The banter of Jno. Aubrey, esq.

I’ve always preferred the morning. It always seems the most honest time; people are less likely to do wrong when the light of day is shining on ‘em. I always thought that if we could get a bit more light below decks and not have it so infernal dark down there, men would be less drawn to trouble. If a man can see the wrong he’s doing, he’ll be less likely to do it. Too much is easily masked at night; it breeds hiding and dishonesty; it is a breeding ground for damned purser’s tricks. Better to keep one’s doings out in the light where everyone can see and none can reproach them.

I've ignored this journal terribly, I know, but will not try your patience with excuses, and offer a meager update as apology:


( 'Blue' ficlet )

“Are you quite sure this is safe, Jack?” Stephen asked nervously, eyeing the still damp and seaweed-covered rigging. “You will pardon my saying, but by the looks of these ropes I do not quite trust them to be up to the task of supporting both of us at once.”

“Why, I hope that weren’t another slight on my weight?” said Jack, grinning. “But not to worry: these lines will hold more weight than the two of us, sure as anything. We got beat about in that unfortunate nor’easter, to be sure, but you mustn’t worry: you’re standing on the finest hemp rope any dockyard has to offer,” said Jack, shaking the rope about with his feet, for emphasis. “This is the only fine day we’ve had in a week, and I am going to make the most of this smooth run while we have it, hey?”

“I suppose I ought to trust your judgment in this matter,” was all Stephen could conjure as a reply, as he let himself be half guided, half hoisted to the top of mainmast.

Though still leery of the rigging, Stephen took a moment to survey the endless span of ocean before them. The sky had taken on that deep, vibrant tone always seen after a violent storm. The sea was comparatively calm, and the two blended to create a singularly handsome view, even to one who had been at sea for what seemed like centuries. “I thought I had seen every vista the ocean had to offer,” Stephen breathed. “I have never seen its equal.”

“Aye, she always has a new trick, the sea does,” said Jack. He chuckled, wrapping his arm about Stephen’s waist, under the guise of preventing him from falling. But the combination of the view and Jack’s strong arm wrapped about his person was too much for Stephen, and he let out a shiver, closing his eyes tightly. “What’s wrong, old Stephen?” Jack asked. “You can trust me: I will not let you fall, you know.”

“I know you will not, my dear,” said Stephen, trying not to feel the warmth of Jack’s breath so close to his ear. Almost under his breath, he added “I fear I do not trust myself.”

If you could do one totally irresponsible or even bad thing with absolutely no consequences, what would it be and why?


Now, there would be a novelty. I’ve certainly done my fair share of irresponsible things, but never without the fear of consequence. I don’t think I’d want to do anything truly wrong, but again, that is a matter of opinion. There are some things that are written down and set in stone as wrong; both by the admiralty, and by the Church of England, that I don’t agree with, though that may be blasphemous of me to say. I will not say what specific rules and articles I refer to, but there are some that, was I able to disregard the penalty of hanging, I would disregard with as much guiltless abandon as I would ravish a plate of figgy dowdy.

…I am sorry if I made too bold with this response, but I did try to be as genteel as I could.

What is so important to you that without it, life would not be worth living? Why?

Now, I’ve never rightly felt that my life weren’t worth living, so I don’t reckon I’d even be able to tell what would make me feel that way. I suppose it’d have to be something I’ve never been without. Though most would probably expect me to say Stephen or Sophie, I’m not sure that’s the right answer. Though, for certain, life without either of ‘em would be more painful than I’d care to mention, and would give me a rough time indeed. However, I did pretty well for the first thirty years of my life without knowing either of them, so by all accounts I should be able to go on living, was anything to happen. No, no, that don’t sound right, do it? I don’t know now, whether I would really be able to. I’ve had fellow officers who were great friends of mine get killed right in front of me, and I got along tolerable well afterwards, but now I’ve grown so attached to those two that I don’t really know what I’d do, was I to lose ‘em. Well, without Stephen, they’d probably give me one of those rum, drunken navy surgeons, to care for my crew. And I tell you, I’d bet my life not one of ‘em can whip off a leg quicker than my old Stephen. But no one ever really died of loneliness or a broken heart, did they? Leastways not full grown men, especially those in the military, who are so accustomed to death. So I suppose that the only thing I’ve had my whole life, that I don’t know if life would be worth living without, is the sea. I’ve been at sea, a true sailor, since the age of twelve, and even before. I don’t do well on land, not well at all. Without a command I am half myself, and was I to be without one for ever…well, I would not know what to do with myself. I hope I am either killed in a gallant naval action, or blessed with hoards of grandchildren to entertain in my retirement; else I will be a pitiful old cove indeed.

What is the scariest thing that has ever happened to you?

Now, this is going to take some explaining on my part, but I believe the time I was most afraid, maybe the only time I was truly afraid in my whole adult life, was when I was forced to ride in a coach driven by Diana Villiers (and Stephen, I mean no particular offense to her character in this case; you understand.) As some of you may remember, Diana was quite possibly the most reckless, dangerous driver that ever sat behind the reigns of a chaise and four. Now, I’m aware I’ve been in far more dangerous situations in my life, but that coach ride was probably the only time I recall being truly frightened. When I’m in battle, or my ship is on the verge of sinking, I’m too focused on the task at hand to be frightened. I suppose the difference is that, when in battle or some similar situation, I am in control, so the only thing to be done is to assess the scene, review my own capabilities, trust in luck, and take charge. When Diana was driving, I had no control over the fate of that poor carriage, and so it was only then that I was truly frightened.

What in the world is underwear? Do they mean smallclothes? This is damned ridiculous. I might as well post it as not, though. Damned silly, however.

Stolen right from drmaturintm. Answer if you like, and remember, it is an absolutely innocent question...


If you woke up and I was in bed with you, what would be your first thought?

"What does the word 'love' mean to you?"


Lord, what a word. I am always confused by it: what sort of “love” is real love? I love a fine glass of Madeira, and the smell of cannon-fire, is that love? I love the sight of a shapely and bright-eyed wench, what of that? It seems to me like love ain’t just love most of the time; it’s got all different faces to it. It’s like the sea: everyone knows what you mean when you say “the sea”, but how are they to know whether you mean a calm, a storm, the doldrums, a port? It’s one of those words that has too many meanings for its own good, I think.

Perhaps I’m just the wrong man to ask. Seems to me like I’m always not loving enough, or loving far too much. I’m too over-full of love sometimes, but maybe that ain’t even love. No man is married past Gibraltar, but that don’t mean my actions don’t hurt those I love. You can’t teach an old dog to put all its eggs in one basket though, so I guess it’ll always be a rather bad habit of mine.

On to those I love. Aside from England, the sea, music, and the children, I would have to say, as I have always said, that the obvious choices are Sophie and Stephen. Sophie, the loveliest creature God ever blessed, is the one most hurt by my over-passionate bad habits. But I do love her so.

As for Stephen, well, I don’t know exactly what to even say about him and me. I don’t believe I can think of anything in my life that would be the same if the Stephen had never been involved. We’ve been living out of each other’s pockets for too long, it would seem, to be capable of being independent form each other ever again. Maybe he’d say different, though; he always was a close one, and sometimes I wonder whether he wouldn’t just be right as rain was he to go off on his own. He’d better not think to do so, however: for all his flaws, I don’t think the old fellow is replaceable.

A dispicably late update. I hope I've not inconvenienced anyone too greatly. I doubt it.

( My Exact Opposite )