Amandine
I don't know if I can help you, but Jack certainly loves the ladies! Let me know how I can help.
Stephen and Pulling are great friends in the books. Here's one of my favorites, when Stephen calls him honey:
He hurried down to Pullings' cabin and said 'Tom, pray attach this to the little
packet I gave you, if God forbid you have to deliver it. And pray take great care
of it for the now – never out of your pocket at all – it is a prodigious great jewel
of a thing.'
"I will keep it here in my fob,' said Pullings. 'But I am sure you will have it back
before morning.'
'I hope so, honey, I hope so indeed….'
The Letter of Marque
Our Rose is not perfect, but neither am I! Here is my personal objection to Mr. Howard. She only disarmed him; I would have shoved him overboard.
The very shocking report of a musket in the silence cut him short. Darting a
glance along the rail Stephen saw the Marine officer, still in his night-cap, with the
smoking gun in his hands and a great fool's laugh upon his face. The whale's
head plunged in a boil of water, his huge back arching and the tail coming clear,
poised there above the surface for an instant of time before it vanished straight
downwards.
Stephen looked forward to keep his extreme anger from showing…
The Far Side of the World
Kingston Town
Port Royal, Jamaica, had, during the Golden Age of Piracy, been a favorite port of Henry Morgan and many, many others. At that time, it was known as "the richest and wickedest city in the world", but in 1692, it was partially buried in the sea by an earthquake.
Kingston, which grew up nearby, was genteel in comparison but still a trifle rough at times, so when Rose Stirling told Jack that she intended to stay ashore at an inn during their two nights in port, he was understandably displeased. Stephen offered to escort her, for he had never visited the city and asked her to be his guide since she knew it so well. Jack would only agree if Stephen went armed and another of the officers was always nearby. Tom Pullings offered to give up his shore leave to go with them, which surprised no one.
They went ashore in the morning with several others who wanted to be quick about their business of purchasing fresh provisions and such so that they could then enjoy the many pleasures of the town. In fact, they were rowed ashore with the purser and Mr. Pullings, who had a hard day's work ahead but invited both of then to dine with him that evening when he would be finished with his duties. Stephen promised that at the time of arranging for their rooms, he would have the inn set aside a parlor for their dinner.
"I am going to take the doctor to Spanish Town, before the day grows too hot, to see that horrible statue of Lord Rodney," Rose told Tom with a knowing grin after they had settled on the time to meet that evening.
"Indeed?" laughed Tom. "I am sure that you will enjoy it, doctor."
In fact, Stephen felt slightly on the outside of their private joke, but he understood and enjoyed it once he had seen the statue. Admiral Rodney, the hero of the Battle of the Saints in 1782, was depicted as an emperor dressed in Roman robes, and he appreciated the satire.
After, he accompanied the lady to purchase her pearl buttons and a velvet hair ribbon. He made the appropriate remarks when she asked him if round or fresh water pearls would suit her chiffon gown and helped her to choose a new length of cloth to make herself another summer-weight everyday gown. He insisted on carrying her parcel as they meandered a bit in good company, with Rose sharing memories of time spent in the town during both her childhood and her adult life, but the day was growing oppressively hot. Soon, they sat down together for a light luncheon and a mug of chilled small ale, which refreshed them in the heat.
"It must be said that Lieutenant Pullings is neither a fool nor a landsman," he remarked lightly at an opportune moment.
She blushed and looked reproachfully at him. "Stephen, I would never expect you to listen to the gossip of the fo'c'sle hands."
Her comment surprised him because he had not realized that she was aware of what was being said among the crew. "I do not. However, there is no denying what is written upon your faces every time you look at one another."
She colored furiously, dark red. "Well," she said, casting her eyes about in agony, as if she sought some escape from this interview.
Seeing how discomfited she was, Stephen felt sorry to have confronted her so bluntly and moved to make amends. "He is one of the finest men I have ever had the privilege to know," he said and meant it.
"And such a man is hardly meant for the likes of me," she said with sadness and a slight bitterness in her voice and her embarrassment abating.
"Why do you say that? He certainly knows of your past and does not object."
A self-mocking smile touched her lips. "Any link to me would be suicide to an officer's career. Richard was a merchant and it was hard enough for him. Poor Tom passed for lieutenant and had to wait years – years! – to be promoted. By the stars, doctor, a man and mariner of that quality! The navy suffers delusions."
"It is a terrible shame," he agreed. "The captain says it is because he was not born a gentleman and thus has no friends of influence."
"I believe it would depend on one's definition of a gentleman," she replied with a smile.
