Sophie raised her head from the letter and paused for a moment to imagine Jack sitting in his cabin writing this and wondering what had really been in his mind as he had penned the warm but formal missive. Like all people of this time she had chosen to call her own, he scrupulously kept to the conventions of polite society even with his wife - perhaps especially with his own wife. It seemed to Sophie that the more emotional connection a man like Jack felt, the deeper he kept that in his heart and the more rigorously correct he was in his public manner towards her. It was hard to imagine this was the man who would love her on a tide of passion quite beyond anything she had ever known, this earthy and sensual man, who enjoyed a very healthy lust for the pleasures of the flesh - and all the other pleasures of life as well.

She analysed the comments in his letter, endeavouring to read between his lines, dwelling on each one tenderly.

... Another day on our chase southward and another page in this long letter to you. God-willing when we re-victual off  Cape St. Augustin  we shall find at anchor a fine British  or Portuguese merchantman who will bring this (and all my love) back home to you --------.

This was one of a stack of letters that he had entrusted to such a carrier, the last of a series of journal-like entries, each numbered painstakingly and written in his impatient but flowing hand. It had been written on a Tuesday, in his cabin five months ago, over three months after he had left her, one early February morning, hoping to reach the Americas at the beginning of spring and make the most of the months of summer and autumn. Sophie had a little knowledge of his orders and knew from the earlier letters that he had been instructed to keep a watch out for French warships, especially the Acheron. There had been a confrontation and in one of the earlier numbered letters Jack had referred to the very ship having: 'given us a bloody nose', a typical Jack euphemism for what she imagined meant serious damage and a high casualty list.

He must have doggedly chased this ship, looking for an opportunity to get his revenge. It was so like Jack to dig in and refuse to accept defeat. Sophie wondered just how wise his actions had been. Were these mildly worded lines concealing something more serious? Had Jack exceeded his orders? Would he be in trouble with the Admiralty on his return?

He had sent her all his love. Those little words hid so much. He would confide in her when he did return exactly what they meant just as he had so often before. Night after lonely night, lying on his cot, staring into space and dreaming of her touch, he would have had plenty of time to define what 'all his love' meant. Longing to touch her and hold her hand, walk in his own fields, eat at his own table as she chattered on about this and that, sleep in his own bed wrapped around her nakedness. All his love. His body, his mind and his heart. Everything he possessed. The sacrifices he made for their future. That's what he meant by 'all his love'. She knew this because he had told her already, whispering the words to her in the deep of too many last nights before his duty had torn them apart again. She smiled at the secret code that lay locked in his elegant prose. He meant her to think of that declaration. He knew she would remember that moment when he had taken her hand and kissed it, drawing it across his body sensually....

'I give you all my love. All my love, Sophie. From my hands that will toil for you.....to my head....' and he had rested her small palm on his forehead. '....From my heart...' and he had pressed her hand against his strong chest until she could hear the steady beat of his great heart. '....With all my body...' And he had trailed her willing hand down the soft cushion of his belly, through the curly dark blonde thatch of his hair to encircle his cock, hard again even after their recent lovemaking. 'Everything I have. The sacrifices we must make. Remember this, Sophie. All my love. For all time. Only you..."

She smiled and let her own hand trail down in a similar path, her head, her lips, her heart....and then coming to rest on her belly. She sighed and carried on reading.

...Stephen is in fine form, even managing to save old Joe Plaice with a damnably clever hole drilled in his skull...

Dear Stephen! Sophie shivered at the thought of the surgery Jack was so glibly describing, imagining it without any anaesthetic but rum to numb the pain. It made her suddenly feel afraid at her own coming trial. What if there was a problem? Would she have to bite on a strip of cloth while some butcher cut her belly open? Even the thought of delivery without any pain relief was bad enough, never mind no antibiotics, little equipment, sterile conditions and all the other trappings that went with a twenty first century birth. She wished Stephen were here. Whatever had to be done, she would feel safer with his attentions, knowing that, of all doctors of his day, you could not be in better hands than his. But he, like Jack, was far away and had no idea of her plight.

...I dread meeting Lady Blakeney on my return for reasons you have already read. Perhaps you could visit her as she will have received a letter in the same package...

That would be referring to the young boy, the little mid who had lost his arm; an earlier letter in the package had informed her of that tragic occurrence during the battle with the French ship. She recalled a little boy, a pretty curly haired blond child; she had seen him at Portsmouth as they all took their formal leave. Sophie imagined the child inside her and protectively stroked her swollen belly. If he were a boy, would Jack insist on sending him to sea at eight as he had gone himself? Would she one day be receiving a letter from some captain with such dreadful news about their child?

She made a mental note to go and visit lady Blakeney the following day and give her Jack's more personal apologies. It would not be an easy visit but she knew the woman would face it with the fortitude of the age and pride in her son's sacrifice for his country. Sophie would not shirk her part in her responsibility to support her husband either, no matter how difficult the circumstances.  She was absorbing, bit by bit, the etiquette required of women of her class who were not just wives and mothers but also important figures in the local community, representing their husbands, giving charity and relief to the poor and supporting the other women whose men folk were, like hers, caught up in the wars between England and France.

