dorinda: a tall ship with all sails set (sailing ship)
[personal profile] dorinda
In chapter one, Jack and Stephen:

And privately to Stephen he said, 'I repeated your "No penetration, no sodomy", which floored one and all; though I must say that most of them were glad to be floored. I persuaded the others to find no more than gross indecency.'

'And is being towed ashore on a grating the set penalty for gross indecency?'

'No. We call it the use and custom of the sea: that is the way it has always been.'
alcyone301: (a sailor's life for me)
[personal profile] alcyone301
For many years they had played chess, with fairly even fortunes; but they played with such intensity, being extremely unwilling to lose, that in time it came to resemble hard labour rather than amusement; and they being unusually close friends remorse for beating the other sometimes outweighed the triumph of winning. They had also played countless games of piquet, but in this case luck ran so steadily in Stephen’s direction, good cards and sequences flocked to him in such numbers, that it became dull; and they had fixed upon backgammon as a game in which the mere throw of the dice played so large a part that it was not shameful to lose, but in which there was still enough skill for pleasure in victory.

- from Clarissa Oakes, chapter four
esteven: (Default)
[personal profile] esteven
With the revolution in France gone to pure loss I was already chilled beyond expression. And now, with what I saw in '98, on both sides, the wicked folly and the wicked brute cruelty, I have had such a sickening of men in masses, and of causes, that I would not cross this room to reform parliament or prevent the union or to bring about the millennium. I speak only for myself, mind - it is my own truth alone - but man as part of a movement or a crowd is indifferent to me. He is inhuman. And I have nothing to do with nations, or nationalism. The only feelings I have -for what they are - are for men as individuals; my loyalties, such as they may be, are to private persons alone.'
'Patriotism will not do?'
'My dear creature, I have done with all debate. But you know as well as I, patriotism is a word; and one that generally comes to mean either my country, right or wrong, which is infamous, or my country is always right, which is imbecile.'

(chapter five)
esteven: (Default)
[personal profile] esteven
They most delighted in the Halleluiah Chorus, and often, when Jack walked forward to lend his powerful bass, they would go through it twice, so that the deck vibrated again and he sang away in the midst of that great volume of true ordered sound, his heart lifted high.
But most of his musical pleasure was on a less heroic scale, and he took it much farther aft, in his great cabin with Stephen, the 'cello singing deep in its conversation with the violin, sometimes plain and direct, sometimes immensely intricate, but always profoundly satisfying in the Scarlatti, Hummel and Cherubini that they knew very well, more tentative and still exploratory as they felt their way far into the manuscript pieces that Jack had bought from London Bach's young man.
'I beg pardon,' said Stephen, as a lee-lurch made him slur his C sharp into a quarter-tone lower than a lugubrious B. They played on to the end of the coda, and after the moment's triumphant silence, the tension dying, he laid his bow on the table, his 'cello on a locker, and observed, 'I am afraid I played worse than usual, with the floor bounding about in this irregular, uneasy fashion. It is my belief we have turned round, and are now facing the billows.'
'Perhaps we have,' said Jack.

(chapter 5)

Since Jack and Stephen love making music together, I can never get enough of those scenes where they delight in tha activity. How I would love to hear Jack in the chorus. :D
esteven: (Default)
[personal profile] esteven
'It is the price that has to be paid,' he reflected. 'And by God it's worth it.' As the words formed in his mind so the look of profound happiness, of contained delight, formed once more upon his shining face. Yet as he walked off to his meeting at the Crown - to his meeting with an equal -there was a little greater eagerness in his step than the mere Lieutenant Aubrey would have shown.

(chapter 1)

Just after Jack has reflected on the fact that he will be very much alone, being “them” and no longer “us”, the last sentence of the chapter holds the solution to his dilemma.

esteven: (Default)
[personal profile] esteven
This I had from Mateu's own cousin as we danced -'
'You danced?' cried Jack, far more astonished than if Stephen had said 'as we ate our cold roast baby'.
'Certainty I danced. Why would I not dance, pray?'
'Certainty you are to dance most uncommon graceful, I am sure. I only wondered, but did you indeed go about dancing?'
'I did. You have not travelled in Catalonia, sir, I believe?'
'Not I.'
'Then I must tell you that on Sunday mornings it is the custom, in that country, for people of all ages and conditions to dance, on coming out of church: so I was dancing with Ramon Mateu i Cadafalch in the square before the cathedral church of Tarragona, where I had gone to hear the Palestrina Missa Brevis. The dance is a particular dance, a round called the sardana;

(chapter eight)
heather_mist: (Master & Commander)
[personal profile] heather_mist

" 'And we run as fast as ever we can along the shore and so take the tower from behind.' ...'Let us say ten minutes to run from the cove to the tower, and...'
'Allow twenty, if you please,' said Stephen, 'You portly men of a sanguine complexion often die suddenly, from unconsidered exertion in the heat. Apoplexy - congestion.'
'I wish, I wish you would not say things like that, Doctor,' said Jack in a low tone: they all looked at Stephen with some reproach and Jack added, 'Besides, I am not portly.'
'The captain has an uncommon genteel figgar,' said Mr Marshall."
Master and Commander Ch 7

No Jack, of course you are not portly,... *pets*
heather_mist: (Post Captain)
[personal profile] heather_mist

"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....

