences in national habits, which drifts over to dueling. James expresses his amazement that unlike the Irish, an English gentleman might go a whole year without a duel. But then he's given insult to Englishmen that a proper manly Irishman would never stomach, maybe the English are just cowards. And then Jack walks in, because of course he does, but even if he doesn't, like, this is a tiny ship, Jack would've heard it. Both Jack and James flee to action as an escape from their "real life" problems, Jack more for the excitement, James with a bit bloodier eagerness to him. But they don't have any action right now, and they both have a mounting list of problems, and so it's seeming more and more likely they're going to kill each other.
A brief interlude from one source of rising tension to another, as Stephen is introduced to just how much fuckin' alcohol these sailors drink. Tom Simmons, a popular young sailor onboard, dies from an alcoholic coma, and Stephen unofficially investigating asks the gunner Mr Day just how much the young man actually drank:
'How much did he drink? Why, now, Tom was a popular young chap, so I dare say he had the whole allowance, bating maybe a sip or two just to moisten their victuals. That would make it close on a quart.'
'A quart. Well, it is a great deal: but I am surprised it should kill a man. At an admixture of three to one, that amounts to six ounces or so - inebriating, but scarcely lethal.'
'Lord, doctor,' said the gunner, looking at him with affectionate pity, 'that ain't the mixture. That's the rum.'
'A quart of rum? Of neat rum? cried Stephen.
'That's right, sir. Each man has his half-pint a day, at twice, so that makes a quart for each mess for dinner and for supper: and that is what the water is added to.
Like, literally the whole navy are functioning alcoholics, basically. I guess to some degree there's an element of practicality there - the alcohol probably helps sanitize the questionable water, and its so much physical labor that the calories probably help too. But there is sort of a trend here of O'Brian's sailors all rushing headlong towards hedonistic oblivion at any chance they get - they live very much in the moment. If you have money in your pocket then spend it, if you have alcohol then you drink it all, you might be drowned or blown up tomorrow anyway so don't worry about it. The officers are just as bad, except in addition to the other stuff they rush towards glory, too.
The only folks aboard not in the dumps are the midshipmen, who still have the innocence of childhood. Young Mr Ellis is sent to go ask the doctor for "physic for a slack-going horse," which I have no idea what that actually means except it's definitely in the same category as like, breastplate stretchers and headlamp fluid. Frankly I think every work of fiction should be required to have one of these jokes thrown in, as the only proper type of worldbuilding.
The Sophie captures another merchantman, a ship that claims to be from Ragusa. Actually reading the wiki makes me realize that while I knew the name, Ragusa doesn't have much longer to exist - it ends in 1808, only 8 years away from our "present day." Nowadays it is the city of Dubrovnik, AKA where they filmed a lot of King's Landing! Anyway Marshall boards her, is unimpressed by their fake papers, and whoop there's another win for the Sophie. Neither Jack or Dillon really give a shit tho, cuz there was no battle.
Shortly afterwards though they realize there's a battle happening somewhere, as they can hear cannon fire somewhere through the rain to the northeast. A small Spanish privateer hears the same thing, and appears out of the storm nearby, racing towards the cannonfire, only for the two ships to spot each other, and after a moment of shock open fire. The Spaniard realizes he's outgunned and turns tail, trying to outrun the Sophie back to Barcelona. They're able to capture the small privateer, but gunboats are now swarming out of the Barcelona harbor. Smallish, oar-powered boats sporting a single very, very large 36-pound cannon each, individually they're vastly outgunned by the Sophie, but as a group they're dangerous, one plummeting shot from a gunboat could go straight through the Sophie's deck and right on through her bottom. The Sophie's finally able to get their prize sailable again and they retreat with their capture, but later Jack starts to feel regret that he didn't rush into the gunboats, with James' criticism of his courage in the back of his mind. Jack makes two resolutions - first, that he's going to ask James for an explanation when they get on shore, one of those phrases that is definitely the ritual beginning of a duel. And secondly, that tomorrow night he's gonna go back and settle things with the gunboats.
The next day they're once again playing cat and mouse with the gunboats, luring them this way and that and trying to break their formation, taking some hits and giving a few back. The Sophie outmaneuvers them enough that the gunboats eventually have to shelter back towards land, away from Barcelona, while the Sophie sits out at sea repairing the damage from their skirmish. James is in extremely high spirits - there's really something of the bipolar with James, and he's even singing in Irish and English as he cheerfully teaches Mr Ellis the basics of shipyard repairs.
Jack is convinced the gunboats were trying to lure them into some type of trap, and they head off that evening, pretending to sail off. Instead they double back around and head towards Barcelona again, and well well well, if it isn't our old friend, the Cacafuego, lying to windward of the Sophie and unprepared for an attack. Jack addresses the men:
'All hands aft,' he said, and as they waited for the crew to assemble Stephen could see that a smile kept spreading on his face - that he had to make a conscious effort to repress it and look grave.
'Men,' he said, looking over them with pleasure. 'That's the Cacafuego to windward, you know. Now some of you were not quite pleased when we let her go without a compliment last time; but now, with our gunnery the best in the fleet, why, it is another thing. So, Mr Dillon, we will clear for action, if you please.'
When he began to speak perhaps half the Sophies were gazing at him with uncomplicated pleasurable excitement; perhaps a quarter looked a little troubled; and the rest had downcast and anxious faces. But the self-possessed happiness radiating from their captain and his lieutenant, and the spontaneous delighted cheer from the first half of the crew, changed this wonderfully; and as they set about clearing the sloop there were not above four or five who looked glum - the others might have been going to the fair.
The Sophie amuses the enemy with false signals until they get close, at which point they turn, raise the flag, and both sides open fire. The much larger Cacafuego fires right over the Sophie, while the Sophie's guns fire upwards right into the Spaniard's hull and up through the ship. The Cacafuego has trouble hitting the low-lying Sophie, and each time they attempt to board her the Sophie veers off and fires into the Spanish boarders, unleashing bloody devastation. You really get an impression of what a violent, bloody, brutal fight this is, everything until now has just been a minor skirmish, but this is a fight to the death:
Again the thundering din roared and echoed round the sky, with the Spaniards trying to depress their guns, trying to fire down with muskets and blindly-held chance pistols over the side, to kill the gun-crews. Their efforts were brave enough - one man balanced there to fire until he had been hit three times - but they seemed totally disorganized. Twice again they tried to board, and each time the sloop sheered off, cutting them up with terrible slaughter, lying off five or ten minutes, battering her upper-works, before coming in again to tear out her bowels. By now the guns were so hot that they could scarcely be touched; they were kicking furiously with every round. The sponges hissed and charred as they went in, and the guns were growing almost as dangerous to their crews as to their enemies.
And all this time the Spaniards fired on and on, irregularly, spasmodically, but never stopping. The Sophie's maintop had been hit again and again, and now it was coming to pieces - great lumps of timber falling down on deck, stanchions, hammocks. Her foresail yard was held only by its chains. Rigging hung in every direction and the sails had innumerable holes: burning wad was flying abord all the time and the unengaged starboard crews were running to and fro with their fire-buckets.
Jack can sense that now its the time to push his advantage and board the bigger ship, before they lose all ability to maneuver. Every single Sophie is to board, save Stephen, who declines, but says that he will steer the ship. Stephen spins the wheel and send the Sophie crashing into the Cacafuego. Aubrey and Dillon lead their men to board at different spots, and the fighting is still just as desperate.
'Come on, come on,' [Jack] roared, and rushed forwards striking furiously at the fleeing gun-crew and then at the pikes and swords opposing him - there were hundreds, hundreds of men crowding the deck, he noticed; and all the time he kept roaring 'Come on!'
For some moments the Spaniards gave way, as though amazed, and every one of the Sophie's men and boys came aboard, amidships and over the bow: the Spaniards gave way from abaft the mainmast, backing into the waist, but there they rallied. And now there was hard fighting, now there were cruel blows given and received - a dense mass of struggling men, tripping among the spars, scarcely room to fall, beating, hacking, pistolling one another; and detached fights of two or three men together round the edges, yelling like beasts.
James's boarding party, delayed, are finally able to push onboard, and rush in from behind the Spaniards, and the Spanish will to fight is temporarily broken. Bonden strikes the colors down on deck, and the Spanish sailors see that they've officially given up (except they probably assume a spanish officer did it, and the Spanish still outnumber the Sophies...) Jack orders the Spaniards all rushed down into the hold, before they can realize how few men Jack actually has remaining. Once the Spaniards are forced down into the deck the Sophies point a few cannons loaded with canister down the hatchway to discourage any attempt at retaking the ship. Jack calls for Mr Dillon, but
The word passed, and no answer came. He was lying there near the starboard gangway, where the most desperate fighting had been, a couple of steps from little Ellis. When Jack picked him up he thought he was only hurt; but turning him he saw the great wound in his heart.
Kana on
A trap is for fish: when you've got the fish, you can forget the trap. A snare is for rabbits: when you've got the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words are for meaning: when you've got the meaning, you can forget the words.
