#tom pullings

[ola-na-tungee]

The Letter of Marque

[leona-florianova]

Jack Aubrey was taken aback entirely. 'But you surely do not mean that last word literally?'

'No, sir. It is just my coarse way of speaking: I beg pardon. But so serious that if she were there at the table day after day . . .'

-- Clarissa Oakes

[iamthemaestro]

tom pullings is one of those characters you want to print out a photo of to put on your desk. cut him out and put him in a locket. he will always be my star-crossed lover away in the war. or something

[inhales-agressively]

I JUST FINISHED READING MASTER AND COMMANDER BY PATRICK O'BRIAN AND LORD DOES HE KNOW HOW TO WRITE A BOOK

[mystery-star]

Russell Crowe as Jack Aubrey and James D'Arcy as Tom Pullings in Master and Commander (2003)

[bomberqueen17]

liveblogging the aubreyad 1: Master & Commander

ok so. i'm going to liveblog my reread of the Patrick O'Brian Jack Aubrey series of books, in potentially more or less detail, because it's something to do and it's funny. Starting with book 1, Master & Commander, copyright date 1969, which I definitely first read in like 1991 when I was waaaaay too young to understand approximately half the references. There will be spoilers. There may or may not be an accurate representation of the entire contents of the series. We'll see how long I keep this up. I wish I could write it in the entertaining style of my Wee Precious Flower Prince Geralt Witcher 3 playthroughs of yore but those were written under 1) quarantine confinement, 2) incredible amounts of gin, 3) after collaborative sessions, and I just can't make that happen solo.

But I will do my poor, reduced, older and more sedate best. I promise that while these books are not quite as dramatically crack-addled as Witcher 3, they are weirder than you think, which is critical.

OK so. We start off swinging with the meet-ugly. In fair Port Mahon we lay our scene, in the year 1800 (or 1801?? we also start off swinging with never quite having the tiny details quite laid down), we meet our fair hero Jack Aubrey, a six-foot, well-built, yellow-haired lieutenant in the Royal Navy, a cheerful high-spirited cove who immediately pisses off the unpleasant little man sitting next to him at this chamber music concert by singing along to the music. Relatable reaction by the unpleasant little man, to be sure. Aubrey is having a bad time, though— he has not been promoted and he doesn’t have a ship so he has nothing to do but get in trouble, and his spirits are too low to get into a fight with the unpleasant little man, though he briefly considers it. We soon find out that the sole bright spot in Jack's life is that he's fucking his boss’s wife, which seems like a bad idea but who are we to judge. But lo! He gets back to the inn where he’s staying only to find a letter informing him that he has been promoted! He is now the master and commander of his very own ship, which we are informed is a sloop. Also throwing us into the deep end of Listen Baby It’s Just Vibes. The nautical language and technical shit comes fast and thick and if you just sort of roll with it you figure it out. Don’t Worry About It. There Will Be Context Clues.

Now that Jack is professionally fulfilled he is happy, and so the next morning when he happens to see his unpleasant little man from the previous night, he shows his true colors: he immediately bounds across the street and wholeheartedly, unreservedly apologizes for being a dipshit, like the golden retriever he really is at heart. The unpleasant little man is so shocked by this that he loses all his unpleasantness, has a really nice conversation with Jack, and immediately gets distracted by the sighting of a rare bird. Stephen Maturin is now successfully introduced, exactly as he means to go on as well. He is a physician, but his patient died and he's stuck without money to get home, literally sleeping rough because no one will answer his letters and he's out of cash. Jack meanwhile has a ship with no surgeon on it, and a vacancy, and they like one another, so it seems a simple solution. And so Stephen shall go to sea.

I suppose, really, that’s the genius of this series. The characters are round, complicated creatures, with obvious and consistent surface qualities but also equally consistent, apparently-contradictory, deeper qualities. Even minor characters sometimes possess this level of depth. Even the cartoony-awful little shit Harte (sometime captain, then admiral, the boss whose wife Jack has been fucking but in Jack's defense so is everybody else) has depths. Unpleasant depths, but he's got reasons and motivations and you do really believe in him; this pays off in book 8 in particular.

We meet Jack's first command, the Sophie, the loveliest tiniest little ship ever, staffed by a pack of utter weirdos. TOM PULLINGS makes his first appearance (he is my favorite supporting character throughout the series, so he will be capitalized henceforth) along with his delightful henchman (the other senior midshipman) Mowett who is James in his first and last appearances and most of the others but for some reason becomes William for a while in the middle, most notably in book 8, and has thus passed into the movie as William. Those are our master's mates, or senior midshipmen. In O'Brian's typical fashion we don't get really concrete physical descriptions of them in the normal sense, but instead get really evocative but nonspecific ones. TOM PULLINGS is "a big shy master's mate", elsewhere specified to be sort of gangly, long and thin, young, with a country accent and foremast-jack antecedents (i.e. started out as a regular sailor and was promoted, instead of the more normal approach where a family of means sends a son to sea as a midshipman), who absolutely blossoms under Jack Aubrey's leadership-by-enthusiastic-example, and we will see him through most of the rest of the series continuing on this trajectory with great competence and charming humbleness.

James Mowett gets a great introduction. He's had a few lines prior to this, mostly repetitively described as (and shown to be) cheerful and generally enthusiastic about things, running around and getting to be the one to fetch Stephen from the shore, and later we find out that he is a prolific writer of somewhat-terrible poetry, which we'll get plenty of excerpts of over the course of the series. But his first real description is:

“James Mowett was a tubular young man, getting on for twenty; he was dressed in old sailcoth trousers and a striped Guernsey shirt, a knitted garment that gave him very much the look of a caterpillar."