"Touché, my dear," he laughed. "Apparently one captain refused to take him as a lieutenant because of his low country accent. No, I am quite in agreement with you that the navy exhibits a shocking tendency to promote and show favor to men with family and connections rather than with ability and merit. Still, I cannot imagine how a lady as yourself would harm a man's career. I would think that you would enhance it, being such a seasoned sailor."
"I am convicted of piracy," she said low so as not to be overheard, but her strong emotions carried in her voice. "Eleven years is a long time for memory, but after this cruise, my past will be common knowledge."
Stephen paused. There was some truth in her words, but he wondered how much worse it could be for a man without connections.
During the hottest part of the day, they returned to the inn to rest and bathe before dinner. In the cooler evening air, they came down to the parlor to find Tom waiting for them. As was custom for shore-leave, he wore his formal uniform with the white lapels, breeches, silk stockings, and his medals. He was also freshly bathed and shaved, with his still-damp hair tied back neatly. "Well, ma'am, doctor," he greeted with his usual broad grin. "I hope your day was as pleasant as could be. And how did you find poor Admiral Lord Rodney?"
"I am glad to report that you were quite correct and I enjoyed it very well."
The three of them sat down together for their dinner, and after all their time at sea, it was a rare treat to have so many dishes with fresh meats, fruit, and vegetables. For his part, Stephen added only a little to the conversation, for he was occupied with observing them.
There was no question about the strong attraction that ran between them. Now, however, for the first time, he was able to see them together without the restraints set by society. Both valued and trusted him as a dear friend and hid nothing from him. Rose Stirling glittered with her own incandescence, and Tom Pullings lit up the room with his good humor. The common topics that they discussed, the lovely way they looked at each other and at Stephen, the extraordinary tender teasing way that they addressed each other – it confounded him a little. Physical desire he knew all too well, affection and attachment he recognized; however, this exquisite, crystal attachment between a man and a woman when all came together in harmony was strange to witness. It made him feel at once warm and beloved to be included in the glow, and yet alone and wretched to think he was on the outside looking in and he, Stephen Maturin, would never experience such a thing.
In all the years he had known Tom Pullings, his esteem and affection for the man had grown, though always in his mind would he remain impossibly young. In Rose, he saw a powerful spirit still unbroken by time and sorrow, and perhaps a chance to remain that way if she survived this adventure. He imagined them old, grown old, with years and ships and thousands of sea miles as well as children and grandchildren passed between them.
I shall never know such a thing, he told himself in self-pity. There is no woman who will ever look at me in this way.
At the moment, he felt a deep and abiding affection for both of them, but he still cursed them both for the happiness that he envied, and he knew he would never experience it, even for a fraction of a minute. But he loved them both with a fierceness that awed him, and he knew that his best gift was to leave them alone together with the knowledge that they had both time and privacy, which they did not have onboard the ship.
"Well, I hope I do not break up this merry party so early but I declare I can scarcely keep my eyes open!" he announced once they had been served with their dessert, a fine glass filled with delicate lemon ice. "Will you forgive me if I excuse myself and steal off to my bed?"
"Are you unwell?" asked Rose as a deep frown of concern darkened her face.
"No, I am fagged to death and only wish an early night. Tom, you'll see that Mrs. Stirling gets safely to her room?"
"Of course, doctor, do not worry on that score," replied the lieutenant, but he was also looking rather worried. "Can I not do something to aid you?"
"Shall I come sit with you?" Rose asked.
"By no means, my dear. I am in want of sleep is all. Enjoy your pudding. Mr. Jenkins says they serve fine ices here."
"Very well. Sleep well, my dear sir."
After he was gone and they had settled down with their coffee, they both looked at each other, frowning. "He didn't seem ill," said Rose thoughtfully. "And he enjoyed the heat today rather more than I expected."
"Did you walk far? Perhaps he is just not used to the exercise?"
"We did get about a good bit," she admitted. "Though he said not a word of complaint."
"You've pushed the poor doctor too far," he grinned. "All the way to Spanish Town and back, then round and round the shops of Kingston!"
"Had we walked to Spanish Town, I can't say we'd even be back yet," she laughed. "And we visited only one shop where we spent not over a half hour."
"Ah, well, then." His ingenuous face was truly anxious. "You do not think he was ill?"
"No, he looked as he always does, if not rather a bit better than normal."
"The tropical clime agrees with him. Well, perhaps he had a poor night's sleep last night. I imagine he'll be improved in the morning."
"I'm sure you are right. And he does seem to flourish more in the heat than in the cold. I suppose it is what one is used to. I never minded the heat, though I was born and raised in warm waters. What of you? Did you not find the heat of India stifling?"
"At first, it was difficult, for it's hot as blazes! But the sailing is sweet in many places and dangerous in other places and I quickly grew used to it."
"It seems easier for men of the south," she mused.
