Morning dawned blustery and rainy, the tip tap of drops on a window pane, the draught from the ill-fitting frame bringing the March blasts into the room within. The man and woman burrowed deep into the heavy bedding instinctively, lost in some private nest, the world shut out and unwanted. They slept on, he wrapped around her, she nestled curled up within his strong embrace. They slept like lovers.

Jack opened his eyes first, accustomed to rising early, and ran a hand sharply down his face to wake himself up. His hand fell back and rested on the smooth slope of a woman's hip. His usual rapid return to alert awareness flooded through him and chased away the last fuzzy clouds of dreams. Sophie. Beautiful Sophie. Even as he watched her, the soft rise and fall of her breast as she breathed, eyelids fluttering, distant smile ghosting on her perfect lips, he felt a pain he could not explain. She could never be his. And he didn't even know why.

Who was she? Where had she come from? Falling into his life like a gift from God and then to disappear as easily as she had arrived. Why did it hurt so much to imagine life without her, when he had only known her a few days?

His life was all about departing. Sailing with the next tide. He never stayed anywhere for long. He had loved and left more women than he could ever remember and, although he had often felt sad and misty eyed when he had sailed away from some, he had soon settled back to his real life at sea and they soon slipped from his mind into the store of vague memories in his brain of women and soft bodies and warm wet shelter in the night. But never pain. No women, since his mother died so many years ago, had ever made his heart ache so. Jack could not understand why this slip of a girl affected him in this way.

Easing away from her softly so as not to wake her, he threw back the covers and grimaced at the chill of the cold early morning. Pulling on his linens and shirt, he walked out of the chamber to the room beyond where he urinated from the window, shivering slightly at the chill wind that blew in on him as he raised the sash window and leaned against it as he pissed. He watched the arc of water join the heavy rainfall and mingle with the drops that fell to earth to wash the filthy streets below, drains gurgling and bubbling, rats darting about from their underground hidey holes. A grey light settled on everything: the sky merged with the distant sea and the silhouettes of buildings and people forced to wander about in the inclement weather made a ghost landscape of the world outside. The world was water, endless grey, deep and dark, and he would one day be swallowed up into its murky depths like everything else.

Slamming down the window, he turned back to the room, rich in colour and warm by comparison. Red velvet drapes, green chenille table covering, plumply upholstered chairs in vibrant tapestry, polished wooden furniture, brass, silver, glassware... Jack helped himself to the cold food and poured a glass of wine. Inside this haven were all good things - but they could never last. Nothing ever remained for him in the end but that he had his duty to his country and his name. Apart from that he was alone in the world, an island in that raging sea, clinging to the certainties with which he had been raised but constantly battered by the tempests of ill luck and bad judgement.

He had always been alone. For a while, he meditated on the meaning of solitude. He lived a life surrounded on a tiny space overcrowded with men; so many men that each hammock had two sleepers on different shifts. And yet he was alone. On the quarter deck, he stood alone- his officers either stayed to the opposite rail or they all imagined they were not there. It was respect for his office and person. But it was still loneliness. There was Stephen, his friend, but he was unable to share his burden. Jack Aubrey was God and King on his ship and no man dared step into his shoes nor take any of the weight from his shoulders. And it was fitting that it should be so. There can only be one master and commander.

On land he was even less engaged with people. He had many acquaintances with whom he drank and gamed and whored...but was that real companionship? Only Stephen knew even a small part of what was in his heart. His father cared not one jot for him and never really had; he had never understood that. Many boys had grown up in his commands and he had come to love them and feel paternalistically of many; imagine a father incapable of that with his own flesh and blood?

Tearing a hunk of bread and biting into a wedge of cheese, Jack's mind drifted to another form of companionship. Marriage. Why did he wish to marry Sophie Williams? Did he love her? Well....he had an affection for her. She was fair and lovely and gentle and pure. She would make a fine wife and mother. She was from an upstanding background and had a small private income. But Jack knew that wasn't love. It wasn't passion either. It wasn't lust or infatuation or any of the other emotions women stirred in him. She was suitable and he was of an age. He wanted someone to come home to and children of his own. To belong somewhere. To have a home and people for whom his existence mattered.

What did he know about the real Sophie Williams? He couldn't think of a single fact apart from where she was born, what her father had done, her parish church, the school for young ladies she had attended and that her favourite colour was blue. But Sophie Smithers? He knew her as he knew a well loved ship- like his poor lost Sophie whose every beam he had known so well. He thought about how she wrinkled up her nose at the smell of a strong Stilton and how her mouth broke into a wide smile which was slightly crooked when he said something funny, no matter how inane his joke had been. She picked at her food but like fruit and nuts, she found port rather sweet but liked a good red wine.

He noticed that she couldn't speak without using her hands and he had held them down and she had squealed- "Stop it! I cannot talk!" And they had laughed and laughed. He smiled at the memory. Sophie liked dogs, found cats tiresome, wasn't keen on horses since she fell off as a girl. She liked the sea and the outdoors but preferred to fell walk than sail as a pastime. Her hobby was batik painting but Jack hadn't a clue as to what that was. She read a lot and was an indifferent artist but enjoyed dabbling. Since she had been small she had taken classes in dancing and music and was an adequate pianist with a tolerable voice. Her skill was needlework and she loved to design clothes.

On and on Jack listed the things she had told him about herself the night before and amazed himself that he could both remember what a woman had said to him (for he invariably forgot or rather didn't even listen as ladies chattered) let alone have taken her words so much to heart. But he had wanted to know everything about her, even trivial and inconsequential details like the way she swept her hair up off her face, or licked a drip of cream from the corner of her mouth or what she must have been like as a little maid or how here eyes seemed to deepen when she looked at him.

It was as if the other Sophie somehow cast a bright light on his inner mind and made him see himself anew. It had never occurred to Jack to question his own life decisions or what he lacked in the way that he was inclined to worry over those choices he made in his command. But now, with this stark illumination, he saw it all so clearly. He wanted to be loved for himself, warts and all, the way Stephen loved him as a brother despite their many differences. But a man can never open his soul to another man; only a woman can ever be given that dubious honour, the woman that he loved and loved him. He wanted to have a woman by his side who was his soulmate, his sweet other half, the female to his male, the day to his night, the rock in his ocean. And he had found the one and she was going to leave him.

