'Stephen I have longed for a boy...'

'By the law of averages the next is likely to be a boy...'

'There is no likelihood of another. None at all. You have not been married, Stephen....'

It was too much. Too much. Not only had she sent her presumptuous note almost demanding that Captain Aubrey accept her as a last minute passenger but also tipped her nod to his lady wife to put up and shut up about it. They were both sailors' wives and they knew the drill, she implied. She will make herself as useful as his own wife, she said, darning his stockings to keep her busy on the long voyage to the Cape.

The letter alone had annoyed her enough but then the hard-faced harridan had dared to come calling to receive her answer, dressed to kill with her large breasts spilling out of the tight confines of last year's fashions, thinking that a demure hat and diffident manner was sufficient to make her seem an honourable woman. Lady Clonfert she may be by title, but her morals were no doubt as cheap as a fishwife at the market.  Sophie had seen the glances she had given Jack. She had also seen the furtive ones that he had returned. Captain Aubrey was such a fool for a pretty face and the turn of a slender ankle - not to mention the effect a swelling bosom had on his ardour!

Sophie Aubrey withdrew to the kitchen to supervise the supper preparations whilst her husband and the good doctor Maturin took a stroll down to the Crown for a pre-prandial drink. Her humour was not of the best; she slammed pans about and shouted at the kitchen staff, her particular annoyance directed at Killick as if he, being a man and a sailor, represented all that she most hated in life and that took her Jack away from her - the sea, the navy and even her role as her husband's main carer.

The presence of her own mother, whispering her usual jibes in her ear only exacerbated her annoyance. "The Clonfert woman made a play for him right under your nose, Sophie, and that great galumphing fool of a husband of yours fell straight for it. Make no mistake she'll be tending to more than his stockings on that voyage - and he will be untying hers before they're five minutes out of Portsmouth!"

"Mother! That is a terrible thing to say! Exactly what am I to do about it? Stow away in his sea chest?"

"There is nothing you can do about it, my dear. That is the sad lot of women, I'm afraid. Men pursue you like you were the greatest treasure of Araby and tell you that your life together will be Fiddler's Green and then what happens? A short while later you are brought to bed of the result of their passions, your figure and health ruined, and they then have to look elsewhere for their pleasures. Think of that poor Mrs. Thwaites! The church bells were ringing for her all afternoon ! Dead of childbirth at such a young age and her husband will be picking another by the Spring no doubt..."

"Mrs. Thwaites had a healthy son last night. That is why they rang the bells, mother! What am I to take from all this then? I must not let Jack have his way with me for fear of dying in childbed nor must I let saucy madams like Lady Clonfert turn his head? Pray tell me how I am to effect this amazing sleight of hand...?"

"...Do not be tetchy with me, Sophia. I am your mother and only think of your best interests. I merely point out the drawbacks of possessing a husband who is of the male persuasion. But we must put our trust in God. With any luck he will be a casualty of war soon enough and you can find a better partner. At least, one with some money and more of a standing in the community. And one with a limp member between his legs this time, I hope!"

Mrs. Williams sailed from the kitchen with her usual haughty disdain and left Sophie even more confused. She loved her Jack. He was everything she had ever wanted in a man: strong, brave, true and possessing not only hearty good looks but also a sense of humour that was so dear to her. He made her laugh. He made her heart beat faster. He even made her blush with his sweet talk when they were alone.

She knew he was a lusty man and had a strong weakness where women were concerned. He had not come to their marriage bed an innocent boy, that much she had been able to divine. Sophie suspected there had been many women down the years and that Jack was used to an enthusiastic performance between the sheets. But the whole business seemed so very unpleasant to her. She could not understand what the attraction was. All that slapping of naked flesh, grasping of buttocks, sweating, moaning and rolling about - not to mention the actual act itself which always seemed to her completely absurd and something that she found hard to imagine God intending for church going people. Why did men have such an irrational attachment to it - and why did so many women seem to welcome the attention?

To tell the truth, Jack scared her a little in bed. It wasn't that he wasn't affectionate and considerate to her needs, as a good man should be to his wife, but rather that he was too much inclined to that, too desperately endeavouring to make her enjoy their marriage duties as much as he evidently did. When all she ever wanted was for him to climb aboard, shake about as quickly as possible - and finish.

The romantic interludes that normally preceded the fulfillment of their marital obligations were extremely pleasant, Sophie always found. She adored Jack in that doe-eyed lover mood, holding her hand, kissing her sweetly, caressing her back and nuzzling at her neck. If only that was all there was to it! But no sooner had she responded to his tender spooning than he was rubbing himself lewdly against her nightgown and rummaging at the hem to find his way in.

