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bomberqueen17 · 3 months ago

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Liveblogging the Aubreyad: Book 3, HMS Surprise (part 1)

This one, I made notes on my phone while listening to the audiobook, so we shall see how well I distill them.

The series is hitting its stride now as a series, I think. M&C was kind of oneshottish, no real expectation of continuation; Post Captain was the pleased "oh! i get another one? great!" where he then crammed in three books' worth into one, and now HMS S is "ah. this is a series! Settle this plot down, then." pacing-wise.

So we pick up with politicians wrangling over the aftermath of the previous book, which had seemed to end so tidily and on such a happy note. Of course that is not the end-- there's a series now.

So at the end of the previous book, Jack was one of five captains sharing out a prize of some several million pounds, and this would have made him enormously wealthy and guaranteed his marriage. Of course.

In the opening scene of this one we hear that, legally, Spain had not declared war on Britain at the time, so legally, that money is not prize money, so legally, it should just be kept entirely for the government and not distributed to the sailors and officers who actually did the fighting at all, despite that being the well-established custom of the day. Legally, see, they don't have to hand it out, even though the people who designed the mission, and the people who executed the mission, all felt certain that it was a legit prize at the time and acted accordingly.

Stephen's friend Sir Joseph, head of Naval Intelligence, is arguing that of course it should be prize money, for large numbers of very good reasons, not least that he designed the mission with that in mind.

But the new First Lord of the Admiralty is a civilian politician. And he openly mentions Stephen Maturin's name, despite the fact that Sir Joseph had stressed to him that the man is a confidential agent. The First Lord does not catch the hint. And then he asks who the captains are, and remembers that Jack Aubrey's father is an opposition member in Parliament, and immediately Sir Joseph knows that it's over; this is political wrangling now, and this man will make a decision that harms the national interest and the morale of the service and everything else simply because General Aubrey is a politician he does not like.

So there is no prize money. And Jack is not out of debt. And cannot marry Sophie. And, far far far worse, Stephen's name is now exposed to a crowd of non-confidential people of no particular discretion, particularly marked as a secret agent with knowledge of Spanish affairs.

Anyway-- zooming out from that crackerjack first scene, and it is despite how it sounds, it's really well-told political intrigue with a very good layering of easy-to-understand, easy-to-deplore bullshit (and Admiral Harte gets his shitty little nose in there being a massive hypocrite, have no fear) -- the general situation is thus:

Jack, still in the Lively, is in the Med bottling up the French fleet in Toulon, and is engaged to Sophie-- legally, with all kinds of avaricious wrangles from Mrs. Williams, all the terms and conditions he acquiesced to unprotesting, so that Sophie will legally own most of their joint property. Diana has run off to India with Canning; Stephen has been collecting intelligence on them, though mostly it seems for the purpose of hurting himself with it. Stephen is to go to Minorca to do more intelligence stuff despite the fact that his name has been exposed-- the news will not have reached them, Stephen says coolly, declining to cancel the mission.

The Lively has a schoolmaster to oversee the young gentlemen's lessons. (Prior to being a midshipman, a young gentleman will be expected to have served three years of sea time, with the status of First Class Volunteer; many are listed as servants during this time, and many of them do not actually report to the ship during this time-- entering a friend's son on one's books to say he was on a ship long enough that when he joins he can just start as a midshipman with no waste of time is a perfectly accepted kind of little fraud, very common in Jack's social circles. "Young gentleman" as a category seems to include both the volunteers and rated midshipmen. But the Lively has a number of quite young gentlemen actually aboard, including the five-year-old [or, seven. he was five in the previous book but in this book, some weeks later, he is now seven] son of one of the lieutenants, as he came home from a voyage to find his wife dead and no family remaining to care for the child, so the little boy has been onboard ever since. Apparently Babbington may actually have still been a volunteer during some of the events of Master and Commander, but of course this is not consistently represented. I fully support an author doing whatever the hell he wants with timelines, and it is absolutely consistent with the inconsistency of historical records, LOL.)

Anyway-- Jack also actually went to sea as a volunteer very young, and the ship he was on did not have a competent schoolmaster, so he has suffered his entire life from not a very good education. He is sitting in on the young gentlemen's lessons ostensibly because he is concerned for them and wants to ensure they learn what they must, but in practice, he is taking advantage of this opportunity to get a proper thorough grounding in his own education, belatedly, and is thereby unlocking a real true love of mathematics, heretofore only instinctively guessed-at.

