When it happened, it seemed to happen with such force that it woke up both of them in an instant. Jack was so surprised that he leapt from the bed and stood naked on the carpet, his hand raised slightly as if to ward off the evil eye. Sophie sat up sharply, staring down at herself in surprise.

"What was that?" Jack exclaimed.

Sophie gaped.

"Your stomach....it.....jumped...!" Jack was searching for a word to describe the powerful contraction that had jarred them both awake.

"I...I...think...it must be the baby....it must be time...." Sophie exclaimed in alarm.

"Time? But...but..." Whatever his comment had been, it was cut off by Sophie clutching her hand to her belly and groaning. "Jack....Jack....get Stephen....! I think I'm in labour...Quick!"

He threw his clothes on as if they had just beat to quarters and the enemy was on the horizon. In moments he was dressed, if somewhat haphazardly, legs bare and shirt open and untucked, hair loose and disarrayed. Then he went over to aid Sophie in donning a bed gown to cover up her naked state. It gave him a thought. "Sophie....did I cause this....?"

Another contraction doubled her up; she put her hand out to grasp his as she rode it out. "GO! BRING STEPHEN!" she shouted back. Ascertaining she was settled and the pain had passed,  Jack made for the door and ran down the stairs, taking them a few at a time. "Maturin? Where the hell are you? Killick...go find the doctor...NOW!"

His bellows brought everyone running, Mrs. Barnes and Hyacinth, as well as several of the men. Stephen sauntered in from the parlour where he had been discreetly reading during Jack's rather obvious absence.

"Sir, sir, whatever's the matter! Is it Mrs. A? Is it her time?"

"I believe so, Mrs. Barnes, so far as I may be a judge of such matters. Hurry along and give her some succour, would you?" Jack began

"I'm here, brother, let me just fetch my bag...young girl..." he addressed Hyacinth as Mrs. Barnes ran for the stairs. "Boil plenty of water, fetch clean towels and clothes - clean, I say! And have the men carry it up for you. Make sure your hands are well washed all of you before you touch a damn thing that goes near Mrs. Aubrey...and then pour rum or brandy over your fingers...I'll not have you bringing your dirt into the bedchamber... Bonden? Run down to the village and fetch the midwife...."

Jack was standing uncharacteristically out of the action, almost forlorn as he stood back and everyone ran to their tasks. "Stephen?" he called to his friend plaintively as the doctor mounted the stairs. Maturin turned and stopped, viewing Jack with a kindly eye.

"Come...there is no reason why you should not be there while I examine her. The birth is hours away yet. These babies do not simply pop out, ye know? There will be little obtrusive work done for a while yet."

Jack shook his head. "I cannot. I cannot bear to see her like this. She will suffer...I cannot watch her suffer..."

It was the answer he had expected. Men like Jack might be as fierce as lions in battle but faced with having to stand on the sidelines whilst their womenfolk battled to bear their children, they were helpless and afraid. "Then go busy yourself about the place. I will keep you informed."

His comment received a curt nod. Jack wore his stern and implacable countenance. "Take care of her. I cannot lose her, Stephen....I cannot lose her....."

At that Aubrey turned away, the slump of his wide shoulder the only sign of his apprehension. "With all I own, dear brother," he promised him as he resumed the ascent of the stairs to their room.

 

*

 

He found Sophie sitting on the edge of the bed, clad in a voluminous white bed gown, leaning on Mrs. Barnes' arm while she weathered a sharp pain. He speedily selected the equipment he needed from his bag and washed his hands before going over to crouch down by Sophie. "My dear girl...when you have recovered from this pain, I am going to lay you back and perform a quick examination to ascertain the progress. There's a good girl..." he assisted her back and made her comfortable on the heap of pillows on the bed, noticing the disarray of the bedding. He refrained from smiling at the picture of what must have taken place not long ago struck him.

"Mrs. Barnes, a towel if you please...place it across her belly to cover her modesty," Stephen turned away as the older lady raised Sophie's gown around her waist and covered her as instructed.

Returning to the bed, she gently rested a hand on her stomach and waited, observing the movement until another strong contraction passed through her, feeling for the position of the baby and its general state of health. He held Sophie's hand with his left and counted, then once the pain had passed, he counted again until the next one. "Good....good," he muttered to himself. "Sophie, I need to make an intimate examination of your birth passage. Raise your knees and part your legs...I will endeavour to make this as unintrusive as possible..."

Sophie lay back and stared at the ceiling but complied, without the weeping that often accompanied such moments. She seemed unconcerned at the indelicacy of the position. Rubbing his hands together to warm them, Stephen placed his left on her mons and then inserted the fingers of his right. They slipped in with more ease than he had expected, sliding on a creamy glide. There was evidence of fresh semen and female juices; her vagina was well stretched already. Jack had already given her the benefit of his personal intimate intrusion - and had no doubt precipitated the labour.  As gently as he could, he felt for signs of dilation. There was slight progress as of yet.

Withdrawing his hand, and wiping it on a cloth, he leaned down to Sophie. "Everything is normal but we are some hours away yet. I know the pain is bad when it comes but until they are closer than three minutes we cannot presume the onset of the final stages. I would estimate that the delivery may not be until the early hours of the morning. This is normal for a primagravida. The cervix is very tight."

At that, Sophie began to weep silently. "I am afraid, Stephen! Say something goes wrong? I am so afraid!" She clung onto his arms pitifully.

"There is no reason to imagine such a thing! All the signs are good. The length of the labour is unfortunate but not a bad sign in itself. Courage, my dear. I will not let any harm come to you, surely you know that!"

At his words, she relaxed a little and sank back against the pillows. Little Hyacinth ran in. "Beg pardon, sir, but the men want to bring in the hot water!"

Mrs. Barnes covered Sophie over and stood before her as the men were allowed to enter but told to avert their eyes and be quick about it. They seemed to have no desire to tarry anyway, uneasy at such a time and in such a place. They placed down their burdens, wished the lady a safe delivery and withdrew immediately.

"The mid wife is on her way to tend to you. Mrs. Barnes and Hyacinth are here. I will leave you for a few hours and let them busy themselves with the things that must be done for the delivery. You are safe in their hands until then, I promise. Try and eat a little and get some sleep...perhaps a glass of brandy might help? You need to conserve your strength....."

"...Don't leave me, Stephen!" Sophie begged. 

"It is not fitting, my dear. The women have to take charge for a while..."

That seemed to puzzle Sophie. Stephen wondered that a woman as sharp and worldly wise as Sophie could seem so ignorant of these matters.

"Can Jack come up? I would so like to talk to him!" she begged.

