Rain lashed the now almost-vertical deck of HMS Suprise. The midshipman whose watch it was called loud into the howling gale. Rope reeled ovver the tafrail the end catching on the forecastle deck sheet-rope cleeting. Joseph Nagel wound the rope around his wrist save the loose rope coiled overboard.
"Tie-it-to-the-fo'c'sle-joist!" Midshipman Thompson fought for supremacy over the storm breaking in the Mid-Atlantic. A wave tossed the frigate high aloft, crashing down, its deck swilling with floodwater.
Below decks Cicely Maturin shivered, pulling her shawl closer around her shoulders. Then she jumped back in alarm as the lantern that had hung above her work, that of her husband's naturalism, sprang from its position and smashed onto his desk.
The storm was worse than ever she had remembered; worse than the last couple of days as "HMS Surprise"chased a course north-north east. A storm worse even than she had endured as a member of the "Surprise's" crew, nearly three years before in her guise as Robert Young in the Southern Ocean.
In the dark Cicely collected together the broken glass fragments as she tried not to fall against the oak beams as another rolling wave impacted the ship, its energy forcing it over to nearly ninety degrees. Just as she got most of it together the cabin door opened.
"I heard a noise? Are you alright, my darling?" Cicely looked up from the floor. Stephen Maturin, her husband, naturalist, ship's surgeon and spy stood in the doorway, the lamplight from behind him reflecting his shapely features as another wave smashed at the ship.
"Just the storm. It broke the lamp." She proffered the glass as way of explanation. "I'd got as far as the bivalve molluscs and their distibution in the limestone of Leicestershire. If you can provide another I'll continue."
Stephen Maturin, who had been dining with Captain Jack Aubrey, shone the light he was holding himself above the desk.
"You've done a lot – why don't you rest, sweetheart?"
"Because I haven't finished yet." In the sem-darkness she smiled and Stephen stepped towards her, relieving her of the broken glass.
"Rest, Cicely. I fear the ship is approaching her quarry and when we do, it will be hell or high water if the tubs get the better of us."
"There's little chance of that, is there? We outmatch all of them, don't we?"
"We're pursuing them. There's shipping north, Naval ships. We have a good chance of catching them, as Jack explains it."
Two weeks after the Battle of Trafalgar, where Cicely had through willpower, skill, cunning and, she would probably admit, sheer stupidity, had saved the life of Admiral Lord Nelson. Her former pair whom she had had in her time as Robert Young before her discovery by the now-Lieutenant Blakeney as a woman, James Fillings had been the assassin; his inability to carry out the deed in the name of his father John Fotherington had resulted in spymaster William Wickham attempting it himself.
Cicely had knocked aside Nelson and taken the bullet herself and she was treated by Stephen, in his guise as a Spanish prostitute, having travelled across France and Spain in pursuit of Wickham.
For his part, William Wickham, in collusion with Joseph Fouche of the French intelligence sevice, had escaped and was on the run, with a good deal of sensitive information. Nelson was aware of this, and too, of a potential invasion of Britain by Napoleon.
Now, "Surprise" was in pursuit with two other British warships in pursuit of the French Comte-Admiral Pelley who had mounted a break of the Cadiz peninsula with four ships, ready to wear them down, engage them and take them as prizes.
The now-accidental veteran of the Battle of Trafalgar sank down into her husband's study chair – Stephen was right, of course, she did need rest. Cicely had been working hard in her husband's stead, transcribing note after note from the seemingly-disorganised collection he had procured from every compass point on what seemed to be nearly every living species contained in the world.
"I am pleased you are taking such an interest in my work," Stephen replied, dropping the glass as he steadied himself against the door frame before stepping towards her. "Rest. And you're right. A half-dozen frigates chasing four rag-tags – Jack says we are well-numbered."
"He is pleased with his opportunity? Should he make a good show of things now he may well be promoted. The pride of the Service is at stake."