There are also the youngsters. Meet my beloved son William Babbington, a miniature midshipman of between eleven and thirteen who has every venereal disease and gets drunk a lot. He also cries and swears a whole lot, mostly while sober. I love him immoderately and we will see him in several more of the books. He never gets much taller or less obsessed with womanizing. Adolescence was hard in the Georgian era. (Yes, this is the Georgian era; the Victorian era does not begin for another thirty years.)

“'I suppose you grow used to living here,' [Stephen] observed, rising cautiously to his feet. 'At first it must seem a little confined.' 'Oh, sir,' said Mowett, 'think not meanly of this humble seat, Whence spring the guardians 'of the British fleet! Revere the sacred spot, however low, Which formed to martial acts an Hawke! An Howe !' 'Pay no attention to him, sir,' cried Babbington, anxiously. 'He means no disrespect, I do assure you, sir. It is only his disgusting way.”

Throughout this series, O'Brian so so so vividly shows and describes the many phases of awkwardness that young men go through especially in military settings. It's incredibly vivid; the breaking voices, the smells, the idiotic capers, the weeping, the complete lack of foresight, the incredible cruelty and also loyalty and bravery, the sheer adolescent enthusiasm coupled with shocking laziness.

We also get some insight into contemporary social mores through the introduction of Marshall, the sailing master (a warrant officer)-- 1) he's gay and 2) Jack Aubrey is extremely his type. Different people's different attitudes toward this unspool throughout various points of the book, but the critical point is that Jack Aubrey himself has absolutely zero gaydar and while he has heard the rumor about Marshall's tendencies, he doesn't care about that stuff, studiously avoids enforcing any of the regulations against it, and he absolutely never at any point relates this to himself, and never ever realizes why the man is so driven to excel at his job. Not even when an injury to his head and face gives Jack a horrible haircut and worse appearance, and Marshall is horrified and dispirited about it; Jack never twigs just what's amiss.

To be fair to Jack, many many many of the men aboard also respond to him in a similar, though crucially different, way. This is a common thing in this kind of cooped-up little setting; you have a guy who's in charge and gives you positive feedback and like, immediately you'll die for that guy, which is kind of how the military works because you may in fact have to literally die for that guy and it's easier if you're intrinsically motivated in some way. And Jack is very, very good at this in most cases, at taking the measure of the people under his command and getting them to respond to him.

(We can return to Mowett for an explicit example: “'You may light up the sloop, Mr Mowett, and show her our force: I don't want her to do anything foolish, such as firing a gun - perhaps hurting some of our people. Let me know when you have laid her aboard.' With this [Jack] retired, calling for a light and something hot to drink; and from his cabin he heard Mowett's voice, cracked and squeaking with the excitement of this prodigious command (he would happily have died for Jack), as under his orders the Sophie bore up and spread her wings.”)

Anyway so back to the plot summary: a very good side plot throughout is that the ship's first lieutenant, James Dillon, is an Irishman, and he and Stephen Maturin were both involved in the Irish rebellion in 1798. When they meet, James recognizes Stephen, and cautiously sounds him out about having met before, and Stephen very coolly replies we've never met but you must be thinking of my cousin who looks just like me but uglier, *so* ugly, he has the face of an informer, and everyone hates an informer and james is like Ah. You Are Absolutely Correct Sir We Have Never Met. This subplot develops into a delicious meditation on divided loyalties and the agony of staying true to oneself while doing what one must do. Highly recommended, A++. Begins to give us some insight into the various depths of Stephen, who doesn't understand tides or wind and hasn't the sense to come in out of the rain but has a deep and complicated history and identity and above all an incredible capacity for ruthlessness, absolutely none of which Jack understands.

Stephen and James in dialogue when they're finally in privacy enough to discuss it (Stephen is the first speaker, James the second):

“I speak only for myself, mind - it is my own truth alone - but man as part of a movement or a crowd is indifferent to me. He is inhuman. And I have nothing to do with nations, or nationalism. The only feelings I have -for what they are - are for men as individuals; my loyalties, such as they may be, are to private persons alone.'' "Patriotism will not do?'' "My dear creature, I have done with all debate. But you know as well as I, patriotism is a word; and one that generally comes to mean either my country, right or wrong, which is infamous, or my country is always right, which is imbecile." ''Yet you stopped Captain Aubrey playing Croppies Lie Down the other day.” "Oh, I am not consistent, of course; particularly in little things. Who is? He did not know the meaning of the tune, you know. He has never been in Ireland at all, and he was in the West Indies at the time of the rising. [...] But as for that song, I acted as I did partly because it is disagreeable to me to listen to it and partly because there were several Irish sailors within hearing, and not one of them an Orangeman; and it would be a pity to have them hate him when nothing in the manner of insult was within his mind's reach.”

uhhhhhhh but meanwhile: Jack Aubrey and the Sophies wreak havoc in the Mediterranean and make a lot of money and enemies, to the point that the local merchants band together to commission a fairly serious ship expressly to fuck them up. They meet this ship unsuspectingly, manage just in time to disguise themselves, and Stephen hails the ship and asks them in bad Spanish if they know anything about treating the plague, could they send a doctor over, could they spare any medicine. This scares them off and they go away. But now the Sophies know what this ship looks like and what armament it has. So the next time they meet it, they fight it, and so the tiny 14-gun Sophie with 82 men and boys aboard manages to capture the 32-gun Cacafuego with 319 men aboard, and it's very gallant and dashing and probably should not have worked, but it does.

And a little later, the Sophie accidentally meets a pair of very powerful French ships and gets taken in return despite doing some really heroic evasive manoevers.

The French are super nice to them, and we meet a French ship captain named Christy-Palliere who becomes a recurring character, who has English cousins and speaks great English and is both charming and nice, saying things like gather ye rose pods while ye may and being generally gallant. Until some even more powerful English ships heave into view, and the tables turn, but even then Christy-Palliere remains gallant and well-behaved.