"I don't understand."
"You from Hampshire. Richard from Gloucestershire. It was only a little adjustment to the equatorial climates. Most Scotsmen, Irishmen, Norwegians suffer agonies when the temperature rises."
"Yes, I had noticed it as well, though there are many men from the south who do not endure heat very well." He poured himself a glass of the port, and looked at her questioningly. For sure, this was a strange night, and without any other society, he supposed that they would take their after dinner drinks together. She nodded, and he reached to pour her a little port. "What was Captain Stirling like?" he asked with sincere curiosity as he recorked the bottle.
"What was he like? Well… he was incredibly brave and strong of character, which impressed me from the moment I first saw him. I have always held Bristol merchants in contempt, as you probably do, but he was a captain in his own right was well as an owner. He held no greed and certainly had no aim to be a wealthy man."
Sipping the sweet port, she got up from her chair. "No, don't bother," she told him when he would have risen as well. Slowly, she paced over to gaze out the open window into the darkened courtyard garden. "In a way, he was very much like Captain Aubrey – tall and strongly built, but leaner. Darker, too, with eyes as black as pitch. Very cheerful but a strict captain who allowed no nonsense from the hands. He had a bit of a temper and was occasionally overfond of wine, but these are not great faults in a man. He had a short memory when it came to offense and was quick to forgive and forget. He was also able to overcome his prejudice of the female sex and trust me with the sailing of the ship."
He nodded slowly. "I would like to have known him."
"I daresay you would have liked each other very much." She turned from the window and smiled wistfully.
"You must miss him something sore."
"I do." Tears filled her eyes. "Some days worse than others."
"Oh – blast!" He got up and came over to her. "Forgive me, please. Will I forever be saying the wrong thing?"
"It wasn't the wrong thing at all." She was smiling despite the tears. "It was very right. It is good to talk of him. For four years, people have been afraid to mention him for fear of a few tears."
"I am not so very brave when dealing with tears." He looked crestfallen. "Please don't weep. I would like to hear more about Captain Stirling, but I don't think I could bear your tears."
"They are honest things," she assured him, brushing at her eyes and still smiling.
"Even the false ones that some women employ have ever moved me." He heaved a great sigh of relief now that she was dry-eyed. "I much prefer seeing you up on the deck of the ship, shining like there was all the stars in creation inside you."
The smile faded and her lips parted slightly. He had spoken in his usual straightforward manner and not with the practiced flattery of some of the others. "Tom," she said in a soft voice. "I think that may be the most beautiful thing that anyone has ever said to me."
The unexpected emotion in her voice caught him unawares. As he gazed down into her eyes, her velvety dark eyes, his pulse began to race. She stood looking frankly at him with a warm expression that any man would recognize, and the restraint that he had maintained until now crumbled to dust. For she smiled beatifically, looking at him with warmth and affection, shining in the way he had described. Very lightly he stroked the side of her face. She turned her head and pressed her cheek into his palm, closing her eyes. "My dear, pretty Rose," he murmured.
She opened her eyes and smiled at him again, and the tangle of emotions threatened to overwhelm him. This lady was in no need of comfort or compassion; rather, she looked at him with both love and the heat of desire in her eyes. He was not proof against a woman's seduction, and he had no defense against her.
Taking hold of her chin between his thumb and splayed fingers, he leaned to capture her mouth with a gentle kiss. Her hands pressed flat upon his chest and she kissed him back openmouthed. Since their last embrace, he had been longing to feel her in his arms again, so he let go of her chin, reached for her, and drew her up against him. The fingers of her one hand slipped under his coat, the others were trailing lightly up and down the back of his neck, and the tip of her tongue met his.
Realizing with alarm that he would not be able to stop if this continued for another moment, he broke off the kiss and gazed at her without the ability to disguise his hunger. She was wide-eyed and looked at him with real affection but also uncertainty and maybe a little fear, but he could not tell for sure. Disengaging himself from her, he turned away towards the window and let the cool evening breeze refresh him a little. He needed to regain some control of himself.
There was silence, and she was watching him but he knew not what to say or how to say it. "Tom, I do not play idly with your affections," she told him in her low voice.
"I know that," he admitted, hardly able to trust his voice and not looking at her. "I am too tempted to forget I am a gentleman. That is all."
There was silence for what seemed like a long time. A little sound, a little movement, and her hand took hold of his and she tugged, leading him from the parlor. A wild thrill shot through him as he went with her up the inn's shadowy staircase. Did she mean to lead him by the hand up to her room and seduce him there? There was no chance of resisting her; for sure, he felt almost like a schoolboy again, unable to speak coherent words or indeed to think coherent thoughts. Still, he went, following where his lady lead, and knowing that this was what was right.