Just then he heard the rustle of a gown and felt her arms slip around his neck; he pulled her to him and she settled on his lap, all sleep- tumbled and soft, her eyes still dreamy and her face like a child's. He smiled at her. She smiled at him and they kissed hello to welcome the day together. But he could not linger. There was much to be done and he disapproved of sleeping off the ship as encouraging the men to be slipshod and lazy. Dressing quickly and fighting off Sophie's amorous advances and offers to join her back in bed for some more pleasures, he resisted with a laugh and readied himself to leave.

"It must be almost eight bells. Good God, half the morning is gone!" Jack exclaimed as Sophie tried to drag him in the direction of her chamber.

"Eight bells?"

"Eight am...the end of the last dog watch...it must be nigh on that," he explained.

Sophie thought a moment. "Don't you have a watch? A fob watch?" She felt in the pocket of his waistcoat as he fastened up the last buttons.

Jack shook his head. "I did have, one of the few things of value my father ever gave me, but it was one of the many casualties of the Cacafuego.  It saved my life- took a direct hit for me!" Sophie had a sudden idea. The watch! It was in a drawer. She would give it to Jack.

"Jack- when is your birthday?"

"My birthday?" He replied and pulled a frown. "It is April 1st- and do not laugh- I know 'tis Fool's Day and a very appropriate day for me to have been born, I'll wager..."

Sophie giggled. "Tosh! You're no fool, Aubrey, and you well know it. You just can't be bothered with that which doesn't bother you." And her sharp and accurate appraisal of him stunned him. By God, she was right.  "Jack...in what year wrre you born?"

"'71."

"So you are 31 next week?"

"Indeed. And you? What year were you born?"

"'76." Sophie said aware that it was a white lie.

"You are 26? I thought you younger...you look so young..." Jack smiled and touched her face. "Your birthday?"

"June 8th"

"Then I shall remember you on that day all my life," he muttered and bent to kiss her lips. "I must go. But I will return tonight if I may. Will you permit me?" His face struck a serious pose enough to make Sophie's smile even wider.

"You better be here, my good man, or I shall be quite, quite damnably hipped!"

Jack bowed and kissed her hand. "Until then, my sweet lady...I bid you Good day." And he took his leave.

Later that afternoon when the rain had stopped and a weak sun shone on the damp streets and sparkled in the puddles, Sophie, now bathed and dressed (Mrs. Trumpton regarded her as a little strange in the head for the girl asked for a bath each day- she wondered if she ought to mention it to the doctor next time he called) skipped off to a silversmith shop she had noticed and asked if it was possible to engrave a watch she owned. The gentleman behind the counter took down her request and told her to come back tomorrow and he would have it accomplished. With a ready smile, Sophie, ran out of the shop and wandered along the streets, picking up trinkets that amused her- a black velvet ribbon for Jack's hair, some Turkish delight wrapped up in a muslin cloth, a little bunch of lavender for the table, a phial of a flowery perfume that she thought Jack might like.

That evening she waited on for him and he came, earlier than ever and this time they did not even pause for food or chatter but merely fell upon each other. Jack had thought of nothing but her all day long nor she but of him. He had been checking the quartermaster's log and counting barrels of food, crates of shot, bags of powder, boxes of dried goods, bales of cloth and sail, yardages of rope, on and on... tedious, tiresome work which had made him bad tempered and critical, snapping at every tiny oversight or imagined incompetence. His men said nothing, kept their heads down and paid no mind to his unusual humour aware that the Captain had money worries aplenty and must have had some tidings that had soured him further.

But here he was now with Sophie and nothing else mattered in the world. He swung her up in his arms and they kissed joyfully as if they had been apart for days or weeks not merely hours. Their hands ripped at clothing, neck cloth, shirt, waistcoat- all tossed aside, dress, petticoat, pantaloons thrown away, while they carried on their frantic embracing. Resting her back on a soft armchair, Jack placed each leg on an upholstered arm; she lay back sensuously and let him look upon her naked perfection. Kneeling, he blew softly against her and then looked up and smiled. Then he dipped his head to kiss her hidden lips, delved into her sweetness, licked and laved and suckled her folds and the tight hard pearl of her nub. Sophie writhed and rocked against his tender mouth as he loved her.

Jack sat back on his haunches and played with her, his thick fingers gentle but curious as they parted her and flickered in and out or rubbed her tender places softly. He knew she was almost at her completion, lost in her pleasure and he longed to take her there. He was not a man of a poetic nature but he could not contain his thoughts about her beauty and the abandoned sexuality of their coupling. He told her, in his deep soft voice, gently whispering, how her hidden petals were like pale blush roses, how her nub was a pearl beyond price, how her deep velvet passage pulsed with life and held him tight and safe in its warm embrace, how the dew of her juices were like honey nectar to him, how her soft brown hair framed this perfect picture- the very essence of all a woman was, the mystery of femininity to a man. His voice alone made her ache for him and was the final charge that, coupled with his fingers and the deep sexual kiss he gave her on her secret mouth, drove her into that place where she shook and cried for his mastery of her fragile body.

He lay with his head resting on her lap, like a boy to his mother, as she calmed and whispered to him, stroking his hair and sighing. Then Sophie asked him to stand and when he did, she changed places, helping him off with his boots and breeches, slipping off his stockings and linens until he was as naked as she. Then she nestled between his muscular hairy legs and took his rising manhood in her delicate fingers, working the organ with the fine touch she brought to her craft. She watched his face as he gave himself into her care, saw his eyes cloud and his face loosen with desire as his hands fell to her hair to run his fingers through her curls.

