Well, kiss my hand but this Patrick O’Brian
is a terrific yarn-spinner! The battle scene between the
Sophie and the Cacafuego has to be some
of the most exciting ten pages of action I’ve read. The way
he sets you up with the rumor of this hunter ship, then the escape from
the earlier meetings with the Cacafuego, and his brooding
about Dillon thinking him shy – plus Jack’s own pre-battle statement
appreciating action with the Spaniards – “not that they’re shy, for
they’re not, but that they are never, never ready” gives the reader
some hope, and yet, and yet … how can he do this? No, Jack, no,
don’t even try it ! but O’Brian throws you into battle, and
everything flows, so audacious and yet it all makes sense: we
need every man-jack of you, the cook with his cleaver, the young midshipmen
– and he makes it all work, and has you cheering at the end.
Then drops you into several sub-stories of the “joy” for the victory
, the after-effects to ease you out of the action, then the disappointment.
Masterful !
|
|
Minutes of the 27
March 2003 LTBC Meeting
- Thanks to Gary Ganong
Eight members attended the meeting: Don Benoist,
Ron Bousek, Henry Ellis, Gary Ganong, Tom Genoni, Keith Gilbert,
Ben Smith and John Taylor.
Tom Genoni recommended that we see the
documentary movie “Stone Reader,” about one man’s
search for a lost author.
Henry Ellis described his trip to Australia
and New Zealand and the many monuments to Captain Cook. He visited
many of the sites mentioned in the book “Blue Latitudes.”
Ron Bousek heard Isabel Allende speak
at Popejoy Hall this week. She is an excellent speaker and had many
interesting anecdotes to share with her audience.
The book for this month was “Master and Commander”
by Patrick O’Brian. The grades and comments follow.
Don Benoist: Grade B+:
He enjoyed learning about the history of Minorca. Don found
the companion book “A Sea of Words” by
Dean King made “Master and Commander” more readable.
Don thought that Mowett’s explanation of the sails to Maturin was
excellent.
Mike Blackledge (absent): Grade
A- Mike enjoyed the book more than anyone else in the LTBC perhaps
because of his family background in the Navy. Mike's notes.
Ron Bousek: Grade C: Ron
found the book difficult to read and was not compelled to finish
it. Ron never got connected to the book. The book gave lots of insight
into the day-to-day life of seamen in the British navy of the 1800s.
The characters were not interesting and Ron did not learn enough about
the characters to like or dislike them. Ron thought that the book is
a sea story but not a novel. He never discovered the plot.
Gary Ganong: Grade B+: Gary
enjoyed reading the book slowly and taking time to enjoy O’Brian’s
descriptions of everyday things. When he first read the book, Gary
tried to ignore the day-to-day events and concentrate on battles.
The second leisurely reading has been more satisfying. Gary liked O’Brian’s
handling of Cheslin, "the sin eater.” O’Brian emphasized the social isolation
of a captain, which Aubrey thought was “It is the price that has to
be paid. And by God it’s worth it.” Gary enjoyed the orders: Travel at
a great pace, but don’t endanger the sails. Shrink from no danger, but
incur no risk.” He also liked the detailed description of the mantis
sex scene. “You do not need a head, nor even a heart to be all a female
can require." The book immerses the reader in a new vocabulary of nautical
terms. Readers can look up every unknown word, or figure it out from its
context and flow with O’Brian’s story.
Tom Genoni: Grade B: Tom
enjoyed the book more than he expected. He did not see how a book
in a series of 20 could be any good. Tom was confused by the transition
when Jack Aubrey became a P. O. W. He was disappointed that the friction
between Jack and James Dillon was unresolved because of Dillon’s death.
Tom did not like the character Maturin, who seemed too serious and
noble. O’Brian is a better author than Tony Hillerman, but falls short
of George McDonald Fraser (author of “Flashman”).
Keith Gilbert: Grade C+:
He found the book full of awkward, rambling transitions and
holes. The plot was tepid with no structure: a Master and Commander
strives for advancement. Keith thought that O’Brian developed his characters
very well. He enjoyed the description of Aubrey: ruddy, obese, a
fool on land and a genius at sea. Jack Aubrey was aggressive or amorous
under stress. Jack loved battles and wenches. The book was an encyclopedia
of nautical knowledge.
Ben Smith: Grade B+: Ben enjoyed
the book and found it an interesting period piece. Ben thought that
most sailors got well in spite of the surgeons and their medicines.
The medicines of those days caused either diarrhea or constipation.
Ben could not identify with Dr. Maturin, even though the doctor is
given a flattering description by O’Brian.
|
What the ol' Naval
Salt liked about Master and Commander:
- Different style altogether from Blue
Latitudes, yet again I learned something on every page
- At first, I was upset about the way O’Brian
unmercifully immersed you in 17th century nautical/sailing terminology
– a fished yardarm? – but he certainly set you up for appreciating/paying
attention/having the context to understand and appreciate the terminology
by the time he had Mowett explain to Stephen starting on p. 98.
