The Bible quotes are from KJV of Ecclesiastes: 1:2-3; 1:14; 4:8; 4:9-11; 9:9 and Song of Solomon 1:2.
Frederick worked hard in his first command. He had achieved his first object of being at sea as soon as could be. The Asp was as tired and broken of a sloop as he had been warned, but he managed to assembly a credible crew with many privateers among them. When directed to the West Indies he knew the opportunity before him. If only he could capture an enemy vessel, he could begin to make his fortune. Luck was with him in that he never encountered any foul weather and managed to capture a French frigate with only the loss of one crew member and only glancing injuries to a handful of others, but even as he outwardly rejoiced his heart felt empty.
Frederick was not the sort of man who thought of God overmuch, but a phrase from the Bible played on and on in his head as he considered his achievements. It must have been something that perhaps his brother Edward had said in one of his sermons. He could not recall what book it was from, but it felt apt to him in that moment. The phrase was, "All is vanity." Frederick knew that he had achieved far more than any had expected of him in such a short amount of time, but it felt meaningless. Even when given the Laconia in recognition for his achievements with the Asp, and the Laconia was a fine vessel which he had every reason to believe would profit him far more than the Asp, he did not know what it was for. What was the point of increasing his fortune two times, ten times, one hundred times? What was the point if he could never earn Anne?
Frederick found himself one day, when all was calm and he was alone in his cabin, seeking in a copy of the Bible he had borrowed from the ship's surgeon the phrase that played on and on in his head. The surgeon was not an especially pious man but knew that injured and dying men sometimes felt comfort in the words of the Bible and became familiar enough with it that he could find those parts that could speak to a man desperate for hope or salvation.
The book in which Frederick's phrase was found was not one of those books, but it was familiar enough to the surgeon that he had been able to tell Frederick, "Look in Ecclesiastes."
Frederick had taken the surgeon's Bible and then found other things to do. As he had no current patients with anything much the matter with them, the surgeon had not yet asked for its return.
However, after yet another battle in which he and his crew had emerged triumphant and richer by the capture of another ship, when all the tasks that must be undertaken in the aftermath of such an occurrence were complete and none needed him anymore that evening, Frederick retired to his cabin and decided that now was as good a time as any to read.
As it was growing dark, Frederick lit his oil lamp, turned to Ecclesiastes and began to read. Almost immediately he found the phrase that was forever being recited in his head. Then he read on about "What profit hath a man of all his labour which he taketh under the sun?" and read about the man laboring and all he builds with his wealth.
When he reached the sentence, "For whom do I labour, and bereave my soul of good?" Frederick read it several times, pondering. He thought to himself, I would labor for you Anne, but you will not have it. Yet what is the point of my laboring if I do not then earn you?
He then read, "Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up. Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone?" While he knew this part was about having the companionship and help of his fellow man (which he had in abundance on his ship), the only companion he desired in that moment was Anne. If only she was now his wife and beside him in his bed, he could have her heat and not be all alone.
Frederick closed the Bible then and tried to sleep, but he felt very lonely just then, lonely and bereft.
The following day he read on and happily found little to remind him of Anne in the different vanities until he came to, "Live joyfully with the wife whom thou lovest all the days of the life of thy vanity . . . for that is thy portion in this life." Frederick thought to himself, where is my portion, where is my wife? He resolved himself that once he was on shore again he would seek out a wife. While he could not have Anne, did that mean that he could never find any joy in a wife.
When Frederick concluded reading Ecclesiastes, he saw that the next book was Song of Solomon. His eyes glanced at the first lines before he resolutely closed the Bible. He could not bear to read words such as, "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine." He already knew what was missing and reading about the fulfillment that could be had but was not for him would only make him bitter.
Before he blew out his lamp, he pulled out a well worn copy of a letter from his brother Edward. It was the first letter he had received back from him after Frederick had written to him to inform him that he had command of the Asp. There was one particular paragraph Frederick had read again and again until the words were burned in his head. There was no real need for him to read those sentences again as he had them memorized, but once again Frederick read them:
Not two hours after you left, Miss Anne Elliot came to the vicarage seeking you. She must have been walking quite rapidly as if she had urgent business for her face was quite flushed and she had barely greeted me before she asked whether you were awake as she needed to speak with you. I of course informed her of your departure and at those words she looked very sad and said, perhaps more to herself than to me, "I thought there was more time; I did not want it to end like this." I offered to pass on a message from her when I should next write to you, but she refused. I know not what has passed between you, but I venture there is still hope if some day you choose to seek her out again. I make you the same offer I made her. If you have a message you should like me to pass to her, you may always enclose it care of me. I hate to see you both unhappy as neither of you deserve it.
Frederick had not taken his brother up on his offer. It had crossed his mind several times that having earned a few thousand pounds and having a posting where now he could have a wife aboard that he could write to Anne and perhaps he was now of sufficient consequence that she would relent. She would be one and twnety now, so her father's and godmother's opposition would be of less import now. However, Frederick had no wish to be vulnerable, to have his heart crushed again and so he had delayed doing so.
Now it was too late to send such a message. Edward's last letter had informed him that the vicar he was the curate for had died and he was obliged to seek a new position. Edward had written that he had departed Monkford for a position two counties away. Frederick now knew, though he had always resolved against writing Anne through his brother, that once the opportunity was fully lost to him, that he should have written to Anne.