Sophie bent to kiss his tip where the pearl drop oozed out onto her tongue and heard his hiss as she lowered her lips around his wide shaft. Her tongue danced playfully along the ridge and veins, her lips sucked hard and took in as much as she could of his strength while her fingers gripped his base and squeezed gently. He moaned soft and low and thrust slowly at her over and over again, incapable of stilling his motion as she tormented his resolve. Several times he attempted to ease himself away, not wishing to shed his seed in her mouth like a man might do to a common whore, but each time he was less and less able to do so.

Shaking his vain attempts away, Sophie intensified her attentions, glancing up at him as he watched, bewitched by sight and sense. Their eyes met and she smiled - he was lost. With a deep rocking motion and a growl of release, he shuddered over and over into her mouth, shooting his essence while she swallowed and lapped up greedily. Jack gripped her face and let her lick him clean and then she crawled up to lie on his knee, curled up. There they both clung to each other, sweaty, sex- drenched, overcome with passion and satiation.

The supper still stood on the table but even now they paid it no mind. Instead, Jack picked up his lady and took her to the chamber within. He was in a mood to tend to his mistress again and could not wait even for food or wine. This time he would show her how his body adored her. They fell to the bed, Sophie on her back, resting on the soft linen bolster and he lowering himself upon her as their lips found each other again...

Stephen Maturin was engaged to dine that evening with the Reverend Edward Pemberton. It was a dreary occasion of indifferent food and cheap wine, made even worse by the odorous vicar. Stephen had met him once or twice at meeting of the Royal Society in London; the Reverend was a keen amateur naturalist with an encyclopaedic knowledge of molluscs. However he was also a man of a limited spirit who valued the acquisition of vast amounts of minute detail over any real love of the Natural world or vision of the larger picture that such study should enlighten. Pemberton had invited the doctor but had then spent most of the dinner trying to catch him out and prove his greater scholarship. As soon as it was politely possible, therefore, Stephen bade goodnight and left in a disgruntled frame of mind.

About to turn towards the harbour he heard the tolling of the hour from the cathedral. It was nine. Perhaps he would do his best to salvage the evening by paying a visit to Sophie Smithers. He had not seen her since the dinner party and ought to check on her. Besides she was a decidedly more enjoyable prospect for the end of an evening than his cold sheets on the Vincenjo. Perhaps...Stephen shook the prurient thought from his mind. He was not a womaniser by nature, but he was a normal man with needs as any other and, even if Jack Aubrey seemed to think he was a puritan where matters of the flesh were concerned, that was not the case. Dr. Maturin was simply more discreet when it came to amorous adventure - and he had had a number of those in his past, to be sure.

Sophie...dear, pretty Sophie. The mystery lady. Who was she and where had she originated? Stephen's mind had been playing with this for days and he had isolated one or two pieces of evidence that puzzled him. There had been the matter of her nether garments. He had looked at them closely before he had passed her clothing to a laundry maid to wash them (he told himself this investigation had been purely for the sake of discovery, not lewdness) and they had thrown up some very peculiar facts. The garments were matching, of a black lacy fabric, almost completely transparent and rather stirring to the male libido. Inside they had a label which was not hand embroidered or lettered but printed in some curious way, in a typeface he had never seen before. The legend had said 'St Michael. Marks and Spencer.' And something about 'UK, Euro and French sizes.' It was most odd.

There was also the remarkable cleanliness of her body, her full set of teeth, a few filled with a most pretty porcelain-like material such as was impossible for any dentist he knew to achieve and also the lack of any sign that she had suffered from any pox or other ailment such as everyone had normally weathered with its concomitant scarring. It was as if she was as untouched as a new born, except for a scar on her ribcage underneath one breast clearly from an operation- but it was the neatest and most perfect incision and repair he had ever seen. There was none of the usual pit of infected tissue surrounding it- just a simple line with an almost invisible mend. This procedure was beyond any knowledge that he or any surgeon of his day possessed.

As he strolled through the streets of the town towards Cadogan Gardens, he weighed all these facts up in his mind and found no correlating answers. Think, Maturin! Think! And then he had it. An incredible notion struck him. There was only one possible explanation that could answer for this disparate group of facts. The woman was not of his world. Not of his time. She was from a time ahead when Science could do wonders still not possible. Stephen rubbed at his eyes and tried to shake the notion from him. It cannot be. It cannot be. But yet, what else could be the cause?

At number 12, he rapped sharply on the door and it was opened by a little scullery maid who recognised him and bobbed and scraped. Mrs. Trumpton was dining out but would he please to come in? Stephen barely noticed her, excited now to see Sophie and perhaps ask some cleverly worded questions that might draw her out and help his understanding of this mystery- as well as being very urgent just to be in her fragrant presence once again.

At her door he knocked, softer this time, he listened and he heard her call out, "Come!" Stephen opened the door and found himself in an empty room with a supper set out untouched on a table. Curious he wondered was she within and perhaps she might be indisposed again. Tentatively he stepped across towards the bedroom door and then he gasped at what he saw. The naked back and rump of Jack Aubrey, his hair loosened and disheveled around his face, lying between the open legs of the fair Sophie. Both were in post-coital bliss, he sunk against her breasts and her hands smoothing back his forehead. He had heard the word "Come!" But it had an entirely different construction to him now.

The lovers must have sensed his presence for at the selfsame moment they both seemed alerted. Sophie cried out as Jack spun round and saw his friend at the open door. "Good God, man- what are you doing spying on me? Get out of here- NOW!" Jack bellowed as he jumped from the bed and Sophie pulled a sheet about her nakedness.

Stephen staggered back into the room, caught between utter embarrassment and rising anger, running his hands along his thighs to calm himself as Jack burst through now dressed in carelessly donned breeches which left little to the imagination.

"How dare you seduce that innocent girl, you filthy libertine! Is there any woman safe from you?" Stephen railed at him.

Jack stopped dead and faced him, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "I beg your pardon? How dare you, sir, make comments about my private affairs? Who asked you to come wandering into a lady's boudoir at this time of night, pray? I was invited. You, I believe, were not!" he thundered back, one hand on his hip and the other gesticulating fiercely.