So yeah, RIP poor tortured James Dillon. He was certainly sending up death flags, but then Jack was too, almost as hard as he was, and he seemed like such an integral part of the cast, almost more important than Stephen - it seems really easy to imagine the Aubrey-Maturin-Dillon series continuing on in future books. Especially if you read it when it first came out I think it would've been quite the shock, it's a lot of characterization for a guy who ends up killed before the book is even over. On the other hand he had that sort of personality where it kinda felt fated to happen, either he would die joyously in combat or he'd blow his brains out one day in a depression. Curious what you guys think about this whole arc, both for how it'll impact Jack, and how you felt about Dillon's death.
Also feel bad for poor little Ellis, Dillon was sort of acting like a mentor figure to him, they were kind of cute. And now they're both dead.
Kana on
A trap is for fish: when you've got the fish, you can forget the trap. A snare is for rabbits: when you've got the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words are for meaning: when you've got the meaning, you can forget the words.
Yeah, I misinterpreted a comment earlier in the thread about James being the final major character of the book as him being part of the main cast of the series, so this definitely took me by surprise. I figured the plot of this book would be if and how James and Jack would reconcile, but in hindsight it's obviously a tragedy.
I'm stuck repairing the bilge pumps replacing our toilet and bathroom floor for the next couple of days so itll probably be a day or two until I get back on schedule
A trap is for fish: when you've got the fish, you can forget the trap. A snare is for rabbits: when you've got the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words are for meaning: when you've got the meaning, you can forget the words.
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JedocIn the scupperswith the staggers and jagsRegistered Userregular
No worries. Thanks for doing this, by the way! I started listening to this series in grad school while scanning documents in the ILL department, and finished it by reading six books in four days while stranded in a one-room apartment with no power during a hellish ice storm.
This is an excellent way to digest something I gulped down a long time ago, and I'm enjoying it immensely.
I think the Aubrey-Maturin novels are unique, for me anyway, in the way that they affect my internal monologue and seep into my own writing.
For some reason, phrases like "for all love" or "quite palpable" or "which I am directly" just get implanted in my brain as I'm reading through the series, and it takes months if not years for them to die down to background levels.
I still call good red wines "roborative;" that never stops.
I think it's something in the way O'Brian writes characters that sound like actual people talking - they misuse woods, they say things they didn't mean, they have asides to themselves, they get interrupted, etc. - that makes it all feel far more real than, well, nearly every other style of writing on page or screen.
JedocIn the scupperswith the staggers and jagsRegistered Userregular
Oh yeah, that ice storm wrecked my vocabulary for weeks. I'm positive there are weird things I say all the time that are just because of that ice storm.
Book 1, Chapter 11 - that hobbling voyage along the edge of disaster
We open with Jack pondering a last few word choices for his official combat report. James and young Ellis were actually their only dead, although Watt the boatswain and five seamen were severely wounded (and I assume there were probably quite a few more light wounds that weren't reported). Still though, a pretty insanely light death toll considering. The Sophie's 54 men defeated the Cacafuego's 300+, the Spanish frigate had half as many marines as the Sophie had men, and way more guns.
Stephen meanwhile remembers what he saw of Dillon in the boarding:
'I saw him pistol a man with a pike, pass his sword through a fellow who had beaten down the bosun and come to a redcoat, an officer. After a couple of quick passes he caught this man's sword on his pistol and lunged straight into him. But his sword struck on the breastbone or a metal plate, and doubled and broke with the thrust: and with the six inches left he stabbed him faster than you could see - inconceivable force and rapidity. You would never believe the happiness on his face! The light on his face!'
Jack's own remembrances aren't about the battle, which was essentially the easiest part, but instead the desperate work to get the Sophie and their capture back home:
As to the period after the victory, he was unable to recapture the sequence at all, without the log: it was all a dull blur of incessant labour and extreme anxiety and weariness. Three hundred angry men to be held down by two dozen, who also had to bring the six-hundred-ton prize to Minorca through an ugly sea and some cursed winds; almost all the sloop's standing and running rigging to be set up anew, masts to be fished, yards shifted, fresh sails bent, and the bosun among the badly wounded; that hobbling voyage along the edge of disaster, with precious little help from the sea or the sky. A blur, and a sense of oppression; a feeling more of the Cacafuego's defeat than the Sophie's victory; and exhausted perpetual hurrying, as though that were what life really consisted of. A fog punctuated by a few brilliantly clear scenes.
Pullings, there on the bloody deck of the Cacafuego, shouting in his deafened ear that gunboats were coming down from Barcelona; his determination to fire the frigate's undamaged broadside at them; his incredulous relief when he saw them turn at last and dwindle against the threatening horizon - why?
The sound that woke him in the middle watch: a low cry mounting by quarter tones or less and increasing in volume to a howling shriek, then a quick series of spoken or chanted words, the mounting cry again and the shriek - the Irish men of the crew waking James Dillon, stretched there with a cross in his hands and lanterns at his head and his feet.
The burials. The child Ellis in his hammock with the flag sewed over him looked like a little pudding, and now at the recollection his eyes clouded again. He had wept, wept, his face streaming with tears as the bodies went over the side and the marines fired their volley.
I love the way O'Brian can write like, a blurred, impressionistic recollection of a series of memories.
But Jack's sadness and exhaustion gradually transformed into joy as he begins to see other navy ships, with their shocked, excited congratulations. Jack knows he'll get a promotion for this, an appointment into a nice frigate. And he's already celebrated by banging Molly Harte, basically in the 1800s equivalent of one of those 'banging in every room in the apartment' montages. Meeting with Captain Harte to drop off his report Harte doesn't seem to care much about if Jack is banging his wife, but little Ellis was the child of his bankers (prize agent?), and Jack gets the impression he is pretty peeved about that.
After the meeting Jack heads back out into town, and to his bemused amazement he's greeted by officer after officer. Any seaman who sees Jack takes their time to head over and congratulate him wholeheartedly, glowing with reflected glory. It's not just that Jack won a great battle at incredible odds - it's that he's brought glory on the navy collectively with his win, and so everyone is happy along with him. Especially on reread I also kinda get the impression that this is sorta Jack's first time getting this sort of respect from naval officers he respects. We know he was quite a dumbass as a midshipman, and kinda a dumbass as a lieutenant. Everyone recognizes he's a good sailor, but he's never really gotten that "good job, son" moment, instead he's been told by men he respects like Lord Keith that his bad habits are sabotaging his career. It affects Jack quite a bit, and as he gets back to his hotel he has to have a momentary sit down,
'This must be what they call the vapours,' he said, trying to define something happy, tremulous, poignant, churchlike and not far from tears in his heart and bosom.
Stephen on the other hand is hearing less optimistic news, from his friend Dr Florey, a fellow naval doctor and naturalist nerd. Florey - and apparently basically everyone else - knows that Jack's having an affair with Molly, and it's her husband who is in charge both of approving the Cacafuego being bought into the service, and of sending along Jack's dispatch. It really does seem kinda insane that if a naval captain captures an enemy ship the navy actually buys it from him, even if it's at quite a discount, but apparently in this case it might not even happen.
And then there's the purser Richards, who's extravagantly explaining to his whole extended family over dinner how its the captain's clerk position that is the very most dangerous and brave in battle, as everyone knows. Poor Goldilocks (they call Aubrey Goldilocks in the service, just like they call Richards Hell-fire Davy) had no idea what to do, but he told his captain that if only they board her they'd grab victory against the odds. It's all very hilariously 'and then the whole class broke out in applause' level That Happened.
Later that night as Jack and Stephen reunite at the concert, Stephen reports to Jack that he's already heard through the grape vine that they've got new orders, and will be sailing out soon, until several people around them shush them in annoyance. It's a nice little bit of mirroring, here - the book starts with the two of them almost coming to blows over being distracting at a concert, and now as the book heads into the last act they're annoying everybody else, together.
As the glow of glorious victory begins to fade there's some disappointments, though. Pullings, who's qualified as a lieutenant but has been waiting for years for the actual promotion, wasn't been appointed as lieutenant of the Sophie, and Dalziel, the new lieutenant they receive instead, is just kind of an averagely mostly competent officer. Jack's got to get dosed by Stephen for a venereal disease, which he probably got from Molly Harte cuz, well, whatever Jack thinks is going on, plainly she's not just having an affair with only him. And then Harte comes aboard, chews out Jack - much to the amusement of the sailors within earshot, who love Jack but still take great joy in the great man getting chewed out a bit. But the men's amusement turns to anger and bitter disappointment: no more cruising time for the Sophie, no promotion for Jack, the Cacafuego not bought into the service, rumors about the Cacafuego not being a proper naval ship spread around, and instead the Sophie appointed to just guard the mail packet. I like how the men who were so amused at Jack eating shit are instead abruptly outraged, both on his behalf and on their own. We already saw the other captains take joy in Aubrey's reflected glory onto the navy as a whole, now Aubrey's ship is furious as Harte scuffs their honor as represented by Jack's recognition.
Jack manages to hold his anger in while he's meeting with Harte, as Harte is obviously hoping that Jack will throw a fit and ruin his career by disobeying orders, but that night he's still angry at Jack and Stephen play their music, and Stephen notices him playing in a flood of emotion.