.... I have disciplined a senior midshipman, William Hollom, who defies my utmost efforts. I took him out of pity at Gibraltar but he remains beyond the reach of any instruction. You encounter such in the service; men who have found their way to sea when they should have been otherwise employed...

Sophie knew this hid a multitude of concern. Jack was a natural leader of men but he had a soft heart and was not one to enjoy the necessary discipline he had to give out, although he would never shrink from it. He would dwell on such incidents as these, wonder if it was some failing of his that the man had not become the sailor he should have been. Jack would never even have mentioned the matter had it not been plaguing him, amidst all his other worries. Her heart went out to her dear man, alone and under stress, with no one to confide in or to share his lonely burden of command. Even Stephen aboard was another officer and a distance had to be maintained between them, especially in the dispensation of authority. That he had needed to almost think aloud in his letter to her spoke volumes of his anxious state of mind and suggested that he expected further consequences from this sorry business still to come.

Luck has been with for us these past few days. Yesterday twelve knots ... 

If luck had been with them for a few days, it suggested that it had not been for the rest of the voyage. Beneath such comments, Sophie read the worst. The rest of the letter continued with Jack lapsing into details of the sailing, things he knew she hardly understood but that seemed to comfort him to tell her. More and more, she had the illusion that his letters were the literary equivalent of him lying in bed with her wrapped in his arms when he just rambled on and she dozed, happy to hear his voice and feel his strong body in her arms. In his head, that was the essence of his need to write this way.

Stopping and resting the letter down on her escritoire, smoothing the sheet with her hand fondly, she stood up awkwardly, her back aching, her belly heavy and uncomfortable. The baby was moving, kicking hard. The child was big now and there was not enough room for him to twirl and somersault anymore; all he could do was kick and punch outwards as if beginning to realize that there was a world out there and he was missing out on something.

Sophie straightened and rubbed her back before pushing a strand of hair off her face. Jack did not even know she was pregnant and it looked more and more likely that she would deliver well before he returned. She sighed and tried not to wallow in her disappointment. It had not been easy alone through the tedious months of her pregnancy, through a glorious summer when she had longed to have Jack by her side to wander the meadows and lie together in the hot afternoons or make love throughout the long warm nights. How proud he would be if he knew he was to be a father! It still seemed almost incomprehensible to her that a man and woman could not communicate such personal news like that they were expecting a child; this to her was the worst of all the disadvantages of his time.

Of course, she had written to him with her announcement as soon as she had been sure that the pregnancy was sound - but she was unsure if he had received her mail. His letters to her had not made it home as speedily as he had hoped, so it was likely hers to him might have gone astray. This merchantman had been lingering at Valparaiso after running aground in a storm and the precious package of letters had never left the Americas until Jack himself had retrieved them months later and resent them, this time with Thomas Pullings when he had brought in the Acheron, the victorious prize that would bag Jack a large fortune and also hopefully exonerate him from any charges of overstepping his orders. God knew where her own mails had ended up but no one had anticipated his route, so it was unlikely he would receive them much before he was almost home.

At least she knew the end of the story even before she read the letters - that was some consolation. Tom had assured her that Jack was as fit as a flea and eager to head for home himself when they had parted. The final battle had been hard fought and they had lost many good men - including poor Calamy - but that they had won a famous victory against vastly superior forces and Jack's reputation would be high on the strength of this; he would have his pick of commissions from now on.

Taking a break, saving the rest of his mail for later, Sophie walked over to the hearth where Tom was sitting politely, sipping tea and reading the newspaper. He had told her to go and read Jack's letters and not mind him, he would be more than grateful for a cup of tea and a slice of Mrs. Aubrey's excellent fruit cake.

Tom Pullings glanced up at the pretty lady who was staring out of the window, clutching the letter in her slender fingers. Sophie Aubrey was a beautiful woman, even now late in her confinement, at a time when few women managed to look their best. She was tall and slender, with fine clear skin and perfect features, excellent pearly white teeth and thick chestnut hair. He thought her the picture of ruddy good health, always fragrant and immaculately groomed, quick to smile and with a lively spirit in her sparkling eyes. She was, of course, completely devoted to Captain Aubrey and had the highest of unsullied reputations, but Tom found her unusually open and confident in her way of presenting herself, compared to most women of her class. He couldn't quite put his finger on what was so unique about her but he knew it was so.

This lovely woman had changed Jack Aubrey's life, there was no doubt about that. Tom Pullings had known Jack almost all his life, ever since he himself had gone to see as a small boy and Jack had been the second lieutenant on his ship, a handsome, blond giant with a devilish charm and a jovial manner. Tom had been in awe of him at first but the young man had taken the shy young reefer under his wing and been like an older brother to him.