Similarly later on with a few nuances such as Jack Aubrey commenting
on the inconsistencies of calling the Sophie a sloop when
in fact it was a brig.
- O’Brian nicely emphasized the absolute
power of a vessel’s captain at sea; and how shocked the People
were by the impropriety of Stephen Maturin speaking casually/personally
to them as equals. The uncomfortable menage a trois between
Capt. Jack Aubrey, Dr. Stephen Maturin, and James Dillon is well conceived,
well used.
- The way something was always afoot (awash?)
– often Aubrey would wake to some unfamiliar noise and thus would
start another mini-plot within the total novel plot. Examples
were attacking the Spanish gun tower with his marines on land; the
James Bond-type intrigue e.g., painting Sophie with a yellow strip
and dressing Pram as a Danish commander.
- Liked the way O’Brian drew up his characters,
e.g., the unfortunate Babbington as a young (12-year old) midshipman
– example was having to write a 2-page letter home, not knowing
what to put down so starting asking about his town people, cats,
dogs, town clock, and ended up making himself so nostalgic (read: homesick)
that he wept uncontrollably; but at the same time this emphasized
the sleep deprivation, worse on young people, of watch and watch (never
able to sleep more than 4 hours at a stretch).
- P. 285: the weaving into the story
of young Henry Ellis, unlucky midshipman, son of two of the ugliest
people in Port Mahon, yet a likable lad, and the shock of hearing
the cry of “Man Overboard” while trying to escape the frigate and Jack
seeing young Ellis sweep by with an “amazed” look – beautifully done,
with Henry retrieved “drowned,” Stephen saving him, only to lose him
a short time later in the climatic battle …
Questions, terminology and a few answers
p. 10: trabacaloes, tartans, xebecs, settees
– all merchant ships.
p. 37: last stages of phthisis.
“No man should die of carbuncle except in last stages of phthisis
or diabetes.” Mr Browne's eparterial bronchus– The right superior
lobar bronchus is a branch of the right principal bronchus before
the hilum of the right lung. The right superior bronchus is the
most superior of any lobar bronchus within the thorax. It is even
superior to the pulmonary artery; for this reason, it is also termed
the eparterial bronchus.
p. 122: sempiternal unikas
p. 122: Jack explains some of the inconsistencies
in naval terminology, such as “master” vice “master and commander”
p. 156: … a tame genet …Any of several
Old World carnivorous mammals of the genus Genetta, having grayish
or yellowish fur with dark spots and a long, ringed tail.
p. 178: … a gremial friend …
p. 182: …so very exigent upon the point
of honor. Requiring immediate action or remedy;
urgent.
p. 183: getting rid of their wealth in the
most compendious manner known to man. Containing
or stating briefly and concisely all the essentials; succinct.
p. 190: …she was moored with simple warps
fore and aft… Warp: To move a
vessel from one place to another by means of a rope made fast to
some fixed object, or to a kedge.
A warp <noun> is a rope used for warping. If
the warp is bent to a kedge, which is let go, and
the vessel is hove ahead by the capstan or windlass, it would be
called kedging.
Kedge. A small anchor, with an
iron stock, used for warping.
To kedge is to warp a
vessel ahead by a kedge and hawser.
Hawse-Hole. The
hole in the bows through which the cable runs.
p. 228 and earlier: loblolly boy Loblolly is a combination of lob, probably an onomatopoeia
for the thick, heavy bubbling of cooking porridge, and lolly, an
old British dialect word for “broth, soup, or any other food boiled
in a pot.” Thus, loblolly originally denoted thick porridge or gruel,
especially that eaten by sailors on board ship.
p. 229: grinding creta alba …
p. 232: non fui non sum non curo
Actually, non fui, fui, non sum, non curo
"I was not, I was, I am not, I care not" -old generic
Roman epitaph.
p. 240: fished foretopmast - Fish. to
strengthen a spar when sprung or weakened, by putting in or fastening
on another piece.
p. 256: solomongundy
p. 268: Cacafuego? – is this for real?
– my limited understanding of vulgar Spanish would translate this
ship’s name as perhaps the Hemorrhoid … [Hmm – turns out this is
a vulgar term, but historical – see at end note]
p. 271: For all that clysters is not
gold – clyster: An enema. [Middle English
clister, from Old French clistere, from Latin clyster, from Greek
klustēr, clyster pipe, from kluzein, to wash out.]
Good Humor man:
p. 153: I loved the gentle humor of the seamen
depressing the landsmen with how bad the weather would become.
p. 184: the “poisonous snake” while Stephen
is getting on his silk stockings.
p. 345: Wow! Hilarious! Clerk David
(“they call me ‘Hellfire Davy’”) Richards telling his family how
the clerk’s position “is the most dangerous there is in a man-of-war”
– and how the Capt. turned to him, “I don’t know what to do” – “Board
‘em,” says I, “board ‘em fore and aft” – this constitutes two of the
funniest pages I have read anywhere, equivalent to Dave Berry at
his best.