There was a loud, decided crack, a melancholy confused twanging, and with a ludicrous expression of doubt and wonder and distress, Jack held out his violen, all dislocated and unnatural with its broken neck. 'It snapped,' he cried. 'It snapped.' He fitted the broken ends together with infinite care and held them in place. 'I would not have it happen for the world,' he said in a low voice. I have known this fiddle, man and boy, since I was breeched.'
It's oddly heartbreaking for Jack to lose his poor fiddle, certain objects like that almost become like a pet, and even worse that he accidentally did it himself.
And, well, that's NOT the end of the chapter, but this is quite a long chapter and a lot still has to happen, so I'm gonna break here for now!
Kana on
A trap is for fish: when you've got the fish, you can forget the trap. A snare is for rabbits: when you've got the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words are for meaning: when you've got the meaning, you can forget the words.
Oh, related to the big battle, Jack's improbably victory over the Spanish frigate is closely based on a real life naval battle, where Lord Cochrane in his Speedy captured the El Gamo. Cochrane is a truly ridulous figure of derring-do, the real world inspiration for Horatio Hornblower and, to a lesser degree, Jack Aubrey:
A trap is for fish: when you've got the fish, you can forget the trap. A snare is for rabbits: when you've got the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words are for meaning: when you've got the meaning, you can forget the words.
Book 1, Chapter 11-2, Hereof nor you nor any of you may fail as you will answer the contrary at your peril
OK so back into chapter 11, as the Sophie has just had Harte spit in their collective eye, and now they're heading out of port to escort the mail packet. As they're heading out they pass by the frigate Amelia, I love this little passage:
Mr Dalziel observed that the frigate's rigging was full of men, all carrying their hats and facing the Sophie.
'Mr Babbington,' he said in a low voice, in case he should be mistaken, for he had only seen this happen once before, 'tell the captain, with my duty, that I believe the Amelia is going to cheer us.'
Jack came blinking on deck as the first cheer roared out, a shattering wave of sound at twenty-five yards' range. Then came the Amelia's bosun's pipe and the next cheer, as precisely timed as her own broadside: and the third. He and his officers stood rigidly with their hats off, and as soon as the last roar had died away over the harbour, echoing back and forth, he called out, 'Three cheers for the Amelia!' and the Sophies, though deep in the working of the sloop, responded like heroes, scarlet with pleasure and the energy needed for huzzaying proper - huge energy, for they knew what was manners. Then the Amelia, now far astern, called 'One cheer more,' and so piped down.
It doesn't fix the very real harm that Harte has done to the Sophie, but we've seen time after time how much public reputation and standing matters, both to Jack and all the other men on the Sophie. The Amelia is saying even if Harte has tried to damage your honor and reputation, we still respect you and your accomplishment. Which especially matters coming from a frigate, a more prestigious posting than a mere little sloop.
Also as a fun little bit of nautical etymology... The Amelia piped down! As in, the bosun blew his whistle and signaled the men to give it a rest and come down off the masts. Reading through the Aubrey-maturin series we're gonna be getting a LOT of nautical phrases that have become common phrases, it's always amusing. There's also a tendency of etymology of phrases whose origin is unknown to get credited to nautical origins when that's not really the case, it's like the all-purpose explanation for where a phrase comes from.
Getting back to the Sophie, during their time in port the Sophies felt so pissed off as a group that their ordinary hierarchies and discipline largely disappeared, which among other things resulted in a whole bunch of alcohol getting snuck on board. Jack's so fed up that he demotes the old bosun's mate, who had a tendency to lash his shipmates quite lightly, and instead promotes Alfred King, the buff, mute, black seamen, who'll put some proper elbow grease into the deed. I like this little acknowledgment of the racial politics of it all:
'Yes, sir,' said the lieutenant: and after a slight pause, 'Wilson and Plimpton have represented to me that it would grieve them very much to be flogged by King.'
'Of course it will grieve them very much. I sincerely hope it will grieve them very much. That is why they are to be flogged. They were drunk, were they not?'
'Blind drunk, sir. They said it was their Thanksgiving.'
'What in god's name have they got to be thankful about? And the Cacafuego sold to the Algerines.'
'They are from the colonies, sir, and it seems that it is a feast in those parts. However, it is not the flogging they object to, but the colour of the flogger.'
'Bah,' said Jack.
Jack can definitely be thoughtlessly racist and biased on land (and even Stephen has some Opinions on the Moors and the Portugese), but at sea the only thing he cares about is seamanship, and it doesn't even occur to him that it wouldn't be the case for everyone else. Albert King's a good seaman, so Jack will promote him over the white sailors and not think twice about it.
The Sophie continues sailing up the Spanish coast with the mail packet, with strict orders not to pursue any ships or take prizes. But as Jack peeks into every harbor along the coast, he's like... "Well, we can't take prizes, but ain't no rule that we can't sneak into that harbor and burn all the merchantmen down to the waterline. He's sadly reminded of how James would've been so happy to go on a raid like this, 'I have been thinking about Dillon all day. All day long I have been thinking about him, off and on. You would scarcely credit how much I miss him.' Jack's definitely a guy to forget all of someone's negatives, he now only remembers James in the best way, but even praising James he's accidentally insulting, praising how non-drunk irishman James was, until he realizes he's being an ass and sincerely begs Stephen's pardon.
'I say these damned things,' Jack went on, musing as they drank their bottle, 'and don't quite understand it at the time, though I see people looking black as hell, and frowning, and my friends going "Pst, pst", and then I say to myself, 'You're brought by the lee again, Jack." Usually I make out what's amiss, given time, but by then it's too late."
It's kinda sweet how Jack's like, 'but sometimes Jack insulted me too, even though I know he only did it accidentally!' Like, aww, honey, no, he totally intended to be insulting.
The raid goes well, and as the ships burn the Sophies are surprised to see a giant pillar of flame high in the air. One ship was fully loaded with olive oil, so it's going off like a signal fire... Which is miserably bad luck for the Sophie, as there's a French squadron only a few miles away. The French know that obviously something's up, and they head up to investigate, spotting the Sophie in the morning light. The French capture the packet ship easily - it was a miserable sailor that drove Jack nuts - and then continue to pursue the Sophie.
Jack is hopelessly outgunned, and not just Cacafuego outgunned, these are ships of the line that fire half a ton of metal in every broadside. With no choice but to flee they throw the cannons overboard, to lose weight, and then begin pumping out the water, and then they open up the cargo hold and begin throwing their supplies overboard, anything to gain a little bit of speed and survive. Jack tries every trick and maneuver he can, but the Desaix is an excellent sailor as well, and continues to close on the Sophies while not even setting all of her sails, as a sort of deliberate signal of the hopelessness of the fight. The mood on the Sophie changes, capture is inevitable, and men are now changing into their best clothes, asking their officers to hold their cash or valuables. The Desaix turns and presents her broadside, firing 37 cannons worth of grapeshot through the Sophie's rigging and sails, utterly wrecking it. The next broadside will destroy the Sophie entirely, and Jack orders Bonden to strike the colors. The Sophie has been beaten.
Technically a model of the Desaix's sister ship, but this is what the Desaix would've looked like. 74 guns, 5260 tonnes fully loaded. A big girl!
Kana on
A trap is for fish: when you've got the fish, you can forget the trap. A snare is for rabbits: when you've got the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words are for meaning: when you've got the meaning, you can forget the words.
Wikipedia's got an amusing anecdote about Lord Cochrane's reaction to his sloop Speedy, who O'Brian draws a lot of inspiration from for Jack and the Sophie.
Cochrane was less than impressed with his new command, declaring that Speedy was "little more than a burlesque of a vessel of war". His cabin had only 5 feet (1.5 m) of headroom; when Cochrane wished to shave he had to open a skylight and set his shaving equipment out on the quarterdeck. On another occasion he walked the quarterdeck with Speedy's entire broadside, seven pieces of four-pounder shot, in his pockets.
A trap is for fish: when you've got the fish, you can forget the trap. A snare is for rabbits: when you've got the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words are for meaning: when you've got the meaning, you can forget the words.
Ninja Snarl PMy helmet is my burden.Ninja Snarl: Gone, but not forgotten.Registered Userregular
Old timey sailors were fucking nuts. That boat has something like thirty damn sails and a truly insane amount of rigging. Makes total sense why you had to be a completely dedicated lifetime sailor to be the captain of one of those boats, just trying to keep the thing sailing straight would be wildly beyond my abilities and that would be if I was just telling people to keep it straight.
Old timey sailors were fucking nuts. That boat has something like thirty damn sails and a truly insane amount of rigging. Makes total sense why you had to be a completely dedicated lifetime sailor to be the captain of one of those boats, just trying to keep the thing sailing straight would be wildly beyond my abilities and that would be if I was just telling people to keep it straight.
Thirty sails and hundreds of ropes. Each one with its own name.
DisruptedCapitalist on
"Simple, real stupidity beats artificial intelligence every time." -Mustrum Ridcully in Terry Pratchett's Hogfather p. 142 (HarperPrism 1996)
One of my favorite Po'B flexes in the first book is the passage where he shows the reader the math that goes into sailing these vessels; he's blatantly telling the cocky 20th/21st century reader that these were not stupid people in dumb times fumbling around on crude vessels.