Everything he knew he owed to Jack Aubrey - he had taught him his seamanship, guided him through his first experiences of warfare and inducted the diffident young officer into the delights of the bordello during many a drunken night ashore. Tom Pullings was not a natural womanizer - unlike the captain who had a formidable appetite for most things, a buxom wench being high on the list of preferred tastes. But nor was he a man without an eye for the fairer sex and he, too, had his needs. Chastity among sailors was a very rare commodity and marriage vows were often regarded as fairly optional once a man left his home shores. No one had ever expected Jack Aubrey to be a faithful husband, even if he had clearly fallen head over heels for the mysterious Miss Smithers, a lady who had quite literally fallen into his arms one day.

But to the surprise of all, since his marriage, Jack had lived as chastely as a maiden, refraining from intercourse with doxies, politely turning down the offers from government wives in the ports where they stopped, taking no advantages with the willing native girls who were so free with their delectable brown bodies. Tom had often observed the look on Jack's face when temptation had struck - the man still had the urges of his virility, no doubt - but each time opportunity presented itself, these days he merely gave a dreamy look on the tasty morsel that had caught his eye, smiled softly, perhaps turning back for a second look to fuel his fantasies, but always moved on and forced himself to think of something else. Not once since his marriage, over three years ago, had anyone observed him fall from grace.

Sophie Aubrey must be a singular woman to keep a man like the captain faithful.

Jack carried a cameo of his wife - it did not do her justice, Tom believed, compared to her living beauty - and Tom had often observed it resting on the captain's desk, on the table at supper, lying amidst his mathematical instruments as he plotted their course and even carried in his top pocket, occasionally taking it out when he believed himself alone on the quarter deck to gaze forlornly upon her face. The men spoke of Mrs. Aubrey in hushed tones as if she were an angel. What kind of woman did it take to reduce Aubrey to such a lovesick loon?

Just then the lady herself stood up - with some difficulty he noted realising how close her time must be - and stretched back. She was wearing a smock-like top over a simple full skirt, the clothes of a humble country woman but still managed to look like a high born lady. As far as he knew, her husband had no idea he was about to become a father, unless he had received a packet of mail from his wife since they had parted company two months ago. But after Jack had run the Acheron down for a second time and hauled off the so-called ship's doctor who had turned out to be the French captain himself in disguise, Pullings did not imagine that Jack would have delayed much longer than was necessary to compete the necessary handover of prisoners and effect repairs before sailing by the swiftest route home. Not with the luscious prospect of leave with his wife, a possible decoration for bravery in the face of insuperable odds and the awarding of the sizeable prize his endeavours had won for them all.

Sophie Aubrey walked slowly over to where he was sitting and he sprang to attention. "Madam!"

"Sit back down, Tom! Don't stand on ceremony with me!" She took a seat across from him and he settled down while she refilled their tea cups. "What happened to your poor face?"

She indicated the ugly scar, a legacy from their first awful meeting with the Acheron. He touched it almost as if he had forgotten its existence. "I was blown off my feet by a cannonball. It missed me. Others were not so fortunate, ma'am," he dismissed the incident lightly. It was little compared to what he could have suffered.

"Was Jack injured, too? You can be honest with me, Mr. Pullings. I would rather be forewarned..."

"...No, ma'am. This time he was spared, apart from minor scratches and a slight gash from a cutlass in the final battle. Nothing that gave him any real pause. He is a remarkably brave man, Mrs. Aubrey..."

Sophie smiled with a soft fondness stealing over her pretty eyes. "They say, where there's no sense there's no feeling!" But he knew her comment was not meant as anything other than a gentle tease. "I would wish for a husband somewhat less brave, sir. There is scarcely an inch of his entire body that is not covered with scars of former injuries!" And then she blushed, a most fetching pink that traveled from her white forehead down to the rise of her breasts, as she realised she had made reference to her knowledge of her husband's naked body. He found it entirely endearing, as well as oddly arousing. Some women insisted on their husband to be swathed in a night shirt, so he had been told, with the lights doused and intimacy only taking place under a heavy weight of sheets and blankets. Quite clearly Sophie Aubrey was not affected by such conventions of propriety.

"The doctor did suffer quite a grievous accident, you know?  We had to put in at the Galapagos islands ...." and he launched into a description of the incident with Sophie sitting listening, her eyes wide with shock, filling with tears when she learnt of the affect the imminent death of his best and truest friend had had on Jack, and the risk to his mission he had been prepared to take to save his life. She had shuddered at the story of Stephen operating on himself and yet had not been able to resist a giggle at the thought of her husband assisting.

"The captain acquitted himself with great presence of mind throughout, Mrs. Aubrey - although as he exited the tent after the successful completion of the surgery, his knees did go and a few of us had to rush forward to steady him..." They both laughed at the thought of that, both fully aware of Jack's distaste for blood, apart from in the thick of battle.

