The Surgeon's Mate by Patrick O’Brian Page A

Captain Aubrey,' but when he took her hand again to whirl her round there was no reprobation in her clasp.
    By the time he took her in to supper he knew a great deal about her: she had been brought up in Rutland, where her father had a pack of hounds - she adored fox-chasing, but unhappily many of the men who hunted were sad rakes -she had been engaged to be married to one, until it was found that he had an unreasonable number of natural children. She had had several seasons in London, where her aunt lived in Hanover Square; and from what she said Jack learnt, to his surprise, that she must be thirty. She was now keeping house for her brother Henry, who, though a soldier, was so short-sighted that he had been put into the commissariat; he was away now, looking after the army stores at Kingston, an inglorious employment. But even the real fighting soldiers were not much better; they marched and counter-marched and accomplished little; they were not to be compared with the Navy. She had never been so excited in her life as when she saw the Shannon bring in the Chesapeake. She was filled with enthusiasm for the Navy, she cried; and Jack, looking at her flushed and eager face and hearing her tremulous, enraptured tone, quite believed her.
    At the supper-table itself she begged him to describe the battle in every detail, and he did so with great good humour: it was a comparatively simple single-ship action, lasting only a quarter of an hour; she followed it with the utmost eagerness and, it seemed to him, with unusual good sense and understanding. 'How glad you must have been to see their colours come down. How proud of your victory!
    I am sure my heart would have burst,' she exclaimed, clasping her hands over her bosom, which yielded to the pressure.
    'I was delighted,' he said. 'But it was not my victory, you know. It was Philip Broke's.'
    'But were you not both in command? You are both captains.'
    'Oh no. I was only a passenger, a person of no consequence.'
    'I am sure you are being too modest. I ant sure you rushed aboard, sword in hand.'
    'Well, I did venture on their deck for a while. But the victory was Broke's and Broke's alone. Let us drink to his health.'
    They drank it in bumpers. Their neighbours joined them: they were redcoats, but full of good will. One of them had obviously wished Captain Broke a happy recovery many times already, so many that a few minutes after this fresh toast his friends led him away, leaving them alone at the table. Miss Smith returned to the Navy. She showed the keenest interest in the service: she knew almost nothing of it, alas, having always lived so far from the sea, but she had adored poor Lord Nelson and she had worn mourning for months after Trafalgar. Did Captain Aubrey share her admiration, and had he ever met the great man? 'Yes, I do, and I did,' he said, smiling with great benevolence, for there was no shorter way to Jack's heart than a love for the service and an adoration of Nelson. 'I had the honour of dining with him when I was a mere lieutenant: the first time he only said "May I trouble you for the salt?", though he said it in the kindest way; but the second time he said "Never mind manoeuvres; always go straight at "em".'
    'How I honour him,' she cried enthusiastically.' "Never mind manoeuvres; always go straight at "em": that is exactly what I feel - that is the only way for anyone with spirit. And how well I understand Lady Hamilton.' And after a pause in which they both ate cold lobster she said, 'But how did you come to be a passenger on the Shannon?'
    'That is a long story,' said Jack.
    'It could not be too long for me,' said Miss Smith.
    'A trifle of wine?' suggested Jack, advancing the bottle.
    'No more, I thank you. To tell the truth my head is turning a little already. But perhaps it is the dancing, or the music, or the closeness, or sitting next to a hero: I have never sat next to one before. But when you have quite finished your lobster, perhaps we might take a