Stephen took her hand in his. "He is not comfortable with the idea. He is worried and it would upset him, I believe, to see you in distress. Frankly he will be of little use at this time. He has done his job. He was there at the conception - and has been the instigator of the end, no doubt..." At that Mrs. Barnes chuckled and Hyacinth blushed, her eyes widening at the thought of what he meant. No one in the house had been unaware of the passionate reunion of the master and mistress that had taken place that afternoon.  Josiah Shawbucket had been saying much the same thing earlier this morning.

Stephen took his leave and bowed, whispering a few instructions to the women and then left the room.

"What are you going to do to me?" Sophie queried suspiciously. Mrs. Barnes sobered up. 

"When the mid wife comes, we'll shave you down there and give you an enema.  You wouldn't want to be emptying your bowels in the presence of the good doctor, now would you, Mrs. A?"

Sophie paled but said nothing. Even back home, she knew birth was a pretty humiliating experience and she couldn't imagine it would be any easier here. Closing her eyes she determined to be brave as Jack was brave, drawing her courage from him. At least he was here close by, Stephen was her doctor - and that was more than she had expected a few days ago. She would not allow herself to think negative thoughts. This was her Waterloo....and she had better not say that to Jack, for she rather believed the actual famous battle was still a few years away...

 

*

 

"Well, man?" Jack almost jumped upon the doctor as he entered the parlour a few minutes later.

"Compose yourself, brother. She is as well as can be expected for a woman in labour. It will be a long night for her. There is nothing else to do for many hours yet..." Stephen poured himself a glass of port, sat down and picked up the journal.

"What? You are just going to sit there?" Jack spluttered helplessly. "Can't you do something?"

"I have done all that can be done for now. She is with her women, the midwife is on her way and they are more than capable of assisting her through the early stages of her trial. Jack, babies do not simply jump out. Nor is there much anyone can do in the main. Nature is in charge now." He shook the pages of the journal crisply and returned to his perusal of the news.

There was a silence as Jack took his comments in but it was accompanied by the sound of a rapid pacing back and forth. Maturin was familiar with this behaviour from many days observing his particular friend on the quarter deck. This was impatient Aubrey who had some goal in sight and who intended to move heaven and earth to speed things up and achieve his end. While he might be able to get thirteen knots out of his ship with a lot of shouting and threatening and a tightening up of the rigging, Stephen though with a wry smile, no amount of bellowing and pacing was going to make this child hurry up.

"Sit down, Jack. Pour yourself a glass and read. Or would you like us to play something? I am sure Sophie would appreciate the strains of something calm and soothing..."

"Damn you, man. You know I am not in the mood to sit still! How can I just sit here for hours listening to you bleating on about staying calm! Good God, my wife is in childbed! My son is about to be born! Had you the least notion of empathy then you would not go on so....so....so....?"

"....Jack, you will give yourself an attack of the choler if you carry on and then what good will you be for your family? I suggest if you have a need for action to occupy your restless spirit, then you go for a ride or visit the inn and drink yourself into oblivion. In other words, your usual methods of stilling the beast. Do not raise your voice at me or in this house at such a time. It would not be either politic or seemly..."

Jack fumed but refrained from further comment. 

Just then, the arrival of Mrs. Mowbray, the midwife, interrupted their tetchy words and Stephen went out into the hallway to greet her. The sight that met his eyes was one that he had not expected. The lady - if such she was because it appeared to him that she might just have easily been Killick in woman's garb - was an ugly, wizened old woman with a ludicruously inappropriate wig of a garish red colour. She was sporting a worryingly clownish face, white powdered and over rouged and her dress, although it had seen better days and must once have been worn by a lady of fashion, was shabby and non too clean, the lace now grey and torn in many places. It revealed, however, a wrinkled décolletage that the aging midwife would have been better to have covered up.

Jack had followed Stephen out to meet the lady, but stood agape when he saw her, his mouth dropping open and a visible repulsion settling over his expressive face.

"Good day, my dear. Mrs. Mowbray, I presume?"

"And you would presume exactly right, sir. I am that good lady indeed. Buttercup Mowbray at your service. And you might be the husband?" She gave Stephen a once over but did not seem unduly impressed. Her information had told her that Capt. Aubrey was a fine figure of a sea man not this lanky, pale fellow.

"No, ma'am. That honour lies with my companion, Capt. Aubrey..." Stephen stood aside and indicated Jack, still standing there with a stunned expression on his face.

The lady turned, picked up the monocle suspended from her bosom and peered myopically through it. Then she smiled broadly and revealed a set of unpleasantly grey teeth, made even more dingy in contrast to the white pallor of her painted face.

"That's more like it! I am honoured to make your acquaintance, sir. I believe you to be one of England's finest heroes. And you clearly aren't firing old powder in your cannon, hey, sir?" She cackled at that, pleased with her innuendo. Jack coughed and looked over at Stephen in a silent plea for help.

"I am Dr. Maturin. I sail with the captain and I am supervising this happy event. I have examined Mrs. Aubrey and have estimated her time is still some hours away. I would be grateful if you would assist in the meantime and make her as comfortable as possible..."

"A doctor? A bloody ship's doctor? You presume to give Buttercup Mowbray advice about birthing babies? I shall have you know I have delivered every child in the country these past twenty years. I've brought them all into the world. Babbies of dukes and duchesses, all the fine ladies...I can manage a post captain's wife without any of your interference. Ship's doctor indeed! Good for nothing more than sawing off legs and bandaging broken heads! You better keep out of my way, sir, if you know what's good for you..."

The two men exchanged glances. "Mrs. Mowbray..."Stephen began but Jack finally found his voice and stepped forward.

"...Excuse me, doctor." He turned to the midwife and Stephen saw Jack the master and commander in full force. His face was stern and set in that formidable way of his and he had taken his stance, legs akimbo and hands resting on his hips. The lady paled beneath her white face at the sight of him in full sail. "You have been invited into my home to do a service for which you will be well remunerated. It is MY desire that Dr Maturin, this fine and experienced physician and surgeon, should deliver my first child. I would rather send you packing with my toe up your rather sagging backside if I had my way, but it appears that a woman needs a mid-wife and you are all we have. If you wish to be kept on then I warn you to keep a civil tongue in your head when you speak to you betters. Now go and wash off that ghoulish face paint before you frighten my wife, turn her milk sour and probably frighten the infant half to death...."

Stephen laid a hand on Jack's arm before he went too far. The poor thing was shaking at his outburst and Jack was in danger of taking his own anxiety and using it to belabour the unfortunate victim of his temper. "I think perhaps a change of clothes and a wash might be an excellent idea, Mrs. Mowbray. I am sure the housekeeper has a clean day dress that you might prefer to slip on so as not to stain that delightful ball gown you are wearing..."

