Copyright
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Harper
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
Copyright © Patrick OâBrian 1978
Patrick OâBrian asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks
HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content or written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication
Source ISBN: 9780006499244
Ebook Edition © DECEMBER 2011 ISBN 9780007429363 Version: 2016-10-05
The sails of a square-rigged ship, hung out to dry in a calm.
1 Flying jib
2 Jib
3 Fore topmast staysail
4 Fore staysail
5 Foresail, or course
6 Fore topsail
7 Fore topgallant
8 Mainstaysail
9 Main topmast staysail
10 Middle staysail
11 Main topgallant staysail
12 Mainsail, or course
13 Maintopsail
14 Main topgallant
15 Mizzen staysail
16 Mizzen topmast staysail
17 Mizzen topgallant staysail
18 Mizzen sail
19 Spanker
20 Mizzen topsail
21 Mizzen topgallant
Illustration source: Serres, Liber Nauticus. Courtesy of The Science and Technology Research Center, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox, and Tilden Foundation
Chapter One
The breakfast-parlour was the most cheerful room in Ashgrove Cottage, and although the builders had ruined the garden with heaps of sand and unslaked lime and bricks, and although the damp walls of the new wing in which this parlour stood still smelt of plaster, the sun poured in, blazing on the covered silver dishes and lighting the face of Sophie Aubrey as she sat there waiting for her husband. A singularly lovely face, with the lines that their earlier poverty had marked upon it quite smoothed away; but it had a somewhat anxious look. She was a sailorâs wife, and although the Admiralty in the goodness of its heart had allowed her the company of her husband for a surprising length of time, appointing him (much against his will) to the command of the local Sea-Fencibles in recognition of his services in the Indian Ocean, she knew that this period was coming to an end.
The anxiety changed to unmixed pleasure as she heard his step: the door opened; a ray of sun fell on Captain Aubreyâs beaming face, a ruddy face with bright blue eyes; and she knew as certainly as though it had been written on his forehead that he had bought the horse he coveted. âThere you are, sweetheart,â he cried, kissing her and lowering himself into a chair by her side, a broad elbow-chair that creaked beneath his weight.
âCaptain Aubrey,â she said, âI am afraid your bacon will be cold.â
âA cup of coffee first,â said he, âand then all the bacon in the world â Lord, Sophie ââ lifting the covers with his free hand â âhereâs Fiddlerâs Green â eggs, bacon, chops, kippered herrings, kidneys, soft tack ⦠How is the tooth?â Here he was referring to his son George, whose howls had made the household uneasy for some time past.
âIt is through!â cried Mrs Aubrey. âHe cut it in the night, and now he is as good as gold, poor lamb. You shall see him after breakfast, Jack.â
Jack laughed with pleasure; but after a pause, and in a slightly conscious tone, he said, âI rode over to Horridgeâs this morning to stir them up. Horridge was not in the way, but his foreman said they had no notion of coming to us this month â the lime ainât thoroughly slaked, it appears â and even then they will be at a stand, with their carpenter laid up, and the pipes not yet delivered.â
âWhat nonsense,â said Sophie. âThere was a whole gang of them laying pipes at Admiral Hareâs only yesterday. Mama saw them as she was driving by; and she would have spoken to Horridge, but he dodged behind a tree. Builders are strange, unaccountable creatures. I am afraid you were very disappointed, my dear?â