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CHAPTER 11
Frederick was pacing
the quarterdeck, trying to conquer his aggravation with effort.
Just as he was considering climbing the mainmast (and throwing
himself off) he noticed Dr. Maturin strolling to the stern, puffing
a cigar. While he no longer held a grudge against the good doctor,
he was not amiable toward company. However, Frederick did enjoy
the occasional cigar, and Dr. Maturin's smelled particularly
fine. Before he knew it he was standing before his medical guest.
"Captain Wentworth,
good afternoon," Stephen said affably. "May I offer
you a cigar?"
"Thank you,
no - perhaps another time. I am on duty."
"Ah, yes -
the holy quarterdeck. Captain Aubrey is quite particular about
it, as well. Perhaps after supper?"
"Perhaps…well,
I don't know…"
"Mmmm…excellent.
Cuban, you see. Come, come sir; I cannot withhold this treasure
from you. Since you are uncertain about supper, perhaps at the
First Dog?"
"Well…we
were going to have gunnery practice."
"Has not the
crew made acceptable progress?"
Frederick thought.
The crew had improved - almost to his exacting standards. "I
believe we may belay practice today…yes, I think we shall.
Doctor, I would be happy to meet you for an afternoon cigar."
"Wonderful.
The great cabin, I take it?"
Yes, Anne will
be visiting the Sick Bay then, I shouldn't wonder. "I shall see you there."
Never had Anne Elliot
Wentworth been as angry and upset as she was when Stephen Maturin
knocked upon her door. "Mrs. Wentworth?"
"Not now, Doctor
- I have a headache…"
He opened the door.
"Then my visit is well timed. How is my patient, hmmm?"
The question was facetious - a blind man could see that the lady
was miserable, and not because of her blacked eye. "Come,
allow me to examine you."
"Doctor, must
you…now?"
"Yes, Mrs.
Wentworth." He spent a few minutes looking at her bruise.
"The injury is healing nicely. The discoloration should
begin to fade with the next few days."
"I would not
know - the looking glasses have all seemed to disappear."
Stephen chuckled
to himself. "Your husband was trying to protect you, I think.
No matter. By the time you reach Bermuda it will be but a memory,
with the blessing."
Anne looked away.
"This melancholy
is not due to your contusion, Mrs. Wentworth - is it?"
"I…I do
not understand your meaning, Doctor."
"Mrs. Wentworth,
forgive me…but the walls are made of canvas…"
"Dr, Maturin
- you overheard?"
"It was not
my intention, ma'am, but the voices were…raised."
Anne blushed furiously.
"I am sorry, indeed, that you had to be party to that, sir.
I am mortified."
"Mrs. Wentworth,
I quite understand your feelings, and I sympathize with your
position…"
"Thank you,
sir."
"…to a
point."
Anne looked up in
surprise, which turned to anger. "Of course! I have disobeyed
my husband; how predictable sir! Did my husband send you?"
"No, and I
am quite certain he would not be pleased to know that we are
having this conversation."
"I see. Then
should you be here?"
"You are my
patient, Mrs. Wentworth."
"And you see
this conversation as part of my treatment?"
"Actually,
I do. Your emotional state is as important as your physical state,
Mrs. Wentworth."
"And how would
you rate my emotional state, sir?" she spat out.
"Badly bruised
- worse than your other injuries, madam."
Anne was taken aback.
"Since you overheard our…discussion, you know the cause."
Tears began to run down her face.
"Yes, I do.
Mrs. Wentworth, you were correct with your advice to your husband.
He is overwrought with anger and threatens to hurt more than
that pathetic creature in chains in the hold."
Anne's eyes grew
wide. "Hurt who, Doctor?" Surely he cannot think
that Frederick would harm me?
"Himself, or
at least his opinion of himself." He paused to allow his
words to sink in. "Do you know what is involved with flogging,
madam? That the man is seized up and tied to a grate? That he
is struck upon the bare back with a cat-o'-nine-tails, a most
cruel invention? That he is offered something to bite upon so
that he will not bite his own tongue?"
Anne turned white.
"Yes…I am aware of some of that…"
"Then do you
know that, according to the Admiralty, a captain is limited to
the number of lashes he can dole out?"
She shook her head.