"It was a gift from Mrs. Williams..." the old woman muttered, still eyeing up the captain with trepidation. "When I delivered her daughter safely of twin daughters...Mrs. Sophie Adams....I believe you are familiar with the family?"

"And a charming fit it is too, my dear. Yes, I believe the captain and I are familiar with dear Sophie Williams, as she was before her fortunate marriage to Mr. Adams. So she has two daughters? Excellent news. Jack, is that not excellent news?"

"What? Sophie Williams? Two daughters? Good God...lucky escape, hey what?" Jack added, with a grin, laughing to himself. Stephen shook his head at the man's foolishness - and the tempting of providence.

He sent for Mrs. Barnes and gave her strict instructions to attend to the cleaning up of Mrs. Mowbray and to take no nonsense from her. He was surprised at Mrs. Barnes' response. "She knows her trade, sir, better than most and I dare say she has seen more childbirth than you have for all your learning. I know she's a bit of a fright to behold but her heart's in the right place and she'll take good care of Sophie. Besides, Sophie knows her already. She's been visiting from time to time to check on her progress. Everything will be fine, sir. She might be odd but she's reliable. Don't worry about a thing, sir. You take the captain down to the inn with the men for supper. I haven't time to do a decent spread. By the time you've eaten and drunk your fill, Mrs. A. will he ready to deliver and it will be as smooth as silk. Now off you boys go and keep out of the way for the time being..."

There was something comforting, Stephen mused, about that maternal way women had of speaking to men and setting them at ease as if they were rather wayward children. Jack seemed docile and accepted her advice and he called the men together to give them an evening off at the Crown. He himself would be joining them and he asked if Stephen would at least dine there too.

"I think I might. Everything is quite taken care of for now. It would do us all good."

And so it was decided. Leaving only old Shawbucket and a young whippersnapper, Jamie Blenkinsop, a cabin boy whose parents had died while he was at sea and who now had nowhere to go (the men called him Lofty because he was so tiny) behind as a runner should the doctor be required in a hurry, off the rest went for an evening at the local inn.

 

*

 

By the time Mrs. Mowbray was suitably attired, the chamber upstairs had been turned into something approximating a delivery room. Several items of furniture had been removed, the bed had been covered with a thick calico sheet and then several white linen ones. A birthing chair, brought by the midwife herself on a cart, had been set up and was even now being scrubbed down by young Hyacinth as per the doctor's direct instructions. While all this activity had been taking place, Sophie had sat on an armchair by the window, occasionally walking about to relieve some of the discomfort. She saw the men leave, Jack and Stephen on horseback and the others on an open cart. Even though it pained her to see him go she knew it was the best thing for him and that by his lights he was keeping out of the way and doing the decent thing. There had never been a chance that Jack would consent to holding her hand through the birth.

"Let's be having you then, Mrs. Aubrey...Up you jump on the bed and I'll give you a once over. Doctor says you've got hours yet. We'll see about that. They know bugger all, these fancy doctors. I've been looking up quims for most of me life - I can judge a baby's time down to the minute."

She helped Sophie down and whipped up her skirt to bare her bottom half without any ceremony. Sophie gasped as the woman just shoved her hand up her vagina and began palpating her roughly, chattering all the time.  "He be a fearsome specimen that captain of your'n, Mrs. Aubrey. Fair gave me a start, he did. He can bellow all right. What a big man he is and all! Ooooh, I love them big and badtempered. Always a sign they've got plenty of blood in their veins, if you take my meaning. And he had his blood up, make no mistake.  Had it up with you by the looks of it, as well. So he stuck his fat prick up and got this babby moving, did he? Good man. Looks like he opened you up a few fingers, saved you an hour or more of pushing...."

"Mrs. Mowbray!" Sophie exclaimed. "I beg your pardon!"

The old harridan cackled. "You can act all pure and innocent but you don't fool Buttercup Mowbray! The evidence is here, dearie. He's been spilling his seed and you've been enjoying it. And that's the best way to get a baby started...make no mistake about that."

No sooner had she finished her intrusive examination, mauled Sophie's stomach and listened with an ear horn at the heart beat of the infant, grunting in satisfaction. "This one'll be here before dawn...you've got a good few hours yet...now, let's get you ready. First the enema....you need a good clear out or we'll be swimming in shit when you squeeze the little fella out..."

"...Please, Mrs. Mowbray!"

"Never you mind with all your fancy talk, milady. I calls it as I sees it. They're all the same whether they be queen or tavern girl. You seen one quim, you've seen 'em all...never understand what's the fascination for men....poor buggers! They've got no sense....just animal lusts...lucky for us..." she cackled and busied herself to her personal services...

 

*

 

The Crown was reasonably quiet when the group of men arrived; it was a midweek night and there were plenty of tables untaken. Jack and Stephen took one in a window bay and the men sidled off to a large wooden trestle in the other room, out of the sight of the captain and with plenty of room for a few wenches to come and join them. Meanwhile Jack ordered dinner for himself and Stephen and a few bottles of wine, starting with a large pewter mug of ale each. He wiped the froth off his lip and looked about him, still restless. Stephen recognised his predatory gaze but said nothing. It was none of his business how Jack kept his fears at bay tonight.

They ate in silence for awhile although Stephen could tell there was something pressing on his friend's mind. It was ever thus with Jack. His open face was a canvas for his thoughts.

"Is there something you wished to say to me, Jack?' Stephen tried to give Jack an opener.

"Me? Say? To you? Of course not.  Well, apart from...Stephen, there is something preying on my mind tonight. I fear I have done Sophie some harm. You know I would not hurt that girl, if my life depended on't...!"

Stephen nodded sagaciously. "How do you imagine you have wounded her, brother?"

Jack coughed, blushed and took a large quaff of his wine before continuing, accompanied by more coughs and clearing of the throat, adjusting his stock and flexing his neck. "This afternoon...whilst you were reading the Times in the study....when Sophie and I were catching up on lost time..."

"Jack! Straight out with it. It's the easiest way..." Stephen reminded him.

"Just so, just so....I importuned upon my wife in a way not wholly appropriate to a woman in her delicate condition..."

"You tupped her. I know. No harm done."

"Must you be so needlessly crude about it! And how do you know? Surely Sophie did not admit to such an intimate matter...?" He appeared utterly shocked at Stephen's reply.

"She did not need to. The evidence was plain to see...Jack, I will not elucidate that any further whilst you are eating, but you yourself must know that a man leaves himself behind when such an act has taken place...in more ways than one. When I examined her, I saw the leavings..."