One of my favorite Po'B flexes in the first book is the passage where he shows the reader the math that goes into sailing these vessels; he's blatantly telling the cocky 20th/21st century reader that these were not stupid people in dumb times fumbling around on crude vessels.
There's a great bit from the comic Crecy (Fair warning, it's by Warren Ellis, do your research given his shite behavior). But anyway, this bit is good and relevant here:
"These things are going to look primitive to you, but you have to remember that we're not stupid. We have the same intelligence as you. We simply don't have the same cumulative knowledge you do. So we apply our intelligence to what we have".
This after a bit on how Longbows can switch arrow heads at a moment's notice, allowing for both anti cav and anti infantry uses, ontop of making removing a longbow arrow hell... and that the assholes are sticking the arrows in the dirt, so that longbow head that's stuck in you? It's a bio-weapon to boot, because you know, your day wasn't already bad enough thanks to having a longbow arrow in you.
Side note: Having done archery and been next to someone shooting longbows with properly made arrows, those things are terrifying. I shot with a recurve, and pretty standard modern day arrows that make an oise, but it's relatively quiet. Longbow arrows? Those things make an entirely different noise going through the air and it is scary
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The part where Dillon wakes up, goes to the rail of his old ship, takes in the view of the harbor and smiles satisfiedly at a sloop he assumes is the Sophie, only for someone to go "no, it's the smaller one, there in back...no, further back..." could be straight out of a comedy movie. You can see the shot framing in your head.
Though I just thought of some examples where this isn't true. Kirk often loses his temper while Jack remains cool headed. Likewise Spock isn't exactly enamored with the fauna they run into all the time.
There's also the bit in the last chapter where they're talking about Marshall's obvious crush on Jack, which only Jack doesn't notice, and Dillon is like, "Your friend is kinda lacking in penetration, isn't he?"
And Stephen is like
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For you folks that haven't gotten there yet: Stephen brings a sloth on board; he's always finding animals, and it usually results in mishaps such as sailors drinking the fluid he's embalmed them in, or him converting a cabin into a beehive. The sloth, though, takes the cake. The first time the poor thing meets Jack, it literally weeps in distress. Jack is annoyed by this, and embarks upon a campaign to win the sloth over by getting it drunk, which succeeds, resulting in perhaps the greatest passage ever put to print:
After the emotional reveals of the last chapter, this chapter is a good bit more relaxed, a few short anecdote-like scenes of everybody getting into trouble ashore and returning to the relative stability of life at sea.
We start with a bit of a subtle time skip, Stephen's chilling at Port Mahon after having come back on the gunpowder ship prize, and the Sophie's back too, in possession of a third captured prize. Stephen's writing in code in his diary, (with occasional breaks to admire his fine new asp, preserved in a big jar of spirits), and he's a lot more philosophical in his own private mind than he lets out in person, pondering on the corrupting influences of age and power. I quite like how we've got these impressions of these various men, and now we get to hear Stephen's take on them, which in many cases echoes what I was thinking last chapter. In particular his thoughts on Dillon:
Maybe James of a few years ago before the rebellion was much more like the open-hearted Jack, Jack if things hadn't quite worked out for him. Jack was certainly willing to duel a man for a minor slight back in chapter 1, would he have just continued down that road if he never got his lucky promotion?
A very unimportant minor description made me chuckle, Stephen taking a look down into the harbor to see the Sophie
If that bit had been from Jack's POV it definitely would've been like a page and a half of in depth conversations about cross carpathings and twice hitched knots and very earnest weighings of the merits of it all, but it's not, so instead it's all just a bit ridiculous.
We also spot some of the Sophies on shore, skipping coins across the water just out of the sheer hedonistic joy of being able to literally throw away money. Like Jack said in the last chapter, sailors will try to desert on shore, but not when they've got a pocket full of prize money and a notion of more to come. Shortly afterwards Jack comes ashore to pick up Stephen, as they've got a musical evening ahead of them - first to Mr. Brown's house (the guy in charge of the dockyards, from back in chapter 2 or 3?), where they play a Mozart quartet together, amateurishly but in good spirits, just for the joy of playing. Jack remains sober during the quarter, but he starts to get lubricated during dinner, trading old sailor war stories with Mr Brown. After that it's time to head back over to Molly Harte's house, where she's got a big party going featuring all the local bigwigs. Molly hasn't made a huge impression so far, but I love her here:
We also hear that the Sophie's - once notable as a very boring set of men - got into a big fight on shore with the men of another ship. Jack isn't exactly drowning in concern over it, either:
Jack continues to get very, very drunk, and Stephen way over on the other side of the room can hear him declare that more of his sailors are coming ashore, "they are lining the rail in their shore-going rig, with money in their pockets, their eyes staring out of their heads and their pricks a yard long.' Molly intervenes - though rather too late - and grabs Stephen and tells him to take his friend back to his ship immediately, before he can do any more damage to himself.
Back onboard the Sophie in the morning and half of the Sophie's are nursing horrible hangovers (including their captain), the other half are still drunk, and Jack orders his ship back to sea as quietly, gently, and swiftly as possible, so that hopefully no one will even notice them leaving until they're already gone. We also find out about some of the other misadventures of the Sophie's - James Dillon is rumored to have fought a duel, Babbington had to be "rescued" from the clutches of aged prostitutes, and a few of the men don't make it back in time before they leave, though as they're still owed prize money everyone expects they'll show up eventually.
Out at sea "an air of surly virtue hung over the Sophie" as she prepares to witness punishment. All the punishments are for, unsurprisingly, drunkenness, which is of course quite ironic since the punishments are getting handed down by their captain, who already made quite a drunken ass of himself not that long ago. But I do like the sense of ritual and propriety involved here
Stephen sees flogging as purely an act of humiliation and inducing fear, whereas for Jack's its more ritualistic, a punishment, but one in which the flogged are due to certain respects and forms. The flogging itself is perfectly fine, but to do so out of proper uniform is almost irreligious, a sinful breaking of ritual.
Jack wonders how the hell men are still getting drunk several days out at sea (O'Brian seems to like doing this, he'll timeskip ahead a few days or weeks, and then only tell us exactly how long he skipped a few pages later, he doesn't like to break up the narrative flow by immediately letting us know there even was a time skip), and how some son of a bitch smuggled alcohol aboard. At any rate it's a mystery for now, but we do get a few other little naval life scenes - Jack realizes that the midshipmen are all sharing (horribly inaccurate) notes to work out the ship's position each day, and so he sits them all down and gives them one of those big insincere speeches about learning their business, becoming proper men, etc etc. It is kind of an interesting aspect of naval life, though - the captain is expected to be something of an educator to his younger officers, and he can spend several hours a day just children mathematics and spelling and penmanship. It's not very typically what we'd think of for a naval commander!
Down in the sickbay Stephen has a new sailor who's now not eating - he got drunk and admitted to his mates that on shore he was previously employed as a sin eater, someone who ritually ate the sins of the newly dead, who is then chased off by the family, and with him the sins. It's a very pagan bit of superstition, which is of course exactly the kind of superstition that the sailors believe in most deeply, and now they've expelled him from their mess as bad luck. Is our sin-eater supposed to be a metaphor for Stephen and James - sick of being a "white raven" ashore they've joined the navy to escape their previous lives? Or maybe it's just an interesting anecdote that O'Brian read somewhere in his research and wanted to share it. At any rate during this story we also get our first reference to the slave trade - the purser mentions he once served on a slave ship, sailing the middle passage. The purser really is just the worst - pretty much everybody else on board is pretty likeable, and then there's Ricketts who
We end with a charming little scene of the Brothers Sponge - a couple of pressed Greeks - who present Stephen with a remora, the famed sucker fish that can hold on to a ship with such strength that it will slow the entire ship to almost a dead stop. The Sophies clearly love Stephen by now, and they delight in giving him these sorts of gifts, since they know he's a naturalist. Trivia note: Pliny the Elder credits the remora with the defeat of Marc Antony's fleet, and also indirectly for the death of Caligula!
Shit kinda hits the fan this chapter! Jack gets a proper fight, Dillon gets an emotional rollercoaster, and Stephen... Actually Stephen is doing just peachy ever since he got his remora.
I'm always surprised by the way Marshall is written in this book. I don't think he's written as empathetically as like he would be nowadays, but for a book written in 1969 he's handled pretty darn well. He's also very non-stereotypical gay, he's a "hard-faced, formidable man", middle aged, an expert sailor and navigator, and he's also just stutteringly crushing on Jack. Him being gay is also basically an open secret on this ship (at least to everyone who's not Jack), the men under him refer to him as "Old Sodom and Gomorrah," but it's a nickname, not a negative moral judgment.
The men are once again practicing at the great guns, this time in the evening, so they can get practice firing at nighttime as well. I like the description here, really showing us that where once they approached gun practice casually, they're now serious and driven:
Jack thinks they still have room to improve, but at least they're holding their own now. Stephen is... Less impassioned about gunnery, "I am happy you are pleased; and certainly the mariners seemed to ply their pieces with a wonderful dexterity; but you must allow me to insist that that note is not A." While Jack and Stephen play their music the narrator (and this passage is kinda weird, cuz we don't normally get an all-knowing narrator, it feels like a little bit of a book 1 stylistic misstep) lets us know that only a mile away the spanish frigate Cacafuego passes by them, but neither ship sees the other in the darkness.