"No…I did not know that. How many, Doctor?"
"One dozen.
Any more threatens the man's life, and only a full court-martial
may condemn a man."
"But…
but Frederick sentenced that man to four dozen! He must know
he has done wrong!"
"The 'customs
of the sea' give sea-officers great latitude. I doubt a court-martial
awaits Captain Wentworth should this sentence be carried out,
even if Pyke should not survive. It matters not - no court could
punish him more severely than he will punish himself."
"Himself, sir?"
she cried.
"I have observed
Captain Wentworth very closely. He, like another officer of my
acquaintance, is among the very best of men that serve in the
King's fleet. He is brave, cunning, honest, loyal and resourceful.
His sole weakness is that he feels too deeply. It is his feelings
for you that drive him to this extreme vengeance against this
man Pyke, unworthy as he is of your sympathy. It will be the
feeling that the Captain had betrayed his personal code of honor
that will make him punish himself presently."
"How?"
she whispered.
"I have seen
it happen. Some by drink, others by destructive behavior. I have
seen men fall into an inescapable pit of melancholy, where the
only relief is self-harm..."
"Doctor - stop!
Say no more! What may we do?"
"We must save
him from himself. Will you help me?"
Anne was beside
herself due to her concern for her husband. "Of course!
Tell me what to do - I am your instrument! I will do anything
to help Frederick!"
"I will speak
to the captain about dealing with the man Pyke. Your task, however,
is the most important."
"What must
I do, Doctor?"
"Apologize."
"WHAT?"
"Mrs. Wentworth,
please hear me out. I have sailed with my particular friend,
Captain Aubrey, for five and ten years. The man is my brother
and we would lay down our lives for the other." We have
risked our lives beyond counting. "But there are times
when Jack Aubrey is not my friend, but my commanding officer,
and I must obey him as would any other member of the crew. I
have learned this the hard way"
Anne blanched. What
Sophy said…
"Please consider,
Mrs. Wentworth. A ship's captain is an absolute a ruler as exists
in the world. He is responsible for the ship and for the lives
of every man on board. His word is law, but who teaches him this
law? No one but his personal experience; his observations of
his former commanding officers. Alone at sea he is sovereign
- but he has masters, too. Admirals and the Admiralty, who are
generally jealous of the glory - and prize money - a captain
with an independent command can earn. He is held responsible
for the King's property and his every decision is subject to
question. He may be dismissed, beached or, in extreme cases,
held to the highest penalty. A captain is always looking behind
his back.
"The only certainty
that he knows is order - if things are kept in good order aboard
ship, then most other things take care of themselves. Success
in battle, success in blockade duty, success in escort duty.
No one can second guess him. This is his life aboard ship, four
and twenty hours out of the day.
"Captain Wentworth
is blessed to have you aboard. You have the opportunity to ease
his cares; let him, for a short time, live as other men. The
one thing you must never do is add to his worries."
Anne looked down,
miserable. "And I have."
"His love for
you makes him concerned for your safety. Forgive me, Mrs. Wentworth
- no one can disparage what horrors you experienced last night.
But what occurred was also your husband's worst nightmare."
"It is my fault…"
Stephen voice became
more forceful. "Mrs. Wentworth - it is Pyke's fault;
no one else's. Never forget that. No one forced him to
steal your husband's wine, nor to drink it, nor to…act dishonorably.
We all have free will. We do have it in our power, however, to
make easy the captain's worries. If he wishes that women on board
be escorted by a Marine at all times outside the cabin…well,
what harm does it do to acquiesce to such a request?"
Anne shook her head.
"I accused Frederick of pride. I see now I should have looked
in the mirror first."
Stephen smiled.
"That would have been difficult, as your husband has hidden
all of the looking glasses! Ah, you smile…"
"Doctor, you
are incorrigible!"
"It is worth
it to see a smile upon your lips again. Together we shall help
Captain Wentworth."
Three hours later,
Stephen was again knocking on the door of the great cabin. This
time he was bade to enter by the master of the Laconia.
"Doctor - you are on time and, I trust, fully provisioned?"
Stephen removed
two cigars from his pocket. "As promised. Will our smoking
disturb Mrs. Wentworth?"