"Good God...ye damned doctors...is nothing sacred?" Jack exclaimed, wincing.

At that Stephen smiled. "I know of no other way to examine a woman in labour than intimately. And such examinations invariably bring a few surprising revelations. As a doctor I am of course bound to discretion but in a general sense, there would seem to be a lot more ladies who are taking their pleasure with gentlemen than the majority would admit..."

"My wife is not one of them!"

"Of course not, Jack. She would never find pleasure in such a thing. Not a lady like Sophie," he replied tartly. Jack gave him a jaundiced eye.

"You may mock all you like, and be as superior as Solomon, but be that as it may, a man and his wife have needs and it is hard for them both to restrain themselves. I was not successful in my attempt at self denial and I fear I have caused some rupture which has precipitated this child's birth. Stephen...could I have damaged the child? Or even worse, done something terribly dangerous to Sophie?"

Stephen's face softened when he saw Jack's evident distress. He patted his friend's solid hand warmly. "There, there, Jack, do not take on so! Babies come when they are ready and there is not a lot that will shake them from their comfortable wombs until then. But, yes, congress with a woman on the brink of childbed can facilitate the onset of labour. But Sophie is almost full term and may well have been about to go into labour anyway. Any doctor would recommend this method should the labour be tardy. There is nothing a man can do by such an act to harm his woman as long as he is reasonably gentle and thoughtful about position and not bearing down his full weight on them. Which I have no doubt you were. The child's head may be somewhat flattened on delivery, but the fontanel is soft and will soon reform its intended shape..." Stephen quipped to lighten Jack's mood. Jack however failed to get the joke still mired in his guilt.

"Flattened, you say? Because of my...er...bombardment...?"

"It was meant as a joke, Jack. A male member, even one as mighty as yours, could not actually make contact with a child in the womb...Jack, stop worrying. You probably did your wife a great favour today in more ways than one. And how fitting that you were in at the genesis and also in at the end....as a father should be. Now eat up and drink a few pints of that good wine. The night will pass all the quicker for that."

"You are sure I did no harm?"

"Most assuredly."

Jack smiled with relief and raised his hand to call over one of the wenches who was hovering around the table. "A bottle of brandy, if you please...the doctor and I have much to celebrate..."

The girl scurried off to return moments later with the bottle and glasses and poured out two large measures. She made a point of leaning over the table, her huge rosy breasts spilling out of the confines of her blouse before the two men.

"There be anything else I can get for you two fine gentlemen this evening?" she cooed prettily, giving them both the eye. Stephen waved her away with a gentle smile, Jack fixed her in his predatory gaze, his eyes washing down her sensuously, licking his lips almost absently at the sight of her pink and bonny fleshy charms. The girl did not miss the prurience of his gaze and settled in by him, rubbing her hand up and down his left thigh. Stephen rolled his eyes at the performance but paid it little mind. He had half expected Jack to end up rolling some wench to take his mind of the main event of the night.

"Ooh, Captain Aubrey, it's been a long while, ain't it? You've not been with your Mary since afore you was married to your lovely wife. Remember the times we used to have? Me and Betty and you? Oooh, you loved the meat in our sandwich, sir, ain't that the truth of it!" She giggled and Jack laughed heartily, his arm sneaking around her neck and pulling her close.

"So where's Betsy tonight? The girl with the wondrous buttocks, if I recall correctly...a man could lose himself in them and not find his way out until spring," Jack chuckled.

"She got wed and moved on, sir. She's got three little ones now. The eldest has got yellow white hair, she says. Always said it was yours, you know, but who can say? She had more men than you've had dinners, sir, so she never knew for sure..."

Jack shot a look at Stephen and suppressed a grin. "Is that so, my dear?"

"But don't you fret, sirs. I've got a new friend. Susannah Perkins...over there... fresh as a daisy and only just lost it....she's a bit shy but very sweet and juicy...would you like us to get you a room when you've had your pudding? Sixpence each. Half price for you two gentlemen..."

Both men turned to view the buxom young blonde behind the bar. She was very young, not much past thirteen, Stephen guessed, but she had obviously matured early. The girl gave them a bashful look across the room and then straightened down her dress, accentuating her bountiful charms.

Jack pulled Mary closer and whispered something in her ear. She giggled and tutted loudly but did not seem in the least put out by his request. Her right hand slipped below the table and from the grunt Jack gave, she had obviously given his manhood a stroke as he took a few shillings and slipped them down her blouse, giving one ripe breast a firm tweak. Then she got up and waltzed over to join her friend, muttering to the girl as they both laughed between themselves.

"So, you'll be taking your leave of me, will you, Jack? I had better be heading back to the house soon anyway," Stephen added.

Jack laughed. "No, I am thinking of a hand of cards...I see a few chaps over there who won't mind winning a purse off me tonight. But I feel unusually lucky tonight...they might be sorry..."

"So, you're not planning on joining the winsome Mary and the buxom Susannah in a chamber then? I had thought a transaction had already taken place..." Stephen asked, a little puzzled.

"It has," Jack retorted, as he stood up and drained his glass. "I paid them both. For you. Now go up and have the rogering of your life. Then go and deliver my wife of my child. I have an feeling that you will be all the better for having released your load, Stephen...it's been months for you, as well, and I know you are quite as much a man in that regard as any of us, whatever higher ground you chose to stand on most of the time..."

"I couldn't possibly accept!" Stephen began, eyeing the two women longingly as they stood on the balcony above hanging over lewdly, Susannah opening her dress and giving him a full display of her enormous breasts.

"Call it the doctor's fee...get up there and be a man, for God's sake, Stephen, and leave me to my cards..."

"Jack?" Stephen called as his friend turned to walk away, a smile on his face. "Why did you not choose to partake?"

Jack's smile grew wider. He glanced up at the women, near naked now. "I have partaken already. And when you have known paradise, even the garden of Eden is scant temptation...." He bowed and took his leave, striding over to another table where a hand of cards was in place and taking a spare seat.

Stephen shook his head, stood, wiped down his jacket that had been stained to begin with but now was spattered with gravy from his meal, and made his way up the stairs to the chambers.

 

*

 

Hours later, hours after Stephen had staggered down from the upper room with a beatific look on his face, hours after Jack had shocked himself by winning two purses from his companions, hours after they had ridden back across the windy fields that clear brisk night, Jack sat in his study alone in almost total darkness save for the light of one candle. He was disheveled and tired but unable to rest. He had torn off his jacket and boots and sat in his breeches and shirt, his hair pulled out where he had constantly raked his hands through.