The Lively has seen long prior service in the South Pacific, and as such has a number of Asian crew members aboard. (So we do now see the word Chinaman occur, which unlike Indiaman does refer to humans, but is used as a neutral descriptor; I will nevertheless henceforth be avoiding its use, though to be fair I think it only occurs once in the book anyway.) Jack is pleased with the Chinese and Malayan crewmen, largely, as they all are unfailingly polite and have a number of useful skills, and are excellent seamen. But he finds out during an elaborate cutting-out expedition that many of them had formerly been pirates; they slaughter their opponents with absolutely stunning efficiency in a quite practiced manner despite how little combat the Lively itself has seen.

They make for Minorca to pick up Stephen but he does not make the rendezvous. Another Catalan man appears, and says Stephen has been taken, and is being tortured by the French in Port Mahon. Jack knows the city. With the Catalans, he sets up a rescue mission, and frees the prisoners, burns the house (coincidentally, the house where Captain and Molly Harte used to live), and rescues Stephen, who has had all his fingernails pulled out and has been stretched on a rack. (Touchingly, he has hallucinated Jack coming in to rescue him before, and so when it truly happens, is surprisingly calm, mistaking it for another hallucination.) It is a taut little action, badass as fuck. The officers of the Lively are disappointed when Jack won't take them, but this is not an official sanctioned expedition and there will be no glory, no report, no credit, no advancement of career-- it is simply a pragmatic necessity, and he wants only people who know the ground (his own people, Killick and Bonden) plus enough to pad out the numbers to make it work, so he takes those of the Chinese and Malay pirates who choose to volunteer, since this is just the ticket for them. (All of them volunteer.)

(A side note. The Catalan who helps them is named Joan. The audiobook narrator pronounces this Catalan man's name, which in Spanish would be Juan, and is pronounced the same, as the English woman's name Joan. Come on Simon. I believed in you.)

They get Stephen and get out, and we resume the tale in England with Stephen staying at an inn in Portsmouth. The Lively has been handed back over to her real captain, Hammond, at Gibraltar.

Jack is immediately arrested for debt as he tries to get the invalid Stephen into a carriage to go from Portsmouth to London, so off he goes to a sponging-house, hero or no; he goes quietly and resignedly. Sir Joseph Blaine is shocked to hear that heroic Jack is imprisoned; he had arranged for at least a consolation, an ex gratia payment, for the captains who were denied prize rights over the Spanish treasure, but it comes out that the agent has been slow in paying it out, and Jack is helpless without it. Blaine resolves to see it settled, at least, and does-- Jack is released. At least provisionally; there are other debts.

Sir Joseph, in his gratitude for Stephen's rescue, gets Jack another ship-- HMS Surprise, on an errand to carry an emissary to Kampong. It's a good long mission in a lovely ship (in which Jack served as a midshipman long ago), and he hopes it will give Jack's affairs time to settle.

Stephen turns to Bonden, asking him to write a letter for him, since his hands are so injured, and it comes out abruptly that Bonden is illiterate.

'Bonden,' cried Stephen, 'take pen and ink, and write -' 'Write, sir?' cried Bonden. 'Yes. Sit square to your paper, and write: Landsdowne Crescent - Barret Bonden, are you brought by the lee?' 'Why, yes, sir; that I am - fair broached-to. Though I can read pretty quick, if in broad print; I can make out a watch-bill.' 'Never mind. I shall show you the way of it when we are at sea, however: it is no great matter - look at the fools who write all day long - but it is useful, by land. You can ride a horse, sure?' 'Which I have rid a horse, sir; and three or four times, too, when ashore.'

Bonden takes the message on foot, and goes and fetches Sophie and Pullings, Sophie to write the letter from Stephen to Jack, and Pullings to carry it. This allows them to arrange for Sophie to come along to the rendezvous, so that she can see and speak to Jack briefly without her mother's knowledge. Jack had tried to release her from the engagement when his renewed troubles with debt became apparent, but she wished to refuse, but could not speak to him directly about it, so this is their chance.