"But what of you, dear Pullings? Does this commission mean that you will soon be made post?" Sophie inquired.

Tom shrugged. "It is by no means certain, ma'am. It assuredly raises my name on the list and some of the reflected glory from the captain's victory will fall on all his officers. But I have to admit that I am still waiting a permanent position and may have to stand down again to First Lieutenant if nothing suitable comes my way. I am a poor man and without the necessary contacts..."

"There is no justice then!" Sophie exclaimed. "They waste their best talent and promote all the poppycock sons of lords!"

"It was ever thus," Tom sighed. "But I do have some good news, I hope. At least I now have the wherewithal to achieve my true ambition in life. There is a certain young lady who has give me some hope that I might succeed if I should press my case....before, my prospects were not good enough for me to consider marriage but with the large sum that I can expect from my portion of the prize...I do believe I might be able to persuade her to...."

"...Oh Tom! I am delighted. If she has any sense she will grab you before someone else does! The very, very best of luck to you both! You must invite the captain and me to the wedding! He will be so happy for the two of you!"

Sophie pulled herself from the chair, Tom rose to assist her. Waddling over to the cabinet, she took out a decanter of Madeira and poured two measures. "I shouldn't drink in my condition but this is a special day and I do believe at this stage there is little that can harm the baby...." Tom found her comment a little odd. Surely a woman in her delicate condition should regularly take a strong wine for her blood?

Sophie handed him his glass and touched hers against his. "To the future! To your forthcoming nuptials! To the return of the Surprise!"

"And to the safe arrival of the latest Aubrey..." Pullings added with a shy smile.

They toasted and sipped at the sweet fortified wine. "The captain will be overjoyed at your good fortune to be blessed with a child..." Tom said.

"Did he know? I wrote to him months ago but I fear our letters may have crossed..."

"He did not say. And, although he is always most discreet and would never presume to talk of his private matters....I have no doubt that such news, had he received it, would have been impossible for him to keep to himself. But it is likely that he will be handed the package of mail when he is nearing home. If he finds out, nothing will stop him from returning with all haste. I know he would do all he can..."

Sophie sighed. "I have no doubt. Dear Jack would move heaven and earth if he could. But I have to be realistic. The child is due in only three weeks and there is a distinct possibility that he is still on the far side of the world. Nevertheless you have done me a great service, Tom. We will both remember your kindness to us. You have set my mind at rest at this time. Jack is safe and on his way home. That is the best news I had hoped for by a long, long way."

Tom stood up and took his leave, aware that he must not presume too long on the lady's time. She was not in a fit state to receive callers and a protracted visit by a young man on a married woman whose husband was away might cause some gossip in the county. He would not do anything to damage her reputation for the world!

Sophie tried to beg him to stay for supper but he declined graciously, his parents were waiting for him and he could not let them down. Reluctantly she let him go, starved both of company and the opportunity to talk about Jack that Pullings' presence afforded her.

Sophie's position in the local community had improved since the early days of her marriage mostly due to Jack's reputation and growing fortune. She was now considered a woman of some substance and received regular invitations to dinners and balls in the country as well as was often called on by the other ladies of her social class. Diana also was a frequent guest at Ashgrove when she was down for the hunt and tried her best to ensure that Sophie Aubrey was not left languishing without Jack.

But at this time in a woman's pregnancy, it was deemed socially unacceptable for her to be seen in public and she was expected to retire to her home until well after being delivered of a child. Although Sophie now had a decent sized staff to aid her in the running of her home, and the place was now vastly renovated and much more comfortable, she could hardly call the servants and groundsmen companions. There was Mrs. Barnes, the cook and housekeeper, Hyacinth, the housemaid, Josiah Shawbucket, an ancient mariner who had sailed for years with Jack now with the role of some sort of butler and a host of assorted ex-seaman who had lost limbs or faculties of one sort or other who tended to the horses, the fields and all the other odd jobs required. They were so good to her and held the captain up as if her were a god among men.

Yet it was not the same as friends or family and she spent many of her hours alone in contemplation of what was to come and what she stood to lose if the god of war decided that Jack's life was part of the sacrifice required.

That night, alone in their big bed, she lay with the heavy curtains drawn back so that she could stare at the moon. Somewhere out on a vast endless sea, Jack would be on his watch staring up at the selfsame moon, and thinking of her as she was of him. Turning her head to the empty pillow beside her, she tried to picture him lying there fast asleep by her side. As well as she could, for it was difficult to move now, her child pressing heavily on her organs, she lay on her side and imagined curling up by him. He would put his hand on her belly and they would all be safe from harm.

'Come home soon, Jack, my love! We both need you so!' she whispered in the dark.

When Jack received the packet of mail, he raced (with rather less decorum than his usual stately stride) to the privacy of his cabin, tearing open the bundle and throwing aside anything which did not bear the mark of her hand. It took him a frustrating ten minutes or so while he sorted them into chronological order - he cursed at her apparent inability to number her letters as a man would do - and then he poured himself a glass of wine and settled back to revel in her voice.