Stephen glared back in no way intimidated by his friend's awesome temper. "I am here to take care of her. She is a poor unfortunate woman, still recovering from injury. You are merely abusing her frailty at a time when she is most vulnerable. How can you importune her so? For shame, man, I know you have less morals than a rat aboard a ship but this is even worse. I knew that you had been intimate with Diana Villiers, although you know of my affection for her. You are also courting an innocent girl like Sophie Williams as well as tupping half the bawds in Portsmouth. And if that is not enough, sir, you seek to ruin the reputation of this respectable woman who has fallen on hard times. I am disgusted by you and ashamed to call you brother!"

The two men faced each other, squaring up, one like a bull about to charge, the other like a snake whose strike when it comes will be deadly and sure. It was in that position that Sophie found them moments later when she dashed though from the chamber now mopped up and dressed. While she had frantically readied herself she had heard their voices, at first muffled, and then escalated into a mighty argument.

Placing herself between them, Sophie shouted: "STOP! I will not have you fighting over me like two dogs for a bone. Stop, I say, and act like civilised gentlemen!" Sophie may not have been completely au fait with the customs of this time but she knew that men like these would issue a challenge to a duel quite easily and then honour would preclude them from pulling back - and they must not shoot this one out!

The men did not back off but instead there was a visible relaxing of their stance, shoulders dropping, chins lowering and their fists unclenching.

"If I may speak?" Sophie continued. The two men nodded and she indicated they should sit down. They did as they were told. "I invited Captain Aubrey, sir. He is my lover, by my choice, not by his advantage taking. I am from a place where it is acceptable for a woman to behave as I have, with no stain upon her character. I can tell you no more than that. As for my feelings for the Captain, they are private and no one should have observed that intimate moment between us. You are my good friend, Stephen, and I know you came here tonight with the best of intentions and it is accidental that you witnessed our love. But I am no whore and Jack is no debaucher. Please understand that?"

Stephen looked across at Jack, who gave him a slight shrug. "I am no saint. Stephen, I never pretended otherwise. But this is no lewd interlude, I assure you of that. And of Mrs. Villiers, I am most heartily sorry that you were informed of our liaison. It was unworthy of our friendship and you have every right to be hipped by it."

To that, Stephen gave a nod of acknowledgement and then muttered, "Diana chooses her pleasures freely. I have no doubt she was a willing partner."

Sophie smiled and sat across from them. "Now gentlemen, let us set this aside. It will not do for good friends to quarrel so bitterly in this fashion. I want you to sit at my table and share supper here, the three of us and make merry. For life is short and parting long - and none of us know what time remains to us in this world." At that, Sophie looked meaningfully at Jack who smiled sadly and then at Stephen who read another sense into her words. "But first, Jack Aubrey, will you right yourself! Go within and dress as befits a gentleman, for all love. And make sure your breeches are properly arranged or we two shall be quite put off our food!"

They all laughed at her playful riposte, Jack stood up blushing slightly, hand held bashfully to his groin and Sophie, slapped his rump as he turned. Sophie and Stephen sat at the table and she served plates for all three while the doctor poured out the wine. Moments after Jack rejoined, now in his finery, only the looseness of his hair and the telltale red bite on his neck suggesting the passion of a short while before. They toasted to friendship and tucked into the meal and all was well again.

Sitting back nursing port and nibbling at the cheese board, Stephen remarked that it was unfortunate they did not have their instruments for it would have been most entertaining to have played a few of their favourites for her tonight. Sophie clapped her hands together and exclaimed: "A song! I shall sing for you both! My voice is tolerable enough and I am sure you will be gracious of my humble efforts."

She jumped up and stood before the table, remembering an old Irish folk song that she once sung with the school choir. She reckoned it must date back from this period. Striking a pose she sang out the first verse clear and strong. No sooner had she begun that both men smiled; they knew it well and Jack immediately caught the melody and counted time with his hand and his tapping foot:

My love's an arbutus
By the borders of Lene,
So slender and shapely
In her girdle of green.
And I measure the pleasure
Of her eyes' sapphire sheen
By the blue skies that sparkle
Through the soft branching screen.

It was all she knew, Sophie couldn't remember any more and thought that perhaps they had only ever sung the first verse in some medley but as she hesitated, Jack sang out, his strong bass voice secure and tuneful and his recall of the words perfect.

But though ruddy the berry
And snowy the flower
That brighten together
The arbutus bower,
Perfuming and blooming
Through sunshine and shower,
Give me her bright lips
And her laugh's pearly dower.  

Alas, fruit and blossom
Shall lie dead on the lea,
And Time's jealous fingers
Dim your young charms, Sophie.
But unranging, unchanging,
You will still cling to me,
Like the evergreen leaf
To the arbutus tree...

Stephen watched as Jack serenaded his lady and the lovers' eyes locked together, both lost within their secret world. He knew then that Jack loved her and that this was real love not the infatuated notions of his overactive cock that usually brought him into all manner of trouble with the ladies. Sophie held out her hand as Jack finished and he pulled her onto his lap where they kissed softly, unashamed of their desire and affection displayed so openly. "I must go...I have delayed too long..."Stephen muttered, gathering up his coat and hat, realizing that they needed privacy now.

Sophie sprang from Jack's knee and stopped him. "One moment, Stephen, I need to talk to you on a private matter. Jack will you wait for me in my chamber?"

Jack stood up and retired, closing the door behind him leaving the doctor and the young woman at the table. "Ma'am?" Stephen asked, now somewhat puzzled.

"Stephen...I wish to apologise. I know you have some feelings for me and have been as generous a man as anyone could wish. I would not have you think that I was in some way frivolous with your approach to me. I cannot explain what had happened between Jack and me, except to say it is intense and real. Stephen...I do not belong here and I cannot stay. Jack knows I will soon leave, never to return. We have had to snatch the pleasure while we could for God knows when either of us will ever find that again in our lives. Can you understand what I am saying?" She asked him and looked earnestly into his intelligent and gentle eyes.

