#Post Captain

[walkthebass]

help me aubreyad tumblr. there was a great visionary among us who created a mock up of the perfect cover for Post Captain and naturally now I cannot find it. I need their greatness to be recognized and maybe also for them to see the glory in action.

[the-golden-vanity]

Esteban Maturin i Domanova, the man that you are 💕

[ola-na-tungee]

thank you Mr. O'Brian for making Jack a giant hunk with golden mane and an incredible bass voice. this man can crack SIX walnuts in one hand . I will be forever grateful

[neosatsuma]

it's a beautiful day in the English Channel and you are a horrible ship. Press B to Backwards

[marcusnotbrutus]

this is an INSANE descriptor oml thank you patrick o'brien for this. I will a few days to consolidate my thoughts. the joining of my two top interests atm is too much

[ralphlanyon]

Piquet was their game. The cards flew fast, shuffled, cut, and dealt again: they had played together so long that each knew the other’s style through and through. Jack’s was a cunning alternation of risking everything for the triumphant point of eight, and of a steady, orthodox defence, fighting for every last trick. Stephen’s was based upon Hoyle, Laplace, the theory of probabilities, and his knowledge of Jack’s character.

However, the rain stopped while they were eating their dinner at the Bleeding Heart, their half-​way point, a cheerful sun came out, and they saw the first swallow of the year, a blue curve skimming over the horse-​pond at Edenbridge. Long before they walked into Thacker’s, the naval coffeehouse, they were far back in their old easy ways, talking without the least constraint about the sea, the service, the possibility of migrant birds navigating by the stars at night, of an Italian violin that Jack was tempted to buy, and of the renewal of teeth in elephants.

your honor they are married

[hello-delicious-tea]

*crying with laughter*

STEPHEN MATURIN has a horror of ECCENTRICITY?

[pathfinderswiftpen]

"I have a horror of the least appearance of eccentricity." - Stephen Maturin, The Most Eccentric Person of His Century

[lessthansix]

‘I have your plates,’ he said, holding out a green-baize parcel. ‘Oh, thank you, thank you, Stephen. What a good fellow you are. Here’s elegance, damn my eyes. How they shine! Oh, oh,’ his face fell. ‘Stephen, I do not like to seem ungrateful, but I did say hawser-laid, you know. The border was to be hawser-laid.’ ‘Well, and did I not say, “Let there be a hawser about the periphery” and did he not say, the shopman, God’s curse upon him, the thief, “Here, sir, is as pretty a hawser as Lord Viscount Nelson himself could desire”?’ ‘And so it is. A capital hawser. But surely my dear Stephen, you must be aware, after all this time at sea, that a hawser is cable-laid, not hawser-laid?’ ‘I am not. And I absolutely decline to hear more of the matter. A hawser not hawser-laid – what stuff. I badger the silversmith early and late, and we are to be told that hawsers are not hawser-laid. No, no. The wine is drawn, it must be drunk. The frog has neither feathers nor wool, and yet she sings. You will have to sail up to the Downs, eating the bread of affliction off your cable-laid baubles, and wetting it with the tears of misery; and I may tell you, sir, that you will eat it without me. Essential business calls me away. I shall put up at the Grapes, when I am in London: I hope to be there well before Michaelmas. Pray send me a line. Good day to you, now: God bless.’

Post Captain, Patrick O’Brian

[bomberqueen17]

Liveblogging the Aubreyad: Post Captain Part Two

More book, less background, all spoilers.

I will here put in a plug for listening to the Simon Vance audiobooks of this series on 1.25x speed, can't recommend highly enough. Except his foreign accents are terrible, I won't lie about that. Anyhow. Get a library card and check these out if you would rather not read my summaries, which despite their thoroughness are not entire. The books are a challenging read but I did manage it at 12 but I did that through the power of being a socially isolated undiagnosed neurodivergent child so I don't necessarily recommend that either.

A NEE HOO, the book:

In part 1 we got female characters (sweet innocent Sophia? or her worldly, dashing cousin Diana?), sweet bachelor pad, social lives, horse farts, and *jazz hands* financial ruinnnnnn, and our intrepid heroes have fled to France where a Frenchman ruined Jack's composure by kissing him. But now, war has broken out, and they must flee without being arrested, which will be very difficult because Jack is approximately the most ostentatiously English person ever to have existed on this planet, in this universe.

And so now we pay off on my earlier bullet-point about Jack's fursona.