It was on her third letter that he sat up rigidly at a small comment she had made...

...I continue to feel nauseous and spend a lot of time sleeping but I suspect it is not any cause for alarm. Please God my next mail will have confirmation of what I believe to be the cause of my condition. Bear with me, dear Jack, for I do not wish to raise your hopes again only to dash them - but I think this time, we may have achieved our joy....

He dropped the letter and stormed to the door, grabbing a passing reefer by the scruff of his neck. "Light along and fetch the doctor, boy....tell him it's a goddamn emergency..."

Stephen to his credit dropped everything - a rather decaying sea bird that he was dissecting in fact - and made his way promptly to the Great Cabin where Jack was pacing about nervously, reading a letter.

"AH! Stephen...just the man..."

"Are you ailing? You look as healthy as a horse..."

"Ailing. Why no, I am perfectly well. I need to consult you. Pray tell me, what are the first signs of pregnancy...?"

Stephen suppressed a smile. "The most noticeable is that it never occurs in men..."

Jack shot him a severe look. "This is no time for foolery. I was not referring to myself. I meant in women, of course. Sophie has mentioned something...here, let me read it to you...."

Jack repeated the phrase and Stephen listened. "....the rest is personal...well, what do you think? Could she be? Is there any likelihood of this suggesting to you that she is with child?"

There was a pause while Stephen chose his words. "I take it that coition has taken place? Without that, then there is absolutely no chance..."

"...Stephen! How can I answer that? A gentleman would never admit to such an act with his wife..."

Stephen laughed. "I rather think that ought to be the only one with whom he would admit it. But I have no doubts that nature has been taking its course between you and your lovely wife. Yes, Jack, I would say that the situation she describes is indicative of a woman with child. It could also be a woman with an attack of the gripe or worse. She may have eaten a bad sausage. Do I take it there are other letters in this series?" Stephen pointed out the leather wallet and the other mails spread out around it.

"Yes. I have not got past this one yet!" Jack muttered.

"Then I suggest that you read the next one and the one after. Surely if it is confirmation that you seek then it will lie there, not in my speculations..."

His advice came as a shock to Jack who had been so entirely wrapped up in the mail in his hand that he had quite forgotten about the others. Ripping them open, he scanned each one for some mention of the matter.

"Good God...listen to this...!"

Mrs. Mowbray, the midwife called on my request and I had to undergo a rather uncomfortable examination, but she assures me that I am indeed with child and everything is proceeding as it should....

"Good God! Good God! I am to be a father! After all this time! Three years of marriage and not a sign of anything before....!" Jack shook his head and smiled broadly.

"If I may say so, Jack, three years it might be since you took the lady to wife but by my reckoning you have spent less than three months with her all told. However, it appears you have done your duty to perfection here. I give you joy, sir! Well done and congratulations! To the new baby Aubrey! God grant him his mother's features and, I might also add, his mother's wits..." Stephen grinned at Jack who bellowed at his comment.

"...As long as he also has his father's balls then he will not go wanting, hey, Stephen? Nothing wrong with these..." and Jack cupped his groin crudely, swaggering at the proof of his virility. It always amused Stephen that men took on so when their ladies conceived. Any sane individual would realize that the real potency lay in the womb of the mother who carried the child while it grew and brought it to fruition. The donation of semen was something any Tom, Dick or Harry could do.

"Full speed ahead now, Stephen. I was already eager to return but now my anxiety has reached fever pitch. You think the child is born already? How long do they take?"

It was always a matter of surprise to him how dense Jack could be over matters that were not connected to the sea. "The general period is about nine months. You left in February last? Did she bleed before you parted?"

"Good God, Stephen. How do I know?" Jack spluttered, his face red with indignation.

"Who else but you would? Think, man!"

Jack frowned. "Why yes, I believe she did. A week or two before we sailed. I remember because we were staying the night with my father and I had a urge to...well, you know how he treats me like a young whippersnapper and he had been eying Sophie up all night - and made some comments about the fact we had not yet procreated and perhaps another member of the family might have more success...you know how damn crude he can be in his cups...."

"...Jack...you do not need to tell me the intimate details. So, I take it you had a Venusian urge and your wife informed you that it was not appropriate at that time?"

"Something of that nature..." Jack replied and turned his face away. No such thing had happened. Sophie had merely asked him to take her up against the wall of the dressing room for fear that they might stain the bed sheets. He was not about to admit that intimate detail to Stephen, good friend or no.

"Which would then put the date of conception sometime around the last few nights before you left...." Stephen made a quick calculation. "She is on the last month now. Make haste and you may well reach home in time for the blessed event."

"Really? How is that proof? Perhaps she bled again after I left?"

Stephen shook his head. "Then someone else fathered it, you wooden head. Have you no logical intelligence?"

