The following quote has nothing whatsoever to do with this scene, but I think it sums up Jack's attitude quite succinctly:
'Everyone knows how I hate a woman aboard. They are worse than cats or parsons for bad luck. But quite apart from that, quite rationally, no good ever came of women aboard..."
The Truelove
My dear Bean, I take my hat off to you and everyone else who endures the daily stress of teaching K-12. Very off topic, but I'm curious: what do you think of the US school system?
Pools of Sorrow, Waves of Joy
Onboard the Surprise, Stephen Maturin, who was a Roman Catholic, attended no services but funerals, and today they were to bury eight men including Mr. Allen, the sailing master, whom he had liked very well. He would miss the long, detailed stories of whaling with the fleet in the Pacific, for he had a great fascination with whales; more than that, he would miss the man, his merry company, and his colorful language.
Washed and shaved, dressed in his best coat, he came up on deck early to pay his respects to the fallen along with another motive: he wanted to have a chance to meet the captain of the Gallant, someone who had known Rose many years, had known her husband, and by her own words, had been "a great friend" of hers and her husband's for many years. He and some of his officers were due to come over to attend the service and dine with Captain Aubrey.
Captain Hawkes, a tall man in his mid or late thirties, climbed up the side with the natural ease and grace that most sailors possessed. "Good to see you, Aubrey," he greeted as he swept off his hat. As Jack bowed in response, Stephen was unable to keep from staring at the man. The captain of the Gallant was a striking man with strong features and a dynamic presence that made it difficult to look away. The breeze ruffled his longish, shaggy black hair and he grinned, a lopsided half-grin with the devil himself dancing in his mischievous dark eyes – without a doubt, Stephen knew that this man was a close relative to Rose. They had the same charismatic brilliance, the same easy confidence, the same ram-you-damn-you manner, the same exact eyes….
A lieutenant was just vaulting over the rail as Jack began to introduce Pullings and the others. Stephen had to hide his curiosity as he made his bow to the captain and spoke the correct words. The talk among the men was that Hawkes was Admiral Bellows's son. Stephen's mind raced: what relation was he to Rose?
Before the introductions were done, before the third man had quite climbed aboard, there was a soft rustle at the lady's approach. It was easy to see that she suffered; although she no longer looked haunted and exhausted as she had the previous day, she was pallid, subdued. Her face lit, though, when she saw Hawkes. "David!" she cried breathlessly, rushing to him.
He laughed and embraced her with practiced skill – no stranger to having a woman in his arms. "Not in command yet?" he asked in mock surprise. "Why, I'd thought such she would have supplanted you by now, eh, Aubrey?" His tone was joking but also tender and affectionate.
The warm comradeship suited Jack, who laughed easily. "She did for a time, actually," he admitted. "To put us over the reef."
"No doubt, no doubt," said Hawkes with a grin, but the expression in his eyes was one of concern for the lady. "She was ever besting Theo and me."
"Were you raised together, then?" asked Jack, and Stephen tried putting together the pieces. Rose claimed that Admiral Bellows had aided her, and Hawkes was the admiral's illegitimate son….
"To be sure, though our Crimson Rose was the best of the lot."
"Fie, David," replied the lady in a tremulous voice.
His wicked charm abated and Hawkes placed one arm about her shoulders. "Come now. Let us take our places as we lay our comrades to rest."
Without speaking, her eyes fell and she nodded. Then she looked at him through the haze of terrible grief that swathed her.
"I am told that the sailing master's death has hit you very hard."
Thinking of poor Mr. Allen, her much-admired friend, so grave and peaceful now, her head drooped under the weight of grief. Still, she said nothing. In the same instant, some movement caught her eye and her head snapped up, her eyes widened, and her mouth opened wordlessly.
The midshipman who climbed up and over the railing was tiny, even to Stephen. Tall for eight, which was his age, he seemed a little white lamb compared to the cheerful, ruddy lads who comprised the usual midshipmen, the youngest of whom was twelve. He was more of the size of the ship's boys who served as powder monkeys and cook's assistants; his bearing was that of a little officer, though, a wee toy soldier, Stephen thought.
"Welcome aboard, Stirling," said Jack in a kind voice, and the little fellow had to tilt his head back so far to see him that he put his had up to keep his hat from tumbling off his head.
"Thank you, sir," replied the child in a piping voice. Straight he stood, straight and slim as a little sapling with round black eyes and a mop of dark curls lightened by the sun.
"Here's someone to greet you, lad," called Captain Hawkes, giving Rose a little push towards him.
"Christopher," she murmured, going to him, as tears formed in the corner of her eyes.
"Mama!" he exclaimed in shock.
Rose sank to her knees and enfolded him in her arms. His hat tumbled to the deck. "Darling..." The depth of her grief now seemed altered, assuaged, healed almost, with the sweet balm of her happiness at this meeting. The unexpected sight and embrace of her child balanced against the pain of losing her friend without chance of reconciliation. As life always went, the sorrow melded into the joy and was much of the same thing: an expression of the heart's fondness wrought either by loss or gain.
The most gentlemanly thing to do would have been to leave them, to allow this moment to be private; however, no man of the officers and crew as much as averted his eyes. At first, the boy hugged her, but he grew self-conscious right away. "Mama," he complained, pushing against her.
It interested Stephen to study the reactions of those who watched. Most watched with grins, and Pullings beamed affectionately; Hawkes, though, seemed to be studying the men around them. "Well," said Jack, smiling. "Well," he said scratching his head.
Now, the lady was sitting back on her heels, holding the child at arm's length, and studying his face and appearance. "You've grown an inch and a half, at least," she said.
"Mama," he whispered, stiff and blushing, as he looked around at the men who watched them.
"Oh! Do forgive me." She got up but kept hold of the boy's hand. "I'm sorry, captain, I'm afraid I was a bit overcome."
"Yes, well, that's perfectly understandable," he answered, and then looked around as if he wondered what to do.
"Perhaps Mrs. Stirling may visit with her son for a while," Stephen suggested.
"Yes, yes, of course," said Jack in some relief. "You may sit in the Great Cabin – my compliments, ma'am."
In a moment, the boy had retrieved his hat and they were gone below. With time to speak together, Jack arched a brow at Captain Hawkes. "Would you consent to switching the lad for one of our mids here?"
"Hardly!" he chuckled. Then he added in a voice very low so that the others couldn't overhear. "He's had a terribly hard time. It wouldn't do to start over again with a new lot."
Jack nodded to signal his comprehension. "Like having a little lieutenant."
Captain Hawkes grinned, seeming both diabolical and highly estimable. Neither Admiral Bellows nor his son the commodore had this quality. Who had the mother been? "With a good start in mathematics. Better than both the master's mates and the third lieutenant. I hear that his elder brother is ready for command – at all of ten."
Jack nodded in agreement, for officers and hearty seaman were produced by experience as well as training, and it was a sad truth that a little child could outmatch a man three times his age and yet be hardly weaned from his dam.
"Much has happened here," went on Hawkes, artlessly and yet possessed of brash charm. "You must realize that Rose is like a sister to me. Can you share some of your tale, eh, Aubrey?"
"I can and shall. Dine with me, then – you and your officers. We may have a word afterwards."
"How kind," replied the captain of the Gallant with formal politeness, but his expression was friendly and warm. "I look forward to it."