21: The Final Unfinished Voyage of Jack Aubrey by Patrick O’Brian Page B

only waiting for an opportunity of telling you mine. ”
    “ Pray do so now, dear Stephen: I am sure it would be more luminous.”
    “ What I was going to say was that you had no idea of the fundamental difference between a mere landlubber and a seaman.”
    “Oh was you, indeed?”
    “ You may toss your head in that superior way, but you have never been a mere landlubber. You were introduced to the ocean as an infant child; you boated before you knew the difference between right and wrong; you went positively to sea under Captain Willis well before puberty. Far from you the wondering calf-like gaze of those who watch the intrepid mariner traverse the tossing deck – the gaze almost instantly followed by a feeling of unavoidable and certain death, cold death, followed by furious uncontrollable heaves and shameless vomiting, morbid frigor and despair. They, with some slight recovery and even an upright position, the sight of these god-like creatures stalking about the nightmare deck in their uncouth garments, uttering their brutish cries, haling upon ropes great and small – finding their way by night – reaching the stated port – all this reduces the lubber to a state of laudable and permanent humility. No, no, my good sir, you may say what you please, but there is a great gulf fixed between the landlubber – the landlubber who comes late to things that float – and the true-born seaman: a gulf as great as that between a sh eep and a seal.”
    “Very true,” said Jack, who had had the training of some of the sheep.
    “Now you are to consider,” Stephen went on, “ that my Brigid was not only baptized in sea-water, but dipped before she could walk. When we were ashore she rejoiced in boats, when we were afloat she delighted in heavy sea, never minding in the least when they soaked her through and through – nimble in the rigging, the darling of the upper-yardmen. She often explains the rigging to me, and I have seen old hands like Tobin nod with approval. No, my dear Jack, what I should have said had you not in essence said it before me, was that one (however young) who has sea-legs, sea-sense and a knowledge both acquired and to some degree as it were instinctive of the sea’ s very nature itself bears down all frippery land -based experience, however old.”
    “ Oh come, Stephen, Charlotte and what’ s her name are not exactly crones. As I remember they only date from the Mauritius campai gn.”
    “ They might have been born with Helen of Troy as far as that is concerned. Aboard, particularly aboard so lithe and eager a vessel as Ringle, Brigid must bear them down; and a just equilibrium will be reached, with mutual respect and no bullying.”
    There were many vantage-points high above the harbour that Jack and Stephen used to climb, once a reasonable period had elapsed, a period in which a well-handled weatherly craft with favourable winds (and as far as could be told they had been favourable) could reasonably be expected to sail out and back; and Stephen had the pleasure of seeing some moderately upland birds and the bizarre mating habits of a colony of variegated scorpions, while the sun passed over the almost invariable translucent sky; but Jack always made his descent to the still fairly active yards (Lord Leyton’ s mainmast footing still gave great trouble) with hope disappointed.
    By now Suffolk wa s in very fine fig, and since Jac k was blessed with an experienced and upon the whole intelligent wardroom, the gun-crews, at least in dumb-show, were as brisk as he could wish while the small-arms men (who could, within limits, fire their pieces) were all well above the average. Her stores were completed – prime salt beef from the immense ranches, smaller amounts of moderate pork, a remarkably agreeable army biscuit, tobacco in industrial quantities — while for daily use flesh-boats plied to and from the butchers stalls along the quay, and flat-bottomed craft brought fruit and vegetables in