Desolation Island (Aubrey & Maturin #5)

by Patrick O'Brian

in natural philosophy and in political intelligence a good rule was to look into the obvious first, and to solve the easy parts of the problem.

stocks and shares is gambling, and I stick to what I understand: ships and horses.’

‘I respect the cloth, of course, and learning; but I cannot feel that a man-of-war is the proper place for a parson. Just take this morning . . . On Sunday, when we rig church, I dare say he will tell us to treat one another like brethren, and to do unto others, you know. We will all say Amen, and the Leopard will sail on with all those people in irons in that filthy hole forward, just the same. But that is only what occurred to me this morning: in a larger way, it seems to me uncommon odd, and precious near to cant, to tell the ship’s company of a man-of-war with loaded guns to love your enemy and to turn the other cheek, when you know damned well that the ship and every man jack aboard her is there to blow the enemy out of the water if he possibly can.

Now, Stephen, give me an A.’ They tuned their strings, that pleasant tentative wailing, and as they tuned he said, ‘What do you say to our old Corelli in C major?’ ‘With all my heart,’ said Stephen, poising his bow. He paused, and fixed Jack’s eye with his own: they both nodded: he brought the bow down and the ’cello broke into its deep noble song, followed instantly by the piercing violin, dead true to the note. The music filled the great cabin, the one speaking to the other, both twining into one, the fiddle soaring alone: they were in the very heart of the intricate sound, the close lovely reasoning, and the ship and her burdens faded far, far from their minds.