I’m not sure why I took so long to come to this chapter. Perhaps because it’s so shocking — you find out several things about Stephen in this chapter that are quite the revelation. But we must first begin with certainties — Stephen is very aware of Johnson’s attempts to manipulate events, and his motives. He is also very aware that Jack is going to be an open book to Johnson. Case in point — the ‘Admiral Crichton remark’ from the last chapter. That gentleman was killed by a jealous lover when he was only 22 — accosted on the street by a gang of thugs lead by the jealous lover in person. This realization makes Stephen feel the chill — he is wary of being attacked on his way back to the Asclepias.
Talking with Jack, he gets the distinct impression that Johnson now knows far too much about the very talented Dr. Maturin. “Brother’, said Stephen to himself, ‘you may have dished me with your kindness.” There’s still a chance that his cover won’t be blown — the only Frenchman that could definitely identify him is 6 feet under. But Stephen reminds Jack to keep quiet about anything that might mark the doctor as ‘intelligent — even over-intelligent.’
There have been other visitors besides Johnson — two American naval officers, Evans and Lawrence, bringing messages from Mowett, of poetic fame. Also the elder Mr. Herapath has been by. But that account is interrupted by the appearance of Phillip Broke’s Shannon, lurking just within sight of shore, hoping for the Chesapeake to come out and fight. Phillip Broke and the Shannon are infamous in American naval history — for they broke the American winning streak in early June of 1813: http://www.biographi.ca/en/bio/broke_philip_bowes_vere_7E.html
Jack gives a pretty complete picture of Broke — their relationship (cousins), Broke’s regrettable naval education at the Naval Academy in Portsmouth. What did Jack call the boys who came into service from the Academy? ‘Wicked Academites?’ “A miserable crew of sneaking upstart lubbers, learning seamanship and gunnery from books and pretending to set themselves on a level with us, who had learnt them at sea.” There was a very real prejudice against academy-trained midshipmen — William IV himself said “…there was no place superior to the quarterdeck of a British man of war for the education of a gentleman”. Most officers in the Royal Navy got their places via family ties and patronage, including Jack. Phillip, though, was pretty gifted — even if his wife was, since her childhood, “…sorry for herself then, gasping and turning up her eyes.” The vapours. Jack’s final assessment of Broke — a deeply religious man, but a tartar on moral, rather than functional grounds. Jack’s discipline is in the interests of maintaining a tight, well-functioning ship. Broke keeps his officers in check as a moral duty. It’s an interesting contrast.
Later, we begin to feel more chills as Stephen finds that his room has been searched by a ‘foreign gentleman’, probably Pontet-Canet. The situation may turn ugly, even though — as Jack notes — this is America, not Spain (where Stephen had been previously tortured by French agents). Stephen has armed himself with a catling, and suggests that Jack ask Herapath to bring him a pistol. Worrying.
And not for the first time, we are given a glimpse of a ruthless Stephen. The next morning, we get a full-on display of how far Stephen’s drive for self-preservation is willing to go. Walking to meet Johnson, he is damn near kidnapped in broad daylight. I never expected Stephen to throw himself “…to the ground, roaring and bawling, ‘Stop thief, stop thief!’. There are a pair of Royal Navy lieutenants nearby — he yells their names, makes a hell of a hullabaloo, thrashes around, punching, kicking and biting. The Frenchmen jump in their coach and hightail it out of there, and Stephen goes on to his meeting with Johnson, playing his ‘outraged citizen’ card to the max. Johnson expresses spurious concern, and then proceeds to make an offer for Stephen to ‘consult’ with American intelligence regarding Catalan matters, etc etc. The deal is plain — work for me, or I can’t be responsible for your safety. There’s a neat book about this age in American Intelligence: https://www.cia.gov/static/secret-confidential-nelson.pdf
Stephen returns with Herapath, who has come to do some messenger work for Johnson. Does Herapath know anything about American intelligence? Nah. But he still knows Chinese poetry, and is proofing a book about it. He offers Stephen a poem which I immediately googled: It’s attributed to Bai Juyi aka Po Chu-I, yet another late Tang period poet. https://allpoetry.com/poem/14370823-Flower-No-Flower-by-Bai-JuYi
Back at the Asclepias, he finds Jack fiddling with a pair of pistols similar to the picture above. Manton’s best, of course, brought via old Herapath. While Jack sews up Stephen’s torn coat, Johnson’s plan is revealed, as well as Stephen’s intent to rescue Diana and marry her in order to give her the protection of British citizenship. Sunday dawns behind the cover of clouds — Stephen has gone to mass — armed with the catling and one of Jack’s pistols in his pocket, and then stayed behind to talk to the priest about his proposed marriage. When he emerges from the church into the street, he finally decides to go see Andrews, the British agent for prisoners of war. And of course he gets lost in the fog. He doesn’t find Andrews, but eventually finds a familiar tavern and then later walks to the hotel where Diana and Johnson are staying. Where he is spotted — pursued, fired upon, chased around and around Boston streets and alleyways, and ultimately back to the street where the Frenchmen’s coach is still waiting. Stephen highjacks it — grinds the pistol into the coachman’s neck and tells him ‘Fouette toujours’ (keep whipping, ie drive fast). He gains a bit, but is then thrown from the coach during a sharp right and bashes his head against the kerb. For the first time, we see a ferocious, relentless, dynamic Stephen — a “…lithe dangerous wild beast trying one last ruse before turning on its equally dangerous and more numerous enemies…”, going hand over hand up a rope to the balcony outside Diana’s room. He uses the catling to jimmy open the shutter, taps on the glass, gets Diana to open the window and then hurls himself inside — the Frenchmen are climbing the rope right after him. He closes window and shutter, then leaps into her bed down at the foot and tells her to get in on top of him and ruffle the clothes upon its foot. And for the first time, Diana is quick on the uptake.