In the morning however the Sophie does spot a Spanish convoy only a short distance away, 3 merchant ships with an armed escort. The convoy doesn't immediately recognize them as a threat - assuming that they must be that Danish brig which the Sophie met a few chapters ago, and the Sophie closes distance. I really like the way Jack thinks in hard silence for a minute or two, and then comes out with this very well realized plan, making sure Dillon understands every step of the plan:
By the way, here's a helping description of what tacking and wearing is via wikipedia, since I'm sure it'll come up again:
So tacking is generally faster and takes less space, but it's tougher to pull off and during the middle portion you'll basically be stuck with your foot off the gas, which can obviously go wrong. Wearing is instead making the full turn, so it's slower, takes more space, but it's easier to execute.
Dillon is able to catch two of the merchantmen, meanwhile Jack in the Sophie pursues the escort ship, who puts up a decent fight for a short time but is mostly interested in just getting away, which they're able to do fairly easily versus the relatively slow Sophie. Despite a few wounds Jack's delighted to hear there were no serious casualties. The uncaptured ships run for cover into a nearby port, and Jack and James reunite. James, of course, was a bit busy to be observing Jack's fight, and he's coldly shocked by Jack's happy declaration that there were no casualties. But it doesn't add up in Jack's mind until a few hours later, as they're planning an attack on the harbor itself, "'Could the fellow possibly think I am shy?' he thought. 'That I left off chasing because I did not choose to get hurt and hurried back for a prize?'"
I like how Jack's just sort of mildly, amusedly surprised at the revelation that his first lieutenant thinks he's a coward. It's so far from the truth that Jack can't even really take offense at it, James might as well believe that he's illiterate, or secretly French. Jack orders Dillon to command the ship while Jack leads the assault party, they'll sail in under the cover of darkness, spike the guns in the defensive fortifications, and then cut out the docked ships. Jack leads the assault, the spike the guns, and prepare to detonate the fort's magazine.
The town they raid is Almoraira (I think it's properly just called Moraira) and boy it looks just lovely. You can also see the little fort at the harbor!
Skip ahead a few hours and Jack's back on board, victorious but quite singed, as whoopsies it turns out there was another magazine below the first, which they had not expected. "His head and neck were horribly painful from all the left-hand half of his long hair having been burnt off - his scalp and face were hideously seared and bruised." Jack's not particularly bothered though, and the Sophie seems to be transforming into a harmonious, perfectly-moving machine of war. During the day they lurk out at sea, practicing gunnery and boarding, at night they sail in along the coast to raid harbors and shipping, James is markedly more respectful to the captain now and they're finally in sympatico. The only problem is that they're running out of water - they with rationing they still use half a ton of water a day - but Stephen reveals that he knows a nearby coastal stream. In exchange he asks for a brief leave to go ashore and visit a friend, which Jack is happy to grant.
Before Stephen leaves he has dinner with Dillon, who has some thoughts about discipline
They take on water, and Jack is alarmed to spot two frigates on the horizon. Luckily, they turn out to be British... But unluckily, they have orders for Jack. The captain orders the Sophie to take on 50 of their prisoners (and the Sophie was already fully crewed and loaded with prisoners of their own!), and to be on the lookout for an American ship, which is carrying two fugitives - United Irishmen, wanted by the crown. James is, of course, silently shocked by the order, though Jack of course doesn't have any clue why he seems so depressed and prickly all of a sudden. A few nights later Jack is woken up by the feeling that the ship has changed sail, and he goes on deck, to find a fuming Mr Marshall, and James Dillon informs him that he overrode Marshall to change course, as he thought he saw a light on the horizon. It's totally out of regulation, but Jack doesn't really push it, as James already knows it is too. However that morning they spot a ship, and Jack congratules James on his sharp eyesight, and sends him to go board the wanted American ship.
I really like this pov sequence of James:
Poor James Dillon.
This is one of those things that's going to be absolutely key for the entire rest of the series* - and which is well-known to anyone who is a sailor, but which is not immediately obvious to anyone who isn't.
The thing is that modern sailboats (mostly) use what's called a fore-and-aft, Bermuda, or sloop rig.** The majority of the sail goes along a line from the front of the boat (the forward part, the bow) to the back (the after part, the stern). One of the main benefits of this type of rig is that it is, relatively speaking, very weatherly - it can head up towards the wind pretty far before the wind is no longer passing cleanly over the surface of the sail, causing it to stall and the boat to lose power. 45 degrees off the wind is usually a good limit-of-thumb for how close you can head into the wind before your sail starts getting inefficient. So, if the wind is coming from the north, the best you can do is to sail north-east or north-west.
Ship-rigged vessels - those with primarily square sails designed to go across the ship widthwise, which is why they're also called square-rigged vessels*** - do not sail into the wind as well as fore-and-aft-rigged ships, giving up 5, 10, or even 15 degrees of angle. That may not sound like much, but it has a huge effect on the tactics of the day, as it is even harder to move your sailing ship into the direction in which the wind is coming from. (This is also why, sometimes, ships get trapped in port. If the wind is blowing directly on-shore or from an otherwise inconvenient direction, it may not be possible to head far enough up into the wind to not run into land on your way out.)
Accordingly, occupying the weather-gauge, being the ship "higher up" towards the wind, is a huge advantage, often allowing you to start a fight on your own terms or just keep distance from your opponent until they get tired of chasing you. And if your ship is more weatherly - as differences in design, rigging, weight distribution, keel weight, number and location of your guns, battle damage, etc., all have effects on how far into the wind your ship can point - then it's possible to just run away into the wind, even from a nominally faster ship.
So, tacking vs. jibing. As mentioned, when you're tacking, there's a part in the middle where your boat is pointed directly into the wind. At this point, not only are your sails not providing any forward thrust to your boat, they're actually doing the opposite - acting as gigantic brakes - and with enough time actually making you back up. (You can make a boat intentionally go in reverse by pointing into the wind and just letting the wind push you backwards.) So if your crew is not on-the-ball, and getting you through the middle of your tack very, very quickly, you will lose a bunch of speed when tacking. The thing about sailboats is that forward speed is what lets their rudders provide direction to the boat. So as you slow down, your ability to make the boat turn is reduced as well. If you are very unlucky, you can end up "in irons," with your ship pointing into the wind, having lost sufficient speed to lose rudder control, and now you're stuck. There are lots of tricks to getting out of being in-irons (including reversing your ship to get sufficient speed, manually backing your sails to get the bow pointing away, etc.), but the important point is that you've stopped turning and largely stopped moving. As you might guess, this is a very, very bad place to be in a running ship battle - not only are you much easier for your opponent to hit, but your main weaponry is probably in your broadsides (e.g., you can shoot primarily to port or starboard, but not so much ahead and behind), and those are now almost certainly not pointing at your opponent any more.
Jibing, or wearing, on the other hand, doesn't suffer from the same issue because your ship's sails are providing power the entire time - there's no point at which they are into the wind and acting as breaks, because the wind is always behind them. Accordingly, you lose a lot less speed when you wear your ship. Unfortunately, wearing your ship means that you're keeping your foot on the gas as you're pointing away from the direction in which you want to go, meaning that you're giving up a whole lot of extra distance that you're going to have to fight to get back (and, remember, you're probably getting something like 55 degrees off the wind at best). Or, to continue with the earlier example of the wind coming from the north (and me wanting to go north), then when I'm wearing my ship I'm going to move south a whole bunch every time I wear the ship, and since I'm moving east-north-east or west-north-west at best, every mile I lose to the south is going to take me a lot of sailing to get back.
Anyway, more on this later.
* And any other Age of Sail books you might pick up ...
** Note that there are tons of variations on this based on how many sails there are, their relative sizes, and locations. Anyway ...
*** Note that ship-rigged is actually a subset of square-rigged, but that's not super important right now.
Steam: Elvenshae // PSN: Elvenshae // WotC: Elvenshae
Wilds of Aladrion: [https://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/comment/43159014/#Comment_43159014]Ellandryn[/url]
WikiPOBia is a good source for "what is that thing" / "what does that medicinal term mean", as well as a bunch of other background info / historical context / etc.
"Doctor, we cannot sail into the wind since our Bussard ramscoops cannot generate enough thrust!"*
After about 4 books or so eventually you get the idea on what's going on aboard a Royal Navy ship. At the end of the day though, it's really the interplay of the characters that make the series. If one can enjoy Star Trek without knowing how a matter-antimatter reactor works, one can just as easily enjoy Aubrey-Maturin not knowing how to sail into the wind. Enough to know that it is not easy.
*I know what a Bussard ramjet is. Used here only for illustrative purposes.
**A long time ago, I did find this Youtube clip to be very illustrative on how tacking is done, which helps visualize what the Sophies run around the deck doing:
This chapter's about half of our crew struggling with their various relationships and feelings, and then we spent the second half of the chapter relieving the tension with some pretty excellent comedy of manners misadventures. Also, we meet the Cacafuego!