We end the book with the court-martial. Any officer who loses his ship for any reason has to go before a court of sea captains to ascertain whether he did everything in his power to avoid losing his ship. So all the officers of the Sophie, including the midshipmen, including the surgeon, have to testify about this. (I feel like the other warrant officers should also have had to testify? but they weren't there and i'm not sure why. TOM PULLINGS is also not mentioned in the scene which he absolutely should be present for, so it's possible that they were just omitted for time.)

“They had each received an official notification the day before, and for some reason each had brought it with him, folded or rolled. After a while Babbington and Ricketts took to changing all the words they could into obscenities, secretly in a corner, while Mowett wrote and scratched out on the back of his, counting syllables on his fingers and silently mouthing. Lucock stared straight ahead of him into vacancy.”

Spoiler: the jury decides that there's not really anything more a 14-gun sloop could have done against two French ships of the line, so they exonerate Captain Aubrey for the loss of his sloop, and thus ends the book.

[satsumadraws]

I was supposed to go grocery shopping but instead I dropped everything to draw MY BEST FRIEND TOM PULLINGS

[thiefbird]

From Archive Ashore, for WIP Wednesday!

He had made it through perhaps a quarter - a very optimistic quarter - by the time a neat, polite rap sounded at his door. "Come," he said absently, his gaze fixed on an arcane calculation of insurance costs; despite the combined best efforts of San Diego University and Queenie - now Professor Thrale - he had never been comfortable with much beyond your basic algebra, and was very much relieved that even his dear Surprise had been retrofitted with GPS and he was not expected to perform anything even near to spherical trigonometry.

"Reporting for duty, sir." And then, in that same low soft voice, but now with a note of reproach: "You did remember, didn't you?"

Jack jolted - he most certainly had not remembered - and attempted to feign composure as Tom gave him a singularly unimpressed look.

[squashfolded]

Mermaid Tom my most beloved

[neosatsuma]

Patrick O'Brian, consoling me through the latest round of bleak circumstances he's concocted for his protagonists:

[hmstartnell]

if I had a nickel for every time I’d gained a new favourite actor from a piece of media about the royal navy during the age of sail where he plays a character called Tom and then found out that he’s also played a character called Derek who’s last name ends with -ing in season 10 episode 1 of a popular long-running period drama tv show I’d have two nickels which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice, right?

[ola-na-tungee]

thank you Mr. O'Brian for making Jack a giant hunk with golden mane and an incredible bass voice. this man can crack SIX walnuts in one hand . I will be forever grateful

[thekenobee]

Choose one or three and send it to your shipM8🌹

[drconstell]

⚓Tom Pullings x Reader 💟

As I mentioned, I wrote a short fic about Tom. Maybe someone will be interested in reading it. There is a link to AO3 under the title.

Summary: Pretending to be a man, the reader hires on HMS Surprise to be close to her fiance Tom. A little accident almost reveals her identity, but something quite good comes out of it.

Warnings: Slight smut and a lot of fluff 💖

A/N: This is the "Master and Commander" movie fic. For the purposes of this story, let's pretend Tom didn't marry in 1803 and he is engaged with the reader 😉)

Is being careless really the worst?

The sky was opening.

A new day on the sea.

A lovely pinky-peachy aura rose above the horizon and a thin layer of fluffy clouds. You sighed slightly, admiring the view. It was so marvellous, so astonishing, every damn time. You have been waiting for the sunrise every morning since your first day, about a month ago, on HMS Surprise. Not just because you couldn't stand the smell of sweaty men in the forecastle and preferred to stay onboard for as long as possible. You also did this because you love looking at the rising sun, the colours of the sky changing and last, but not least, Tom often did it too, so you could not only watch the down, but also look at him.

He still hadn't recognized you. You didn't make things easy for him, always looked down when he was near, not saying a word. You knew he would be mad if he knew. But even if, it was worth it. Oh God, yes it was. Seeing Tom every day, being close to him in dangerous situations, hearing his laugh. It was worth any price: sleeping in the smelly hammock, among the stinky men, weather-beaten face and chapped lips, squeezing the breasts with a bandage, and cutting your hair so you look like a boy, eating this terrible mash you were fed, and even angering him.

You were sure, eventually, he'd know. It couldn't be otherwise. A couple of times you wanted to reveal yourself to him - in those moments of bliss, when he laughed so carelessly, racing Captain Aubrey to see who would be the first to come down from the mast or on these rare occasions he was wandering alone on the deck. But you flinched every time. You dreamed about touching, hugging, kissing him and every day, when you didn't fulfil those dreams you felt a bit frustrated, though you were still content that you were so close to Tom and for now that had to be enough.

This particular morning was cold, as always. Slight wind blowing out the sails and tousling your short fringe. You pushed your hat tighter on your head and let the sun keep rising, while you went to your daily duties. A lot of crew got up, while you were admiring this beautiful new day. You were hungry, but seeing the mash Killick did, you as always, lost your appetite, however, there was nothing else to eat. You swallowed the breakfast with difficulty and smoothly moved on to scrubbing the deck.

After a while, you felt this curious tingling which came always the same time Tom was near. You couldn't help but hold your breath, looking around out of the corner of your eye. You didn't dare to look up, trying to be as casual as possible. Then, you heard his soft voice and energetic footsteps. He passed you and went up to the bridge, where the Captain and the officers were.

Slowly, you started breathing again and took a peek at him. When you were sure he was deep into a conversation with other men, you lingered your eyes on him for longer. He looked so fine; extremely tall figure, long legs, straight back, strong arms and his face... like an angel visage. His eyes and smile - it could just melt you on the spot. Also, he was good and kind and a true gentleman. He was the finest man you ever know.