Imagine a lot more pillows. And some gauzy things thrown over it. And a stifling, desperate, dangerous man huddled down at the foot.
He’s in luck — Johnson is in the country with Wogan, and Diana is perfectly willing to take young Herapath as an escort to deliver a message to Andrews in order to effect a rescue. She leaves, and Stephen assesses his situation: Probably concussed, cracked ribs, surrounded, smack in the heart of Johnson’s den. He looks around, finds evidence that Johnson indeed knows exactly the nature of Stephen’s relationship with Diana, which means that now both their lives are in danger. While looking around further for intelligence information, he is interrupted first by Pontet-Canet, and then by Dubreuil.
And now we are introduced to Stephen Maturin, secret agent. Pontet-Canet is bludgeoned, and then Stephen cuts his throat. He has no time to deal quietly with Dubreuil — face to face, he puts a pistol ball into his heart when he comes through the door. Both men are summarily dumped into the hip-bath:
And here we are, face to face with an unrecognizable ferocity. This is the Maturin who can’t seem to come aboard a ship without falling in. This is the Maturin who experiments with bees, sloths, and wombats. And he just cut one man’s throat and pistoled another without so much as a sob. Stephen himself is appalled by “…the squalor of his own conduct and of his enemies, all for the best of motives.” This is one area which the film completely fails to address. Stephen is a dangerous, deep old file. And still he is completely helpless where Diana is concerned. But for once, she is helpless, too. She knows she has to leave. They send a message to Jack via Herapath, and can do nothing but wait. Stephen cannot think incisively about their problem, but Diana does not care. She is fine, so long as Stephen is there — and we have not seen this sort of tractability in her previous relationship with him.. I’m beginning to like her. Or maybe I just dislike her a little less.
Press Gang 
THE FORTUNE OF WAR — CHAPTER SEVEN
I’m not sure why I took so long to come to this chapter. Perhaps because it’s so shocking — you find out several things about Stephen in this chapter that are quite the revelation. But we must first begin with certainties — Stephen is very aware of Johnson’s attempts to manipulate events, and his motives. He is also very aware that Jack is going to be an open book to Johnson. Case in point — the ‘Admiral Crichton remark’ from the last chapter. That gentleman was killed by a jealous lover when he was only 22 — accosted on the street by a gang of thugs lead by the jealous lover in person. This realization makes Stephen feel the chill — he is wary of being attacked on his way back to the Asclepias.
Talking with Jack, he gets the distinct impression that Johnson now knows far too much about the very talented Dr. Maturin. “Brother’, said Stephen to himself, ‘you may have dished me with your kindness.” There’s still a chance that his cover won’t be blown — the only Frenchman that could definitely identify him is 6 feet under. But Stephen reminds Jack to keep quiet about anything that might mark the doctor as ‘intelligent — even over-intelligent.’
There have been other visitors besides Johnson — two American naval officers, Evans and Lawrence, bringing messages from Mowett, of poetic fame. Also the elder Mr. Herapath has been by. But that account is interrupted by the appearance of Phillip Broke’s Shannon, lurking just within sight of shore, hoping for the Chesapeake to come out and fight. Phillip Broke and the Shannon are infamous in American naval history — for they broke the American winning streak in early June of 1813: http://www.biographi.ca/en/bio/broke_philip_bowes_vere_7E.html
Jack gives a pretty complete picture of Broke — their relationship (cousins), Broke’s regrettable naval education at the Naval Academy in Portsmouth. What did Jack call the boys who came into service from the Academy? ‘Wicked Academites?’ “A miserable crew of sneaking upstart lubbers, learning seamanship and gunnery from books and pretending to set themselves on a level with us, who had learnt them at sea.” There was a very real prejudice against academy-trained midshipmen — William IV himself said “…there was no place superior to the quarterdeck of a British man of war for the education of a gentleman”. Most officers in the Royal Navy got their places via family ties and patronage, including Jack. Phillip, though, was pretty gifted — even if his wife was, since her childhood, “…sorry for herself then, gasping and turning up her eyes.” The vapours. Jack’s final assessment of Broke — a deeply religious man, but a tartar on moral, rather than functional grounds. Jack’s discipline is in the interests of maintaining a tight, well-functioning ship. Broke keeps his officers in check as a moral duty. It’s an interesting contrast.