"Ah...just so! Damned complicated things the working of the female anatomy. Then that is settled. I shall go and inform Mr. Holler that we are to raise our speed by every method possible. Pocket handkerchiefs if necessary, sir!"

And he dashed out of the door to see his sailing master. Stephen smiled and thought of dear Sophie. He hoped all was well. Jack had not yet given any thought to the realities of the childbed and he himself would have to retrain his enthusiasm somewhat later. It was by no means certain that all would go well. What might be their greatest joy might also be their most poignant tragedy.

A few days later, Sophie rose early after a night with almost no sleep. The child had been so disturbed that every position she took seemed only to make him more active. Sitting up in a nest of pillows, she had dozed off and on, but the demands of her sensitive bladder and the general discomfort gave her very little proper rest.

Entering the kitchen, she joined the servants who were taking their breakfast. They all rose as she came in but she shook her head, told them to continue with their meal and helped herself to a cup of tea.

"You look awful pale, Mrs. A," said Mrs. Barnes, her housekeeper.

"I slept badly."

"Won't be long now, Ma'am. Your belly's awful low. That's always a sign," the older woman assured her.

Sophie sighed. "I had hopes of the captain returning in time but I think it unlikely. And the way I feel now, I just wish it were over. If only he were here!"

"If'n he were here, he'd get the ball rolling soon enough and no mistake," muttered old Josiah from his seat by the fire.

"Shut your filthy mouth, you old sea dog," Mrs.Barnes retorted and cuffed the head of young Hyacinth Leadbetter who had giggled at the remark.  "Beg pardon, Mrs. A, but he's lost his marbles. You're better off without the captain, if you ask me. Men are about as much use to a woman at this time as a pair of shoes to a man with no legs. Better he returns when it's all accomplished and you're back in fine fettle, if you take my meaning, with a rosy cheeked babby in your arms. Now there's a sight to raise a man's spirits..."

"Raise more than his spirits..." chunnered on the old man in the corner. Sophie suppressed a grin and felt a little brighter already. They might be the most motley crew of servants ever assembled, but they had their charms.

"Quite, Josiah. I think we've heard enough on that score for now."

"You settle down, ma'am and I'll whip you up some fluffy scrambled eggs and a nice thick piece of bread and butter on the side. What you need is building up your strength. You don't eat enough!"

Sophie did not argue that she had no appetite, aware that it was important for her to eat something so she sat down and tried her best with the plate of food. She managed a few forkfuls and chewed a little on the freshly baked bread, but soon gave up. In truth she felt sickly and had an oppressive headache.

It was a fine October morning, at the end of what had been a good summer, so she decided to have an armchair set up for her in a sunny corner of the garden. She could read, do a little sewing or just doze the morning away. There was another advantage in the spot she chose. It had an uninterrupted view of the Portsmouth road, or rather the little tributary that led down from the high road to their home. Just in case by some miracle, Jack was on his way.

She read for only a few minutes before her exhausted body gave into slumber. Hyacinth gently removed the book and her needlework basket, covered her with a rug and raised her feet on a little stool. Sophie slept for several hours, dreaming of the mail stopping at the top of the lane and Jack striding down to her his arms open wide, home from the sea.

They docked at Portsmouth at first light and Jack badgered and shouted at all and sundry to complete the many tasks that were required at the end of the homeward voyage. He paid off the vast majority of his men, gave out the promissory notes that acknowledged their claim on the prizes when they were finally apportioned, sent off his preliminary report to the port authority and closed all his books and signed off his log. As soon as it was respectably possible to do so, he sent Bonden to hire two fast horses, ordered Killick to prepare their chests and arrange transport and then he and Stephen set off across country, the fastest way to reach Ashgrove.

Stephen was never a daring horseman; Jack never an accomplished one, but where the former was always careful in his seat, the latter never trotted when he could gallop. Lose not a minute had never been more urgent to him in his life. Lying low in the saddle, Jack raced his steed across fields and meadows, wading through brooks and jumping walls and fences as if the devil himself was on his tail. Stephen did his best to keep up but insisted every so often on calling a halt and reminding Jack that if he turned up home with a broken back he would be no use to anyone.

His friend took little notice and all Stephen could do was pray that he did not fall at this speed for his chances of survival would be slim. But today, Jack's luck was in and the miles passed by uneventfully until the chimneys of Ashgrove could be seen peeping over a rise in the hill. Of course, they were not approaching from the Portsmouth road, and Sophie sleepy on, unaware that her dreams were just about to come true.

Riding into the backyard in a flurry of startled hens and ducks, not to mention stable boys and dogs, Jack leapt down from his horse and handed the reins to a boy who clearly didn't recognise him. It was left to Stephen in his wake to calm the frantic boy and then follow Jack through the house, his medicine bag on his arm.

Jack ran from room to room, calling his wife's name but it seemed very quiet within. Stephen called him to the window in the parlour and showed him what he was searching for. "She's there, Jack. In the garden..."