But once it was over, despite the rather uncomfortable sensation of - and Sophie hated even to admit the word in her head - his manly ejaculations - she always loved the aftermath when he was so very grateful for her charity, lying with his strong arms around her and murmuring sweet nothings into her ear as he fell to sleep, happy and satiated. In such a mood, a man will do anything for a woman.

Even perhaps spurn the obvious blandishments of Lady Clonfert?

Sophie sighed. They had been together for such a long stretch of time now and it had been so good to have him home. The girls loved their father and Sophie knew, despite his rather puzzled manner about his twin daughters and his inability to tell one from the other, that Jack did love them dearly in return. She had enjoyed the last few months immensely but knew she had fallen short in her duties as a wife in one regard. Jack had tried to persuade her to resume their intimate life and on one or two occasions she had allowed him that privilege - but she was aware that it had not been enough for him.

She wished she could have given him more but Sophie was afraid of childbirth, to be truthful. The birth of the twins had been a difficult confinement and, although it had finally been a safe delivery, she had suffered long and there had been some concern for her well being. Jack knew nothing of this, of course - he had left early on in her pregnancy and returned well after the birth. No wife would ever discuss such details with her husband anyway. But ever since they had been born, she had lived in mortal fear of conceiving again and this time perhaps giving birth to a boy in Jack's image. Imagine the shoulders! It made her feel quite faint even to contemplate it.

Jack wanted a son. He was always hinting. If she gave him one, he would be eternally grateful to her and perhaps, as he aged, his desire, might calm down and he would be satisfied from then on with just companionship. That was her wish. Until then she knew, from time to time, she would have to take the bull by the horns (the very thought of how crudely appropriate that was brought a blush to her cheeks) and ensure in one fell swoop that she kept Jack's amorous interest, deflected away the promise of another man's wife and fulfilled her duty to provide a son and heir for her dear husband.

Tonight was the night. Sophie decided that she would face her responsibilities as readily as Jack did when he sailed away to carry out his duty to King and Country. She would lie back and do what every Englishwoman must for the benefit of the sons that their nation required. And with a shake of her pretty head, smoothing down her fair curls, she ordered Killick and a few of the men to prepare her bath upstairs while she laid out her finest peignoir for later. This was Jack's last night at home.

She intended to make it one for him to remember...

It was late as they stood by the open door watching the scudding clouds. Jack turned to face his wife, who was at his side, her face exceptionally lovely in the softening twilight. The wind was due south, the glass was rising. With the best will in the world they would never have caught the late tide. He would spend one last night with her. As she looked tonight, he could not have torn himself away even had the Sea Lord himself demanded it of him.

"Tomorrow, sweetheart," he said, fondly looking down, "tomorrow at the crack of dawn you lose your husband to his natural element..."

She took his hand and raised her eyes meekly. "But first you must rest in mine...dear Jack..."

Jack swallowed hard and studied her face for some sign that she had intended the double entendre there. Sophie's face was tinged with a flush and her breasts were rising and falling fast. He noticed that she had not worn her usual muslin scarf and her décolletage was more obvious than her usual fashion. He was surprised not to have noticed this earlier. She really did have the most beautiful breasts, he observed, small but high and smooth, flawlessly creamy skin, attar of roses sprinkled in the glorious crease and the prettiest rose pink nipples that a man had ever had the honour to kiss.

He let her lead him through the house and up the stairs to their room, neither speaking, but a feverish anticipation in the air. Jack did not wish to make a single move which might break the spell of this magic. For the first time ever, Sophie was showing him her desire to consummate their love. His heart thumped with the joy of this most unexpected turn of events.

As the door closed behind them, Jack drew her to him, placing a kiss on her neck at the nape. "You are so beautiful, Sophie! The most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on!" he muttered.

She pulled away and flashed him a seductive smile over her shoulder. "Unfasten my hooks, Jack, please?"

He took his hands to the tiny buttons and hooks and began one by one to undo them, slowly baring the pale skin of her back. To his surprise she was not wearing any corsetry or the layers of petticoats women usually donned. From his vantage her top half appeared entirely nude beneath the soft cloth of her dress. That startled him.

"Sophie? What does this mean?"

She walked away and slipped behind the screen to remove her dress and don her peignoir. "Mean? May a wife not ask her husband to undress her?" She answered meekly.