I had genuinely forgotten about this when I first relistened to the books. I listened to this long expounded-upon scenario, where a convoy of English prisoners of the French is resting and there's a man with a tame bear passing by and the prisoners, especially a sea officer trying to impress a lady in company with him, want him to make the bear dance even though it is hot and the bear is obviously tired, and the gendarmes finally come over and insist that the bear must dance to prove it really is a tame bear, and I was just expecting this to be some background descriptive passage included in the book for the atmosphere as so many are until, as they are finally left alone and the bear-leader is sitting counting up the coins people tossed at them, unaccountably reciting them to the bear as if the bear is going to care, the bear out of nowhere answers him.

“When one sea-officer is to be roasted, there is always another at hand to turn the spit,' said the bear. 'It is an old service proverb. I hope to God I have that fornicating young sod under my command one day. i'll make him dance a hornpipe - oh, such a hornpipe. Stephen, prop my jaws open a little more, will you? I think I shall die in five minutes if you don't. Could we not creep into a field and take it off?' 'No,' said Stephen. 'But I shall lead you to an inn as soon as the market has cleared, and lodge you in a cool damp cellar for the afternoon. I will also get you a collar, to enable you to breathe. We must reach Couiza by dawn.'

Stephen for his own inscrutable reasons names the bear Flora and tells everyone it is a female bear whose female troubles make it bad at dancing. Meanwhile Jack is being slowly murdered by the suit, his bare bloody feet glued to the costume's paws, insects eating him, never able to eat or drink enough, always overheated. By the time they make it to the Spanish border, Jack is nearly dead. It's a good character study: he is still thinking tactically at some times, still has the capacity to wonder whether Stephen might yet betray him, to notice that he has heretofore in their acquaintance underestimated Stephen severely, but his innate and natural response to this kind of hopeless privation and suffering is to simply submit to it and endure, doing whatever Stephen tells him to, understanding that there is no useful resistance he can make; he resents Stephen but also recognizes that Stephen too is suffering, this is simply what must be done and he must endure it, beyond any concept of limits. As they finally reach Spain he sits on a rock and dreamily tells Stephen he is glad Stephen seems so happy, and just sort of echoes whatever Stephen says, clearly well beyond comprehending what's going on anymore. (He does revive once the bear suit comes off.)

He spends some time very ill in Stephen's house just across the border. Stephen owns a castle there, though it's mostly in ruins. Once Jack can move, they make their way, this time both as humans, down to Gibraltar, and book passage home in an Indiaman* that has happened to put in there for repairs.

[* for the record the word Indiaman refers to a merchant ship plying the rich trade route to India, and would have female pronouns, like any ship. Actual human Indian men, if sailors or soldiers, are referred to as Lascars, with normal human pronouns as applicable, and as far as I can tell this is just a neutral descriptor and even though racial attitudes of the time were what they were, was not ever particularly used as a slur. Now You Know. Listen I'm trying to look things up as I go, since there's Period-Typical-Everything in here, but I might miss some, do be advised; I don't intend to condone any anythings in any of this nor do I wish to carelessly use loaded terms but it can be difficult to suss out what's what in the modern context.]

Aboard that Indiaman is another of my earlier bullet points: yes it's TOM PULLINGS. Jack recognizes him by his huge grin from across the ship, he's so delighted to see them, human sunbeam that he is.

Never confirmed as a lieutenant after the acting commission Jack had given him in the Sophie, quite without any political influence or hope of help in that quarter (though Jack had written letters of introduction for him to every single captain he knew who he thought might have a spot for him), TOM PULLINGS has given up on the Navy and taken a job with the East India Company, which pays better but is entirely without glory or hope of promotion.

“Why, sir, I could not get a ship and they would not confirm me in my rank. No white lapels for you, Pullings, old cock, they said. We got too many coves like you, by half." ''What a damned shame," cried Jack, who had seen Pullings in action and who knew that the Navy did not and indeed could not possibly have too many coves like him.

Another fun bit of fuzzy timekeeping which I should tally somewhere here is that while we know Jack and Stephen's adventure in France was of some considerable duration, every so often for the next few books Pullings will point out yet another Indiaman and say delightedly "I made two voyages in her", and I should start a running tally of How Many Indiamen Has Tom Pullings Been In somewhere because each voyage is a minimum of six months, and we have seen Pullings earlier in this book, he attended the St Vincent Battle Ball in February of-- whatever year that was. (Side note: Mowett mentions having served previously in the Namur, which was at the Battle of St Vincent, and it was only three years before, so it's perfectly possible he was there, but it's never brought up. Thinks to think upon!)