Quotes
p. 181: “I know few men over fifty who seem
to me entirely human. It is odd – will I say heart breaking?”
What surprised me:
p. 242: Even in 1800, Americans had “that odd
colonial twang.”
p. 245: I never realized commanders (&
others) might take a woman aboard ship – or a dog – especially
aboard Royal Navy vessels
p. 255: emphasized the rarity of swimming among
seamen (this we had learned in Blue Latitudes, even to the
point of this being a contributing cause to Cook being killed where
he stood.)
Why this book was not perfect:
p. 243: A little contrived: to have
Stephen Maturin caught ashore at the very time Jack Aubrey learns
of the sweep for the Irish rebels – so Jack is with James Dillon,
and uses him (and his French) – his own Irish rebel (but this background
unknown to Jack) – to search the American ship.
P. 296: A little contrived: Stephen
telling of overhearing the peasant’s conversations on land which
led to the disguising of the sloop – but I liked the way this was
all carried out.
End Note:
About the name Cacafuego – it is
steeped in naval history, but it is indeed vulgar:
(Spanish treasure ship; captured March 1, 1579)
With the Cacafuego, Sir Francis DRAKE took one of
the greatest booties of all time – certainly the largest haul ever
by one ship with only 85 crewmen. Including smaller prizes, the Spanish
ambassador later assessed Drake's total plunder at 1.5 million ducats
(£450,000). Taking into account unregistered treasure
and jewels, the Spanish estimate probably was close to the truth. The
value in modem money would be at least a thousand times greater.
The Cacafuego, a 120- ton merchant vessel,
was bound from Peru to Panama, where her treasure and passengers
would cross the Isthmus and continue on to Spain. Although pirates
had been raiding the West Indies for decades, Drake was the first to
pass from the Atlantic to the Pacific coast of South America. Since
the Spaniards did not expect to encounter marauders, most ships went
unarmed. The Cacafuego originally was known as Nuestra
Senora de La Concepcion (Our Lady of the Conception) She received
her vulgar nickname (meaning "Crapfire") because she was one of the few
Spanish ships with even a few cannon.
[secondary note: this Cacafuego is also
mentioned in James Mitchener’s book, Caribbean.]
Drake had been feverishly pursuing the Cacafuego
for several days. On March 1, she was sighted near Esmeraldas,
Ecuador. It was only midday, and Drake did not wish to attack before
dark. He was afraid that reducing sail would arouse suspicions and
trailed wine pots filled with water to slow his speed. Some nine hours
later, Drake caught up to the Cacafuego. Expecting
to meet only Spanish ships, her captain turned toward the stranger.
Drake waited until the Cacafuego came alongside, then sent his
boarders swarming to the attack. The Cacafuego's crew quickly
surrendered. Drake led the captured ship out to sea beyond sight
of the coast. Elated by this marvelous piece of good luck, Drake treated
these captives generously. He dined with the officers and gentlemen
(on their own provisions). All prisoners were released with presents appropriate
to their rank. Three days were needed to search the Cacafuego
and to transfer her rich cargo. The ships separated on March 6. According
to an anonymous history of the voyage, the English raiders enjoyed a
wry comment by a Spanish youth. "Our ship," the Spaniard joked,
"shall no more be called the Cacafuego, but the Cacaplata
"crap-silver". It is your ship that shall be called the Cacafuego."
Only Drake knew the amount of his booty, and he obeyed Queen Elizabeth's
order never to reveal the secret. Spanish merchants in Seville claimed
that the Cacafuego carried 400,000 pesos in illegal cargo
in addition to registered treasure worth 360,000. If this estimate
was accurate, Drake took some £266,000 in gold and silver. And
he also seized jewels and other valuables concealed in the passengers’
luggage.
When Drake landed at Plymouth in 1580, Queen Elizabeth
grabbed his booty, and no accounting was ever made. Before the
treasure was taken to London, Drake took out £10,000 pounds
for himself, and £8,000 or so was distributed among the crew.
Under the usual English booty rules, the crewmen would have received
a third of the entire plunder. But they had agreed to sail for set
wages and thus had to accept whatever Drake gave them. The remaining
loot was stored in the Tower of London, and the queen and her courtiers
furtively removed most of the treasure and all the jewels. The Tower still
held 12 tons of silver and 100 pounds of gold in December 1585, only a small
part of the original amount. Drake said his backers received £47
for each pound invested in his voyage, a profit of 4,700 percent.
Smithsonian
Magazine's articles on Patrick O'Brian, and Thomas Cochrane,
the "real" Jack Aubrey.
|