In his hands was a glass of wine, still un-supped. His eyes were fixed on the floor above, raised to the ceiling as though he might see into the very chamber where his dear Sophie was struggling to bring his child into the world. From time to time, he heard footsteps on the stair while the little maid ran back and forth on errands. Occasionally he heard a cry but for the main part, Sophie was quiet. He was not sure if that was bravery or a cause for concern. All the possible dangers that he knew of were playing through his mind. His own mother had died in childbirth on such a night long ago, the little baby with her. He had vague memories of hearing her scream. He could not lose Sophie this way. He could not accept that he might never see her alive again. Part of him wanted to race up the stairs, burst into the room and drag her into his arms. But he would not do such a foolish thing. He loved his wife and he knew his place. It was here down below, waiting for the news that would bring him joy beyond imagining or sorrow beyond all knowing. Just as Sophie stayed quietly at home while he went off to war, accepting of their fate, he too now had to be patient and bide his time, unable to do a single thing to aid the only thing in this world that he truly loved.

The clock ticked loudly as the minutes turned into hours. The night sky was already streaked with dawn. A piercing cry cut through the silence of the deep night...his head shot up, his eyes vivid in the flicker of the candle flame.

Then he heard a tiny wail...

 

*

 

By the time Stephen arrived, wine and pleasure soaked, he found the events in the chamber had moved on. Sophie was now far advanced in her labour and in some obvious distress although she was bearing up and trying to be brave. The women with her were at her side, Mrs. Barnes holding her hand and encouraging, Mrs. Mowbray more of a task mistress, blithely instructing her with scant regard for her sensitivity. Of the two he realised the business-like manner of the midwife was probably the most helpful, not allowing Sophie to become too inured in her own fear.

But as she saw a friendly face, Sophie's resolve seemed to crumple and she gasped. "Stephen! Oh Stephen! I can't take much more of this! Help me!"

Like a little child who cries only when his parents return, Sophie then burst into tears and sobbed pitifully until she was seized with another fierce contraction and broke off speaking to ride it, panting heavily. He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand, asking for a damp cloth and wiping her hot face. "You are well. It will soon be over..."

"I can smell brandy on your breath!"

"Jack and I dined at the Crown..."

"Is he drunk? Did he lose money at the tables?" Then she gripped Stephen's arm, riding out a contraction but gasping out. "Did he whore?"

Stephen waited until she had quieted. "No to all three. He is not interested in anything but you. Neither food, wine nor women held him tonight...although surprisingly he won heavily at the table...perhaps he should stop thinking every time he plays... although to be quite honest I thought he always did..."

"Where is he?" she gasped.

"Below. Out of his mind. Sophie, you must stop worrying about him and think about the task in hand. It will not be long and you must be ready for the trial..."

"I am scared...it hurts so much, Stephen....it hurts so very much. I want Jack. I just want Jack to hold me. I wouldn't be so afraid then. Say I die and never tell him how much I love him...?"

"...Stuff and nonsense, you silly girl! No one is dying in this house tonight. I'll hear none of your nonsense - and you don't indulge her, doctor. Capt Aubrey does not want to be here and I, for one, will walk out if he comes up. Don't talk so daft... would he want you on the quarter deck in a battle? Use your head, girl!" Mrs. Mowbray took over and fussed around. She checked the state of the labour and pronounced that it was time for the birthing chair. Mrs. Mowbray helped Sophie to the end of the bed but Stephen knocked her hands away and picked up the woman, carrying her easily to the contraption; she was even now as light as a feather and Stephen thought of her fine elegant body compared to the voluptuous harridans he had just bedded. The contrast between Sophie and Jack's size was even more marked.

He disliked these chairs and suspected that Sophie, whose face paled at being placed in it, felt even more apprehension but they did aid the birth, keeping the mother upright and allowing her to bear down more easily and for the doctor to have access. They made her comfortable - if such a state could ever be called comfort for a mother. She whimpered a few times, but took a few breaths and composed herself. Stephen was surprised how little noise she made. Women, in his experience normally screamed and shouted as if it somehow it helped to ease the pain - or at least punish the husband waiting below. But she was quiet, panting like a horse after a gallop but making no other sound.

"Sophie...scream if it helps..." he whispered.

She turned her eyes on him; they seemed larger than ever in her peaked little face. "And let Jack hear? It would be unbearable for him. You have no idea how sensitive he is..."

Oh, but he did. Beneath the stern countenance of Captain Aubrey was a man of very sentimental emotions, quick to cry and easily wounded by a poignant scene. She was correct in her estimation, Jack would be devastated to stand by helpless during such a time.

The events of the labour then soon took over. As Mrs. Mowbray had predicted, the child was going to be born before dawn and though Sophie worked long and hard on the chair, it was well before the morning light was more than a streak of promise in the dark night sky when at last, the head crowned and with a few more pushes, the child was almost born.

"Sophie, push...push hard.....just once more...with all your might...!"

She was exhausted but took a deep breath and then pushed, letting out a pitiful piercing cry with the sheer crushing force of the effort - and Stephen caught the little child as it slithered out, passing it to the midwife as he deftly tied and cut the cord. The little boy, whose red little face was already screwed up with the first wail he had made at his rude and uncomfortable arrival in the world, had a tuft of curly white blonde hair. There was not a doubt who had fathered this sturdy baby.

Wrapped in a warm clean blanket, he was handed to Sophie who had said nothing but 'Oh, oh, oh, oh!' since he had been born. "Your son, Sophie...he is healthy and whole...you have done so well, my dear girl...so very, very well..."

"A boy? We have a son?" She gasped, tears falling again but this time of joy. He pulled aside the blanket and there lay the naked baby, clearly a boy from the fine little penis resting on his little swollen scrotum. "Oh, oh, oh, oh!" Sophie cried, her fingers caressing his smooth white skin as pure and soft as a peach skin. The boy cried some more and she covered him up, to hold him to her breast and rock him gently against her heart.

"Here, Mrs, Aubrey...see what he can do already...." said Mrs. Mowbray, gentler voiced now that her job was almost complete. She unlaced the bodice of Sophie's gown and placed the baby's lips to a nipple; the little child clamped on and began to suck instinctively. At the same moment, another strong contraction, no doubt triggered by the suckling, brought the placenta away. Stephen examined it, found to his relief that it was whole and helped to clear away the traces of the birth, clean her up and wrap her in rags. Then between the two of them they carried her back to the bed where she was settled in a pile of pillows, a warm shawl about her shoulders and her little boy still happily at her breast.