(I am sure some fan at some point has already done this work. But all the discussion boards are from 2003ish and it is hard to search them. Better than modern fandoms, where it all vanishes into private Discords, but it is... sort of sad, to look through the moribund message boards and remember being in spaces like that and how great they were. RIP to the golden days of the Internet.)

I've already explained how promotion works, so I don't need to elaborate on how very slim Pullings's career prospects are. He shows Jack all around his ship, and Jack tries very hard to be polite, but merchantmen, after the Navy, are a sort of sorry, squalid state of things, and there's not a lot to be polite about. Pullings clearly does the best he can but he has only a thin crew, a poor-sailing sluggish fat ship, and a timid captain to work with. What's worse, many of the crew are Lascars-- fine seamen, but they seem poorly; the initial assumption that they are simply not used to the cold proves wrong, it turns out that they're all succumbing to the flu, which is affecting the Europeans too but is hitting the Lascars that much harder. So the ship is now critically short-handed, with many of the crew incapacitated by the flu.

And then a French privateer heaves into sight, the Bellone. The captain doesn't know what to do and is terrified. Pullings beats the ship approximately into shape by sheer dint of competence and strong feeling, but there's not a lot of hope, he quite simply has very little to work with. Jack steps up and volunteers to take charge of one of the divisions of guns. It is so long since they have been used that he has to fire one to blow the port lid off, it having been painted into place long ago.

A brisk action ensues, but the Indiaman, despite all the heroics Jack and Pullings can manage, is overwhelmed and taken. Jack and Pullings are both moderately-to-severely injured in the fight, Jack left briefly in a coma after falling down a hatchway and Pullings being both shot and stabbed. The French steal everything aboard the ship including the passengers' personal property and Stephen's surgical implements that he was in the middle of using, impose a heavy prize-crew, and undertake to sail the Indiaman to a Spanish harbor. Jack will certainly spend the war a French prisoner, with no hope of getting home, getting a command, advancing his career, staying relevant.

But then an English brig, recognized as the Seagull by Pullings because his uncle used to be the sailing master in her, shows up and fights the French prize-crew to a standstill. Our heroes spend the action locked up below, but the French captain lets them out when the action grinds to a pause, the Seagull heavily damaged trying to repair itself enough to continue. Things look bad; the Frenchman is annoyed and might just sink the Seagull out of spite, but then a squadron of homeward-bound Royal Navy ships of the line round the headland-- the HMS Colossus, a 74, the Tonnant of eighty guns, more behind them-- and Jack puts his hand down over the touch-hole of the gun the Frenchman was about to fire at the Seagull and coldly tells him he must surrender to the brig.

Which he does.

So now Jack is home to England, and back in the running to get himself a ship so he can participate in this war and stay alive in his career-- but where he also is still at constant risk of being arrested for debt.

The new First Lord of the Admiralty is Lord Melville, whose family name is Dundas-- the older brother, in fact, of Heneage Dundas, who was a midshipman and then a lieutenant alongside Jack, one of his best friends. Melville thinks his younger brother is a bit of an idiot, but has some small fondness for Jack anyway. So there's hope. But Jack is arriving so late that all the best posts have already been snapped up. Melville promises to do his best to find him something, but tells him not to hold out much hope of something actually good. Jack does explain his specific problem, however-- the debt thing-- and Melville is understanding of it at least.

Jack has taken lodgings in a tiny shack outside of town with Stephen, giving rise to this charming description, please to look out for a particularly excellent 19th-century word usage:

At present they were lodging in an idyllic cottage near the heath with green shutters and a honeysuckle over the door - idyllic in summer, that is to say. They were looking after themselves, living with rigid economy; and there was no greater proof of their friendship than the way their harmony withstood their very grave differences in domestic behaviour. In Jack's opinion Stephen was little better than a slut: his papers, odd bits of dry, garlic'd bread, his razors and small-clothes lay on and about his private table in a miserable squalor; and from the appearance of the grizzled wig that was now acting as a tea-cosy for his milk-saucepan, it was clear that he had breakfasted on marmalade.

Stephen you slut indeed.

They go to a party-- a risky proposition, with Jack a wanted man, but Everyone who is Everyone will be there, and he quite simply needs to remind his various powerful acquaintances that he is here and in need. So they go. Diana is there, and also a well-connected, very wealthy merchant named Canning. Canning's merchant ships are very much preyed-upon by privateers-- especially the Bellone-- and he has been commissioning privateers of his own to defend them. He very politely, indirectly goes as far as is decent toward offering Jack the command of the latest of these, which is to be very large and powerful indeed. It is deeply, deeply tempting, and Jack considers it at length, but his ambition above all else lies with the Navy, and Lord Melville is also at the party and tells him he should come the very next day to a meeting, Melville thinks he might have something for him.