Deep into your daydreams, you didn't notice William carrying several boards on his shoulder to repair the slightly damaged bowsprit. You stood up to take your water, then someone called William, he turned around and the board hit you straight in the head. It was quite a hard strike, befuddled you and threw you back. You lost your balance and flew over the railing into the water. Everything was happening so fast, you even didn't have time to think: Oh my God! before the impact with the surface knocked you out.

***

You woke up dizzy and with a massive headache. You were lying on the settee, down in the lazaret. You had never been there, avoiding this place successfully so far. You found the Doctor - Stephen Maturin too perceptive, too observant. He wasn't like other sailors and you were somehow scared of him. Terrified, he would probably easily discover your secret.

You looked around, confused, not sure what had happened, not sure how to act. The cabin was small and sultry but didn't smell bad. A lot of medical tools and medicines were spread out on a table against the wall. Someone hung your hat on the hook by the door, but in the first place, you didn't remember how you got there.

The Doctor was present. He was looking at you carefully, his lip slightly curved, like he was going to smile or pull a face. The moment you looked into his eyes, you were sure he knew and that made the Killick mash go up your throat.

'Do you feel better, Mister Cupp?' he asked, approaching the settee. John Cupp was your made-up boy's name.

'Yes...' you murmured, lowering your voice as you always did on the ship, however, your throat was so tightened you probably sounded more like a choking crow. You tried to sit up, but he stopped you.

'You fell into the water and lost consciousness, almost drowned. You need to lie down for a while.' The Doctor checked your pulse, which was probably really high right then. 'Remember anything?'

You gulped. 'I remember I was scrubbing the deck, sir.'

'Yes, and after that?'

You tried hard to remember, but nothing came, so you shrugged, wondering what the hell had happened.

'There was an accident,' said Maturin. 'One of the crewmates hit you with the boards and you fell into the water. Of course, he did this accidentally, and didn't mean any harm. Anyway, you would probably be dead right now if it weren't for Mister Pullings. He jumped right after you and drugged you out of the water.'

Your heart skipped a beat and you forgot yourself asking. 'Tom? He saved me?'

Maturin didn't even blink at your words. 'Indeed. And he seemed quite worried about you, coming here every five minutes, to check on you.'

You bite your lip, wondering what to do. What next? Tom surely recognized you. What if Maturin, who certainly knew you are a woman would tell the Captain or the whole crew?

'Master Cupp, don't be so gloomy, I noticed you're an... unusual fellow, but I'm not gonna tell anyone. I'm not superstitious I don't care about your sex as long as you do your job and I suppose no one will notice your... identity. Except Tom of course, but in this case I'm sure he won't leave you in any difficult situation. You're his beloved fiancée, aren't you? Miss (Y/N)?'

You sighed heavily and nodded. 'Yes. I just want to be close to him. But, please don't blame him, sir. He had no idea I'm on board.'

'I can tell that due to his reaction when he saved you. Good, he quite quickly got a grip, because the sailors already thought this was greatly exaggerated for a concern for the common cabin boy.'

You bite your lip. 'It wasn't supposed to end like that.'

'But it did so better keep the mascarade going if you don't want to be left in the first port. I bet Captain wouldn't do this, but if the crew...' he didn't finish. You both heard fast footsteps and after a second someone stormed into the lazaret and immediately looked at you. If angels were sometimes worried, they would look like Tom right at that moment.

He didn't hesitate a bit seeing your conscious, just jumped to your settee and took you in his arms.

'Carefully, lieutenant' the Doctor warned. 'Remember, my patient had a head trauma.'

But there was no need to tell Tom to be careful and gentle, he was always like that with you, this time even hardened his efforts, so you barely felt his touching you.

'Good morning, my love,' said your fiancee, leaving a tender kiss on your temple. You moved to the side and hid your face in his shoulder. You were sure, you smelled bad, almost as bad as the rest of the crew, but you didn't mind now, since Tom had to get used to bad smells, living on the ship. However, he didn't smell bad at all. He was always the neatest and cleanest person you ever knew. 'How are you feeling, darling?'

'I'll give you some privacy,' said Maturin leaving the cabin.

You answered only when heard the door shut. 'I'm fine, Tom, just embarrassed.'

You felt he was smiling. 'I can understand that. But despite I'm so worried and quite mad at you, I'm also impressed that you managed to hide your identity for so long from me.'

'It wasn't that hard. You weren't paying so much attention to random crew mates.'

'And now I know it was a mistake. I have no idea how you endured among them.'

You didn't answer, just pulled him closer. You wanted this moment to last forever, you had been waiting for it for so long and now, when you had it, you couldn't imagine how you go back to no physical contact again.

'What, in the name of Good Lord, have you been thinking, (Y/N)?' he sighed. 'Hiring on the ship just like that, pretending to be a man?'

'I wanted to be close to you, Tom. I hated it when you disappeared for over a year last time. I need to be with you and know exactly what is happening to you. You have no idea what it's like to stay on the shore and wait, worry and pray, never knowing if you're okay,' you almost started crying, while saying all this. 'I love you so much, I never want to be parted from you.'

'My queen, it's okay, don't cry.' He hugged you tighter, stroking your head. 'I'm sorry. I can understand, I'm not that mad, just worried. I hate to leave you alone, but I just want you to be safe, my dearest. And on the shore, you are definitely safer than on the sea.'

'I don't care as long as I'm with you.'

'You're so precious, my love,' he kissed your cheek softly. 'Fine, we will think of something, but for now, you need to feel better, that's most important. I can't be mad at you, since you almost drowned.'

'I'm good, Tom. Don't worry. But I'm so touched you saved me, didn't even know, that it was me!'

Tom smiled softly, his gentle eyes were looking at you warmly. 'I was just trying to save a life. But when I saw it was you... Thank God for Stephen, because I surely would reveal your secret.'

'Yeah, the Doc seems to be a good man and wants to help us.'

