"Lucky Jack" Aubrey's Journal|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 4 most recent journal entries recorded in
"Lucky Jack" Aubrey's LiveJournal:
|Tuesday, August 29th, 2006|
|OOC: canon: Jack Aubrey exposed! (from "Desolation Island")
...Herapath struck the starboard topgallant lift a glancing blow that bounced him well clear of the foretopsail, and he plunged into the sea with an enormous splash. Joe let out a shrill, broken-voiced screech of 'Man overboard', and instantly the cry was taken up on deck. Seamen milled about the forecastle, their long hair flying loose: a Marine flung a swab and a bucket somewhere near the splash.
Jack was already mother-naked when he heard the cry and saw the splash. He slipped from the gunwale into the clear water, made out the vague form at a surprising depth, dived, fished it up, swam to the ship, now a hundred yards away, roared for a line, passed the inanimate Herapath up the side, and followed himself. 'Mr Pullings,' he cried, very angry. 'Put an end to this infernal hallooing instantly. Always the same God-damned foolery, every time a man goes overboard. Damn you all for a mob of mad lunatics. Get along forward. Silence fore and aft.' Then, in an ordinary tone, 'Pass the word for the Doctor.'
Stephen had been standing with Mrs Wogan on the poop, and Jack, glancing round to see whether he were on his way, caught Mrs Wogan's astonished gaze full in the eye. He blushed like a boy, seized the fully-clothed Pullings as a shield, and darted down the main hatchway. The event caused a certain amount of ribaldry and a fair number of sentences depriving men of their grog for playing the God-damned fool... Otherwise it was taken as a matter of course that Captain Aubrey should rescue a drowning man; it was perfectly well known in the service that he had already saved a score or so, most of them, as he freely admitted, quite worthless.
|Friday, August 11th, 2006|
|OOC: canon: Jack hates motherfuckin' snakes! (from "Master and Commander")
'Must I put on silk stockings?'
'Certainly you must put on silk stockings. And do show a leg, my dear chap: we shall be late, without you spread a little more canvas.'
'You are always in such a hurry,' said Stephen peevishly, groping among his possessions. A Montpellier snake glided out with a dry rustling sound and traversed the room in a series of extraordinarily elegant curves, its head held up some eighteen inches above the ground.
'Oh, oh, oh,' cried Jack, leaping on to a chair. 'A snake!'
'Will these do?' asked Stephen. 'They have a hole in them.'
'Is it poisonous?'
'Extremely so. I dare say it will attack you, directly. I have very little doubt of it. Was I to put the silk stockings over my worsted stockings, sure the hole would not show: but then, I should stifle with heat. Do not you find it uncommonly hot?'
'Oh, it must be two fathoms long. Tell me, is it really poisonous? On your oath now?'
'If you thrust your hand down its throat as far as its back teeth you may meet a little venom; but not otherwise. Malpolon monspessulanus is a very innocent serpent. I think of carrying a dozen aboard, for the rats - ah, if only I had more time, and if it were not for this foolish, illiberal persecution of reptiles. . . What a pitiful figure you do cut upon that chair, to be sure. Barney, Barney, buck or doe, Has kept me out of Channel Row,' he sang to the serpent; and, deaf as an adder though it was, it looked happily into his face while he carried it away.
|Monday, July 24th, 2006|
|OOC: canon: Jack debauches Stephen's sloth (from "HMS Surprise")
: corrupt morally or by intemperance or sensuality.'I cannot imagine,' said Jack, recovering the chaplain and guiding him along the gangway, 'what that sloth has against me. I have always been civil to it, more than civil; but nothing answers. I cannot think why you speak of its discrimination.'
Jack was of a sanguine temperament; he liked most people and he was surprised when they did not like him. This readiness to be pleased had been damaged of recent years, but it remained intact as far as horses, dogs and sloths were concerned; it wounded him to see tears come into the creature's eyes when he walked into the cabin, and he laid himself out to be agreeable. As they ran down to Rio he sat with it at odd moments, addressing it in Portuguese, more or less, and feeding it with offerings that it sometimes ate, sometimes allowed to drool slowly from its mouth; but it was not until they were approaching Capricorn, with Rio no great distance on the starboard bow, that he found it respond.
The weather had freshened almost to coldness, for the wind was coming more easterly, from the chilly currents between Tristan and the Cape; the sloth was amazed by the change; it shunned the deck and spent its time below. Jack was in his cabin, pricking the chart with less satisfaction than he could have wished: progress, slow, serious trouble with the mainmast - unaccountable headwinds by night - and sipping a glass of grog; Stephen was in the mizentop, teaching Bonden to write and scanning the sea for his first albatross. The sloth sneezed, and looking up, Jack caught its gaze fixed upon him; its inverted face had an expression of anxiety and concern. 'Try a piece of this, old cock,' he said, dipping his cake in the grog and proffering the sop. 'It might put a little heart into you.' The sloth sighed, closed its eyes, but gently absorbed the piece, and sighed again.