Stephen chose his words carefully, taking her hand in his. "I have suspected that you were in full knowledge of your origin for some time but chose to keep your silence on the matter. Why must you go? Jack is a free man and he loves you- even I can see that. Stay and make him happy- for he is a lonely man beneath all the bluster and braggadocio - and longs for hearth and home..."

Sophie shook her head. "Would that I could! But if I stay, then things will change and be as they ought not to be. It is an immutable law...I can say no more..." Sophie had thought on Captain Picard and the Prime Directive and she knew that a time traveler must not affect the past. If she stayed, then Jack would not marry Sophie Williams as the books told us that he did, nor would their 3 children be born-  and many things in his life would alter. Once one reality is disturbed then unseen consequences occur and, like a dreadful domino effect, the world as we know it ceases to be. She could not be responsible for that!

With a nod of something approaching understanding, Stephen stood up and gathered up his outer wear again. "I shall safeguard your secret and wish you and Jack joy of your time together. How soon must you depart?"

"I shall stay until he sails."

"A mere few days then. Make the most of this time, my dear. Live a lifetime until then!" 

With that wish for them both, Stephen Maturin withdrew and left the lovers alone.

Jack was sprawled out on the bed, leafing through a book of poetry Sophie had placed by the bed side. He looked up, his face rather serious and pensive as she entered the room and then he smiled.

"John Donne...a very wordy fellow, if I may say so...but some fine words here, I must avow....like these...

Stay, O sweet, and do not rise!
The light that shines comes from thine eyes;
The day breaks not: it is my heart,
Because that you and I must part.
Stay! Or else my joys will die
And perish in their infancy...

"Oh, Jack!" Sophie sighed as she slipped out of her dress and joined him on the bed to straddle his hips and pull at his shirt. He lay there as compliant as a child, deep in thought while she tended to him. Suddenly, he spoke again as she began to tackle the fastenings of his breeches.

"Stay! Or else my joys will die...Sophie, you cannot leave me, all is different now. I am a free man, you a free woman. We have found love. Stay! My fortunes will change, I promise, and I will make my way in the world. Things may be a little difficult at first, scrimping and saving- perhaps my father can be persuaded to lend some financial aid...stay, and you will not regret it...I love you...be my wife, Sophie. It makes me so very low to think that men may regard you as a woman of dubious reputation for your relationship with me. Why, even my friend Stephen thought the worst- and he is the most tolerant of men. The rest of the world will pillory you for behaviour..."

Sophie sat stock still as he made his declaration. Jack had sat up and was holding her by her upper arms, pleading with her to give him the answer he wanted. The answer she could never give him. "Jack...I don't know what to say...we have only known each other a few days..."

"What care I for that!" Jack erupted and then smiled broadly. "I have known women all my life and never has any other made even one jot of such impaction on my heart save you. It makes no matter if I know you one day or a whole lifetime- even a fool such as I can see the difference! Marry me! Be the mother of my little ones! Let us build a life together and I swear I will make you proud of me and give you the future that you deserve!"

"Proud of you? How could I be more proud than I am? Oh, Jack! Would that I could say yes, for it is the answer that my heart gives! But I cannot. I simply cannot. It is not possible for us, Jack. I have to leave. There is the matter of my other life..."

He stroked back her hair and watched as a tear spilled out from her lashes to trickle down her cheek- he brushed it away with his thumb. "Leave? Let me come with you and I will speak to your father or whoever is your guardian...I will make them see..."

"NO! You cannot do that! You cannot!"

"Why, pray tell? Why is it not permissible? The time for secrets is past- what are you hiding, Sophie? What is this other life you have that is so demanding of you that it must needs tear us apart?" Jack was becoming angry, helplessness and frustration souring his mood and his fuse burning dangerously close to the powder. Sophie could see his thoughts turning in his brain as he tried to work out an answer for himself. "Do you fear you are too lowborn for me...that has no meaning for me...I would take you whoever you were..."

"No, it is not that I am lowborn," she muttered dully.

"Then...perchance the alternative- are you high born? Your father is some Lord or Duke and you fear his reprisal?"

She shook her head. "My parents are dead. They were not 'highborn' as you say..."

"THEN WHAT?" Jack roared and shook her slightly. "What is the objection? I offer you marriage and you are alone in the world...." Jack stopped and his hands dropped from her arms. He pulled away and swallowed, a glimmer of understanding passing over his face as he rubbed his hand across his mouth. "...you already have a husband? You are a wife...that is why you are not free? Is that what you hide from me?"

It was not true - but it was easier for him to believe this. He would let her go and accept that he had no right nor would he nurture a secret hope that things might change. As brutal as the lie was, it was better than the alternative and it was something he would understand. He had fallen in love with a married woman and had no future with her. Sophie looked down and let his error ride.

Jack took a few deep breaths to control his temper which was threatening to break forth. He pushed her from him and left the bed, dressing slowly and with determination as if the donning of his outer wear and the insignia of his office would create the barrier he needed to chain up his feelings. Sophie reached out for him but he shrugged her hand away and continued to button and tie and right himself.

"Please, Jack! Not like this! Do not simply walk away like this! I did not wish to hurt you. You are leaving, too, and I thought we could have this time together just for ourselves and then...I am not free, Jack, I am not free- but I would give everything in the world to be able to stay and be your wife. Please, believe me when I say that!"

He stopped, his back towards her and she watched as his shoulders rose and fell with every deep breath he took to compose himself. She felt his pain and the inability he had to express himself, wishing she could take it for him and hold him to her breasts forever. It was only at that moment that she understood quite how hopelessly she had fallen for this man.

Jack turned and gave her his stern face, his lips set in that tight pout that spoke of both stubbornness and courage. But he stepped back towards the bed and held out his hand and into his arms she tumbled. They embraced wordlessly as he sank his head into her neck and tightened his hold on her body as if he could keep her there forever. "Then this is all...there is no hope for us?" he whispered. Sophie did not answer. "Then let us make memories for a lifetime," he whispered as she helped him off with his hastily donned clothes and he returned again to the bed.