"Indeed. He was lucky to have been found innocent of dereliction of disobeying orders at the court-martial; luckier still to have had it proved that his action had been decisive in victory. There is a good chance he may, although the business was only concluded last week"
"In the victory of the Victory," laughed Cicely lightly, as she sat back down on Stephen's work-chair. "I had nearly finished anyway. It's the last Erasmus Darwin has to say on geology and living species."
Cicely was pleased herself that Jack Aubrey had put himself out so much on her behalf. Indeed, he had done so with painstaking propiety and deliberation, ensuring his duty within the service of the Royal Navy was never called into question.
She could not have wished for greater for her former (unwitting) Captain, and yet he now had the chance of further fortune – he had been sent with honours on a gallant pursuit of the French ships. Should he dazzle at the action here, prize money and a possibility of post-captaincy.
Such a professional breakthrough guaranteed a pension on retirement at whatever age; guaranteed Sophie Aubrey income to her death and immediate status within society and the Navy itself. It was the breakthrough Aubrey clearly desired, as much as Stephen desired in his naturalism.
Another wave, throwing Stephen forward and Cicely to one side. Above them the middie shouting futher orders and the tramping of the deckhands indicated that – yes, as expected – the sheets were to be taken in so as to minimise the chance of the storm winds toppling them past the horizontal or a wave doing the same. If, as Jack suspected, Cicely knew, the ships they pursued were not far off, they would have to do the same, save the chance of wreckage and so there would be little to gain other than blind foolishness in trying to gain on them in this weather.
"Are you staying, my love? Or returning to your other love?" He raised an eyebrow. "The violoncello?" She smiled as Stephen sat next to her, holding her close.
"Here. I don't trust that you'll not try to work more on my behalf. Anyway, I am sure that Jack would have been welcoming of your company tonight. He was enjoying discussing naval strategy, inference and projected outcomes of the next few days. I am afraid he found me lacking in discourse."
Stephen leaned past her and looked across at his work. Cicely had indeed been busy. And true to her word. His wife had not attempted to interfere with the ship's order in any way; nor had she attempted to dress as a boy and masquerade as a mizzenlad.
Indeed, Cicely had spent a copious amount of time assembling his ragged notes into a semblance of order that to him was remarkable since she knew little of naturalism. But she was bright and learned. She was also recovering from an abdomen wound gained from the aforementioned incident where she had saved the life of Admiral Nelson at the Battle of Trafalgar. She was about to speak when another wave hammered the glass again, its reverberation paining Cicely's ears again.
"I would be honoured to hear you both play," Cicely concluded, getting up carefully. "I would hardly be able to sleep this night in this gale, and I will be confined enough when we come to close-engagement. I need some work to do when I'm here alone. I certainly haven't finished it all. It;s All Souls day. A toast to those who have passed is in order."
"Edward." Stephen squeezed her hand, smiling comfortingly in the gloom.
Both Edwards, Cicely thought. And besides, once they had got to Sarawak and she had been left in the household of her mother's brother as "Surprise" sailed away, she would resent any minute she had chosen to be away from her beloved.
Stephen , whose motivation in exchange for remaining surgeon aboard "Surprise" was his naturalism work, had been fortunate thus far in his research. Orders from the Navy had co-incided with alightments to rarely-visited, isolated parts of the world where his observations had been drawn on from plants, animals and rocks which were, in some cases, entirely new. His dearest wish was for his work into naturalism to gain that all-so-precious recognition that he coveted from the Royal Society.
Cicely had helped him a good deal by forging (again, accidentally) a connection with Robert Darwin, son of the author of the work, "Zoonomia", a vastly comprehensive discussion about life on earth and natural history and had gained him insights into unpublished exerpts, something which had allowed Stephen to make some great leaps forward.
They made their way out onto the lower deck and up one deck to where the Captain's cabin was, stretched as it were port to starboard aft the ship, the storm howling like a shroud overhead, before being welcomed warmly.
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