I hope that everyone who has read this had enjoyed it or had some fun. Many thanks to everyone who has taken the time to post a review. Flossy, Legrace, and Bean especially. Thanks as well to the elegant Finrod for "guy advice" whenever I need it. Yes, there is more to tell, but that's for a another story another time. Someday, my dear Stephen will be happy! I don't know when, but it will happen when I'm ready. (Nice to see Legrace finally going back to her original name. )

Last, the inspiration I had for much of the serious stuff comes from the Beatles song, "Across the Universe". I didn't want to past the lyrics because I couldn't possibly translate the Sanskrit. To tell you the truth, I can't spell it, but I cut and pasted from an internet lyrics site.

Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup
They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind,
Possessing and caressing me

Jai guru de va om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world

Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes
They call me on and on across the universe,
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box
They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe

Sounds of laughter, shades of life are ringing through my open ears
Inciting and inviting me
Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns
And calls me on and on across the universe

Sounds of Laughter, Shades of Life

As a Roman Catholic, Stephen Maturin was not permitted even to enter a church of another denomination and was thus unwilling to attend the brief nuptials of Rose Stirling and Tom Pullings. The lady reminded him that she was not a Christian and was going through with the Church of England ceremony, as she had for her first marriage, to be certain its legality could not be challenged. Although he understood, he thought less of her for agreeing to the conventions against her own beliefs. She, however, told him he was too fastidious and she did not envy him so fastidious a God; for certain, she cared nothing one way about the Church, only that the marriage be unchallengeable.

Due to her morning sickness, the wedding was scheduled for late afternoon, which was an unheard of bit of maneuvering. Stephen wondered whether Admiral Bellows or Captain Hawkes had managed to finagle it. Or perhaps it was a combination of effort by the two shrewd men. Whatever the answer was, Stephen joined the others at the wedding supper and party held in the gardens of Nassau's Graycliff Mansion, but because of his absence from the church, he had missed something he had anticipated: the bride's reaction to her new husband's promotion.

Last night at Tom's bachelor feast, Jack and the admiral had presented their wedding gift a trifle early. Along with the task of taking the Concordia back to England when the repairs were done now that Captain Frederickson was in custody to be tried for his crimes, Jack had presented Tom with his orders. Made, he was, made commander and captain of his own ship, the Concordia, the ship previously commanded by a traitor and a criminal. Not that it mattered. Tom Pullings had been beside himself with ecstasy with a new wife and a new child (although no one knew beside the doctor) and now captain with his own command. The ship was his only back to Portsmouth, but such trivialities did not matter now. He was captain and bridegroom, commander and father. In addition, Stephen knew (though he suspected that Tom did not) that the Calypso, Rose's ship from her late first husband, would be his as soon as the details could be worked out.

So much pleasure and delight had shown on his face that Stephen felt a deep and painful envy mixed unevenly with gladness for his friend, who certainly deserved such happiness. As the minutes passed, the jealousy passed into contentment and then back to envy though he was not bitter. How could he be? No, Tom Pullings deserved every comfort that life had to offer.

Mr. Mowett described the scene to him very vividly, about how when her eyes lit upon her bridegroom and saw his new coat with epaulette, she stopped and stared with open mouth. The emotion of the moment seemed to override everything as the lady came to face her bridegroom, and he gazed back knowing full well that he had finally achieved something of note, that he had finally made himself worthy of her, daughter of a notorious captain and widow of a good captain.

When Stephen saw her, he noted that she wore the gown she had made from the rich Savannah chiffon: white with twined ivy and violets. In the end, she had used white buttons, Stephen noted, remembering the way the officers had bantered with her about the color. How long ago had that been? Her face was quite pale, drawn – he was glad she had told Tom about the babe and stopped his worrying – but also bright with happiness.