This time there was no hurry; this time they loved each other slowly taking time to worship the other's body that they adored so much. Raining kisses down on every part of each other, hands wandering and caressing, scars kissed and fondled, pleasure overlain with pain and sorrow, all the more exquisite for the knowledge that it would soon be taken from them. There was no haste, no lusty desire to consummate, just to touch and taste and savour that which would soon no longer be theirs.

When finally Jack fell upon her and she parted for him to ease inside, it was a slow and tender love, he rocking gently but purposefully holding himself above her on his powerful arms, his chest heaving with effort and passion, his hair falling down on to her breast as he dipped his head to kiss her. Rocking deep within her, they sighed- he low, she making tiny cries as he drove himself to her womb and exploded in a sweet warm burst of love. And then he died the little death and lay curled up in her arms to sleep as soundly as a baby, albeit one given to rather stentorian slumber (a hefty kick seemed to work temporarily, Sophie had discovered.)

But Sophie could not sleep. Instead she watched Jack lying on his side, wrapped round her, his eyelids flickering and his face surprisingly childlike in the relaxation of slumber. She pulled back the sheet and saw his body, the powerful frame, the manly hair, muscular fleshy and strong- and how his arm flopped on his leg and the innocent curl of his thick cock against the white linen sheet. Somehow the sight of him so displayed almost broke her heart- and she tossed and turned until it was near daybreak, before she fell into a fitful sleep peopled by nightmarish fears and half glimpsed terrors.

Jack awoke early as he always did, well before dawn. He had to be up and about, concerned for standards among the men now that sailing was imminent and keen to get them whipped into the slick crew he required for such an enterprise. Sophie was deeply asleep, her hair a glorious curtain around her face, the gentle fall and rise of her breasts as she breathed stirring his ardour. But he pulled the sheet around her to keep her warm and dressed quietly.

"Jack?" Sophie raised herself with a start as he was almost ready to leave. He sat down on the bed and laid her back. "Sleep- it is not yet light!" And he bent down and paced a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"I cannot sleep now...come back to bed! Love me again...it is early!"

"Damnation, woman, my breeches have been up and down like a sail on a mast this night past! I cannot tarry longer; my duty awaits." He stood and tied back his hair with the ribbon  Sophie herself had bought for him. "I shall be back tonight- but it may be late. No need for supper this evening-  other than for you as my favourite dessert!" Jack grinned softly and turned to go.

Sophie scrambled up. "Why? Why late?" She held the sheet against her nakedness.

Jack sighed and came back to sit by her. "I have an invitation to dine at Foxdene- Mrs. Williams requests my company. Damn, if I didn't forget to tell you yesterday with everything that occurred- I think she has had wind of a change in my fortunes. Her husband's second cousin's brother-in-law handles my legal affairs...it appears fresh evidence has cast doubt on the claim that my prizes were not eligible...I think I have suddenly been redeemed in her eyes... But not to worry I shall dine and make my excuses. I will not be overly late." He took her hand and kissed it prettily and then hurried out.

Sophie sat a moment and thought. Jack would get his prizes and his own ship Surprise. Mrs. Williams would consent to his suit for Sophie. She had read this all in the book Post Captain. It was too late, the future was set in motion and she had to make sure that fate took its turn. Jack and Sophie would marry and have three children and live at Ashgrove, happily enough for all their many changes of fortune.

Dashing from the bed and wrapping a gown around her against the early chill, Sophie ran to the window as Jack came out onto the street. She looked upon him for the last time as he set off, his shoulders squared and his step lively as befits a virile man at the height of his powers, especially one who has spent the night loving his mistress well. Sophie ran her hand down his form as it appeared in the thick glass of her pane as if in a last farewell- and as she did he turned and looked up at her chamber. Their eyes met and he smiled, placed a hand on his heart and gave a gentle bow. Then he turned on his heel and was gone.

She knew that moment that it was time. She had dallied far too long and now she must make the break. Her own life awaited her.

Later that night, after fielding many attempts by Mrs. Williams to fish for details of his expected income and to accept the many compliments that the old harridan poured forth on him as Sophie smiled sweetly and gave him meaningful glances across the table, he made an excuse of his imminent voyage and rambled on about bowsprits than required a regular eye and other nonsensical naval doings- and departed. Riding across country, he reached Cadogan Gardens well after a gentleman would normally consider it suitable to visit a lady but gained admittance and ran up the stairs eagerly to the first floor. The room was lit but Sophie was not about. On the table was a large white card and before it a box, wrapped with a red ribbon. The card said one word: JACK.

There was no message, so he lifted up the box and opened it as carefully as his large rough hands would permit. Inside, nestled on a bed of blue velvet was a fob watch and inside was the inscription:

He knew the second that he read it what it meant. She had gone and left this timepiece as a memory. Each time he checked the hour, he would see her name - as if she wouldn't have stayed in his mind for evermore without it. Sinking to a chair and resting his head in his hand, he fought for mastery of himself. But he could not prevent the tears from running down his cheeks at the certain knowledge that he would never see her again.

It was easier than she had expected to find her way back. All she did was stand by the wall where she had fainted on George Street and then feel along the stone until... she was whisked at great speed, rather like a very fast elevator, and found herself back in the old curiosity shop.

"That was a near thing!" The old man said as he pulled her away from the heavy box that crashed to the floor beside her. "I do beg your pardon, my dear, but I'm not as agile as I used to be, I'm afraid. No harm done, eh? Will you wanting the watch as well as the dress, m'dearie?"

Sophie placed a hand to her head as she fought against the nausea and the bewildering sensation of being back a second later when three weeks had passed for her. She nodded brusquely and went back to change out of the dress, paid the old proprietor and then made her way groggily back to the car park where her car was still there, engine hardly cold.

She drove back to London, windscreen wipers on full against the now- driving rain. Or was it the tears?

Back to normal. Work next day and deep in final preparations for the film. Everything a mad rush, working late into the night to complete the intricate costumes. In some ways that helped for Sophie had little time to think and crawled into bed each night exhausted and drained anyway. But, on the other hand, it wasn't easy. Imagine sewing finishing touches to a captain's regalia that you had once lovingly stripped off the man you love? Sophie seemed to have a permanent sob forced down into her throat that made her ache with sadness and emptiness.

