Two Months Before the Mast

Extending Austen's Binaries

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This essay originally appeared in My Jane Austen Book Club on April 1, 2023.

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In his groundbreaking television series The Day the Universe Changed, James Burke asserted that the modern world finds its raison d'etre in a nearly three millennia-old philosophy: binaries. By this he meant up/down, good/evil, hot/cold, and right/wrong.

So, too, did Jane Austen treat her world: Pemberley/Longbourn, Elizabeth/Darcy, Anne/Wentworth, and Mrs. Bennet/Mr. Bennet. While these may have a positive/negative flavor, they are essential pairings that allow readers to compare and contrast virtues and vices. Of course, that simplifies the complicated human dynamics, for unless Austen paints them with a caricature brush, none find themselves entirely in either the debit or credit column.

In my latest book, The Sailor's Rest, I decided to shake up the pairings Austen used. By the third chapter, I had split Darcy and Wentworth away from Elizabeth and Anne, not in the sense of broken betrothals but rather a forced separation that required Darcy to hew closely to Wentworth for his survival.

Sean Bean as Wentworth

The matching of the two most substantial male leads in all Austenland allowed me to consider how "out to sea" Darcy was when he was…well…out-to-sea on the Persephone.

Wentworth whispered, "Keep your voice low, mate, until we have sorted this out. I'm not sure what's happening, but it cannot be good." Then a name flashed before him. "Are you called Darcy? Were we dining together?"

Darcy rolled away and onto his side, "Yes on both counts. I am Darcy, and you must be that navy captain the innkeeper introduced: Wentworth. What sort of fiendishness is this?"

"Fiendish is correct, Darcy. I have heard of such things, but usually only in the Carib trade. A hostler will pocket silver to help a merchant captain man his ship by slipping his customers rum laced with something more."

Darcy's voice was stronger now but low in keeping with Wentworth's injunction. "Illuminating, Wentworth, but it tells me nothing about why we were taken."

"That remains to be seen. I assume our captors have other plans for us because we are breathing air and not North Sea brine," Wentworth replied.

Darcy grumbled and began moving with purpose. "Well, you may be content to kneel here, but I am a Darcy, and I will meet whatever fate these dogs wish to mete out on my own two feet!" He began to stand.

Tom Hardy as Darcy

We always imagined Darcy to be the most capable man. However, within hours of meeting Frederick Wentworth, Pemberley's master finds himself in an unfamiliar world. He discovered rules cultivated over a lifetime attenuated if not eradicated. He had fallen from the heights to the lowly position of landsman in a world of able-bodied seamen and officers.

Throughout first two-thirds of The Sailor’s Rest, Darcy is moving through Wentworth's domain—Darcy cannot return to his familiar confines until he has passed through battle's fires. Captivity aboard the HMS Persephone will portend deadly consequences for Wentworth and only less so for Darcy. Wentworth's bravery and sacrifice protected Darcy from his ignorance. Preventing Darcy from replying to a provocation designed to get him flogged showed the depths of Wentworth’s nobility. Even then, Wentworth's fate would have been sealed—and likely Darcy's as well—if not for Napoleon's continuing desire for European domination. The Tyrant's escape from Elba puts paid to plans for Wentworth's disgrace and demise.

I had to create a broader understanding of Wentworth's nature to show who had become Darcy's mentor. Austen gives us his nobility and constancy. However, in the brutal and (to use an anachronistic word) Darwinist realm of the Regency Royal Navy, I had to build a Wentworth who could stand on a frigate's quarterdeck. The following excerpt suggests the type of man I imagined would be worthy of Anne's and our regard.

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Please enjoy the following excerpt from “The Sailor’s Rest.”

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This excerpt from The Sailor's Rest is © 2023 by Donald P. Jacobson. Reproduction is prohibited. Published in the United States of America.

From Chapter 16

…

Persephone

The ship had bucked out of the Channel and into the Bay of Biscay before standing out to sea to clear Cape Finisterre. That course drew a looping approach toward the Strait. Until then, the captain’s wolves had ignored both Smith and Tomkins. However, once Persephone began beating east under cloudless skies, their gimlet gaze gathered in Tomkins and Smith.

Somehow they decided that Smith was the soft spot they could poke at to rile Tomkins. Maybe it was that Will stood out as Fred’s closest comrade. And so it began—the needling, tripping, the acts of sabotage: all designed to disquiet, disrupt, and demand a response. Will swallowed as much as he could, hiding his anger behind the Darcy mask. Fred was not ignorant of the provocation and had counseled his friend to recognize their power thanks to being the captain’s chosen.