So Jack is laying out his relationship problems with James to an entirely imaginary Stephen, who in reality is still off in Spain somewhere until they can pick him up, much to Jack's worry. It's actually really interesting how so much of this book is about men's relationships and feelings, and yet its in such a ultra-masculine, military setting. Narratives don't usually have adult men worrying about feelings and friendships like this, especially not like in historical fiction. I'm kinda struggling to think of other books to compare it to.
We've heard Barret Bonden's name in previous chapters, he's the captain of the maintop and the coxswain (so vaguely sorta like a non-commissioned officer), and Jack's been impressed by his leadership and professionalism. So he offers Bondon a promotion, but Bondon with great cheer turns him down. He also lets on that the men are quite aware of Jack's, uh, spotted history as an officer, which is a touch mortifying for Jack. Jack really kinda took his time to grow into his current self, it seems like, cuz he just sounds like an unreliable dumbass growing up.
I think this chapter's probably gonna be a lot of quotes of things that made me chuckle, cuz there were a lot of them:
Jack playing nursemaid to a bunch of baby officers while still calling them Mister and Sir is always amusing.
They're finally able to pick up Stephen, who contrary to all of Jack's worrying had a perfectly pleasant vacation in Spain, technically an enemy nation. As Jack and Stephen sit down for a welcome-back breakfast, they have an interesting conversation about Stephen's new assistant, the sin-eater, and his adoption of this new identity.
Jack is now seen as such a villain in Spain, in fact, that a merchant has influenced the government to send a ship, the Cacafuego, to specifically hunt down the Sophie and put an end to her piratical reign of terror. Stephen did, however, forget to ask about like, how many guns she had, or how her sails were set up. Stephen has the potential to be a heck of a spy, but he declines - while he's at peace with finding out information about their enemies, he's not gonna go spying for info about their prey. We also find out from Jack that they pulled a bit of a dirty trick with those prisoners he was forced to take - they landed them all on Dragon island, off of Majorca.
I was picturing way more of like, totally stranded on a deserted island, but really it's only a short distance from the mainland, especially for a bunch of sailors
This bit seems a bit significant, considering Dillon's worries about discipline on board the Sophie just last chapter. Men follow the captain because he in turn is following his own orders. But Jack has no problem with avoiding the rules, so... On the other hand, Dillon might just be speaking about why men would follow Dillon - Aubrey is obviously more charismatic and naturally commanding, will the men follow Jack just for Jack? Later, James and Stephen are finally able to get a little privacy to talk about the United Irishmen thing, as James inspects the paintwork from a boat, and Stephen tries to figure out how to comfort James.
James is changing up the paint scheme because they've decided that the best solution to being hunted is to disguise themselves more thoroughly as that Danish sister-sloop they met a while ago. Despite the distraction of transforming themselves into lubberly merchantmen, the Sophie is still in a sad state. James's anguish can't quite decide whether to stick to self-hatred or hatred of everything else, Marshall is worried and anxious about being exposed by Dillon, the midshipmen are all exhausted to tears due to the increased workload as the older midshipmen have taken prizes back to port, and Jack's depressed because he knows his ship is unhappy and he can't understand why or how to fix it.
That morning the worry turns into true fear, as the Sophie wakes up to realize what they thought was their next prey was, instead, the Cacafuego itself, a big ol' proper frigate. They're outmanned, outgunned, and outweighed, and the Cacafuego just needs to board them to realize that they are definitely not a bunch of harmless Danes. But as soon as the boat comes near Stephen frantically begs them to board, and to send a surgeon aboard - do they know anything about the plague? What does it look like? We have men very sick and we're afraid, please send us your surgeon! The Spanish lieutenant is immediately like oh, FUCK THAT, and refuses to board. Stephen has saved the day! Everyone's delighted except for James, who thought that as the boat was heading back would've been the perfect moment to launch a surprise attack. Dude really is quite desperate for a fight.
The gang head back to port Mahon, where Jack gets a proper chewing out by Lord Keith, and a long, thorough listing of all of Jack's sins which will doubtless prevent him from ever attaining a higher rank. Jack is pissed, and it's the kinda pissed where he's even saltier because he can feel the truth in Lord Keith's criticism. However, Keith is also willing to grant Jack another cruise - for now, at least, Jack is lucky, and if someone is lucky that you have to make the most of it, because luck never lasts forever.
Stephen meanwhile is taking great joy in watching a couple of mantis's fuck, and then one mantis eat. Quoth Stephen, "You do not need a head, nor even a heart, to be all a female can require." Jack and Stephen are going to a dinner at Molly Harte's place again ('Dinner?' cried Stephen, as though the meal had just been invented), and the entire thing has a bit of a sitcom quality to it. Stephen really enjoys poking fun at rich assholes in a way that they don't realize they're being mocked.
Also, Stephen's judgment of the woman's husband:
The chapter ends with Jack informing glumly that before they get to do another cruise they have to run some mail down to boring ol' Alexandria. Stephen is, of course, fucking delighted. Alexandria! One of the great classical cities!
I especially love Stephen dropping his napkin accidentally and climbing under the table to retrieve it.
While under the table, he discovers that Mrs. Harte is playing footsies with Jack on one side and the soldier with whom she'd gone out riding in an earlier chapter on the other. Her feet are quite far apart, so that neither one suspects the other.
Mrs. Harte later limps away from the table, as both men have been basically crushing her feet for the entirety of the dinner.
Steam: Elvenshae // PSN: Elvenshae // WotC: Elvenshae
Wilds of Aladrion: [https://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/comment/43159014/#Comment_43159014]Ellandryn[/url]
Still, liked the rest of the chapter well. I'm definitely starting to see why you guys like Jack so much. There was this: when he was talking to Bonden, the maintopman. Jack is genuinely pretty supportive of his men, it's nice.
He also showed some guile in his plan for tricking the frigate, even if Stephen ended up needing to come in clutch for it. And at the same time there's this" He's still showing his cleverness there! But he is also rather goofy.
We've seem all of these qualities before, but I guess just having them all in the same chapter makes it stand out more to me.
Chapter 9 opens with Stephen feeling a bit more philosophical, as he weight the pluses and minuses of "Yay I got to see so many cool places!" versus "...But we just sailed right past them all."
Dillon continues in his downward spiral of self-hatred and resentment, and with nowhere else to go it just boils out at Jack. Jack, meanwhile, is in the dumps both because his honor is being insulted, and Lord Keith's warnings to him about his behavior have really wormed into him. Don't worry about, says Stephen, you're already a captain, what does it matter to get appointed to some meaningless "post-captain" list, anyway? You're already a captain, who cares if you only get to wear 1 epaulette instead of two? Quoth Jack, 'That does occupy a great share of my heart, of course, along with eagerness for an extra eighteenpence a day. But you will allow me to point out, sir, that you are mistaken in everything you advance.' Technically right now Jack's only a commander, he's called Captain out of courtesy, he holds the position of captain of his ship, but he doesn't truly hold the rank of Captain Aubrey, not until he's appointed to the Post-Captains list. Once you make it onto the list from then on out it's purely a matter of seniority, live long enough and you'll get promoted to admiral. But he could easily languish away the rest of his career without ever making it.
So Jack and Dillon are both in a state of restrained, furious truce right now, acting like everything's fine, they're too professional to let it boil out into professional time, but as soon as their voyage is over... One of them is quite likely to end up dead, and the other with his career ruined. Before they can get to shore though, they've got to escape a French frigate, who quite easily outguns them and they have to escape from. You sorta get the impression of naval life as one of those like petri dish games - merchantmen are fleeing from sloops, which are fleeing from frigates, which are fleeing from ships of the line... Even the hunters are somebody else's prey. The Sophie manages to get away thanks to some clever tricks (it's the fake rear lights trick that they borrowed for the movie!) but young Ellis, the son of the terrible couple from last chapter, accidentally falls overboard as he's watching the chase. They manage to retrieve him, and while he's not breathing initially Stephen's able to revive him with a set of bellows and tobacco smoke. QI had a segment about that method, iirc! It's one of those classic early medical treatments, where there's ASPECTS that are helpful, and then there's pointless parts of it, but hey whatever it's doing is working so we should just keep replicating this method! Young Ellis survives, which is nice because he seems like an OK kid.
The Sophie escapes, but unfortunately in the opposite direction from where they actually want to go, so now they have to crawl along right into the wind for days and days until they're finally able to return to Port Mahon. And even when they reach port, Jack's a bit disappointed and hurt to not find Molly Harte there for more than an afternoon, as she has - she says - a previous engagement with a cousin.
Jack also gets a letter from his dad, who we really haven't heard much about until now. Now it seems like there could be a good reason for that, as his father is enthusiastically detailing the advantages for older men of a certain age marrying a young, woman far below his station. Papa Aubrey's totally gonna marry some hot scullery maid, huh?
I like this little scene being what cheers Jack back up a bit:
Jack sincerely, wholeheartedly loves the naval life, and he loves people who love it, too. It's why he tries his best with the midshipmen to actually teach them their profession, and it's also part of why he loves Dillon, even as he also totally wants to strangle Dillon.