She sneaks out at night and goes in the coach with Stephen, and there gets a half an hour (well, forty-five minutes; Stephen with the timepiece is soft-hearted) of conversation with Jack before they must part ways, her to go home and sneak back in to her house, Stephen and Jack to go on to the Surprise, waiting in Plymouth.

The Surprise makes her way off around the world, saddled with a moderately ineffectual but amiable first lieutenant named Hervey who has influential friends, and a second lieutenant named Nicolls who is inoffensive if clearly suffering from major depression, but with Tom Pullings as the third lieutenant, competent and familiar. They are becalmed awhile, and Jack teaches Stephen to swim-- badly, but at all, which is an accomplishment.

'Did you see me?' [Stephen] cried as Jack came nearer. 'I swam the entire length: four hundred and twenty strokes without a pause!' 'Well done,' said Jack, swinging himself into the boat with an easy roll. 'Well done indeed.' Each stroke must have propelled Stephen a little less than three inches, for the Surprise was only a twenty-eight gun ship, a sixth-rate of 579 tons - the kind so harshly called a jackass frigate by those not belonging to her. 'Should you like to come aboard? Let me give you a hand.'

Some of the men get scurvy. They run short of supplies and are down to eating rats, which they euphemistically term "millers" out of absurd delicacy. Stephen has pet rats, he is feeding them madder as an experiment.

They find St. Paul's Rocks, where Stephen begs to be put ashore for a moment to study the birds. Jack declines, as it is Sunday and one cannot ask the men to work on Sunday, but the second lieutenant Nicolls volunteers to take him over in the little rowboat for a few hours.

A sudden squall damages the ship and washes poor depressed Nicolls away, along with the little boat; Stephen survives, but is stranded, and the Surprise driven away by the wind. Some undefined time later (two days?), Babbington comes in the barge with Bonden and others rowing double-banked in a great hurry straight into the eye of the wind where the ship herself could not come, certain the Doctor must be dead but hoping against hope to find him. They do, alive, and bring him back to the ship.

Stephen claims that the extreme heat on the shelter-less rock has worked miracles on his torture-twisted tendons.

'I wish you joy of your rescue, Doctor,' said Mr Atkins, the only man aboard who was not pleased to see the barge return: Stephen was attached to the mission in an artfully vague capacity, and the envoy's instructions required him to seek Dr Maturin's advice; Mr Atkins's advice or indeed presence was nowhere mentioned and he was consumed with jealousy. 'May I fetch you a towel or some other garment?'- with a look at Stephen's scrofulous shrunken belly. 'You are very officious, sir; but this is the garment in which I shall appear before God; I find it answers pretty well. It may be termed my birthday suit.' 'That has choked the bugger off,' said Pullings to Babbington, just above his breath, out of a motionless face. 'That is one in his bleeding eye.'

During Stephen's absence, however, he finds that someone has stolen his rats, and he is furious.

Babbington is given an acting promotion to lieutenant to replace Nicolls. His perfect delight in this is marred only by his guilt at having, along with the rest of the larboard midshipmen's berth, eaten Stephen's rats, and he blubberingly confesses. Stephen revenges himself only mildly for this offense.

Jack wished to avoid putting ashore in Brazil, to avoid official delays, but Stephen suggests they just find a village and buy green stuff there, which works. Stephen of course has to go ashore. He promises not to return with any vampires, but in the event comes back with a three-toed sloth, which does not like Jack. Jack wins it over by giving it grog, in time-honored sailor fashion. Stephen discovers this and is indignant, leading to possibly the funniest line in this book:

Stephen looked sharply round, saw the decanter, smelt to the sloth, and cried, 'Jack, you have debauched my sloth.'

The dignitaries aboard are annoying and take up an enormous amount of space, including Jack's entire great cabin, so that he must room with Stephen in a smaller space. The envoy himself, a Mr. Stanhope, is dignified and kind (though a bit remote: "Once he had established that Jack and Hervey were connected with families he knew, he treated them as human beings; all the others as dogs - but as good, quite intelligent dogs in a dog-loving community"), but his head secretary, Mr. Atkins, is an officious, self-important, tale-bearing busybody universally loathed onboard.