Mrs. Barnes sat at one side and Mrs. Mowbray at another and the clucked over the beautiful little boy, quite the most beautiful child ever born, they agreed. Little Hyacinth knelt by the bed, still stunned by what she had witnessed, the most wonderful sight she had ever seen, life being made. Stephen watched the women as he washed his hands, smiling with delight and relief. He had hardly allowed to himself the thought of what he would say to Jack had the news not been so happy. "Congratulations, Sophie, on a healthy and bonny son!"

"Thanks to you, Stephen and all of you good people! Stephen...go down...tell Jack...he must be out of his mind with worry..."

"This instant, my dear!" Stephen kissed her hand and withdrew making his way down the stairs, amazed to find that all the men of the house were gathered down the stairs, their worried faces showing their concern. He could not tell them first but he nodded and smiled to let them know the tidings were good. An audible sigh of relief went round the assembly and poor Killick wiped a tear from his eye. Then he knocked on the study door and entered.

 

*

 

Back in the bedroom, it was a hive of activity as the women cleared away the signs of delivery, making sure that no stained sheets or unpleasant reminder of the nature of the event were on show when the captain came to see his wife. A heavy cover was placed over the chair; it was deemed unsuitable for his eyes. Sophie meanwhile was demanding for her hair to be brushed, that she be dressed in her blue velvet dressing gown and that a little rouge to be applied to her cheeks. "Jack cannot see me like this! I look a fright...." The women smiled. She was already beginning to rouse from her ordeal and while she was thoroughly exhausted, she was still a woman who wished to be beautiful for her man. It was highly approved of by the others.

Baby Aubrey had been taken from her, washed by Hyacinth with warm water and a soft cloth, dried and dressed in a long white gown, his loins bound with cloth. He was given back to his mother and she sighed. He was even more perfect in her eyes now than before, his skin no longer red and mottled from his efforts to live, his little blond random curls clean and soft, his blue eyes fixed on his mother in a curiously adult stare. His full little mouth pouted and it reminded her so much of Jack when he was annoyed or thwarted in some way. She had always found it an appealingly boyish sulk.

There was a hesitant knock on the door - hard to imagine it was Jack, and Hyacinth was sent to open the door once it was ascertained that everything was ready for his august presence.

 

*

 

"Stephen?"

Jack almost launched himself at the door as it opened. 

"Well! How is she? Don't make me wait, man...."

"Jack, she is so well! And so is your son....you have a son, Jack. A healthy strong beautiful little boy..."

"A son..." Jack's voice died away, it was almost as if he had forgotten the purpose of what Sophie had been labouring for; his poor heart had been so lost in fear that he might lose this woman that he adored so much.

"A son? I have a son?" His smile broadened and his spirits visibly rose. "I must see her....I must see him....a son...." Jack ran out into the hall to greet his men. "A son, lads! I have a boy, what do you think of that, hey?" There was a cheer and a round of applause. "Killick - brandy all round...!" Another cheer - it hardly mattered that it was five thirty in the morning. Sailors are always ready for a cup of something strong.

"May I go up, Stephen"

Stephen patted his shoulder. "She is your wife. He is your son. What could be more fitting?"

 

*

 

Jack had fallen in love with his son from the first moment his eyes rested upon the little lad. Of course, he admitted no such emotion, calling the boy 'an odd little turnip head' to others when asked. But if the hours a day he spent hovering round the cradle or carrying the child in his arms, singing softly and talking nonsense to him, was anything to judge by, then he was entirely smitten.

Sophie had made excellent progress. Unlike a modern birth, she had had no intrusive procedures so there were none of the trials of episiotomy or Caesarian stitches. On the other hand, she had refused to adhere to the conventional confinement practices of this time, ordering water for a bath later that day and then insisting on taking gentle exercise. She spent only two days abed and then was downstairs attending to light duties with the little boy strapped to her breast in a sling she had rigged for him.

Taking the best of both worlds, she had thus found it remarkably easy to bounce back to life. Her colour had returned, her figure was already showing signs of her original lithe slenderness and she appeared to Jack to be the most wonderful woman he had ever seen, let along known.

He loved to watch her, feet up on a stool as she rested back on a chair to suckle her baby son, her eyes lowered and a look of such peace and contentment on her face that it almost brought tears to his eyes. They had named the boy John George, although already everyone called him Georgie. It felt to Jack that his cup runneth over. What man could have been more blessed than he? A woman he adored and who appeared to love him to distraction - and a healthy handsome boy.

Sophie even invited him back into their bed when Georgie was barely a week old. There was some tutting in the household at his behaviour but no one dared actually raise the matter in front of his face. Jack had tried to argue with her, protesting that it was not seemly and this time he would not dream of presuming on her...

"...I know, Jack. Nor would I allow you to. There is the question of hygiene..." he had pulled a face at that, unsure quite what she meant but that was not an unusual aspect of life with Sophie. She often said the most fanciful things. "I just want you near me in the night. After such a long time separated I do not wish us to sleep apart more than is entirely necessary."

"But what about the girl who comes in to assist with Georgie?"

"Then she will have to wait until you have arisen. Please, Jack!"

As if he could ever have disagreed.

One night, as she was changing Georgie and Jack was undressing, he lay down beside her, watching as she pulled away the wet cloth and left the little boy kicking free amidst the bedcovers, his delight in being naked evident. Jack traced his finger down the little body and then laughed as his son let go a stream of urine, a tiny arc that Sophie just managed to catch with the used cloth. "He is a well formed boy..." his father muttered as he flicked the small penis, surprisingly plump for a baby, and brushed the scrotum beneath, all wrinkly and cushioned.

"He takes after his father," Sophie replied, allowing her own hand to brush Jack's groin lightly clad in a pair of loosely tied linens. He tutted at her forwardness but rolled on his side to linger with them while she raised the little boy, now bound in his coverings and put him to feed. Raising his finger, he stroked the exposed breast where his son suckled and then bared the other, catching on his finger the drip of milk that oozed from it. "Taste it..." Sophie murmured softly. He looked up at her and her languid expression surprised him. It appeared erotically-primed. "Feeding him, it makes me feel very....earthy...watching you strip naked...feeds my imagination....thinking of you suckling....Jack, I am still a woman...."

He bent his head and licked the swollen nipple, savouring the sweet warm milk. The smell of mother's milk and little baby filled his senses; he knew he was testing himself and would probably fail - he could already feel the throb of blood pulsing between his legs. Closing his lips around her areola, he sucked and tasted the unexpectedly strong spray that hit the roof of his mouth. With a sigh, not so different than the snaffles of contentment from his son, he continued to feed as Sophie stroked his hair and caressed her baby's cheek.