'Indeed, he does. I'm grateful we have...' Another storming into the room interrupted Tom's words. The mentioned Doc came in and whispered: 'Jakc's on his way here. Better don't acquaint him with the masquerade matter.'

Tom reluctantly moved away from you and a couple of seconds later the door opened again and Aubrey crossed the threshold. William was stepping nervously after him.

You finally sit up, didn't want to offend the Captain.

'Gentlemen,' he slightly bowed to you all and connected his gaze with yours. 'Hope you feel better, Mister Copp?'

'I do feel better, sir. Thank you for your concern.' you said as politely and as low as you could.

'Good then.' He looked at William, who approached you, first nodding to Maturin and Tom then he turned to you.

'John, mate, are you alright? I'm so sorry...'

'I'm fine, Will.' you interrupted him. 'No need to apologize, it wasn't your fault, just me being... you know, careless'

'The worst thing that can happen is being careless on the ship,' said Aubrey. 'Let this be a lesson for the future. But I need to change the subject. We're reaching the shore, gentlemen. There is a little seaport nearby. I'm hoping all crew will stretch their legs if only for an hour.'

'Yes, sir.' Tom nodded and when Aubrey and William disappeared, he moved back to you. 'Do you want to go ashore, dearest?'

'Sure I do!'

He turned to Maturin. 'You think she can go out in her state?'

The Doctor thought for a moment. 'I think yes, she looks fine, no no permanent damage. But better not get used to that female pronoun, Mister Pullings.'

***

It was a little seaport somewhere in northeast Brazil. A couple of days ago you lost track, just knowing you were heading to South America. No one told the name of the port and actually, you didn't mind where you were at that time. You were in heaven; Tom knew about you and he wasn't mad, you could send him meaningful glares and smiles, and you could touch him and hug him when nobody was watching and also maybe kiss him and do even more.

Surprise docked and almost all the crew immediately went down the trap and scattered around the little town. Aubrey wanted to take Tom to an Inn for dinner, but he refused, saying he wanted to be alone for some time. While saying so, he looked at you intensively, almost taking your breath away. He wanted to spend this time with you, that was sure, but didn't want to make it obvious. Despite a lot of sailors having affairs with their male crewmates, due to a lot of time on the sea, without women's company, Tom didn't want anyone to think he was cheating on you.

He went to the beach and then further on. You followed him with your gaze and waited some time before started following him with the rest of you. Keeping the distance, you followed his footsteps and when he reached the jungle thickets and stopped there, you finally joined him.

Immediately he wrapped his arms around you. 'My love, so good to be here with you,' he murmured, pressing his lips to your neck. You shivered and your guts made some weird dance, while he left a couple more kisses on your sensitive skin. 'I'm so selfish. I should find a decent ship there, which would take you back home, but I just can't do this. Despite I wouldn't trust anyone with your safety, I also don't want to be parted from you now, knowing how well you manage to live on the ship.'

'You haven't seen me climbing to a crow's nest, yet,' you laughed, which made him chuckle a bit.

He took your hand and led you deeper into the jungle. 'You look so fine with short hair.'

'You think so?' you involuntarily touched your short strands of hair, shorter even than his. 'I thought that you'd hate it.'

Tom smiled at you. 'I cannot hate anything about you, (Y/N). You could be bold I would still love and admire you just the same.'

'You are the most adorable man I ever knew,' you sighed happily, squeezing his hand. 'Where are you leading me?'

'To the place we can have some privacy and also take a bath. I'm not fresh enough to be so close to you, I want to be.'

'You look fresh to me, Tom.'

'Thank you, dear.' He stopped to kiss the back of your hand. 'You are so polite.'

You smirked, he was so stubborn sometimes. But you would love to take a bath too. 'So, you know this place?'

'Yes.' Tom nodded. 'We've been there last year. I was roaming around and came across a nice river bend. I think I can find it again, it's not so far.'

He was right, after ten, maybe fifteen minutes you reached the river and nearby was the cosy place Tom was talking about. Water was clear and quite shallow there, thick trunk trees grew on the shore and a lot of vines were hanging down all around making a lovely green canopy.

'Looks so pretty,' you admitted, looking around.

'Well, I should ask this earlier, but aren't you hungry, dear?'

You still had Killick mash in your stomach, despite that, you felt highly aroused and didn't want to interrupt this beautiful moment, since you had an idea where it may lead. You shook your head and asked. 'How about you?'

His gentle smile changed into a mischievous grin. 'I am hungry, but not for food, only for you.'

Your legs felt weak when he said so, heat beat faster and cheeks turned red. Your imagination raced and showed you things you both could do here, not tied up by the conventions for once.

'Yes, I'm hungry for you too.'

Tom nodded contentedly and then turned from you, facing the river. He walked closer and took off his hat, then jacket and then vest... You gulped, looking at him undressing.

'Join me when you feel ready,' he said, taking off his shirt. You stared at his bare back while he aimed for the shoes and breeches. You felt as ready as you possibly could, but you just couldn't stop admiring him freeing his long legs from the trousers.

When he was one hundred percent naked and went into the water, you finally started undressing. You made it quick, you don't have so many layers as him. Unwrapping the bandage from your chest took you the longest. When you joined him in the water, he was already in the middle width of the river, whole body submerged, looking at you with gleamed eyes.

You dive in all, even your head, and swam underneath the surface to him.

'Nice!' he exclaimed when you emerged straight into his arms. 'You can swim!'

'I thought I'd better learn since I was going to join a seaquest.'

He chuckled. 'You never cease to surprise me, my dearest (Y/N).' And then he kissed you softly, pulling you closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck and let yourself immerse in the kiss. It was so sweet and tender, as all Tom kisses, but this time there was something different in it, some slight intensity and depth. You two wanted more and knew you could let yourselves go.