Stephen teaches Bonden to read and write. They have their lessons up in the top, for privacy-- Bonden is not keen to be mocked on his scholarly habits, and hides the book when the midshipman Callow comes up to deliver a message. Stephen doesn't notice this.

They get, finally, to the high latitudes, where there is a huge blow, though Stephen is consoled by finally seeing the albatross. The dignitaries complain that the ship leaks and demand better accomodations. Stephen refuses to pass the message and tells the officious secretary to go tell Jack himself. The man declines to do this, as Jack is currently lashed to the wheel in the driving rain working like hell round the clock with all hands to keep the ship from broaching-to and foundering, and indeed shortly after winds up clinging for his life to a broken mast in the front of the ship trying like hell to keep the sea from overwhelming them. Surprise is damaged internally, her timbers strained, and they have to limp the rest of the way. Not a single rat is left in the ship, the stores are dangerously low.

I wasn't going to do this but I'm going to divide this. I swear I'll get better at making these short. I'm kind of doing a... rehabilitative exercise on my ability to write, here. Coming up is part two, Bombay! With critical updates on How Many Indiamen Tom Pullings Has Been In! And you'll never guess who gets the clap!

#liveblogging the aubreyad #tom pullings #jack aubrey #stephen maturin #patrick o'brian #spoilers for all the book plots #book report #i need to institute word limits #i don't have the capacity to mentally organize myself #but i'm working on it

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starswornoaths · 2 months ago

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3. Tempest

Post 6.0, things are changing for the Scions.

They just haven't told all of them yet. So naturally, that becomes an issue.

word count: 1,313

“Big things ahead for us, I should think,” Alphinaud chimed happily without looking up from the letter he had brought in to work on.

“Hmm. Bigger than what we just finished?” Serella asked, her own focus deterred from goldsmithing between his comment and the ache in her ban.

“Oh heavens, I should hope not! Many changes loom on the horizon, but much will feel familiar. It will be nice to go to ground again, so to speak. Not that we should hasten to our next task, of course, but having a plan is preferable.”

There was a peculiar pause there—only a few moments, but long enough that Serella caught the way he flitted his eyes toward her with as little movement as possible. Had she not stopped fiddling with her project, she might have missed it entirely…which she suspected he had been hoping for.

“What do you mean,” she asked slowly, “when you say we will go to ground again?”

That got him to set his pen down, though he kept his eyes on the paper in front of him.

“We Scions have been talking—”

“—Without me?” she asked with care.

“Oh!” Alphinaud was startled into actually looking at her when he seemed to realize how horrible it sounded when put like that. “No, not with the intent to leave you out of the discussion, of a certainty, but we thought to bring it up when you were perhaps a bit further along in recovery—”

“What are you lot talking about, then? What’s this plan I’ll find out about later?” she pressed, already thin on patience.

Silence stretched for another few heartbeats, drawn out further by Alphinaud’s resumed refusal to look at her.

“I— well, ‘tis hardly a plan just yet, but…given all that we have accomplished, and how far the Alliance has come—”

“The Grand Company of Eorzea.” Serella corrected him.

“Yes, yes, the Grand Company,” Alphinaud hastily corrected, adding, “though even that name change proves how far they have come. Far enough along that I believe it time for the Scions of the Seventh Dawn to slip back into the shadows. We aim to announce our disbandment upon your medical clearance—”

“Disbandment?” Serella gawked.

“Not in truth! Only insofar as the official story will tell!” Alphinaud reassured, at last turning to her fully.

Serella wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the conversation, at the way he looked surprised that she might take umbrage with the notion.

“We are an organization that has always worked in shadow in service to the star—”

“Oh come off it,” she cut him off waspishly, “Minfilia called us the worst kept secret in Eorzea before we had even moved to the Rising Stones. If you think for one second we were ever fully hidden—”

“I am under no such delusion.” Alphinaud huffed. “Even if only in principal, however, we were not outwardly acknowledged.”

“Until Minfilia specifically declared that we would be a public institution. To be open and honest with the people we fight to save. And you would undermine that, Alphinaud?”

“The world has changed, Serella,” he sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “to even begin to speculate on what Minfilia would do after all of this is a disservice to her memory.”

“And the choice to lie to our friends isn’t? To our allies? After fighting alongside them in the name of truth and unity? When we have only barely started pulling back as arbiters for advanced technologies and mediators between peoples post-Calamity? For what purpose, even? So you won’t be pestered by the things they don’t ask of us anymore?” she asked.