Diana also offers to Jack that he might come see her the next day. He points out, sensibly, that he is at risk of arrest, and so it would be deeply irresponsible of him to go jaunting about the city. She scorns him for this, saying he is being a coward to even consider such things as his own personal ruin. She quite openly only wants him if he's willing to ruin himself for her.

Jack goes out for a walk late that night, out in a deserted area, to think. A man tries to mug him and his immediate reflex, honed by kind of a lot of hand-to-hand combat experience, is to just absolutely beat the shit out of the guy in about two blows. He lays him out cold and then, standing over the body, realizes he can't leave the man lying here as it's coming on to freeze and the fellow will die of exposure. So, cursing how complicated everything always has to be on land, he carries the man home, as you do, and ties him to a chair, and promptly falls asleep in the other chair waiting for Stephen, who went to visit other friends after the party.

(Several times in the series it is made plain that Jack has been at sea since he was an actual child, and his understanding of how laws work by land is very extremely fuzzy at best; his education in general is shockingly lacking. He knows the Articles of War cold, could recite them back to front, can cite them by number unfailingly, but only has a vague notion of any other kind of law, and no idea at all how the land-based justice system actually works. And how could he?)

Stephen comes home near dawn to find them thus, Jack asleep in one chair, and the would-be mugger wide awake, terrified, and extremely-competently tied to their only other chair.

The would-be mugger is an excellent plot device: he succinctly and intelligently explains to Stephen and the reader exactly how English debt law works, he himself being extremely experienced in it. (Stephen is gently spooning food into the man's mouth even as he is still tied to the chair, he having admitted he only took up trying to mug people because he had not eaten in several days.) Jack also forces the man to eat some of Jack's own breakfast, under peril of being headed up in a cask and tossed overboard, which makes plain to everyone involved a) how serious he is and b) where he's more normally accustomed to being.

Jack makes his way to the meeting with Melville, who finally offers him a ship. It is not a good ship. Melville actually feels guilty to even offer it. It is called HMS Polychrest, it is a misguided experiment gone wrong, built by a corrupt dockyard to the specifications of an ill-informed landlubber with ideas. But, it has cannons and it technically floats, so Jack takes it.

He's aware that Melville feels like shit about it, though, so he figures he has one, and only one, big concession he can ask for. And he shoots that shot on one, very dear, very precious thing that he very badly wants:

TOM PULLINGS, to be made lieutenant at last, and to serve with him in this misbegotten floating disaster.

I will break off again here because this is too long. Stay tuned for PART THREE, in which I promise I'll tell you how Barret Bonden punches out a cop.

[papercranesong]

“Jack,” said he, walking into the cabin, “what are you at?” “I am trying to get this God-damned plant to stand upright. Do what I may, they keep wilting. I water them before breakfast and again in the last dog-watch, and still they wilt. Upon my word, it is too bad.”

[hey-scully-itsme]

la belle dame sans merci

"‘Will you not let me go, Diana?’ he said, looking up, his eyes filling with tears.

‘No, no, no,’ she cried. ‘You must not leave me – go, yes go to France – but write to me, write to me, and come back.’ She gripped him hard with her small hand, and she was away, the turf flying behind her horse." – Post Captain, Patrick O'Brian

[ola-na-tungee]

Post Captain in which Stephen and Jack share a cottage. every single phrase in this chapter is gold

[neosatsuma]

"If I had 60,000 bees (on a ship) and your sweetheart was coming aboard (the ship), then I would send my bees away for you 🥺" sure is a sentence one could say. and well. if you are Captain Jack Aubrey of Patrick O'Brian's famed historical novels, beginning with Master and Commander, well . well then you will Say it.

[knightotoc]

"And there was no greater proof of their friendship than the way their harmony withstood their very grave differences in domestic behavior.

"In Jack's opinion, Stephen was little better than a slut: his papers, odd bits of dry garlic bread, his razors and smallclothes lay on and about his private table in a miserable squalor. And from the appearance of the grizzled wig that was now acting as a tea cozy for his milk saucepan, it was clear that he had breakfasted on marmalade.

"Jack took off his coat, covered his waistcoat and britches with an apron, and carried the dishes into the scullery."

-- Post Captain, Patrick O'Brian

[dragnew]

posts that have 10,000 notes to me