Jack took a step towards her and then opened his mouth to speak, pausing when he was not sure how to continue. He took a seat on the straight chair to remove his shoes and stockings and give himself some thinking time.

"Sophie? I had always imagined that you were not overly fond of the...er... intercourse of the bedroom...That my advances in some way upset you....that they were not to your taste..." He stumbled over his words, unused to discussing this particular topic with his wife.

"Well..."Sophie began as she slipped from the screen dressed in the revealing gown which was open at the front and revealing her cleavage while being of such a fragile fabric that he could clearly see the outline of her naked legs as she stood before the candle. He coughed and began to unfasten his waistcoat roughly, dragging it from his shoulders and drawing his shirt from his breeches. "I am only to happy to make you happy, Jack. I understand that men put much stock on this particular act. But it always seems to me rather...indelicate. I find it unseemly for men and women to grapple in such a disagreeable way. It tends to remind one of the farm yard..."

Jack coughed again and tried not to leer at the way her nipples were revealed against the peignoir, sweetly puckered in the cool of the night air. His licked his lips at the thought of suckling on them. "Farm yard? We are all animals when it comes down to it, Sophie. Beneath our veneer of polite society, men and women must come together and propagate for the good of the species."

Sophie sat down on the end of the bed. "Of course, I understand that - and it is my wish to give you children, Jack..."

"It is?" Jack leapt on that, seeing his chance for success here growing with every remark she made. Something had put her in mind of matters of the flesh tonight; he had always wondered if women like Sophie ever did get urges to let themselves go and enjoy a man freely.

"Most assuredly. I love children! But...I fear childbed. It is a dreadfully painful and humiliating business, Jack. And dangerous, too. You can surely understand my hesitation..."

Jack nodded, uncomfortable as always with the mention of such female matters as the delivery of babies. "Quite so. But there are ways I could attempt to ensure that conception was avoided..."

"There are?" Sophie's eyes widened. "Such as?"

Jack stood up and paced the room. Sophie watched him now dressed only in his loose shirt, his breeches unbuttoned at the knee and his shapely legs bare. He freed his hair from its ribbon and shook the locks free, raking his hand back through to keep it from his face. He really was a very attractive man, she mused to herself, so virile and so desirable. She knew not many women were fortunate enough to find themselves alone at night with such a specimen. "I could...remove myself from the...er.... vicinity when the time was near..."

"Leave the room?" Sophie asked, confused.

Jack sighed. "No, no! I did not mean remove my entire presence.  I was referring merely to...my member..."

Sophie blushed and looked down, playing with her fingers. "But...where would it all go? It is very...there always seems to be a great deal of....surely the....liquid has to go somewhere?"

"Well, I could keep a kerchief handy...or there is always the sheet..." Sophie pulled a face; Jack immediately regretted his comment.

"Is that how women like Diana avoid such things?" 

The introduction of his former mistress's name into the discussion gave Jack some consternation. "I have no idea how a woman such as Diana Villiers conducts herself in these matters!"

"I meant it as a general observation, Jack! Do women insist that men withdraw in this way it they wish to avoid issue?"

"Some do. Some use douches. Or introduce sponges into their...things...madam, I am not exactly well informed on what they do - but they take evasive actions. That much I do know."

He wished she would leave the subject alone. It was too close too comfort for him.

"Have you known many women in this sense, Jack? You seem to be a man of experience..."

He turned and gave her a look of horror. "Sophie!"

"I know that you were not an innocent boy on our wedding night, Jack!" she replied in her defence.

"Just so.  Just so. I admit I may have been a little careless with my affections in my younger days..."he chose his words carefully, "...But, you know I have been entirely devoted to you ever since I met you..."

Sophie gave him an impenetrable gaze; he wondered exactly what she was thinking. In truth, he had not been an entirely faithful husband, but he always justified his occasional lapses with the excuse that he was often away for many months - even years at a time - and a man has needs which can damage his health if not allowed release. He was also a husband who had not found the marriage bed all he had hoped  for either and surely a man could not be expected to go for months at sea without the comfort of a woman, only to return home and rarely be accorded the same  privilege from his own wife? Surely that would even test the fortitude of a saint?

"I have no doubts about your devotion, Jack," she answered, but in such a way as to suggest that she, while trusting in his devotion, might have also doubts about his fidelity - and that the two were hardly the same. But she did not continue, merely raising her hands to let her golden hair tumble about her pretty shoulders. Sitting there on the edge of their bed, she looked to him like a nubile maid, slender, peach skinned and half naked; the stuff of a lonely sailor's dreams.