Georgie dozed off and Jack pulled away, his face still pressed into the warm softness of her breast, desire coursing through him. Sophie eased away, pulled herself from the bed and carried the child to his cradle. Once she was sure he was settled, she returned back to where her husband lay and then deftly went to work at the ties on his coverings. "Sophie!"

"Your turn now....big boy..." she giggled.

He spluttered and tried to sit up but she slipped to her knees, dropping the opening and allowing the contents to spring free. "Sophie..."

"You need me...."she shook away the hand he used to try and stop her and grasped his shaft firmly in her own fingers. Working it slowly but surely, she glided the skin up and down. He closed his eyes and let pleasure overtake him. Suddenly he felt the wet touch of her tongue; she had milked the first drops from him and was now tasting him as he had tasted her before. The lewd but beautiful act drew a gasp from him - she then settled down and suckled him deep, using her teeth lightly, her tongue in a fluttering motion and the strong pull of her lips driving him to madness. He grasped for contact with her, fondling a strand of her long hair, wrapping his fingers around until he had a tight hold.

He did not try to delay or prolong the sweet moment but let his body have its way, aware that as she caressed and kneaded his heavy balls, they were drawing upwards to his body and his end was approaching. With a low groan suppressed so as not to disturb his son, he let himself flood into her mouth. No woman gave this intimate pleasure to equal his wife - and he had known the act more times than he could remember from countless whores and slatternly wives who had offered him their attentions down the years. There had been a time when he had objected to Sophie doing it as if it was not appropriate for a woman he held in such high regard, but he no longer had such worries about taking advantage. Sophie appeared to enjoy the act as much as he did, just as he reveled in giving her lingual love.

Joining him on the pillow, she lay close and he snuggled up, rising to cover her and kiss her swollen lips, tasting his seed on her tongue, a crude thrill to him that he could not quite explain. "You are all things to me, Sophie. I love you beyond words..." he whispered and she smiled and returned his kiss with a deep contented sigh.

For a time, they played as lovers do then Jack decided, almost without giving it real thought. "Sophie....tell me now....where did you come from? Was it paradise that made a woman so perfect?"

She smiled at his foolishness and lay back looking at the ceiling. "I came from the future, Jack. It is hard to explain but that is why I am different."

He did not seem unduly surprised, as if in his heart of hearts he had known that much already. "Could you ever be taken back?" It had to be his greatest fear, made even worse now that a child had been born to them.

She shook her head. "I cannot go back. At least I don't think I can. I made a choice. To return and be with you. For that he said I would have to leave my own world behind forever..."

"Who is he?"

"An old man, in a little shop near where you found me.... Jack, I swear I will always be waiting here for you. Nothing will ever drive me back. Ever."

He thought about her words. "You loved me enough to give up your entire world for me? Your friends and family, your home, your life, all that was yours...and take a chance on me?"

"It was the easiest decision I have ever made. There was never a single doubt...for you, I would do anything....and now there is your son, too...my two boys...what could be more glorious?"

"But should the power that brought you, take you back....It could happen..."he began.

Sophie bit her lip in thought. "I doubt it, but should the unthinkable happen then you must go to the place where you found me in Portsmouth - George Street, remember? I was leaning on the wall...you picked me up....I think that is the way to my world...but, do not be scared, Jack...it will not happen..."

Jack seemed to accept her words but he was still pensive. Shortly he added, "Sophie...should anything ever happen to me....don't look like that! It could happen. The life I lead....if the news ever reaches you of my death in battle or at sea....go back. Take Georgie and return to your future world. I would not have to stay here alone. Promise me, Sophie...I need to know that you would be safe and happy if I were not here to take care of you...."

Sophie sprang up and sat by his side. "You are not going to die on me! You must never talk like that!"

He smiled and reached out his arms to bring her back to his body, holding her against his heart. "I do not plan to. It would take some great force to bring me down indeed - I have too much to live for. I only say 'if'. Promise me this, Sophie. I need to know this for both of you that you would be safe."

Sophie gave her promise. "But only if I was sure beyond any doubt that you were gone. Only if I was sure!"

He nodded. "What is it like, this future world of yours?"

She thought carefully before answering. "It is cynical and jaded, spoilt and selfish. We are a technological miracle - transport is faster than your wildest dreams, Jack, and we can communicate with each other across the world in seconds - but life is essentially as it always was. People still love and lose, wars still happen and misery and poverty abound as ever. But my people think they are the modern age and that people such as yourself are quaint and oldfashioned. They do not understand the true lesson of history. We are all the modern age. And no single time has all the answers to how to live."

He asked no more questions, seemingly content to dwell on that for now. Covering them both over with the heavy woolen blankets, he curled around her in the nest of their sheets as they settled to sleep. Little Georgie's snaffling breaths were soon drowned out by his father's sonorous snores. Sophie lay and listened to them both. Pray God, that day never came, she thought, when I must make that decision. She had to live in this moment when all that mattered in the world to her lay asleep close to her heart.

 

*

 

The weeks of autumn passed uneventfully, Georgie grew and flourished, Jack busied himself with much needed renovations, Sophie returned to the glowing and beautiful girl she had formally been. The couple attended engagements in the area, hosted their son's christening, walked around the village with Georgie proudly on display and yet, for all the mundane normality of the happy days, each one led them inexorably to the time when they would have to part again.

And that day came, when a rider from Portsmouth brought orders from the Admiralty. Jack tore open the parcel and pulled out the missive, his face stern and hiding the trepidation that he felt. Sophie, alerted by the arrival of the horse and rider, stole into the study and stood by the door while he read through the document.

"Well?" she asked tentatively.

"New orders. I am to sail by the end of the week. To the Mediterranean, where I join the blockade."

"Blockade? That might mean months!" Sophie gasped.

"Indeed," was all Jack said in reply.

"Is that all you can say? Indeed! INDEED!" Sophie shouted at him and then turned on her heel, running off through the house, out through the back door and then into the fields, hastily wrapping a cloak about her shoulders and tying a bonnet on her head against the cold wintry chill.

Jack stood at the window and watched helplessly as she ran. He felt much as she did - but what could he do or say? He had been home for almost eight weeks. He had witnessed the birth of his son. It was more than either had hoped for. Perhaps, come the spring, he might be able to snatch some leave and send for her and the child to join him in Malta? A heavy sigh engulfed him as he contemplated the bleak winter months stretching out ahead of him.

On a whim, he grabbed a warm jacket and thrust his arms in it, wrapping a scarf around his neck and pulling on a woolen cap before dashing after her. "Sophie?" he called as he raced across the garden, vaulting easily over the stile into the meadow and following her as she trotted towards the woods, hampered by the heavy fall of her gown. "Sophie! Stop! For God's sake....!"

