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Comfort and Joy

Title Comfort and Joy

Author Eglantine_br

Rating G

Word Count 686


This is a Christmas offering for Perfect Duet. It is still early afternoon of the 8th for me. I am in time, barely. This is a kind of AU where Mr Hollum does not die. I like Mr Hollum. None of us are the men or women we hope to be all the time. I think last year I wrote about him too. This is the same world as last year's 'Mr Hollum's Christmas.'


The bells of morning had come with sleet from the North, and a wordless teeth bared struggle with sail and wind.


Dr Maturin had awakened this morning, noted the date in his case book, and waited. Since then he had sutured one split brow, and splinted one broken wrist. (The skin not being broken, therefore more a matter of pushing the mush and bone into something like the correct alignment and hoping for the best.) Neither man had displayed anything more than a gasp, and a reflexive gappy toothed grin. Stephen reflected again on the stoic nature of sailors.


“Doctor?” This was another Naval habit, this diffident pause at his door, as if he would deny entry. He lifted his gaze and smiled.


“Mr Blakeney, have you come to see my nudebrach?”


“Oh, no Sir. That is-- I would like to see it but--” Blakeney held out his hand, his remaining hand. It was actually quite clean. He showed Stephen the blackened nail.


“A small matter. I bruised the nail. I need to do the hot pin trick, and I--”


“And you need another hand to do it with.”


“Aye Sir, I do.”


“Sit down.”


Stephen got busy with the flame and the pin. He used his body to block his motions from Blakeney's sight. Best they didn't see more than they had to. In this case, of course it mattered not. They routinely did this for themselves.


Blakeney's hand was warm and steady in his own. They watched the pin burn down and the first bead of blood appear. Stephen felt him sigh.


“Thank you, Sir. That feels much better.”


“Try to keep it clean.”


Stephen took the opportunity to squeeze the healthy thumbnail and watch the blanch come back to pink. Good and brisk. Six weeks post amputation, Mr Blakeny had grown an inch, his smile had come back. He was eating everything in sight. His health flourished.


“Christmas tomorrow.” Blakeny said.


“Indeed it is.”


“There might be ham. Hollum says maybe will be boiled pudding with brandy sauce too. Do you think so?”


“I think it likely.”


“Oh-- I can't wait!”


There was time then to admire the nudebranch. Blakeny departed, wreathed in clouds of imagined ham.


There would be time later to write up notes. God be praised, it had been a quiet day. Surprise was moving with a regular rocking horse motion. Nose down, tail up, tail down, nose up. He found this more easy to take than the one that Jack called 'roll.' Roll led to falls and breaks and bruises.


Stephen paused at the top of the ladder. The deck was clear and quiet. Now was the hour before dinner. In warmer times this would be the hour for skylarking, for sitting on the sunny deck. But on a cold day like this, the sailors showed a catlike ability to seek warm spots. They were wedged in, he knew, below decks, with old tales to tell, with books, with rope-yarn and mending, with old letters saved for moments alone. On deck the wind was cold. Only Mr Hollum stood in the bow, telescope under his arm. The wind had reduced to little puffs of dampness. The sun was setting, pale over Stephen's left shoulder.


“God rest ye merry gentlemen,

let nothing you dismay...”


And why not? Nobody said you could not sing on watch. The sound was low. He sang for himself alone. There was nothing ahead but more gray sea, waves tipped with white, regular now, away into the cold distance. A man was a small thing, wrapped in blue wool, beneath the sea and sky. A small defiant thing, like a steady flame, in all that cold. Hollum, thinking of brandy pudding.


“...When we had gone astray

Tidings of comfort and joy...



His voice was true and pure. No reason at all for the hair to rise on Stephen's arms and neck. But after all, he would not go out onto the deck now. He turned away, and went below again.

Comments

( 6 comments — Leave a comment )
ba1126
Dec. 8th, 2013 05:51 pm (UTC)
Very nice story!! Hard to think of the crude medical care available in those days, especially aboard ship!!
vespican
Dec. 8th, 2013 07:38 pm (UTC)
With Stephen Maturin, these sailors would have had better care than most. He was as said in the books, and I paraphrase somewhat, "A regular physician, not your common surgeon."
Dave
ba1126
Dec. 9th, 2013 04:35 pm (UTC)
Thanks for the input. I read a lot of fiction about the 13th. century period and some of the medical stuff is damn scary!! Bloodletting and leeches!! So Stephen Maturin is a historical character??
vespican
Dec. 10th, 2013 12:13 am (UTC)
Compared to today, medical practices of the 18 & 19th centuries was probably pretty scary. (But as I think back to stuff from my younger years, it was scary then as well.) I think Stephen bled people from time to time, the entire crew if I remember correctly, but there were insights happening as to more modern medicinal practices. I don't know if POB based Stephen on any one in particular, or if he was simply a character.
Dave
vespican
Dec. 8th, 2013 07:40 pm (UTC)
You have the uncanny ability to create mood and feeling.
Dave
charliecochrane
Dec. 9th, 2013 12:17 pm (UTC)
I love nudibranchs. Now I need to go and admire a few...
( 6 comments — Leave a comment )