She thought about her life. I mean- was it that great? To live in a tacky bedsit above a shop in Golders Green, still struggling to get enough money even to think of a mortgage, never mind attain one; no bloke, just a whole load of fuck buddies who were frankly little more than using her for free. Her parents were dead, she had some good friends-but they had their own lives, and many were now married with children; they never got together much. She worked in a competitive business on contracts- after this film she had nothing lined up and hardly anything in the bank. Some future.

So the modern world was cleaner and she had better medical care and TV and films and....then she looked at the streets near her home: filthy, piles of junk, used condoms and needles down alleyways, beer bottles, fag ends, trays from takeaways, dog dirt, pools of urine where drunks had peed against a wall the night before...yeah, a really hygienic place to live. Sitting before her TV with a dinner in a box from the supermarket, watching reality TV, game shows, crass dramas, the awful truth of world news and the horrors of life for many people, Sophie began to wish for that simpler time when people had sureties and, even if life was short and death ever-present, you sort of knew what to expect all the time. Not this shifting, ever-driving forward world where nothing seemed to be accepted as impolite or insulting- do what you like and to hell with everyone else.

She spent a lot of time lying around, depressing herself with equally suicidal music- all the oldies but goodies - even Leonard Cohen got an outing. But the one she played most of all was a song by Dido 'See the Sun.'

I'm comin' 'round to open the blinds 
You can't hide here any longer 
My God, you need to rinse those puffy eyes 
You can't last here any longer 
And yes they'll ask you where you've been 
And you'll have to tell them again and again 
And you probably don't want to hear tomorrow's another day 
Well I promise you you'll see the sun again 
And you're asking me why pain's the only way to happiness 
And I promise you you'll see the sun again 
Come on take my hand 
We're going for a walk, I know you can 
You can wear anything as long as it's not black 
Please don't mourn forever 
He's not coming back 
And yes, they'll ask you where you've been 
And you'll have to tell them again and again  
Do you remember telling me you found the sweetest thing of all 
You said -one day- this alone was worth dying for 
So be thankful you knew him at all 
But it's no more 
And you probably don't want to hear tomorrow's another day 
Well I promise you you'll see the sun again 
And you're asking me why pain's the only way to happiness 
And I promise you you'll see the sun again 
See the sun again
See the sun again
See the sun again
See the sun again...

But no matter how many times she heard it, she wasn't convinced - even when the sun shone, she didn't think it felt like sun any more. To think, her Jack was dead a century and a half and had long mouldered in his grave- that vibrant man who stopped a room when he entered- how could she face a world where he was nothing but dust?

She spent her nights in bed, reading voraciously from the books of Patrick O'Brian so that she could at least comfort herself in the knowledge that she had enabled fate to take its course and the story of Jack as it has been intended would not be changed. And she smiled and cried over the many misfortunes and victories of her former lover and felt even more sad that his marriage, although happy enough, never brought him the physical passion that was so part of his nature.

One day at the workroom, she was leafing through information about the cast members whose costumes she had been working on. Each detailed set of measurements and requirements came with a picture and, as she flicked through, she became increasingly alarmed. Every cast member was a man she had met in her strange episode in the past. From Jack himself, down even to young lads like Calamy (older in these pictures, even if he was clearly the same boy) the actual actors chosen were the modern reincarnations of the crew of the Surprise. But how could that be? Jack Aubrey in the books was taller than anyone else- Russell Crowe certainly wasn't - nor was he anywhere near as portly or ruddy faced enough. Paul Bettany was tall and fair skinned, quite good looking as had been Dr. Maturin in her fantasy - nothing like the small, skinny swarthy doctor of the novels. So many differences in casting- but that wasn't unusual- a film was not the exact replica, no matter how faithful the rendering was and it was more crucial to find actors who could inhabit the roles than merely copy the look.

But what was bugging Sophie was this thought- had she been back in the book or in the film before it opened- three years prior, in fact to the story of the film? Where on earth had she been? She told herself that it had been illusion and that she had somehow had some mental aberration-  but the images were too real; she could not imagine what mind altering state would be required to render her that insensible. All she knew was fantasy, hallucination - whatever- she loved a man she had met in a dream and didn't imagine she could ever replace him in real life. What a devastating thought!

The final day and, after a night spent working round the clock, they were ready; Sophie was busy parceling up the final pieces before they were to be air-flown to New Mexico for final fittings. Some of the team got to go and work on the alterations and repairs throughout the film but she wasn't one of them. Her job was far too lowly for the glamour end of the business.

Toby from the Art crew ran in just then as she was sealing up some boxes. "Hey, Soph, be a darlin' and slip these in, will ya? We forgot them and heads will roll if they are late." He handed her an envelope with a letter (several copies of it, written on a fine parchment with an elegant hand. It began:

"It's a letter," Toby remarked, rather unnecessarily. "The captain to his lady...they need to show he's not gay...no women in this film, as we know!" Toby trilled gaily. Sophie had to smile inwardly. No, Jack was certainly not gay! There was also an accompanying  box which she opened. Inside were two miniatures of a pretty dark haired woman. "Who's this?' she asked, without giving them much attention.

"His wife, Sophie. He takes the miniature out when he is writing to her...very romantic, hey?"

Sophie's heart missed a beat and for a second she thought she would faint. "But...Sophie is a blonde...a rather insipid blonde...I mean, I read it in the books..."

"Shit! Hope no one notices...we didn't know that. Actually it's you...remember the Christmas party? There was a snap of you on the notice board and Sam copied it for this- he fancies you, ya know?"

Toby rambled on and seemed not to notice that Sophie had paled and was gripping the table to steady herself. Could it be? Could it really be? She hadn't been somehow trapped in a novel! She had been trapped in a film or rather in the prequel to a film! Every actor selected had been their own character and...she had been the Sophie of the film! Sam had made it so when he had drawn her image-  and just as the film would alter some of Jack's story then ...she was meant to be in it. He never married Sophie Williams in the film. He married her. She was his wife and by leaving she had altered his fate after all. 'Oh my God! I had it all wrong. I was sent to make it right not the other way around!'