Of this elite, the cox’n was most overt in his efforts to test Will’s mettle. According to Fred, that this man was the chief instigator meant that the captain likely had ordered them to begin their campaign. All came to a head eight days ago when one of the hyenas deliberately trod on Will’s ankle—as Will was holystoning the deck and thus defenseless—before falling to the deck, yelling that Smith had tripped him.

I was on my feet, fists clenched, before I could think. The ship's company formed a circle as we squared off on the foc’sle. I unconsciously raised my hands as taught at Gentleman Jackson’s. That drew jeers because sailors' fights are never gentlemanly. Instead, they are street brawls conducted on a pitching deck and are usually quickly done. Petty officers break up a mill of any length with belaying pins.

With my short tenure aboard, I had yet to learn by rote the Articles of War, read to us every Sunday by the captain. Fighting aboard is one of the offenses proscribed—luckily, not punishable by death. Not that it would have mattered. I saw red, and the accumulated insults caused me to abandon all sense.

However, I was thrown aside like a leaf before exchanging any punches! Fred stood in my place and delivered a mighty blow that lifted my former foe off his feet and into a coil of cable’s nest.

Hauled before the captain, Fred offered no defense. Tommy risked much by speaking in his favor, but Walinsham made a pretty speech about how fighting was a gross violation of discipline that could endanger the ship.

Then he sentenced Fred to two dozen, something which caused murmurings to flow across the deck. One of my messmates later explained that this is what a thief would receive. Of course, he also mentioned that most thieves usually face punishment between decks rather than see a captain’s mast. Repeat offenders often vanished in the night.

Fred was immediately seized and bound to the grate, his back exposed to Tomlinson’s lash. I saw Tommy whisper something to him before he placed a piece of oak upon which Fred bit. But Tommy could only offer so much dumb show. Walinsham has lived the life for nearly twenty years and knows what happens when the cat sinks its claws into naked skin twenty-four times.

I stood to look right into Fred’s eyes through the lattice. He never whimpered around his wooden gag. He stood immobile as the cat scoured his back. Blood began running as the skin split on the eighth stroke. At fifteen, his legs gave way.

The doctor pleaded to end the beating. Walinsham planted his hand on the railing above the starboard gangway and said in that fluted voice of his, ‘The man’s punishment is not yet complete. Doctor, if he is neither dead nor unconscious, he is due another nine. However, perhaps you would be willing to take his place.’

At that, Wentworth—for I cannot think him otherwise after his noble display—straightened his legs, spat out the dowel, and said in a weak but clear voice, “Thankee, Mr. Campbell. Best if’n we get this o’er. Carry on, Bosun.”

Walinsham turned puce at that because Fred ordered Tomlinson as if he were captain.

Fred’s eyes closed at twenty-two, and he sagged in the lashings. This time Walinsham accepted the doctor’s demand and forgave the final two lashes.

How gracious of him.

Darcy’s musings were interrupted as two heads appeared from below. Mr. Campbell led Wentworth on deck, and Tomlinson approached the pair. Campbell’s Royal Mile burr cut across the windsong shivering the rigging. “Bosun, Tomkins is fit to rejoin his mates. I hae told the captain that he is to be on light duty until we raise Port Mahon, so another sennight. I put that in my log, and the First signed off on it.

“Since we are not in hot pursuit, maybe you can find easy work for Tomkins. Just be sure that he is not straining the wounds. They are closed for now.  

“You there,” he pointed at Darcy, “come to me later for a pot of wool grease that you will rub into his scars to keep them soft. I’ll be off to the Wardroom now. A peaty bottle there has been calling out my name.”

Once the crowd of men well-wishing Tomkins on his safe return had thinned, Darcy approached him, although he ensured that long ears would not tip to the man’s identity. “Tomkins, I must thank you for saving me from myself. I would have been trussed up like a Christmas goose but for you.

“Why did you do it? You nearly died.”

“But, you would have, Smitty. I’ve never been flogged, but I have gotten in the way of my share of splinters and froggish metal. I assure you that a cat o’ nine tails is no more painful than a cutlass. The only difference is that, in the heat of battle, you don’t feel the one, while on the grate, you surely feel the other.

“What’s the worst you’ve faced? Getting pitched from your horse while chasing a fox?”

Darcy ruddied beneath his tan and sighed. “You are as infuriating as my cousin Richard. He continually reminds me that he must earn his keep chasing crapauds around the continent. He never accepts that running an estate like Pemberley demands the same skills he uses to manage his regiment. I will not even attempt to suggest that to you, though, equating my estate to a frigate.”

Wentworth grinned. “One difference I would be happy to point out is that your success is not contingent upon blasting holes in a neighboring estate.”