Some minutes later he felt a touch on his knee: the sloth had silently climbed down and it was standing there, its beady eyes looking up into his face, bright with expectation. More cake, more grog: growing confidence and esteem. After this, as soon as the drum had beat the retreat, the sloth would meet him, hurrying towards the door on its uneven legs: it was given its own bowl, and it would grip it with its claws, lowering its round face into it and pursing its lips to drink (its tongue was too short to lap). Sometimes it went to sleep in this position, bowed over the emptiness.
'In this bucket,' said Stephen, walking into the cabin, 'in this small half-bucket, now, I have the population of Dublin, London and Paris combined: these animalculae - what is the matter with the sloth?' It was curled on Jack's knee, breathing heavily: its bowl and Jack's glass stood empty on the table. Stephen picked it up, peered into its affable, bleary face, shook it, and hung it upon its rope. It seized hold with one fore and one hind foot, letting the others dangle limp, and went to sleep.
Stephen looked sharply round, saw the decanter, smelt to the sloth, and cried, 'Jack, you have debauched my sloth.'
|Sunday, July 23rd, 2006|
|OOC: canon: rats and the eating thereof, from "HMS Surprise"
"Tell me, Mr. Callow," said Jack... "how is the midshipman's mess ccoming? I have not seen your ram this week or more." The ancient creature palmed off upon the unsuspecting caterer had been a familiar sight, stumping slowly about on deck.
"Pretty low, sir," said Callow, withdrawing his hand from the bread-barge. "We ate him in seventy north, and now we are down to the hen. But we give her all our bargemen, sir, and she may lay an egg."
"You ain't down to millers, then?" said Pullings.
"Oh yes we are, sir," cried the midshipman. "Threepence, they have reached, which is a God-damned - crying shame."
"What are millers?" asked Stephen.
"Rats, saving your presence," said Jack. "Only we call 'em millers to make 'em eat better; and perhaps because they are dusty, too, from getting into the flours and peas."
"My rats will not touch anything but the best biscuit, slightly moistened with melted butter. They are obese; their proud bellies drag the ground."
"Rats, Doctor?" cried Pullings. "Why do you keep rats?"
"I wish to see how they come along - to watch their motions," said Stephen. He was in fact conducting an experiment, feeding them with madder to see how long it took to penetrate their bones, but he did not mention this. His was a secretive mind; the area of reticence had grown and grown and now it covered the globular, kitten-sized creatures that dozed through the hot nights and blazing days in his storeroom.
"Millers," said Jack, his mind roaming back to his famished youth. "In the aftermost carline-culver of the larboard berth there is a hole where we used to put a piece of cheese and catch them in a nose as they poked their heads out on their way along the channel to the breadroom. Three or four a night in the middle watch we used to catch, on the Leeward Islands station"...
- pp. 113-114Yet in the midst of his joy, [Babbington's] heart smote him, and pausing at the door after his usual acknowledgements he turned and said in a faltering voice, "You are so very kind to me, sir - always have been - that it seems a blackguardly thing. You might not have done it, if... but I did not exactly lie, however."
"Eh?" cried Jack, astonished. In time it appeared that Babbington had eaten of the Doctor's rats, and that he was sorry now. "Why no, Babbington," said Jack. "No. That was an infernal shabby thing to do, mean and very like a scrub. The Doctor has been a good friend to you - none better. Who patched up your arm, when they all swore it must come off? Who put you into his cot and sat by you all night, holding the wound? Who -" Babbington could not bear it; he burst into tears. Though an acting-lieutenant he wiped his eyes on his sleeve, and through his sobs he gave Jack to understand that unknown hands had wafted these prime millers into the larboard midshipman's berth; that although he had had no hand in their cutting-out... yet, the rats being already dead, and dressed with onion-sauce, and he so hungry after rattling down the shrouds, he had thought it a pity to let the others scoff the lot. He had lived with a troubled conscience ever since; had in fact expected a summons to the cabin.
"You would have been living with a troubled stomach if you had known what was in 'em; the Doctor had -"
"I tell you what it is, Jack," said Stephen, walking quickly in. "Oh, I beg your pardon."
"No, stay, Doctor. Stay, if you please," cried Jack.
Babbington looked wretchedly from one to the other, licked his lips and said, "I ate your rat, sir. I am very sorry, and I ask your pardon."
"Did you so?" said Stephen mildly. "Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Listen, Jack, will you look at my list, now?"
"He only ate it when it was dead," said Jack.
"It would have been a strangely hasty, agitated meal, had he ate it before," said Stephen, looking attentively at his list. "Tell me, sir, did you happen to keep any of the bones?"
"No, sir. I am very sorry, but we usually crunch 'em up, like larks. Some of the chaps said they looked uncommon dark, however."
"Poor fellows, poor fellows," said Stephen in a low, inward voice.
- pp. 151-153