Maturin carefully placed his dissecting knife out of easy reach and inquired: "Pray tell me the cause of this monstrous dark choleric mood. In a man of your alarming bulk it might lead to a sudden seizure."

Aubrey carefully lowered his alarming bulk down onto the cushioned stern lockers and whipped off his stock with a violent motion. "I have been reading these American newspapers we got from that Nantucket whaler in exchange for our third-best mizzen-topsail."

"Sure, and that was a canny trade indeed. The lack of fresh news and gossip from the shore is one of the most tedious aspects of these interminable voyages. I could hardly have endured another month at sea without reading all those scurrilous accounts of Mr. Jefferson's frolics with Miss Hemmings."

"I am more interested in the news accounts of the American space program. Something has gone strangely wrong since we left Spithead � something I can hardly credit. All the Jonathans I have met in the Royal Navy are fine sailors, stout fighters, ingenious with their hands, and perfectly obedient to orders."

"I suppose that's why the Admiralty gives its press gangs secret orders to sweep up as many Americans as possible."

"Yes, we could never man this huge fleet without them. But these newspapers seem to refer to some other nation entirely." Aubrey whipped a newspaper out of the pile.

"This article in the Boston Anti-Federalist says that the crew of that Space Shuttle Columbia was not wearing their helmets and pressure gloves, in violation of standing orders from the Space Lords. Here in the National Political Intelligencer we learn that the current crew of the International Space Station is reduced to living on portable soup and sweet desserts because in the previous commission all the meat and bread was consumed by ravenous crewmen."

"The Yanks must not have read my book Diseases of Seamen. That kind of diet could result in scurvy if continued too long."

"Hang the scurvy! The real problem is that these so-called astronauts are a pack of black froward mutinous dogs, totally devoid of discipline! I can't understand why this First Space Lord O'Keefe tolerates such disobedience and insolence. But then as an Irishman he is naturally only interested in being popular with the mob."

Maturin ignored this thoughtless slur and said "I too have read these articles with concern. However, as a lifelong stagecoach liberal, my perspective is naturally different from yours. All of these articles cite as their sources official press releases from Moscow � not this new city Washington the Americans have constructed as their capital. I need hardly remind you that the czarist government is one of the most oppressive on the planet; worse in terms of domestic repression even than Bonaparte's so-called Empire."

"I smoke your meaning, Stephen. The Americans are always boasting of their vaunted free press; yet in this matter they are the ones keeping unpleasant facts secret while Russians are the ones being open. I am no bloody revolutionist to be sure, but this is disquieting indeed."

"I suppose you would shape things up if Mr. Jefferson put you in charge of the Yankee Astronaut Office."

"Quite right. The first thing would be to put most of these astronaut fellows on half-pay. They say the post-captain's list is overstocked, but it's not half as bad as the space business. Then the rest of them would have to be put under strict discipline. Constant drills, kit inspections, division parades every day. It takes at least three months to make a newly pressed crew efficient. These people might take longer because of their accumulated bad habits. After that, I would institute a strict regimen of punishments for every infraction."

"As it says in the Articles of War: 'according to the customs and usages of the sea'?"

"Of course."

"I've always wondered what that means. What is the customary and usual punishment for not using mandatory safety gear?"

"Keelhauling. Usually the offender's skin is mostly torn off by the barnacles and the blood draws sharks."

"It's hard to see how that would work with the Space Shuttle. How about unauthorized eating?"

"Very serious because it endangers shipmates' lives. The offenders are marooned on a barren island and left to starve."

Maturin sat pensively for a minute and finally said, "I think you have judged the situation wrongly, Jack. This is not one of your yardarm-to-yardarm sea battles, with body parts flying in all directions and blood spurting from the scuppers on every down-roll.

Sheer British pluck and bloody-mindedness will not be sufficient. These astronauts are the closest thing the Americans have to our landed nobility. They have too much political influence to be treated like press-ganged sailors. This would require a high level of subtlety, which as your friend I may frankly say you lack."

Aubrey opened his mouth to mention his years in Parliament but Maturin continued, "And don't mention your years in Parliament. Representing a rotten borough with only six voters (four of which are notorious drunkards) is no proper training for dealing with these Democratic Republicans that are in power now in Washington City. The Foreign Office says they are even harder to deal with than the Federalists were."

"Well, Stephen, if subtlety is called for, than I should order young Mowett to take the jolly-boat up the Potomac with you and that chest of 'corrupting British gold' you have concealed rather badly in your cabin. I'm sure you would deploy those subtle arguments in a truly Napoleonic manner on the political battlefield."

Maturin bowed slightly to acknowledge the compliment. "Indeed, bribery is the most effective means of changing public policy in a democracy, where government officials have no private means and are dependent on their official salaries. In fact I read somewhere that this Lord O'Keefe is sore pressed for funds to send his offspring to whatever passes for the Right Schools in America."

Aubrey looked pensively out the stern windows at the distant coast of Virginia. "I'm almost tempted to exceed my orders and do it."

"Don't even think about it. All the secret naval intelligence funds in my charge are intended to corrupt the French garrison of Mauritius, and that island is far more important strategically than the USA is, or will ever be.

I shouldn't care to tell Sir Joseph Blaine that we wasted official intelligence funds on this wild fantastical notion of yours, no, not even with a dozen new species of butterflies in hand. Such a thing could send us both to Australia for life, with those unfashionable arrows all over our clothes."

Aubrey gave an involuntary shudder of horror, hauled himself to his feet and said, "Then there is nothing for it but an evening of fine music, elevated conversation, and comfort food. Killick! Killick, look alive there! Toasted cheese and figgy-dowdy all around... And put these Yankee newspapers in my quarter-gallery before the crew sees them."

Jeffrey F. Bell is a retired space scientist and has been a fan of Patrick O'Brien's novels since 1972.

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