Still kissing you, Tom caressed your back with his hands, then placed them lower, on your buttcheeks. You gasped, while he pulled you even closer and up.

'I can't stand any inch of free space between us, my darling.' he said, stopping the kiss. 'Please, wrap your legs around me.'

You did it with pleasure, clinging to him tight, and feeling his rising manhood beyond.

'God, (Y/N)...' he gasped while kissing your neck. 'I want you so badly... I know this is inappropriate to be so intimate with you, while we're still unmarried, but... You're the love of my life and I don't want anyone else, so I think it wouldn't make a big difference if we make love now. What do you think?'

You moaned, tilting your head back, and letting him kiss your collarbone. 'You damn know, what I think about it. If it wasn't for you being a prude, we would have had sex a long time ago.'

He laughed, again stopped kissing you and looked you in the eyes. 'The ship's crew have a bad influence on you, but somehow I like you being so uncouth.'

'Really?' you cupped his face. 'Don't you think I'm vulgar and disgusting?'

'Darling, I would never thought so about you! And also I'm glad I can see your other, more wild side.'

'What an extraordinary man you are, Mister Pullings.' This time you kissed him and that was the end of your conversation. You moved to other activities and your mouths were so occupied, there was no space and time for talking.

He touched you so gently but at the same time so intensely. You were kissing, licking, biting, his arms all the time around you, holding you close and tight. You wanted to be one with him, you almost felt like you were one, when he was inside you, but before that happened, he lied you down on the river edge, kissed and licked your breast, then going down to your belly and down again...

'W-what are you doing?' you asked, so flushed and aroused you could probably put something on fire.

'Trust me. I bet you'll like it, my dearest.'

And indeed you liked it very much. He kissed your soft spot between your legs, that no one else had ever seen before. Then licked it carefully making you moan and arch your back, while pleasure spasms went up and down your spine. But this wasn't the end. He cover your most sensitive area with his whole mouth and started to suck it and his tongue did so crazy things there, you yelled loudly. You had never felt so much pleasure. Your hips were going up and down involuntarily, so he immobilised them with one hand, and the other took your palm, intertwining your fingers. You looked at him, and he looked back, this angelic face between your legs - that was too much. You reached orgasm so strong, that your hips made a dance even Tom's grip couldn't suppress and you moaned so loudly, that your throat hurt.

'Oh God, yes, my queen.' Tom stopped sucking you and got up clearly amazed. His eyes shined so bright his face flushed, surely the same as yours. He hung above you and kissed your lips. Now his hand and efficient fingers were down there, making your pleasure last longer. 'I love you so much. And this will be my new favourite thing, making you moan like that.'

'Y-you are very good at it, Tommy'

'You think so? Let's see what else I am good at.' He took off his hand and touched the area between your legs with his erect manhood.

'Oh, Lord!' you whimpered when he inserted it inside you a bit.

He pulled out and asked. 'Is it hurt, my love?'

'No, not at all.' You wrapped your hands around his neck pulling him back. 'It's just so pleasant, please go further, lieutenant!'

He chuckled and did what you asked. He slowly went deeper and deeper, making you feel so good and full, not only of his phallus, but also his attention his care and love. When you were used to his size, he started to shove at first really slow, but then a bit quicker and it was so damn good, you want him even deeper so you wrapped your legs over his waist again, pulling him as close as possible. Between the kisses he showered you with, he whispered how much he loves and admires you. You were in heaven. You thought it couldn't be any better, but then the second orgasm hit you and you fell into some other dimension, full of love and pleasure, and after a long groan, you knew Tom fell there with you.

***

Going back was weird. You felt like you were in some state of intoxication, but it was a very pleasant intoxication. Tom helped you with the bandages, though he was quite sad he had to squeeze your breast so brutally, but there was no other way. You, on your part helped him with all the buttons on his clothes, also sad, because you preferred him without clothes.

'Hope they didn't leave, I completely lost track of time,' said Tom, but he was still smiling widely like the perspective of you two staying here wasn't that bad. Indeed it would be quite nice. But the ship was still there, most of the crew completely drunk, including the captain, so no one paid any attention to you two and to the fact that you came back together. Also, Surprise wasn't supposed to sail until the next morning.

'In that case let's eat something then take blankets and maybe we could spend the whole night there.' Tom whispered into your ear. 'What you think, my darling Mister Copp?'

You whispered back. 'This is exactly what I was thinking about.'  

[mystery-star]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 25 | Storm

Master and Commander - The Far Side of the World (2003)

[bomberqueen17]

Liveblogging the Aubreyad: Post Captain Part Two

More book, less background, all spoilers.

I will here put in a plug for listening to the Simon Vance audiobooks of this series on 1.25x speed, can't recommend highly enough. Except his foreign accents are terrible, I won't lie about that. Anyhow. Get a library card and check these out if you would rather not read my summaries, which despite their thoroughness are not entire. The books are a challenging read but I did manage it at 12 but I did that through the power of being a socially isolated undiagnosed neurodivergent child so I don't necessarily recommend that either.

A NEE HOO, the book:

In part 1 we got female characters (sweet innocent Sophia? or her worldly, dashing cousin Diana?), sweet bachelor pad, social lives, horse farts, and *jazz hands* financial ruinnnnnn, and our intrepid heroes have fled to France where a Frenchman ruined Jack's composure by kissing him. But now, war has broken out, and they must flee without being arrested, which will be very difficult because Jack is approximately the most ostentatiously English person ever to have existed on this planet, in this universe.

And so now we pay off on my earlier bullet-point about Jack's fursona.