For a long while, Jack simply stood and gazed upon the face he loved so well and the unfamiliar swell of her engorged body. She was asleep, her head resting to one side and her hands crossed over her stomach. There was a smile upon her lips. Stephen turned to address his friend and observed that a tear was trickling down his cheek. "Look at her, Stephen! God love her if she ain't the most beautiful sight in this world!"

At that he stepped out through the French windows and approached his wife slowly, almost reverently, as if he was in a church. At her feet, he knelt and placed his hand over hers, bending to kiss the pregnant belly. Sophie's eyes opened, blinked rapidly unsure if this was a dream, and her mouth uttered some words. Jack answered with a smile, nodding his head to whatever she had asked him and then Sophie began to cry. It felt to Stephen like an intrusion that he was watching this moment between them and as Jack bent down to pick his wife up in his strong arms, the doctor turned away to allow them privacy.

But Jack merely carried her inside the house, back through the room and out to cross the hallway and mount the stairs to their room. All the while Sophie wept openly, clinging onto his neck her head buried against Jack's shoulder. It was such a tender and loving picture that it brought tears even to Stephen's cynical heart.

Jack rested her down on the bed and knelt again before his wife, still overcome by the physical changes in her body. Where he had known her lithe and slender, she was now round and soft, her face having taken on a less angular look, her breasts heavy, her belly swollen and impossibly large. "Oh Sophie!" was all he could say as he looked at her, his hands exploring the unfamiliar contours of her gravidity.

"Oh Sophie!"

She wiped her eyes and he produced a somewhat grubby handkerchief but she used it anyway, blowing her nose and patting at her face. "I thought you were a dream!" she exclaimed.

"Did I give you a shock? I'm such a damned fool!"

"No! I was overjoyed! I could not believe my eyes! It has been so long and I feared you would not return in time!"

Jack's eyes were moist as he surveyed her, brushing back her hair, stroking her cheek, sighing at her nearness. "I only found out three days ago when your mail finally reached us. Dear God, I was already racing home but that news led me to increase my speed. I feared that the old Surprise would break in two as we tore up the seas to get back to you, but she did not let me down. Let me look at you, girl! Just let me look at you!" He sat back on his haunches and appraised her proudly. "How do you feel? Have you been well? Is there any sign? What does the doctor say? What shall we call it?" Jack peppered her with a barrage of questions and she chuckled at his enthusiasm.

"I am well. Or, as well as can be expected. Tired and unable to get about much but still I am doing fine. Everything has proceeded normally so far. We must hope for a speedy and safe resolution..."

Jack's euphoria seemed to wane at the reminder of the coming ordeal. Stephen had spoken to him; he pushed that unpleasant thought from his mind and returned to his enjoyment of her. "Let me see you! May I? Remove a few of these cumbersome garments? Would it be seemly for me to ask that of you?" Jack blushed at his request. Sophie smiled with pleasure.

"Of course it is seemly! You are my husband! The father of this child! What could be more seemly! Help me, Jack!" She reached up and began to unbutton the smock; he helped her off with it and then sat back as she eased down her skirt. Underneath she had on a petticoat that was stretched across her large abdomen and straining at the swell of her breasts. Jack caught his breath overwhelmed by the abundance of female flesh, motherhood and the visual evidence of his own virility on display before him.

Sophie looked up at him through lowered lashes, unconsciously seductive, entirely unknowing; she blushed as she untied the little pink ribbons that bared her breasts and slipped the garment off her shoulders. A soft groan escaped as the ripe flesh spilled out, white skin riddled with tiny blue veins, nipples engorged like plump overripe fruits hanging forward waiting to be plucked. His maiden Sophie had been a girl with pert lively bosoms; her transition now to fecund mother, a cornucopia of earthly delights, almost too much sensory stimulus for a man who had been celibate for almost nine months.

"Stand up!" His voice seemed gruff and gravelly even to his own ears as he extended a hand and helped her off the bed. Sophie stood and fumbled with the skirt of the petticoat; he lost patience and roughly yanked it over the pregnant stomach. She stood then, self conscious in a pair of frilly bloomers, he clicked his tongue and she hurriedly pulled them off, struggling as she bent forward, her breasts swinging before him. He knew his behaviour was too coarse for the circumstances but something in him was making it impossible to restrain himself. He was aroused. Mightily. His primal instincts were blinding his ability to think clearly.

Sophie stood there naked, shivering in the draught, her head down, obviously diffident before him. "Jack...I...I....feel so gross...."

Her remark stunned him. "Gross? Whatever do you mean? You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen..."

And she was. Her milk white skin, stretched thin over her baby, the long slender legs still so smooth and flawless, her thick hair falling luxuriantly in waves over her shoulders. His whole world. His future. Everything he would ever want to own in her. Incomparable beauty. Epitome of love.

"Oh Jack...the things you say...!"

"Sophie...I love you...I have missed you...every day, you were all that kept me going on in that hellish nightmare...no one was ever going to take that from me. No storm. No French warship. Nothing. I had to survive and bring back the prize. For you. Only you."