Another great little sequence, with Stephen excitedly spotting a bird:
We've seen time and time again, Jack might not be any great thinker (except for naval stuff), but he does have an incredibly disarming gregariousness. The kind of guy where when he laughs at his bad joke you just can't help but laugh along too. In better spirits now Jack decides to go take the ship's boat to go quickly visit Molly, but he comes back only a short time later, looking pale and shocked, and orders the Sophie back out to sea. Spoiler, but also not really because it was fairly obvious: Jack definitely just caught Molly with that army guy, and now he's all bummed.
It's a weird little tendency of Jack's, because up until now it's seemed like they were just having a purely friendly, non-serious, non-jealous sort of affair. Jack's never thought of Molly in any sort of romantic way, at least that I can remember, and he's been perfectly happy to fraternize with the big tiddy spanish lady at his inn, too. But this seems to have wounded him anyway.
So yeah, even with a chase and a near-drowning it was sort of a short, quieter chapter. The Sophie is theoretically enjoying nothing but success - the crew's trained up, the ship is in good condition, the officers are excellent, the prize money is flowing - and yet repeatedly we get line after line about impending doom, the end of luck, and depression and dissatisfaction from both Jack and Dillon.
Didn't you mean Jack and James? I don't recall Jack and Stephen having any dispute until the next book.
Chapter 10 opens once again with Stephen writing in his diary. For book 1 of what is titled the Aubrey-Maturin series, it's kinda surprising how Stephen sorta feels like a bit of a third wheel in the book so far. Like he's a useful pov character, as someone who knows both Aubrey and Dillon, but he's much less active than the other two, for now at least he's content to earn some pay as a surgeon and sail around looking at birds and beetles.
Anyway, Stephen's writing in his diary and his concern for his two friends has kinda drifted into sheer exasperation,
Punctilio, that's a great word! "a fine or petty point of conduct or procedure." I love how Stephen's gone from concern to just, "omg stop with these first world problems and go do some honest work." Also he's at least getting slightly more nautical, he couldn't have managed even those basic descriptions of sailor work at the beginning of the book.
Later Stephen and James are making small talk about differences in national habits, which drifts over to dueling. James expresses his amazement that unlike the Irish, an English gentleman might go a whole year without a duel. But then he's given insult to Englishmen that a proper manly Irishman would never stomach, maybe the English are just cowards. And then Jack walks in, because of course he does, but even if he doesn't, like, this is a tiny ship, Jack would've heard it. Both Jack and James flee to action as an escape from their "real life" problems, Jack more for the excitement, James with a bit bloodier eagerness to him. But they don't have any action right now, and they both have a mounting list of problems, and so it's seeming more and more likely they're going to kill each other.
A brief interlude from one source of rising tension to another, as Stephen is introduced to just how much fuckin' alcohol these sailors drink. Tom Simmons, a popular young sailor onboard, dies from an alcoholic coma, and Stephen unofficially investigating asks the gunner Mr Day just how much the young man actually drank:
Like, literally the whole navy are functioning alcoholics, basically. I guess to some degree there's an element of practicality there - the alcohol probably helps sanitize the questionable water, and its so much physical labor that the calories probably help too. But there is sort of a trend here of O'Brian's sailors all rushing headlong towards hedonistic oblivion at any chance they get - they live very much in the moment. If you have money in your pocket then spend it, if you have alcohol then you drink it all, you might be drowned or blown up tomorrow anyway so don't worry about it. The officers are just as bad, except in addition to the other stuff they rush towards glory, too.
The only folks aboard not in the dumps are the midshipmen, who still have the innocence of childhood. Young Mr Ellis is sent to go ask the doctor for "physic for a slack-going horse," which I have no idea what that actually means except it's definitely in the same category as like, breastplate stretchers and headlamp fluid. Frankly I think every work of fiction should be required to have one of these jokes thrown in, as the only proper type of worldbuilding.
The Sophie captures another merchantman, a ship that claims to be from Ragusa. Actually reading the wiki makes me realize that while I knew the name, Ragusa doesn't have much longer to exist - it ends in 1808, only 8 years away from our "present day." Nowadays it is the city of Dubrovnik, AKA where they filmed a lot of King's Landing! Anyway Marshall boards her, is unimpressed by their fake papers, and whoop there's another win for the Sophie. Neither Jack or Dillon really give a shit tho, cuz there was no battle.
Shortly afterwards though they realize there's a battle happening somewhere, as they can hear cannon fire somewhere through the rain to the northeast. A small Spanish privateer hears the same thing, and appears out of the storm nearby, racing towards the cannonfire, only for the two ships to spot each other, and after a moment of shock open fire. The Spaniard realizes he's outgunned and turns tail, trying to outrun the Sophie back to Barcelona. They're able to capture the small privateer, but gunboats are now swarming out of the Barcelona harbor. Smallish, oar-powered boats sporting a single very, very large 36-pound cannon each, individually they're vastly outgunned by the Sophie, but as a group they're dangerous, one plummeting shot from a gunboat could go straight through the Sophie's deck and right on through her bottom. The Sophie's finally able to get their prize sailable again and they retreat with their capture, but later Jack starts to feel regret that he didn't rush into the gunboats, with James' criticism of his courage in the back of his mind. Jack makes two resolutions - first, that he's going to ask James for an explanation when they get on shore, one of those phrases that is definitely the ritual beginning of a duel. And secondly, that tomorrow night he's gonna go back and settle things with the gunboats.
The next day they're once again playing cat and mouse with the gunboats, luring them this way and that and trying to break their formation, taking some hits and giving a few back. The Sophie outmaneuvers them enough that the gunboats eventually have to shelter back towards land, away from Barcelona, while the Sophie sits out at sea repairing the damage from their skirmish. James is in extremely high spirits - there's really something of the bipolar with James, and he's even singing in Irish and English as he cheerfully teaches Mr Ellis the basics of shipyard repairs.
Jack is convinced the gunboats were trying to lure them into some type of trap, and they head off that evening, pretending to sail off. Instead they double back around and head towards Barcelona again, and well well well, if it isn't our old friend, the Cacafuego, lying to windward of the Sophie and unprepared for an attack. Jack addresses the men:
The Sophie amuses the enemy with false signals until they get close, at which point they turn, raise the flag, and both sides open fire. The much larger Cacafuego fires right over the Sophie, while the Sophie's guns fire upwards right into the Spaniard's hull and up through the ship. The Cacafuego has trouble hitting the low-lying Sophie, and each time they attempt to board her the Sophie veers off and fires into the Spanish boarders, unleashing bloody devastation. You really get an impression of what a violent, bloody, brutal fight this is, everything until now has just been a minor skirmish, but this is a fight to the death:
Jack can sense that now its the time to push his advantage and board the bigger ship, before they lose all ability to maneuver. Every single Sophie is to board, save Stephen, who declines, but says that he will steer the ship. Stephen spins the wheel and send the Sophie crashing into the Cacafuego. Aubrey and Dillon lead their men to board at different spots, and the fighting is still just as desperate.
James's boarding party, delayed, are finally able to push onboard, and rush in from behind the Spaniards, and the Spanish will to fight is temporarily broken. Bonden strikes the colors down on deck, and the Spanish sailors see that they've officially given up (except they probably assume a spanish officer did it, and the Spanish still outnumber the Sophies...) Jack orders the Spaniards all rushed down into the hold, before they can realize how few men Jack actually has remaining. Once the Spaniards are forced down into the deck the Sophies point a few cannons loaded with canister down the hatchway to discourage any attempt at retaking the ship. Jack calls for Mr Dillon, but
Also feel bad for poor little Ellis, Dillon was sort of acting like a mentor figure to him, they were kind of cute. And now they're both dead.
This is an excellent way to digest something I gulped down a long time ago, and I'm enjoying it immensely.
For some reason, phrases like "for all love" or "quite palpable" or "which I am directly" just get implanted in my brain as I'm reading through the series, and it takes months if not years for them to die down to background levels.
I still call good red wines "roborative;" that never stops.
I think it's something in the way O'Brian writes characters that sound like actual people talking - they misuse woods, they say things they didn't mean, they have asides to themselves, they get interrupted, etc. - that makes it all feel far more real than, well, nearly every other style of writing on page or screen.
Steam: Elvenshae // PSN: Elvenshae // WotC: Elvenshae
Wilds of Aladrion: [https://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/comment/43159014/#Comment_43159014]Ellandryn[/url]
...
What? Not me.
We open with Jack pondering a last few word choices for his official combat report. James and young Ellis were actually their only dead, although Watt the boatswain and five seamen were severely wounded (and I assume there were probably quite a few more light wounds that weren't reported). Still though, a pretty insanely light death toll considering. The Sophie's 54 men defeated the Cacafuego's 300+, the Spanish frigate had half as many marines as the Sophie had men, and way more guns.
Stephen meanwhile remembers what he saw of Dillon in the boarding:
Jack's own remembrances aren't about the battle, which was essentially the easiest part, but instead the desperate work to get the Sophie and their capture back home:
I love the way O'Brian can write like, a blurred, impressionistic recollection of a series of memories.