But she only seemed to speed up, running wildly away from him, crashing through the trees bare and sad in their wintry drabness, the red brown cushion of decaying fallen leaves carpeting her steps. Jack found himself raising his pace, breathing heavily as he pounded after her, unsure what exactly he was going to do when he caught her but unable to stop himself. He wondered if he was as desperate in his way to run from all this as she was.

An idea struck him. What if they did leave England? He could take her and Georgie and they could strike out for pastures new. What about making a life together in America? He could disappear on that vast continent, buy a decent farm, make his fortune in a brave new land. Surely he had served his time and suffered enough in the service of King and Country? Why should Sophie and he have to spend more time apart when all they wished was a quiet life to raise their child and perhaps, God willing, a family of other little ones? He did not wish ever to see her cry and yet he was the cause of all her pain time and time again.

He caught up with her in a woodland clearing; she had stumbled and twisted her ankle, nothing serious, but it had slowed her down. "Go away! I know what you are going to say! I don't want to hear how your duty demands this! That you are a captain of the Royal Navy and this country is at war and that women must pay the price as much as men...I am sick of hearing that! When the truth is that you are bored after a while and cannot wait to get back aboard and sail away from us both!"

Jack stood and let her sling her darts at him. In truth she was not wrong in her assumption. Most of the other moments in his life, he had been more than ready for a reason to leave the land behind and return to his beloved sea.

When she had subdued and sank down, rubbing at her slender ankle, he came and squatted by her, tilting at her face so that she met his eyes. "It is my natural habitat. All I ever knew from when I was sent away as a tiny motherless boy. For years it was the rhythm of my life and if I ventured far from it, I soon felt lost and sought to return. But Sophie...dear Sophie....the last journey I made taught me a lot of lessons. What I am trying to say is this...however highly I regard my duty to my country, there is nothing in my life as important to me as you and our son. I could resign my commission - there are dozens of captains waiting for a ship- they would soon replace me. We could sell this home and go abroad, start a new life. I swear, Sophie, I would do this for you...you only have to ask..."

She stared up at him, her eyes wide in amazement at his declaration. It seemed to be against everything he stood for.

"But.... but....the Navy is your life! It is all you know!"

"You are my life now! And I can learn new things. Just as you did. Just as you chose me and left your world behind. I, too, love you enough to do that. Or your choice would be a sacrifice for me, not a gift to me..."

She thought about his words, realized how much what she had told him must have preyed on his mind these weeks although he had never mentioned it. That was so like Jack to keep the real important issues deep in his heart. She touched his cheek and shook her head. "It is not the same. But I do love you for your offer. No, you canot step down. For you are Jack Aubrey, one of England's greatest sea captains. And I am your wife and will stand by you in all that you do. We Aubreys do not run away! When the going gets tough, Jack, the tough get going!"

Jack laughed heartily at her epithet, even though tears moistened his eyes at her true heart and courage. "By God, I like that one! 'When the going gets tough...' how did that go again? How that would stir the men...! Sophie...my dear Sophie..." he grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. "...Only if this is your wish. I will not force this upon you."

"It is my choice. And I am sorry that I acted so selfishly just now. My only excuse is that I love you too much and want you by my side all the time..."

They kissed, Jack pressing her against him, and warming her cold body inside his thick jacket, they hugged her close as they walked back to the house, nuzzling and whispering.

Back inside, Hyacinth greeted Sophie with a bob, little Georgie clasped to her crying bitterly. "Oh, ma'am, he won't stop his wailing whatever we do! He wants his mother. He loves his milk..."

Sophie broke away from Jack and tossed aside her cloak to sweep her baby boy in her arms and hurry to the parlour to suckle him. Jack smiled fondly at the little servant girl and trailed behind his wife. He had only a day at the most before he needed to be on his way and did not intend to spend a moment away from their side.

 

*

 

Later that evening after a fine dinner, Jack and Stephen settled down in the parlour, tuning their instruments. Sophie sat by the fire, sewing a new outfit of clothes for her son, enjoying the last night with the men before they set off. Her thoughts had been far- ranging that night, memories of her old life flitting across her mind. Then she recalled something with a smile. It had begun with a line of a lyric and then the whole song came into her mind. She had never much liked it when she had lived back there, always regarding it as a rather sentimental sappy song, the sort that old ladies would approve of, without the edge she had formally preferred in her music.

But her tastes had changed. She was a wife and mother now and in this world where she had found herself, the sentimental and the hearth and home notions were wholly proper. It no longer seemed necessary to mock the world of settled family life and sturdy Christian values. She understood those institutions differently now that she lived by them; she certainly had never felt such peace and security in this life as with Jack had offered her, despite the precarious life he led.

"Jack, Stephen, may I sing a song? There is a ditty from my old life that was very popular. It has a tune that I think you will enjoy, a simple song with a Celtic lament..."

"By all means!" 

Jack beamed too, always delighted when she sang to him.

Placing down her sewing and clearing her throat, she began to sing.

 

 

Jack had listened entranced, the words touching his heart and his eye dewy. He wiped a tear away and picked up his bow, resting the violin at his neck and providing a haunting accompaniment to her sweet singing.

 

 

"What a beautiful folk song!" Jack gasped when she had finished. "It has a ring of the Derry air to it! I have never heard anything finer. Stephen, we must notate it...play it together aboard. I would wish to remember this in the future when I am far away..." his voice broke slightly and Stephen nodded his approval.

"I shall work on it tonight. However, I suggest you retire early tonight, Jack. You will have a busy few days ahead of you and I can sleep anytime. Sophie, that was exquisite - and what more could any man ask for on his leaving! I bid you both goodnight..."

Dear Stephen! He had given them the perfect moment to withdraw so that they could make the most of their last hours. Jack did not need to be asked twice. He replaced his violin in its case and fixed the bow, took his wife's hand and they said their goodnights to their friend. As they climbed the stairs, arms round each other, Jack whispered in her ear. "I shall sing that song in my heart every moment. But it should have been I who sang it to you. For it is only with you behind me that I can be the man I have to be."

Sophie smiled up at him. "It is for both of us. Wherever you may roam, Jack Aubrey, you must remember this. We will always be here waiting for your return and can stand anything as long as you come back to us one day. For we are always your journey's end. And I shall always be here, with Georgie, however long it takes..."

He took a deep breath and pulled her closer into the crook of his arm. "Let's to bed," he murmured soft and low. "For I would rest in you, my journey's end..."

 




 

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