“Not—not lying—well, alright, ‘tis a lie, but one that we feel—”

“We?”

“—is necessary. The city-states will continue to grow independent on their own—”

“You know they only asked us for help when they couldn’t do what we did, yes? That such needs were why the Scions were even founded to begin with?” she pressed him. “I don’t even particularly like the governments we’ve worked with, and even I would not be so uncharitable as to consider them demanding.”

“They did ask much of us—” he began.

She was having none of it, however, citing, “Eorzea was losing to Garlemald when I joined the Scions. Do you even remember that? It was a lifetime ago, aye, but they didn’t even ask us at first—do you not recall how close they came to surrendering? Now that they have the means to combat primals without the Echo and a cure for tempering, you cannot even trust them to restrain themselves from asking needless favors?”

“‘Tis not only up to me—” he sidestepped.

“But you suggested it, I’d wager.” She countered.

When the silence re-entered the room, it was incredulous. Stifling.

“That…is a cruel assumption,” Alphinaud said slowly, eyes averted.

Unfazed, Serella blanched, “Am I wrong?”

Silence chimed in to answer on his behalf: of course he did.

“I think it more than fair for us to step back from—” he tried to pivot.

“So do that. Assign other Scions to Eorzea’s care if you feel you’ve done your part. Disbanding would displace dozens of our colleagues. How many of us have rooms in the Rising Stones with nowhere else to go? For how long was I one of those colleagues?”

“Everyone would remain on the payroll—”

“But disbandment would require us to scatter. To “keep up appearances” and give credence to the lie. Have you factored in where our colleagues will go? How long will we be scattered? What will happen to the Rising Stones and the Waking Sands?”

“We’re barely starting the talks for this now, I know not what we will do to address these things—” he tried to argue.

“Have you told Estinien?” she asked pointedly. “Does he get a vote?”

Silence once more interjected—of course Estinien doesn’t know yet.

Nor was he an Archon.

“Well…” Alphinaud meandered.

“After all the effort the lot of you used to cajole him into joining, finally reassuring him he’s got a steady place to rest his lance outside of Ishgard, this is his thanks not even six moons on?! And what of the others?!”

“As I said, we’re still working it out—”

“So you’re bringing this to the table with no logistics, no plan, and nothing to act as a safety net for those of us that aren’t Archons?” Serella pressed.

“Were our deaths not enough?” Alphinaud asked, tired. “I care for our comrades’ well being. You know I do. But I haven’t the answers yet.”

“Were any of mine?” she countered. “You got to come along for the full ride once, and that was enough, was it?”

“I know not why this is an argument,” he huffed, throwing his hands up in the air as he added, “I still want to work to help Garlemald—your betrothed leads the charge in that—”

“Which makes it all the more insulting you would have me lie to him. You would leave no organization behind the lot of you, nothing to help future generations, no “guiding light” like Loui—”

“I know,” Alphinaud said in a low voice, “what my grandfather wanted. And I know what we want.”

“And who is we, Alphinaud?” Serella asked again in a matching tone.

Silence’s presence made itself known in the room again. It hummed in her ears, it buzzed in his blood.

“I think…I should go.” Alphinaud murmured, easing himself down from his chair. “Mayhap we can revisit this once you are better. You’re talking like you did years ago when you thought yourself alone.”

“And little wonder. You talk like you did when you thought to form the Braves. You’ve never seemed younger.” Serella quipped, already leaning back into her pillows.

If his flinch was any indication, Alphinaud understood it as the furthest thing from a compliment, yet silence saw him out of her room.

#ffxivwrite2024 #ffxivwrite #alphinaud leveilleur #ffxiv #serella arcbane #endwalker spoilers #6.0 spoilers #is it obvious I'm deeply critical of this plot point #anyway it's a fun excuse to explore the Scions' biggest vice: their inability to unlearn academia #and all its institutionalized bullshit #it's easy to forget because most of them don't *behave* like book nerds but that's not what institutionalized academia is #ANYWAY I'm not gonna do all of the ffxivwrite prompts I'm just doing the ones that speak to me #it's fun to not be pressed about it #like I can just use the writing exercises for what they are

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