I had genuinely forgotten about this when I first relistened to the books. I listened to this long expounded-upon scenario, where a convoy of English prisoners of the French is resting and there's a man with a tame bear passing by and the prisoners, especially a sea officer trying to impress a lady in company with him, want him to make the bear dance even though it is hot and the bear is obviously tired, and the gendarmes finally come over and insist that the bear must dance to prove it really is a tame bear, and I was just expecting this to be some background descriptive passage included in the book for the atmosphere as so many are until, as they are finally left alone and the bear-leader is sitting counting up the coins people tossed at them, unaccountably reciting them to the bear as if the bear is going to care, the bear out of nowhere answers him.

“When one sea-officer is to be roasted, there is always another at hand to turn the spit,' said the bear. 'It is an old service proverb. I hope to God I have that fornicating young sod under my command one day. i'll make him dance a hornpipe - oh, such a hornpipe. Stephen, prop my jaws open a little more, will you? I think I shall die in five minutes if you don't. Could we not creep into a field and take it off?' 'No,' said Stephen. 'But I shall lead you to an inn as soon as the market has cleared, and lodge you in a cool damp cellar for the afternoon. I will also get you a collar, to enable you to breathe. We must reach Couiza by dawn.'

Stephen for his own inscrutable reasons names the bear Flora and tells everyone it is a female bear whose female troubles make it bad at dancing. Meanwhile Jack is being slowly murdered by the suit, his bare bloody feet glued to the costume's paws, insects eating him, never able to eat or drink enough, always overheated. By the time they make it to the Spanish border, Jack is nearly dead. It's a good character study: he is still thinking tactically at some times, still has the capacity to wonder whether Stephen might yet betray him, to notice that he has heretofore in their acquaintance underestimated Stephen severely, but his innate and natural response to this kind of hopeless privation and suffering is to simply submit to it and endure, doing whatever Stephen tells him to, understanding that there is no useful resistance he can make; he resents Stephen but also recognizes that Stephen too is suffering, this is simply what must be done and he must endure it, beyond any concept of limits. As they finally reach Spain he sits on a rock and dreamily tells Stephen he is glad Stephen seems so happy, and just sort of echoes whatever Stephen says, clearly well beyond comprehending what's going on anymore. (He does revive once the bear suit comes off.)

He spends some time very ill in Stephen's house just across the border. Stephen owns a castle there, though it's mostly in ruins. Once Jack can move, they make their way, this time both as humans, down to Gibraltar, and book passage home in an Indiaman* that has happened to put in there for repairs.

[* for the record the word Indiaman refers to a merchant ship plying the rich trade route to India, and would have female pronouns, like any ship. Actual human Indian men, if sailors or soldiers, are referred to as Lascars, with normal human pronouns as applicable, and as far as I can tell this is just a neutral descriptor and even though racial attitudes of the time were what they were, was not ever particularly used as a slur. Now You Know. Listen I'm trying to look things up as I go, since there's Period-Typical-Everything in here, but I might miss some, do be advised; I don't intend to condone any anythings in any of this nor do I wish to carelessly use loaded terms but it can be difficult to suss out what's what in the modern context.]

Aboard that Indiaman is another of my earlier bullet points: yes it's TOM PULLINGS. Jack recognizes him by his huge grin from across the ship, he's so delighted to see them, human sunbeam that he is.

Never confirmed as a lieutenant after the acting commission Jack had given him in the Sophie, quite without any political influence or hope of help in that quarter (though Jack had written letters of introduction for him to every single captain he knew who he thought might have a spot for him), TOM PULLINGS has given up on the Navy and taken a job with the East India Company, which pays better but is entirely without glory or hope of promotion.

“Why, sir, I could not get a ship and they would not confirm me in my rank. No white lapels for you, Pullings, old cock, they said. We got too many coves like you, by half." ''What a damned shame," cried Jack, who had seen Pullings in action and who knew that the Navy did not and indeed could not possibly have too many coves like him.

Another fun bit of fuzzy timekeeping which I should tally somewhere here is that while we know Jack and Stephen's adventure in France was of some considerable duration, every so often for the next few books Pullings will point out yet another Indiaman and say delightedly "I made two voyages in her", and I should start a running tally of How Many Indiamen Has Tom Pullings Been In somewhere because each voyage is a minimum of six months, and we have seen Pullings earlier in this book, he attended the St Vincent Battle Ball in February of-- whatever year that was. (Side note: Mowett mentions having served previously in the Namur, which was at the Battle of St Vincent, and it was only three years before, so it's perfectly possible he was there, but it's never brought up. Thinks to think upon!)

(I am sure some fan at some point has already done this work. But all the discussion boards are from 2003ish and it is hard to search them. Better than modern fandoms, where it all vanishes into private Discords, but it is... sort of sad, to look through the moribund message boards and remember being in spaces like that and how great they were. RIP to the golden days of the Internet.)

I've already explained how promotion works, so I don't need to elaborate on how very slim Pullings's career prospects are. He shows Jack all around his ship, and Jack tries very hard to be polite, but merchantmen, after the Navy, are a sort of sorry, squalid state of things, and there's not a lot to be polite about. Pullings clearly does the best he can but he has only a thin crew, a poor-sailing sluggish fat ship, and a timid captain to work with. What's worse, many of the crew are Lascars-- fine seamen, but they seem poorly; the initial assumption that they are simply not used to the cold proves wrong, it turns out that they're all succumbing to the flu, which is affecting the Europeans too but is hitting the Lascars that much harder. So the ship is now critically short-handed, with many of the crew incapacitated by the flu.

And then a French privateer heaves into sight, the Bellone. The captain doesn't know what to do and is terrified. Pullings beats the ship approximately into shape by sheer dint of competence and strong feeling, but there's not a lot of hope, he quite simply has very little to work with. Jack steps up and volunteers to take charge of one of the divisions of guns. It is so long since they have been used that he has to fire one to blow the port lid off, it having been painted into place long ago.