"Why are there two of these miniatures?" Sophie screeched, shocking Toby.

He shrugged. "We always make a spare...." But she was gone, grabbing up her handbag and coat and racing out of the office to her car. One quick trip to her home to retrieve her dress and she was off, without a plan in her head, back to Portsmouth.

"Can I get back? He will have sailed? Will he have asked Sophie Williams? What will I do if it is too late?" But despite her quandary, she drove steadily south west and fixed her concentration on getting there.

Outside the little shop, some hours later, she saw to her dismay that the sign said "Closed down." Regardless she pushed on the door and it opened. Dust cloths covered everything and there was a sad feel to the place as if it had been lying derelict for a very long time- and the thick layer of dust seemed to suggest it had. But she had been there only two weeks' ago!

Browsing around, she wondered what she did next. Slipping behind the screen, she dressed in her period costume and then emerged. "Well, you look a pretty picture and there's no mistake, dearie!" With a start, she saw the old man again, standing before her.

"Oh! I'm sorry...I saw your sign but I just had to come in..."

"This shop is always open for you, my dear..." he replied cryptically.

"Oh! Really? Why?" Sophie asked, curious now.

"Because you are one of them."

"One of them?"

"You have the gift. It is given to very few," he answered as if what she had asked was as normal as saying she could read or write.

"The gift?"

But he merely smiled and patted her hand. "You wish to go back?"

He knew! Sophie suddenly stopped trying to work it out and simply said "Yes."

"Do you understand what you are doing? You only have two chances. This time it is irreversible. You cannot return. Is he still waiting for you? Are you sure? Did he accept his fate and ask for the other woman's hand?" He knew! "Even so- how will you live in the months and years he is away? What of the disease and all the problems of life at the time that will be distasteful to you? Think hard on it before you make this choice..."

Sophie thought for all of a few seconds. "It makes no difference. I cannot stay here without him - and it is my destiny to go. Please...let me go..."

Her choice.

Sophie breathed and there she was, standing on the dock at Portsmouth in the far off past. She took another breath and ran madly across the moorings. "The Vincenjo?"  she asked of all the seamen lounging by their jolly boats. Some shrugged, others pointed along the quayside. The she saw it. It was Bonden who caught her eye, loading a chest into a boat, passing it down to another sailor. She shouted, "Mr. Bonden, sir- stop!" And he turned to look at the source of the voice.

It seemed that then the whole place froze- or at least in Sophie's awareness it did, for she simply did not see the rest of the world as it faded away. Striding along towards the boat in her direction was Jack with some official papers in his hand, accompanied by some port authority figure. Jack was fingering the fob watch in his hand absentmindedly as he talked.

He was almost about to jump down into the boat when he saw her too.

"Sophie?" he stood, staring at her in shock

Sophie ran, insensitive to what she must have looked like, hitching up her skirts and haring along a harbour to throw herself into the arms of Captain Jack Aubrey. There was much merriment on all sides but the lovers did not see anything but each other.

"You came back?"

"I came back."

"Your husband?"

"There was no husband."

"But you said..."

"...No, you said..."

"I don't understand..."

"It is better that way. Jack, I came to give you your answer, if your offer is still open to me..."

Jack stopped, stunned, held her at arms' length and looked deep into her eyes. "Will you wait for me? I have to catch this tide. Marry me when I return?" Sophie began to cry. Large tears spilled from her eyes and relief washed over her. She nodded and managed to say. "Yes!" before she flung herself against his chest and simply wept for joy.

Jack realised his predicament, proposing dockside in front of half of his men and a whole wharf of onlookers, some of who were already cheering, others giving him some rather salacious advice to consummate the betrothal forthwith. Jack gave a thunderous look at them all and the amusement quickly subsided. "Sophie...my sweet Sophie...I cannot stay...the tide waits for no man...I expect to be away perhaps six weeks or so... a short trip..."

"I will go back to Mrs. Trumpton's..."she mumbled, her hands running across his chest unable to resist the feel of him before her.

"Have you money?" Jack asked, rooting in his pockets.

"No...but I can't take from you...!"

"Why ever not ...?I am your affianced now. Your welfare depends upon me. Wait...Bonden...the chest!" He reached down and hauled back his sea chest, opening it to remove a small bag of coins and slipping it into her hand. "It is not much but there is more to come. Don't remunerate the old woman in full...just give her a down payment and use the rest as you need it; I shall settle the bill when I return. If you need a friend -see Diana Villiers. She knows about us and is...sympathetic...I must go, Sophie, my dear love, but I shall be back...I promise...and a June wedding! Now don't say that won't be fun?"

He dipped down and kissed her tenderly on the lips; there was a buzz of appreciation from the men. Jack immediately turned back to them and scowled" That's enough of that, you scurvy dogs! Look lively and get this boat around...the entertainment is over!"

He released Sophie, replaced his hat, securing his hair neatly and gave Sophie a wink and a beaming grin. Then he jumped down to the waiting launch and raised his hand in farewell. "Take care, my sweet. I will not be long."

As the men began to pull at the oars, Sophie remembered something- "Jack! Wait! Catch!" - and she snatched the miniature portrait from her pocket and threw into his hands. He caught it deftly and smiled at the sight, clenching it in his palm and pressing it against his heart as the boat pulled away.

Sophie watched until the boat made the distant ship and Jack had climbed board with his men, immediately setting them to feverish activity; the ship was ready to sail and the Blue Peter hoisted. He lost not a minute and was soon away but long he stood above his quarter deck, foot up on a spar, while she remained on the spot until there was nothing left for them to gaze upon - but they still gazed some more.

Finally as the sun began to set, Jack jumped back to the deck and rubbed his hands together as he ran down to his cabin. "Stephen, Stephen light along there! Come dine with me! I have an urge to play tonight. Something wistful and full of emotion....what do you recommend, brother...?"