A shadow crossed
over Frederick's face. "Mrs. Wentworth has gone to the Sick
Bay to visit the patients, so we will offend no one with our
smoking."
Stephen watched
the captain closely as they lighted their cigars. Mrs. Wentworth
had agreed to let Stephen speak with her husband before she had
her own conversation with him. The man, for all his false good
humor, looked drawn and pale. The events of the last nineteen
hours had worn on him. "Is the cigar to your liking?"
"Indeed it
is. May I pour you a glass of this rather adequate port?'
"Thank you.
A noble drink. Pray tell, is this the same…?"
"Yes."
Frederick was uncomfortable. "It is the same port that…man
was drinking. Not the same bottle, mind you."
Stephen chuckled.
"Of course not, my dear captain. I understand you have dealt
with him. Punishment shall be meted out tomorrow, is that so?"
Frederick looked
at him sharply. "Yes. Do you have any objection?"
"Goodness,
no. The man's a brute; that is readily apparent from the results
of his attack. Swift and sure punishment - that's the ticket."
Wentworth was taken
aback. "Uhh…good. Good. Yes, I agree with you; it's
good for the crew."
"Yes; it is
well to remind them of the swiftness and fairness of the Navy's
justice - free from any consideration of such baser instincts
such as vengeance."
Wentworth's eyes
flashed. "Do you think I do this out of revenge, sir?"
"My dear captain,
of course I do not think that." He paused. "Do you?"
"It matters
not… What is done is done."
Stephen just looked
at him through the smoke of the cigars.
"I cannot change
the sentence; I would appear weak before the crew…"
"You are uncertain
that the sentence was fair and just? It troubles you?"
Wentworth snorted.
"It does - it troubles me greatly. It may cost me…more
than I can bear…" He stood to pace about the cabin.
"Pyke is as complete a villain as I have met in all my years
at sea. He holds everyone at fault for his misfortunes but himself.
The things he said about Anne…it makes my blood boil! If
we were on land, then I might respectably meet him on a field
of honor. But this - I feel a coward."
"How so?"
"Eight and
forty lashes - on a newly pressed landsman? I might as well shoot
him out of hand. He is a small, pathetic excuse for a human being
- but human being he is. I do not have the right to put him to
death, but in my anger and pride, I have twisted the 'code of
the sea' to fit my purposes. I will make two bo'sun mates my
executioners tomorrow - you see? I do not even have the courage
to end his miserable life with my own hands - I will order two
other poor souls to perform my crime for me!"
"And this is
the cost you speak of? Your pride; your self-respect?"
"Bah! They
are as nothing to me if I lose the regard of…" There
was a pause as he continued to pace. "There is nothing to
be done. The die is cast."
The cabin was silent
for some minutes as Frederick returned to his chair and drained
his glass of port. Stephen watched him with an expert eye. The
time is right. He is a drowning man looking for salvation.
"Captain…there
is a way out of this. Will you trust me?"
Frederick searched
the other man's eyes for no little time. "I will try."
It is a start. "Allow me to suggest this course
of action…"
After the evening
gun and the crew's final muster for the day, Wentworth returned
to his cabin to find a small supper at the table - and Anne.
He stood miserably in the middle of the room, not knowing how
to begin.
"Frederick?"
At least she
is using my name. "Yes,
Anne?"
"I…I must
beg your forgiveness." Her eyes filled with tears as she
took in his wretchedness.
He rushed to her.
"Oh, Anne, it is I who should…"
"Frederick,
please, let me continue. When I married you, while I love you
with all my heart…"
"Oh Anne!"
"…I did
not deeply reflect on your profession. When I asked to come with
you to Bermuda, I did not appreciate what a burden that would
be."
"Anne! You
are no burden!"
"But Frederick,
I am. You are my darling husband, for whom I thank God for allowing
me the chance of sharing my life with. But you are also Captain
Wentworth of the Royal Navy and I did not fully understand what
that means. My one desire is to make you happy, my love, to make
easy your cares. Instead, I have only added to you concerns.
I am so sorry - you were right. You should have never had a woman
on your ship; I should have never gone to sea with you."
