#condensed saga

[aubreyad-indexed]

In which: The Wool Garment

“And as Stephen rose to wave and hoot, Jack saw that he was dressed from head to foot in a single tight dull-brown garment; it clung to him, and his pale, delighted face emerged from a woollen roll at the top, looking unnaturally large. His general appearance was something between that of an attenuated ape and a meagre heart; and he was carrying his narwhal horn.”

-----------

“‘Your servant, sir,’ said Stephen, making a leg: and this, thought Jack, was perhaps the most hideous action that a person in so subhuman a garment could perform.”

-----------

“‘Perhaps you would like to come into the cabin,’ said Jack, taking Stephen’s elbow in an iron grip. ‘Your things will be brought aboard directly, never trouble yourself’ -Stephen cast a look into the boat and seemed about to break away.”

-----------

“Jack got him into the after-cabin at last […]. Here he sat on a locker and gazed at Stephen’s garment. It had been horrible at a distance; it was worse near to - far worse.”

-----------

“‘Stephen, will you for the love of God take off that thing?’

‘My wool garment? You have noticed it, have you? I had forgot, or I should have pointed it out. Have you ever seen anything so deeply rational? See, I can withdraw my head entirely: the same applies to the feet and the hands. Warm, yet uncumbering; light; and above all healthy - no constriction anywhere! Paris, who was once a framework knitter, made it to my design; he is working on one for you at present.’

‘Stephen, you would favour me deeply by taking it right off.’”

–Post Captain, Patrick O'Brian

(An ongoing series of condensed sagas)

[aubreyad-indexed]

In Which Everyone Worries While Stephen Faces Such Grave Dangers as Sticks and (Possibly) Owls

…two seamen carried Stephen ashore. They put him down tenderly, well above the high-water mark, adjured him to take care of all them nasty sticks laying about and hurried back for his cloak.

-----------

‘I should like to see him as early as can be; I am uneasy with him ashore. There are times when I feel he should not be allowed out alone…’

-----------

‘And think of our poor doctor, all alone among them damned trees—why, there might be owls.’

-----------

His mind returned to its many problems and to worrying about Stephen: it was sheer madness, this rambling about on a hostile shore.

-----------

Jack found himself pondering anxiously about Stephen, forgetful of his duty.

-----------

Indeed, this awareness of Jack’s state of tension was general throughout the brig. ‘Goldilocks is in a rare old taking about the Doctor,’ they said. ‘Watch out for squalls.’

-----------

But Goldilocks was not the only one to be anxious, by any manner of means, and when Stephen Maturin was at last seen to walk out of the trees and cross the beach to meet the jolly-boat, a general exclamation of ‘There he is!’ broke out from waist to fo'c'sle, in defiance of good discipline: ‘Huzzay!’

-----------

‘How very glad I am to see you,’ cried Jack, as Stephen groped his way aboard, pushed and pulled by well-meaning hands. ‘How are you, my dear sir?’

–Master and Commander, Patrick O’Brian

(An ongoing series of condensed sagas)

[aubreyad-indexed]

In which Stephen causes grave insult, is viciously punished for it, and thereby gains sympathy and forgiveness

From the main and the fore yards hung broad but extraordinarily shallow square sails, so low that when Stephen was led on deck to see them he asked where they were intended to be hoisted. ‘They are hoisted,’ he was told, in a voice of strong displeasure.

---------

Since the ship was very well found in bosun’s and sailmaker’s stores, she wore all the staysails that could possibly be managed. 'It is just like Bridie Colman’s washing day, I do declare,’ cried Stephen, in another unfortunate attempt to please. 'Everything is within an easy hand’s reach, so it is.’

---------

'This is an extraordinarily small piece of plum-duff,’ he observed at dinner - Sunday dinner - in the cabin. 'I wish it may not be an ignoble stroke of revenge for my innocent words this morning about our harmless, meek, and bargelike appearance -innocent upon my word, and even, I thought, amusing - a mild pleasantry. But not at all: prim faces, wry looks, and now this meagre, despicable pudding. I had thought better of my shipmates.’

'You mistake, brother,’ said Jack. 'Mr Adams and I, in our joint character as purser, cast our accounts yesterday, reckoning every last firkin of oatmeal, every bin and locker in the bread-room, and dividing the whole, private stores not excepted, by the number of mouths aboard. That piece of pudding is your full ration, my poor Stephen.’