His face had set with the wild determination that bordered on fanaticism, the stubborn obsessive side of Jack that he showed to few people. He blinked a few times and tried to smile at her but the horrors of what he had endured were too close to the surface for him to simply push aside this time. Not here in the presence of the one who now made it all possible; too many emotions were swirling in his chest for him to use the jovial - or blustering - commander- face at this moment.

Picking up a shawl, Jack wrapped it round her shoulders and dropped to the floor, gently parting her legs and slipping his hands along her silken thighs. "I just want to look...' he grunted.

"I want more than a look, Jack...." Sophie answered. He looked at her, shocked.

"We cannot. In your condition? I would be a beast to..."

She stopped him with a finger to his lips. "Jack Aubrey...you are not the only one to have gone without for eight long months. I may be a mother now...but I am still a woman. And you are still my man. And what a man!"

She reached forward and brazenly stroked the ungainly bulge of his erection. Her fingers unfastened the flap and she quickly made short work of his linens too, to encircle the hot, hard turgid flesh and crudely jerk it towards her.

"I cannot ask this of you...Sophie...please...Goddamn you, I can't...."

But he was too weak in the face of this to stop himself. He pulled off his clothes and dropped again to sink his face against her belly, kiss the hard prominent bulk of his child and then go further to place a kiss on that place where his child would emerge to greet the world.  Sophie's hands freed his hair and ran her fingers sensuously through the thick strands of gold. "Please, Jack. Please....love me...!"

By her side on their own bed, in the warm safe cradle of his home after the terrible deprivations and dangers of his recent voyage, Jack lay, just looking at his naked wife, the soon-to-be mother of his child. He was almost unsure where to begin or how one managed a consummation with a woman in that advanced stage of gravidity, let alone the moral issue of it. Fortunately Sophie, as ever, was less tentative. She raised herself up and awkwardly managed to sit across his thighs. He adjusted her position and he watched her, her belly large and beautiful, hard and smooth, the occasional ripples passing across it that indicated the life within. She was stroking his turgid member as it rose between them, also with a life of its own.

"Inside me, Jack. Help me..." He raised himself to a sit, and curled his legs around her, making a shelter for her body within the circle of his own. With his rough, weather-beaten hands gentle on her soft buttocks, he raised her effortlessly; she manouevred his cock into her soft weeping entrance and lowered herself down with a soft cry onto his girth.

"Gentle...go gently, sweetheart," he murmured as she slowly took him in. His fantasies of wild and hearty lovemaking were discarded as he slowly raised and lowered his hips, holding her tenderly but firmly and ploughing her deep. Sophie dropped back her long white neck, her hair tumbling free and he kissed that sweet pulse spot, one hand freeing her tiny buttocks to caress the now heavy droop of her milk-laden breasts. "You are the most beautiful sight a man can see," he whispered. "Ripe and swollen with the life he gave you. His beautiful girl now miraculously a woman..."

Her cries became more urgent as his desire rose and his movements became more thrusting and deep. She heard his low groans as he buried his face into her neck; she grabbed his hair as if to anchor herself while her pleasure crested and she rode the wave of joy. Jack held her close and then gave into his own release, a wild deep flow of ecstasy, need and love so long held within him flowing out in shuddering, helpless gasps.

With care for her condition, he lifted her and rested her on the pillows, slipping into the bed by her side and lying by her, cradling her to him, her back against his solid chest, his arms enfolding her and their child. For a long time they lay and talked of the months they had been apart as a man and a woman will after they have taken their pleasure in each other and all the barriers are down.

He did not seek to tell her the worst parts, always saving her tender feelings, but he did reveal some of the anguished moments of his recent voyage: his despair at the decision he had had to take that cut poor Warley's last chance of hope when he had plunged over board with the mast, his feeling of failure over the suicide of midshipman Hollom, the tragic losses of fine men like Mr. Allen and dear young Calamy, his sense that he had placed his own arrogant pride before the safety of his men....Sophie listened and did not try to placate him with false platitudes. Men's lives were in his hands and the decisions he made were not always ones that others might have made. But whatever he decided, Sophie knew for sure that he had done the best he could. The importance of command was that he made the decision without fear. If it was wrong, Jack Aubrey was man enough to take full responsibility.

But that did not stop the consequences weighing on his heart.

She, in her turn, filled him in about their affairs, the neighbourhood, gossip, news of friends, the many tiny details of life in their small community that he missed so much. It was quiet and soporific lying together in that hazy peace, warm sated bodies intertwined and together at last. His hand rested lightly on her naked belly feeling the movements of the baby.

After so many nights without a proper sleep for Jack, and the fitful rest Sophie achieved in these final weeks of her pregnancy, it was not long before they both slipped into sleep, Jack still holding her close to him and snoring into her ear. The sound that might have disturbed others, was as welcome as the beat of a heart to Sophie.