But Jack's sadness and exhaustion gradually transformed into joy as he begins to see other navy ships, with their shocked, excited congratulations. Jack knows he'll get a promotion for this, an appointment into a nice frigate. And he's already celebrated by banging Molly Harte, basically in the 1800s equivalent of one of those 'banging in every room in the apartment' montages. Meeting with Captain Harte to drop off his report Harte doesn't seem to care much about if Jack is banging his wife, but little Ellis was the child of his bankers (prize agent?), and Jack gets the impression he is pretty peeved about that.
After the meeting Jack heads back out into town, and to his bemused amazement he's greeted by officer after officer. Any seaman who sees Jack takes their time to head over and congratulate him wholeheartedly, glowing with reflected glory. It's not just that Jack won a great battle at incredible odds - it's that he's brought glory on the navy collectively with his win, and so everyone is happy along with him. Especially on reread I also kinda get the impression that this is sorta Jack's first time getting this sort of respect from naval officers he respects. We know he was quite a dumbass as a midshipman, and kinda a dumbass as a lieutenant. Everyone recognizes he's a good sailor, but he's never really gotten that "good job, son" moment, instead he's been told by men he respects like Lord Keith that his bad habits are sabotaging his career. It affects Jack quite a bit, and as he gets back to his hotel he has to have a momentary sit down,
Stephen on the other hand is hearing less optimistic news, from his friend Dr Florey, a fellow naval doctor and naturalist nerd. Florey - and apparently basically everyone else - knows that Jack's having an affair with Molly, and it's her husband who is in charge both of approving the Cacafuego being bought into the service, and of sending along Jack's dispatch. It really does seem kinda insane that if a naval captain captures an enemy ship the navy actually buys it from him, even if it's at quite a discount, but apparently in this case it might not even happen.
And then there's the purser Richards, who's extravagantly explaining to his whole extended family over dinner how its the captain's clerk position that is the very most dangerous and brave in battle, as everyone knows. Poor Goldilocks (they call Aubrey Goldilocks in the service, just like they call Richards Hell-fire Davy) had no idea what to do, but he told his captain that if only they board her they'd grab victory against the odds. It's all very hilariously 'and then the whole class broke out in applause' level That Happened.
Later that night as Jack and Stephen reunite at the concert, Stephen reports to Jack that he's already heard through the grape vine that they've got new orders, and will be sailing out soon, until several people around them shush them in annoyance. It's a nice little bit of mirroring, here - the book starts with the two of them almost coming to blows over being distracting at a concert, and now as the book heads into the last act they're annoying everybody else, together.
As the glow of glorious victory begins to fade there's some disappointments, though. Pullings, who's qualified as a lieutenant but has been waiting for years for the actual promotion, wasn't been appointed as lieutenant of the Sophie, and Dalziel, the new lieutenant they receive instead, is just kind of an averagely mostly competent officer. Jack's got to get dosed by Stephen for a venereal disease, which he probably got from Molly Harte cuz, well, whatever Jack thinks is going on, plainly she's not just having an affair with only him. And then Harte comes aboard, chews out Jack - much to the amusement of the sailors within earshot, who love Jack but still take great joy in the great man getting chewed out a bit. But the men's amusement turns to anger and bitter disappointment: no more cruising time for the Sophie, no promotion for Jack, the Cacafuego not bought into the service, rumors about the Cacafuego not being a proper naval ship spread around, and instead the Sophie appointed to just guard the mail packet. I like how the men who were so amused at Jack eating shit are instead abruptly outraged, both on his behalf and on their own. We already saw the other captains take joy in Aubrey's reflected glory onto the navy as a whole, now Aubrey's ship is furious as Harte scuffs their honor as represented by Jack's recognition.
Jack manages to hold his anger in while he's meeting with Harte, as Harte is obviously hoping that Jack will throw a fit and ruin his career by disobeying orders, but that night he's still angry at Jack and Stephen play their music, and Stephen notices him playing in a flood of emotion.
It's oddly heartbreaking for Jack to lose his poor fiddle, certain objects like that almost become like a pet, and even worse that he accidentally did it himself.
And, well, that's NOT the end of the chapter, but this is quite a long chapter and a lot still has to happen, so I'm gonna break here for now!
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Action_of_6_May_1801
OK so back into chapter 11, as the Sophie has just had Harte spit in their collective eye, and now they're heading out of port to escort the mail packet. As they're heading out they pass by the frigate Amelia, I love this little passage:
It doesn't fix the very real harm that Harte has done to the Sophie, but we've seen time after time how much public reputation and standing matters, both to Jack and all the other men on the Sophie. The Amelia is saying even if Harte has tried to damage your honor and reputation, we still respect you and your accomplishment. Which especially matters coming from a frigate, a more prestigious posting than a mere little sloop.
Also as a fun little bit of nautical etymology... The Amelia piped down! As in, the bosun blew his whistle and signaled the men to give it a rest and come down off the masts. Reading through the Aubrey-maturin series we're gonna be getting a LOT of nautical phrases that have become common phrases, it's always amusing. There's also a tendency of etymology of phrases whose origin is unknown to get credited to nautical origins when that's not really the case, it's like the all-purpose explanation for where a phrase comes from.
Getting back to the Sophie, during their time in port the Sophies felt so pissed off as a group that their ordinary hierarchies and discipline largely disappeared, which among other things resulted in a whole bunch of alcohol getting snuck on board. Jack's so fed up that he demotes the old bosun's mate, who had a tendency to lash his shipmates quite lightly, and instead promotes Alfred King, the buff, mute, black seamen, who'll put some proper elbow grease into the deed. I like this little acknowledgment of the racial politics of it all:
Jack can definitely be thoughtlessly racist and biased on land (and even Stephen has some Opinions on the Moors and the Portugese), but at sea the only thing he cares about is seamanship, and it doesn't even occur to him that it wouldn't be the case for everyone else. Albert King's a good seaman, so Jack will promote him over the white sailors and not think twice about it.
The Sophie continues sailing up the Spanish coast with the mail packet, with strict orders not to pursue any ships or take prizes. But as Jack peeks into every harbor along the coast, he's like... "Well, we can't take prizes, but ain't no rule that we can't sneak into that harbor and burn all the merchantmen down to the waterline. He's sadly reminded of how James would've been so happy to go on a raid like this, 'I have been thinking about Dillon all day. All day long I have been thinking about him, off and on. You would scarcely credit how much I miss him.' Jack's definitely a guy to forget all of someone's negatives, he now only remembers James in the best way, but even praising James he's accidentally insulting, praising how non-drunk irishman James was, until he realizes he's being an ass and sincerely begs Stephen's pardon.
It's kinda sweet how Jack's like, 'but sometimes Jack insulted me too, even though I know he only did it accidentally!' Like, aww, honey, no, he totally intended to be insulting.
The raid goes well, and as the ships burn the Sophies are surprised to see a giant pillar of flame high in the air. One ship was fully loaded with olive oil, so it's going off like a signal fire... Which is miserably bad luck for the Sophie, as there's a French squadron only a few miles away. The French know that obviously something's up, and they head up to investigate, spotting the Sophie in the morning light. The French capture the packet ship easily - it was a miserable sailor that drove Jack nuts - and then continue to pursue the Sophie.
Jack is hopelessly outgunned, and not just Cacafuego outgunned, these are ships of the line that fire half a ton of metal in every broadside. With no choice but to flee they throw the cannons overboard, to lose weight, and then begin pumping out the water, and then they open up the cargo hold and begin throwing their supplies overboard, anything to gain a little bit of speed and survive. Jack tries every trick and maneuver he can, but the Desaix is an excellent sailor as well, and continues to close on the Sophies while not even setting all of her sails, as a sort of deliberate signal of the hopelessness of the fight. The mood on the Sophie changes, capture is inevitable, and men are now changing into their best clothes, asking their officers to hold their cash or valuables. The Desaix turns and presents her broadside, firing 37 cannons worth of grapeshot through the Sophie's rigging and sails, utterly wrecking it. The next broadside will destroy the Sophie entirely, and Jack orders Bonden to strike the colors. The Sophie has been beaten.
Technically a model of the Desaix's sister ship, but this is what the Desaix would've looked like. 74 guns, 5260 tonnes fully loaded. A big girl!
The movie did similar, just saving it for the climatic battle. The deaths in that are atrocious
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Thirty sails and hundreds of ropes. Each one with its own name.
There's a great bit from the comic Crecy (Fair warning, it's by Warren Ellis, do your research given his shite behavior). But anyway, this bit is good and relevant here:
"These things are going to look primitive to you, but you have to remember that we're not stupid. We have the same intelligence as you. We simply don't have the same cumulative knowledge you do. So we apply our intelligence to what we have".
This after a bit on how Longbows can switch arrow heads at a moment's notice, allowing for both anti cav and anti infantry uses, ontop of making removing a longbow arrow hell... and that the assholes are sticking the arrows in the dirt, so that longbow head that's stuck in you? It's a bio-weapon to boot, because you know, your day wasn't already bad enough thanks to having a longbow arrow in you.
Side note: Having done archery and been next to someone shooting longbows with properly made arrows, those things are terrifying. I shot with a recurve, and pretty standard modern day arrows that make an oise, but it's relatively quiet. Longbow arrows? Those things make an entirely different noise going through the air and it is scary
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The Monster Baru Cormorant - Seth Dickinson
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