Sinking to his knees before her, he held her face in his large hands. "Oh, Sophie! You are a sight for a man to see! May I prevail upon your kindness tonight...?" he asked in the polite euphemism that was deemed appropriate between a man and his wife.

Sophie smiled and brushed his hair back fondly. "That is my wish, also, Jack. And do not...withdraw. If we should be blessed with a child from our union, then so be it. It may be many a long day before we meet again and I would that you held this memory before you on those long, lonely nights at sea...or the drunken ones that you might spend ashore at landfall... If you know what I mean?" Jack realized then she was giving him a reminder than she expected him to resist temptation on the course of this voyage - both that of Lady Clonfert and her knowing advances first and foremost but also from any other winsome wench who might catch his eye on his travels.

Jack's hands slid down her gown to fondle the small pert rise of her heaving breasts; he felt the hot pulse of blood in his groin and the loosening of inhibition. Even Sophie seemed to be languid and erotically charged this night, her eyes smoky and her lips inviting. At such times a man would promise his world to gain that which he desired.

"I swear to you, I will not touch another woman or even let one turn my head if you but give me your tender affections in this night..." he gasped.

Sophie's fingers wandered down his chest; she parted the open edges of his loose white shirt and massaged his chest, playing with the manly sprinkling of hair and caressing the many scars he bore. "Oh, Jack! You are such a man! So big and strong! So hairy and rough! It makes my womanly heart flutter to think of your body next to mine! Come, love me, Jack. Fill me with your essence and give me another child, so that you may never leave me - even if the sea should part us!"

Her impassioned words, so rare for a woman of Sophie's reserved nature, drove away the last vestiges of his control. Jack only had a few hours until he had to leave her and suddenly she became the only thing in life he wished for, where earlier that evening he had been longing to escape to his beloved sea.

Standing up, he threw off his shirt and went to wrench open the buttons on his breeches; Sophie stayed his hands and delicately completed the task, as he breathed deeply to control himself. The sight of her slim white hands, so close to the obscene bulge of his straining erection, made him even harder. She dropped the breeches and he stood before her, clad only in his linens; Sophie blushed at the clear evidence of his arousal.

His hand instinctively went to cover himself as she rose from her perch and rounded the bed, turning back the heavy covers to slip between the sheets. The peignoir had slipped from her shoulders to bare one side. She drew up her legs before her and the gown slid down to reveal almost the whole length of her white thighs. Then she lay back on the pillows and raised the hem to her waist and let his eyes feast on his joy. Jack could hardly believe what was happening.

His linens were discarded in no time and he came to her in the bed in a rush. This time, Sophie did not insist on the candle being extinguished. This time she did not avert her eyes from his nakedness as he measured his length beside her. This time she even let him take her hand and wrap it round his errant member, his own fist circling hers. He groaned as he pumped himself against her grip and buried his face against the sweet soft roundness of her breasts. His senses were filled with the fragrance of roses, his lips suckled on her puckered satin nipples. He sought out the warm wet heat of her womanhood with eager fingers.

He felt her tense as his hands ran along the peach-skin of her inner thighs but she did not push him away as sometimes she did. As he eased a finger along her creamy centre, he knew she was aroused too, even if she was scared of the emotion and tried to close her mind to her pressing desire. "Oh Sophie!" he muttered into the pillowy cushion of her bosom. "Let me in! Dear God, I cannot stand it. I must have you now!"

She let her body relax and opened her legs: for a second Jack was reminded of a fish on a plate and wished she would respond as other women did to his eager lovemaking: caress his body, encircle his hips with her legs, writhe before him sensuously and aid his entry. But how was he to explain it to this gentle lady that he wanted her to behave like a whore? How could he make her understand that if she did indulge the wild passion that must be tempting her, then she would know pleasure such as she had never known before?

He positioned himself carefully, parting her legs wider and dipping his prick into her juices, bathing himself liberally to make himself as smooth as possible - he always hurt her and he hated himself for that. Sophie turned her head to the side and gripped the sheet in fists. It always made him ashamed to see her do that, as if she was steeling herself for some terrible torment.

As he pushed gently, his tip nudging her open, he sought her lips with his and kissed her - first demurely and then, as he pulled back and thrust deeper, he mimicked the action with his tongue. Sophie gasped against his action and thus opened herself to the intimate kiss. As their tongues entwined, it was enough to help her forget her anxiety and he felt her body relax, opening her passage to the kiss of his cock.