"Anne! Never
say that - never! I am lost without you! For years I have dreamed
that you would sail with me, share my cabin…"
"But…you
have always said…I heard you myself at the Musgroves…"
"My love, when
I said I should never have a woman aboard my ship, I meant I
shall never have a woman aboard my ship - if she be not Anne
Elliot."
"Oh."
"Anne - I said
such terrible things to you - and you were only offering me good
counsel. I…I am ashamed."
She stroked his
face. "Thank you for that, my dear, but I was in the wrong,
as well. I came to you, insisting what I would from my husband.
I should have known that - should have seen that - this matter
was one for the Captain, and I had no right to make any demand."
He had no answer,
so he kissed her, softly on the undamaged right side of her face.
"I still do
not know if I should ever sail with you again."
"Speak but
the word and I am for the shore forever."
Tears filled her
eyes again, but these were ones of gratitude. "I would never
ask that of you." She sighed. "There is nothing for
it but to learn the ways of the sea. Shall you teach me?"
"Nothing in
this world would give me greater pleasure."
"Then we shall
begin directly. Undress me, husband."
Frederick was perplexed.
"How is undressing you teaching you seamanship?"
"I do not think
we have had enough practice making love aboard ship."
"But the supper…?"
"…Is a
cold one, my love. It will wait."
Frederick smiled
as he bent to kiss her neck. "You are learning already."
"Oh?"
She shuddered as his lips made contact.
"Preparation
and planning is very important in attack."
His hands softly
caressed her form through her gown as he resumed his attentions
to the right side of her neck. In response, Anne began pulling
on the lapels of his coat. Frederick lowered his arms for a moment
to allow his wife to complete her task. Allowing the coat to
drop to the floor, her hands ran up and down the strong expanse
of his back.
His hand reached
around to the front. Raising his head, kissing her forehead,
he slowly unbuttoned her gown. It fell from her form into a puddle
at her feet. Now his digits could better feel his treasure beneath
her chemise. The two grew impatient; he raised the hem of her
garment, to cup her buttocks, as she divested him of his shirt.
Soon both wore only
what they had come into the world with. Frederick reached down,
took his wife into his strong arms and carried her into the sleeping
quarters. He had to release his captive - the bed had to be unhooked.
She watched him complete his labor, his desire fully evident.
Unconsciously, she licked her dry lips.
He gently laid Anne
across the bed and took his position beside her. His fingertips
glided up and down her flank as he renewed his kisses to her
neck. Knowing that her face and lips were too sore to kiss, he
moved in the other direction. He spent no little time on her
breasts and nipples, enlisting moans from his lover.
Anne, even in the
throes of passion, recalled Dr. Maturin's confession that he
had overhead them during their argument over dinner. She placed
a finger into her mouth to gently bite on, in the hopes of muffling
whatever sounds Frederick's splendid assault enticed from her.
Unfortunately, she did not anticipate the effect such a coy-looking
sight would have on her husband.
"Anne…!
Oh, my love…"
"Frederick!"
she hissed. "The walls…!"
"Oh!"
he replied in-kind. "Forgive me…it slipped my mind."
"Can you not
be quieter?"
A wicked smile creased
his handsome features. "There is a way…" He lowered
his lips to her again, but this time his target was the undersides
of her breasts. Slowly, agonizingly, he worked his way down to
her belly. "I give this, your lovely belly, a kiss of the
purest love, in the hopes it may soon house the proof of our
love."
"Oh, Frederick,"
she whispered in return, "I so wish to have your child."
"I shall labor
like Hercules to fulfill your desire, madam." He moved lower.
"Frederick…?
What…OH! Oh, my…" Her finger returned to her mouth
as the other grasped the mattress. "F…French maneuvers,
s…sir…?"
He raised his head.
"You know its name?"
"M…my
father's library, while seldom used, was quite c…complete."
"Ah, I see.
As for this, one can learn much from an enemy."
"In that case,
'vive la France.'"
It was not long
before Frederick was rewarded with the sight of his wife slapping
both hands over her mouth to stifle her cries. "Owww…"
"Anne…?"
"'Tis alright
- I just hurt myself with my hands… Oh Frederick, I need
you…please…"
Frederick was happy
to oblige. As this part of his wife's anatomy was undamaged,
his assault was rather vigorous.
"Frederick…Frederick…give
me a baby."