'Mr Simmons,' said Jack, fixing him with a hard, savage eye, 'this is my friend Dr Maturin, who will be accompanying me.  Dr Maturin, Mr Simmons, the first lieutenant of the Lively.'
'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....

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 unencumbering; 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' "
Post Captain Ch. 12

Words Fail Me. 


heather_mist: (Nutmeg of Consolation)
[personal profile] heather_mist

"(Stephen) went to his cabin below, his mind still somewhat confused by happiness, and found that in spite of  everything Killick had laid out all the clothes that were proper for him to wear.  He slowly dressed, taking  particular care of the set of his coat, and came out into the gun-room where he found Pullings, sitting carefully in the gold-laced splendour of a commander. ..

'Now, Doctor,' Pullings went on, 'it is time for me to run an eye over all; and perhaps for you to put your breeches on.'
'God save you, Tom,' cried Stephen, looking with concern at his pale bony knees. 'I am so glad you noticed it. My mind must have wandered.  I should have got the ship a worse name still.'

(Nutmeg of Consolation) Chapter 10.

Dear Stephen! He never has much thought for his clothes at the best of times, and having just heard of the longed-for birth of his daughter, it is the furthest thing from his mind now. Thank heavens for Tom Pullings.
esteven: (Default)
[personal profile] esteven
Himself, and by that I mean Jack Aubrey for he does indeed personify the ship, has become grave, stern, unapproachable. He asks no man's opinion, and I have the impression that he knows exactly what he is doing - that he sails with the same determination and clarity of mind as the great albatrosses that sometimes accompany us,black-browed, wandering, and royal.
(chapter seven)

Stephen describes the essence of Jack...and after all their decades together he is clearly in awe of his friend.
esteven: (Default)
[personal profile] esteven
'As for the blue devils of which you complain, my dear, do not expect too much from my remedies: youth and unthinking happiness are not to be had in a bottle, alas. You are to consider that a certain melancholy and often a certain irascibility accompany advancing age: indeed, it might be said that advancing age equals ill-temper. On reaching the middle years a man perceives that he is no longer able to do certain things, that what looks he may have had are deserting him, that he has a ponderous great belly, and that however he may yet burn he is no longer attractive to women; and he rebels. Fortitude, resignation and philosophy are of more value than any pills, red, white or blue.'
'Stephen, surely you would never consider me middle-aged, would you?'
'Navigators are notoriously short-lived, and for them middle-age comes sooner than for quiet abstemious country gentlemen. Jack, you have led as unhealthy a life as can well be imagined, perpetually exposed to the falling damps, often wet to the skin, called up at all hours of the night by that infernal bell. You have been wounded the Dear knows how many times, and you have been cruelly overworked. No wonder your hair is grey.'
'My hair is not grey. It is a very becoming buttercup-yellow.'
Jack wore his hair long, clubbed and tied with a broad black bow. Stephen plucked the bow loose and brought the far end of plait round before his eyes.
'Well I'm damned,' said Jack, looking at it in the sunlight.
'Well I'm damned; you are quite right. There are several grey hairs . . . scores of grey hairs. It is positively grizzled, like a badger-pie. I had never noticed.'
Six bells.
'Will I tell you something more cheerful?" asked Stephen.
'Please do,' said Jack, looking up from his queue with that singularly sweet smile Stephen had known from their earliest acquaintance.

(chapter one)

*always melts at the mention of that singularly sweet smile*
heather_mist: (The Commodore)
[personal profile] heather_mist

Stephen said, ‘Will I tell you another of Plato’s observations?’
‘Pray do,’ said Jack, his smile briefly returning.
‘It should please you, since you have a very pretty hand. Hinksey quoted it when I dined with him in London and we were discussing the bill of fare: “Calligraphy,” says Plato, “is the physical manifestation of an architecture of the soul.” That being so, mine must be a turf-and-wattle kind of soul, since my handwriting must be disowned by a backward cat; whereas yours, particularly on your charts, has a most elegant flow and clarity, the outward form of a soul that might have conceived the Parthenon.’
(TC Chapter 6)

This is one of my favourite quotes because I like using fountain pens, dip pens, and inks for writing - a far more civilised method of creating than the utility of a computer keyboard. Sadly however I have far too much affinity with Stephen's handwriting than I would like, although I long to have Jack's 'elegant flow and clarity'. A backward cat would probably laugh at my attempts.
esteven: (Default)
[personal profile] esteven
Jack was taller than Queenie and far more than twice as heavy; and having been in the wars for a great while and much battered, he now looked older. He was in fact seven years her junior, and there had been a time when he was a very little boy whose ears she boxed for impertinence, uncleanliness and greed, and whose frequent nightmares she would soothe by taking him into her bed.

(chapter one)
Queenie is Hester Maria Elphinstone, Viscountess Keith, born in 1764.