Later, we begin to feel more chills as Stephen finds that his room has been searched by a ‘foreign gentleman’, probably Pontet-Canet. The situation may turn ugly, even though — as Jack notes — this is America, not Spain (where Stephen had been previously tortured by French agents). Stephen has armed himself with a catling, and suggests that Jack ask Herapath to bring him a pistol. Worrying.
And not for the first time, we are given a glimpse of a ruthless Stephen. The next morning, we get a full-on display of how far Stephen’s drive for self-preservation is willing to go. Walking to meet Johnson, he is damn near kidnapped in broad daylight. I never expected Stephen to throw himself “…to the ground, roaring and bawling, ‘Stop thief, stop thief!’. There are a pair of Royal Navy lieutenants nearby — he yells their names, makes a hell of a hullabaloo, thrashes around, punching, kicking and biting. The Frenchmen jump in their coach and hightail it out of there, and Stephen goes on to his meeting with Johnson, playing his ‘outraged citizen’ card to the max. Johnson expresses spurious concern, and then proceeds to make an offer for Stephen to ‘consult’ with American intelligence regarding Catalan matters, etc etc. The deal is plain — work for me, or I can’t be responsible for your safety. There’s a neat book about this age in American Intelligence: https://www.cia.gov/static/secret-confidential-nelson.pdf
Stephen returns with Herapath, who has come to do some messenger work for Johnson. Does Herapath know anything about American intelligence? Nah. But he still knows Chinese poetry, and is proofing a book about it. He offers Stephen a poem which I immediately googled: It’s attributed to Bai Juyi aka Po Chu-I, yet another late Tang period poet. https://allpoetry.com/poem/14370823-Flower-No-Flower-by-Bai-JuYi
Back at the Asclepias, he finds Jack fiddling with a pair of pistols similar to the picture above. Manton’s best, of course, brought via old Herapath. While Jack sews up Stephen’s torn coat, Johnson’s plan is revealed, as well as Stephen’s intent to rescue Diana and marry her in order to give her the protection of British citizenship. Sunday dawns behind the cover of clouds — Stephen has gone to mass — armed with the catling and one of Jack’s pistols in his pocket, and then stayed behind to talk to the priest about his proposed marriage. When he emerges from the church into the street, he finally decides to go see Andrews, the British agent for prisoners of war. And of course he gets lost in the fog. He doesn’t find Andrews, but eventually finds a familiar tavern and then later walks to the hotel where Diana and Johnson are staying. Where he is spotted — pursued, fired upon, chased around and around Boston streets and alleyways, and ultimately back to the street where the Frenchmen’s coach is still waiting. Stephen highjacks it — grinds the pistol into the coachman’s neck and tells him ‘Fouette toujours’ (keep whipping, ie drive fast). He gains a bit, but is then thrown from the coach during a sharp right and bashes his head against the kerb. For the first time, we see a ferocious, relentless, dynamic Stephen — a “…lithe dangerous wild beast trying one last ruse before turning on its equally dangerous and more numerous enemies…”, going hand over hand up a rope to the balcony outside Diana’s room. He uses the catling to jimmy open the shutter, taps on the glass, gets Diana to open the window and then hurls himself inside — the Frenchmen are climbing the rope right after him. He closes window and shutter, then leaps into her bed down at the foot and tells her to get in on top of him and ruffle the clothes upon its foot. And for the first time, Diana is quick on the uptake.
He’s in luck — Johnson is in the country with Wogan, and Diana is perfectly willing to take young Herapath as an escort to deliver a message to Andrews in order to effect a rescue. She leaves, and Stephen assesses his situation: Probably concussed, cracked ribs, surrounded, smack in the heart of Johnson’s den. He looks around, finds evidence that Johnson indeed knows exactly the nature of Stephen’s relationship with Diana, which means that now both their lives are in danger. While looking around further for intelligence information, he is interrupted first by Pontet-Canet, and then by Dubreuil.
And now we are introduced to Stephen Maturin, secret agent. Pontet-Canet is bludgeoned, and then Stephen cuts his throat. He has no time to deal quietly with Dubreuil — face to face, he puts a pistol ball into his heart when he comes through the door. Both men are summarily dumped into the hip-bath:
And here we are, face to face with an unrecognizable ferocity. This is the Maturin who can’t seem to come aboard a ship without falling in. This is the Maturin who experiments with bees, sloths, and wombats. And he just cut one man’s throat and pistoled another without so much as a sob. Stephen himself is appalled by “…the squalor of his own conduct and of his enemies, all for the best of motives.” This is one area which the film completely fails to address. Stephen is a dangerous, deep old file. And still he is completely helpless where Diana is concerned. But for once, she is helpless, too. She knows she has to leave. They send a message to Jack via Herapath, and can do nothing but wait. Stephen cannot think incisively about their problem, but Diana does not care. She is fine, so long as Stephen is there — and we have not seen this sort of tractability in her previous relationship with him.. I’m beginning to like her. Or maybe I just dislike her a little less.
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reader, would-be sailor, writer.