"Oh, Anne…you
would….you would carry my child…?"
"I…I want
nothing…else in the world."
"Yes…yes…my
baby…I will give you my baby…"
"Yes…I
want it…deep inside me…plant it deep, my love…"
"As…as
deep as I can go…yes…close…NOW!"
Anne and Frederick
laid intertwined in the re-hung cot, softy stroking each other.
"Ah, my Anne…I
can lie here forever, with your soft skin beneath my fingers.
So smooth, so delicate - it is a delight."
"I adore your
touch, Frederick." Her hands felt along his fit form - like
warm marble it was, the beneficiary of hard labor and moderation
in food and drink. "What is this?" There was an imperfection.
"That? Oh,
nothing to concern you…"
"Frederick,
our quarrel grew from miscommunication. Will you not share what
you can with me?"
"Very well;
that is the scar from an ill-judged sword thrust by a French
officer many years ago."
"Frederick…!"
"Hush, my love…'twas
long ago. The fellow paid for his poor swordsmanship, I assure
you."
"Frederick…"
Anne was overcome with emotion. "We on shore read of the
romance of the sea - we forget it is war on water, that it is
a matter of life and death. I have much to learn. I cannot bear
being apart from you. I want to sail with you, be a good wife
and helpmate. But do not want to add to your burdens."
"Anne, do you
not know I shall worry about you whether on land or sea? You
are mine, and I must protect you. I…I would rather have
you with me than not."
"Did you truly
dream of me sharing your cot?"
"Indeed…more
nights than I can count; for eight and a half years. But not
like this."
"Indeed? How
did you imagine it, my dear? How am I other than your fantasies?
I certainly cannot be wearing less…" She snuggled closer,
her breasts creating a most pleasant sensation on his chest.
Frederick's heart
was filled to overflowing with love and desire for her. "You
are Calypso, my love. I would tarry with you for a lifetime and
more…but on the other side of the cot."
"The other
side? You mean this side?"
"Yes. Have
you not noted that I always take that side?"
"Now that you
recall it to my mind. Can you not sleep on that side?"
"I suppose.
Will you not exchange places?"
"No."
"May I ask
why not?"
"Because I
cannot sleep on my left side at this moment."
"Why should
it matter?"
"Because on
this side of the bed I may sleep on my right side and see you."
"And this is
important?"
"Immensely."
"But,"
he teased, "if you are asleep, how can you see me?"
"I like knowing
that should I awake, my first sight shall be my darling husband."
"Ah…how
can I overcome such an argument? It shall be as you wish, my
dear."
"Frederick,
seriously, about tomorrow…"
"Anne, I must
tell you…" Her fingers on his lips silenced him.
"Frederick,
please, let me finish. Believe me when I say I care nothing for
what happens to that… My concern is for you, my dear. I
know you; I know how much you expect from yourself. Your soul
is more beautiful than your face to my eyes. I wish to protect
it, as much as you want to protect my person. But…I know
now that there is more to this matter than your or my wishes.
You are Captain, and while I do not yet fully understand what
all that entails, I do understand that the needs of the ship
must take precedence over our private desires."
He kissed her forehead.
"Thank you for that, Anne. Trust me when I say that you
do understand. I am not always my own master. But fear not for
tomorrow. I know I have done wrong, and I have taken steps to
rectify my ill-judgment."
"Then you have
changed your sentence?"
"It is not
that easy. I cannot just say, 'I have changed my mind.' It would
appear that this ship suffers under my will, and not that of
the King and his Ministers. It would be bad for morale should
I do so - I would appear either weak to the crew, or as the worst
sort of tyrant. And yet, should the sentence be carried out,
the men would think me a damnable scrub, and they would be right."
"Then what
is to be done?"
"There is a
plan, and there is a part you must play…"
Stephen lay in his
hanging cot, exhausted from his labors. Manipulation took more
effort than was commonly believed. A bite or two of his sandwich
and two earplugs and he was ready for sleep.
The day had not
been unfruitful, though the proof of it would be on the morrow.
While long and tedious, his discussions and plotting had, for
a time, lifted him from his own melancholy. Now, assured of some
level of success, he was left with his reward: his nightly battle
not to think of:
Diana…!
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