'Oh, indeed,’ said Stephen, looking rather blank.

---------

'And Stephen, may I beg you not to be facetious when speaking of the barky? The people are surprisingly susceptible, if you know what I mean, about her appearance. And if ever you intend to be complimentary, you might well be advised just to throw up your hands and cry “Oh”, or “Superb”, or “I have never seen anything better”, without being particular.’

---------

'The Doctor has been choked off for being a satyr,’ said Killick to Grimble.

'What’s a satyr?’

'What an ignorant cove you are to be sure, Art Grimble: just ignorant, is all. A satyr is a party that talks sarcastic. Choked off something cruel, he was; and his duff taken away and eaten before his eyes.’

---------

Although the ship was wonderfully busy the news spread forward with its usual speed, and Stephen, making his way to the forecastle to watch albatrosses and the nondescript petrel that had been following the ship for some days, was greeted with particular kindness, brought a coil of soft manilla to sit upon, given a pair of belaying-pins to hold his telescope steady, and told about the birds that had been seen that day.

-The Wine-Dark Sea, Patrick O'Brian

(An ongoing series of condensed sagas)

[aubreyad-indexed]

In Which Stephen is Late (Again) but No One Can Stay Mad

He knew he had behaved very ill, and that he was in disgrace. Bonden, though an old friend, had greeted him without a smile, saying ‘You have cut it precious fine, sir. Do you know you have very nearly made us miss the tide, And may yet.’

-----------

‘Upon my word, Doctor,’ said Mowett, the officer of the watch, ‘you have cut it pretty fine, I must say. You very nearly made us miss our tide. What was you thinking of? And you are all wet - sopping wet. How did you get so wet?’

-----------

Mr Pullings, standing by the weather rail, looking stiff and remote, said, ‘The rendezvous was for the height of flood two tides ago, sir,’ with no kind word of greeting.

-----------

Pulling’s grim expression softened a little. He said, ‘You got a ducking, I see. You must not stand there in wet clothes: you will catch your death of cold.

-----------

The cabin door opened.  'Well, Doctor,’ said Jack, looking even taller than usual and far more intimidating. ‘Good morning to you, or rather good afternoon. This is a strange hour to report aboard - this is cutting it pretty fine - this is coming it tolerably high, I believe. Do you know you very nearly made us miss our tide?

-----------

‘Jack,’ said Stephen, shedding his breeches in the cabin, ‘I beg your pardon. I am very sorry for my lateness. I regret it extremely.’

‘Punctuality,’ said Captain Aubrey: but then, feeling that this, the beginning of a homily on the great naval virtue, was hardly generous, he shook Stephen’s free hand and went on, 'Damn my eyes, I was like a cat on hot tiles all through this vile morning and afternoon; so I spoke a little hasty.’

-----------

Pullings and Mowett by the door, drinking grog and evidently waiting for Stephen.

'Here you are, Doctor,’ cried Pullings, shaking his hand. 'On time to the second.’ He was smiling all over his tanned friendly face, but there was more than a hint of anxiety in his eye, and in a low voice he went on, 'Poor Mowett is afraid he upset you, sir, playing off his humours when you came aboard: it was only our fun, you know, sir, but we were afraid you might not have twigged it, being, as I might say, so uncommonly damp.’

'Never in life, my dear,’ said Stephen.

–The Ionian Mission, Patrick O'Brian

(An ongoing series of condensed sagas)

[aubreyad-indexed]

In which Jack considers the reasons Stephen shouldn’t have a baby, a wife, or any other friends

“Why Stephen should be so pleased with a baby I cannot tell. He was born to be a bachelor - no notion of domestic comforts, family life…”

-----------

“…quite unsuited for marriage, above all for marriage with Diana, a dashing brilliant creature to be sure, a fine horsewoman and a capital hand at billiards and whist, but given to high play and something of a rake - quite often shows her wine - in any case quite improper for Stephen…”

-----------

“Martin was of course a more suitable companion for Stephen in certain respects, but it seemed to Jack that he took up altogether too much of his time, prating away about primates in the mizen-top or endlessly turning over his collections of beetles and mummified toads in the gunroom. Jack passed quickly on - he did not choose to dwell on the subject…”

-

Clarissa Oakes, Patrick O'Brian

(An ongoing series of condensed sagas)