The late afternoon celebration became evening very quickly. Long tables and jugs of iced wine, ale, and small beer were set out for the guests; the magnums of champagne were for the ladies and officers. The voices of children – running, dancing, playing, stealing tarts and other sweets from the buffet – punctuated the more refined celebration of the adults. Eventually, however, the youngsters were sent off. Amiable Christopher embraced both his mother and his new step-father before going willingly to bed. Silvester, on the other hand, shook Tom's hand and cast a closed, calculating gaze upon his new captain, for both boys were due to sail with them on the Concordia. No quick affection there, and Stephen had the sneaking suspicion that there would be trouble between Rose's eldest and her new husband before there ever was peace.

In the strange light of dusk among the many tiny colored lanterns lighting the gardens, Stephen saw her alone, for once, standing apart from the revelers and smiling to herself with a delicate sadness infusing her usual joy. Around her he imagined she visualized all those who had gone from her: mother and father, husband and daughter, respected and much-admired friend. Others, perhaps, as well. Her profound air of quiet melancholy was tempered by shared cheer and rapture. Her happiness was theirs.

Unable to resist, he went to speak to her. In a way, he loathed interrupting such a moment, but he knew he could do so without censure or reproach from anyone. And as she turned to him with the light of pleasure in her expression, he knew that she would cherish him forever for saving the life of her child. Even her husband would not hold more honor with her, and for this he was very humbled and grateful.

"My days have been blessed more than cursed, to be sure," she said by way of greeting far more formally that was her habit. "Yet it remains that tomorrow I shall do without you, my friend, and I shall feel it keenly."

His smile was involuntary, for he would not have chosen to smile at that moment. "My dear Rose, with a husband and children, you cannot expect me to believe you will miss the company of a tiresome intellectual."

She glanced away. "Stephen," she said in a reproachful tone, but there were tears edging her eyes. When she looked back at him, she was more in control, but the tears clung to her lashes. "You undervalue yourself, my dear doctor, but I suspect you know that. No, tomorrow, you will be gone away on the Surprise with Mr. Mowett as first lieutenant, and I shall be aboard the Concordia. And I shall spy some unusual bird or creature and tell myself I must tell Stephen. Only I shall have to write letters." Now real tears, fat and trembling, splattered upon her cheeks. "I shall miss you."

First he frowned a little, and then he smiled very slightly, without amusement. Yes, she would miss him. Yes, she loved him as dearly as any woman had ever loved him, but not as passionately, not as physically. Had it not been for the fine, upstanding Tom Pullings, would she have chosen him? No, of course not, but he still occupied a place in her heart that could not be dimmed or tarnished with time or memory for what he had given her. More than that, though, she genuinely liked him and would regret her absence from his friendship.

"My dear lady," he said, taking her hand and glancing away. What could he say? He had things he would like to ask her, but nothing to which he did not know the answer and nothing that would make any difference. No, they had shared time: long, seemingly endless days at open sea. They had shared life and death and grief and joy. Here in the violet dusk falling in the hot Bahamian autumn, extraordinary warmth and contentment surrounded them, encompassing and reflecting the limitless, undying essence of love that dwelt within and around them. There they stood when the sun had disappeared and the colored lanterns illuminated the party, clasping hands and sharing the moments. Soon enough they would be parted although there would be no farewell spoken. What words could suffice?

Later, Stephen stood with Jack, smoking a cigar and watching as the bride danced with Captain Pullings, scattering love and joy around them like glistening drops of moonlight. "If you would have told me how this cruise would have turned out when that woman first came on board," said Jack, "I would have thought you mad or fanciful, or both."

Before replying, Stephen paused and sighed. "No," he finally said. "No, I don't think so. You would have been as hungry as ever for the mission and the events, despite knowing the costs."

"I suppose you're right." The captain reflected for a moment on the men lost and the lives changed. "And now, off to arrest these men. I shall be happy when it's done."

"Until the next assignment"

Jack frowned a little and glanced over at his friend. The doctor met his gaze and raised his brows, and then the two of them smiled at each other in easy camaraderie and brotherhood. The next assignment. Yes, indeed.