In one dizzying moment, Sophie appeared to lose herself, her arms left their set position and found his shoulders; she pulled him to her and her groin rose imperceptibly on his. Exquisite pleasure! Joy of joys! He heard his wife moan softly and he took that moment to delve deeper, down into her depths, diving into an ocean of sensation until he touched the limit and began his gentle rhythm rocking back and forth, pushing in and out - and she went with him.

Sophie's eyes were now tightly shut but her mouth was open and her skin infused with a pink glow. Her breathing was short, in gasps interspersed with sighs. He had never seen her so affected in all the times he had been intimate with her.

"Oh Sophie! I adore you! I love you more than anything in life!" he murmured as his head dropped to her neck and his lips sucked on her tender flesh. He raised his tempo, eager to increases the sweet friction of his hard member against her pulsing walls. Harder and harder he began to pound, sweat dripping from his chest and slicking with her perspiration as she too became insensate to propriety and decorum and let him ride her willing body.

She still did not move beneath him, lying like an insensible doll as he lustily boarded and took his prize, going nearer and nearer to his goal, the mist of passion swirling red before his eyes.

"Oh God!" he cried out as he spattered into her the waves of warm ejaculate.

"Oh Jack!" she whispered as she held him to her, aware that his formidable strength was being sapped by this vulnerable moment when he shed his seed. "My sweet Jack!"

He slumped down for a few seconds, holding his weight on his upper arms, muttering vague endearments into her ear. He heard her soft chuckle, as if something had amused her. "What is it?"

"You are making no sense. Your words are all jumbled..." she murmured warmly and stroked his damp forehead tenderly. He rolled from her, heard her wince as he pulled out, and observed from the corner of his eye how she dabbed between her legs with the lacy handkerchief she must have been clutching in her hand all along. Sophie quickly restored her gown and pulled the sheet around his nakedness, already beginning to return to the demure distance that always lay between them, as if the experience they had just shared had not taken place.

Jack lay back and stared at the ceiling, composing himself after the passionate interlude. Sophie busied herself settling down, plumping up her pillow and blowing out the candle. "Good night, Jack. You have an early start..." she began.

"Come here!" He spoke quietly but in a firm voice that brooked no opposition. He rolled on his side and took Sophie in his arms, pulling her into his embrace. She tried to straighten down her nightdress and knot up her hair. "Stop that nonsense!" He commanded tersely. "We have just made love. Your husband wishes to hold you. It matters not a jot if your hair is awry and your clothes disheveled. There is nothing to be hidden between a man and woman in the secrecy of their bed. Sophie, I love you and I shall miss you every moment that I am away from you. But the memory of what you have given me this night will stay with me for many a long day and warm my heart while I am gone..."

Jack whispered his words of love and promise as she lay beneath him and let him kiss her softly again. She felt uplifted by his affection. The whole night had been a wonderful moment of commitment between them. Her instinct had been the right one and she felt so much better now about his leaving.

Sophie lay silently as Jack slipped into sleeping, his familiar stentorian snoring soon settling into the comforting rhythm that she missed so much when he was at sea. She smiled to herself as she allowed herself to burrow back closer to the warmth of the large body nestled around her. "Dear Jack!" she thought to herself. "Perhaps there is something in this amorous business after all? I must talk to Diana about it one of these days. Have I been missing something all along?"

Closing her eyes, she reveled in the feel of her husband's presence and refused to let herself contemplate the loneliness of the months ahead alone. She would have her memories and her children to console her. Jack had his duty and his own memories, too. One day he would be back and it would be to her and the children he returned. Such was the lot of a sailor's wife.

....Pullings took out a dog eared Naval Chronicle from his pocket and plucked an official letter from among its pages, marking the place with his thumb; but holding the letter aloft, not quite delivering it, he said, 'so no post, sir, since I last saw you..?'

'...Give it here,' said Jack. He grasped the magazine, sloped the page to the light, and pored over it intently. . 'At Ashgrove cottage, Chilton Admiral, in Hants, the lady of Captain Aubrey, of the Boadicea, of a son and heir...I'll be damned. God bless me. Lord, Lord...upon my word and honour....I'll be damned to Hell and back again...strike me down. Killick, Killick, rouse out a bottle of champagne - pass the word for the Doctor - here, Killick, there's for you - God love us all - ha, ha, ha...'

"...Stephen,' said Jack later, 'Sophie is brought to bed of a boy. I never had wind of it, you know?' Calculation had already established the fact that the distant nameless wonder was conceived the night of his leaving...