A brisk action ensues, but the Indiaman, despite all the heroics Jack and Pullings can manage, is overwhelmed and taken. Jack and Pullings are both moderately-to-severely injured in the fight, Jack left briefly in a coma after falling down a hatchway and Pullings being both shot and stabbed. The French steal everything aboard the ship including the passengers' personal property and Stephen's surgical implements that he was in the middle of using, impose a heavy prize-crew, and undertake to sail the Indiaman to a Spanish harbor. Jack will certainly spend the war a French prisoner, with no hope of getting home, getting a command, advancing his career, staying relevant.

But then an English brig, recognized as the Seagull by Pullings because his uncle used to be the sailing master in her, shows up and fights the French prize-crew to a standstill. Our heroes spend the action locked up below, but the French captain lets them out when the action grinds to a pause, the Seagull heavily damaged trying to repair itself enough to continue. Things look bad; the Frenchman is annoyed and might just sink the Seagull out of spite, but then a squadron of homeward-bound Royal Navy ships of the line round the headland-- the HMS Colossus, a 74, the Tonnant of eighty guns, more behind them-- and Jack puts his hand down over the touch-hole of the gun the Frenchman was about to fire at the Seagull and coldly tells him he must surrender to the brig.

Which he does.

So now Jack is home to England, and back in the running to get himself a ship so he can participate in this war and stay alive in his career-- but where he also is still at constant risk of being arrested for debt.

The new First Lord of the Admiralty is Lord Melville, whose family name is Dundas-- the older brother, in fact, of Heneage Dundas, who was a midshipman and then a lieutenant alongside Jack, one of his best friends. Melville thinks his younger brother is a bit of an idiot, but has some small fondness for Jack anyway. So there's hope. But Jack is arriving so late that all the best posts have already been snapped up. Melville promises to do his best to find him something, but tells him not to hold out much hope of something actually good. Jack does explain his specific problem, however-- the debt thing-- and Melville is understanding of it at least.

Jack has taken lodgings in a tiny shack outside of town with Stephen, giving rise to this charming description, please to look out for a particularly excellent 19th-century word usage:

At present they were lodging in an idyllic cottage near the heath with green shutters and a honeysuckle over the door - idyllic in summer, that is to say. They were looking after themselves, living with rigid economy; and there was no greater proof of their friendship than the way their harmony withstood their very grave differences in domestic behaviour. In Jack's opinion Stephen was little better than a slut: his papers, odd bits of dry, garlic'd bread, his razors and small-clothes lay on and about his private table in a miserable squalor; and from the appearance of the grizzled wig that was now acting as a tea-cosy for his milk-saucepan, it was clear that he had breakfasted on marmalade.

Stephen you slut indeed.

They go to a party-- a risky proposition, with Jack a wanted man, but Everyone who is Everyone will be there, and he quite simply needs to remind his various powerful acquaintances that he is here and in need. So they go. Diana is there, and also a well-connected, very wealthy merchant named Canning. Canning's merchant ships are very much preyed-upon by privateers-- especially the Bellone-- and he has been commissioning privateers of his own to defend them. He very politely, indirectly goes as far as is decent toward offering Jack the command of the latest of these, which is to be very large and powerful indeed. It is deeply, deeply tempting, and Jack considers it at length, but his ambition above all else lies with the Navy, and Lord Melville is also at the party and tells him he should come the very next day to a meeting, Melville thinks he might have something for him.

Diana also offers to Jack that he might come see her the next day. He points out, sensibly, that he is at risk of arrest, and so it would be deeply irresponsible of him to go jaunting about the city. She scorns him for this, saying he is being a coward to even consider such things as his own personal ruin. She quite openly only wants him if he's willing to ruin himself for her.

Jack goes out for a walk late that night, out in a deserted area, to think. A man tries to mug him and his immediate reflex, honed by kind of a lot of hand-to-hand combat experience, is to just absolutely beat the shit out of the guy in about two blows. He lays him out cold and then, standing over the body, realizes he can't leave the man lying here as it's coming on to freeze and the fellow will die of exposure. So, cursing how complicated everything always has to be on land, he carries the man home, as you do, and ties him to a chair, and promptly falls asleep in the other chair waiting for Stephen, who went to visit other friends after the party.

(Several times in the series it is made plain that Jack has been at sea since he was an actual child, and his understanding of how laws work by land is very extremely fuzzy at best; his education in general is shockingly lacking. He knows the Articles of War cold, could recite them back to front, can cite them by number unfailingly, but only has a vague notion of any other kind of law, and no idea at all how the land-based justice system actually works. And how could he?)

Stephen comes home near dawn to find them thus, Jack asleep in one chair, and the would-be mugger wide awake, terrified, and extremely-competently tied to their only other chair.

The would-be mugger is an excellent plot device: he succinctly and intelligently explains to Stephen and the reader exactly how English debt law works, he himself being extremely experienced in it. (Stephen is gently spooning food into the man's mouth even as he is still tied to the chair, he having admitted he only took up trying to mug people because he had not eaten in several days.) Jack also forces the man to eat some of Jack's own breakfast, under peril of being headed up in a cask and tossed overboard, which makes plain to everyone involved a) how serious he is and b) where he's more normally accustomed to being.

Jack makes his way to the meeting with Melville, who finally offers him a ship. It is not a good ship. Melville actually feels guilty to even offer it. It is called HMS Polychrest, it is a misguided experiment gone wrong, built by a corrupt dockyard to the specifications of an ill-informed landlubber with ideas. But, it has cannons and it technically floats, so Jack takes it.

He's aware that Melville feels like shit about it, though, so he figures he has one, and only one, big concession he can ask for. And he shoots that shot on one, very dear, very precious thing that he very badly wants:

TOM PULLINGS, to be made lieutenant at last, and to serve with him in this misbegotten floating disaster.

I will break off again here because this is too long. Stay tuned for PART THREE, in which I promise I'll tell you how Barret Bonden punches out a cop.