Maybe it was the snow and ice that have still not completely loosened their grip on Seattle which made a voyage to an icy rock in the far southern ocean resonate. Maybe it was the fact that this weather has kept me indoors since Wednesday, which gave me lots of time to read. Or maybe it was the fact that
Desolation Island was just that good. SPOILERS, beware.
I devoured this one. Two things made the fifth book especially good for me, which conveniently fall, again, between the sea of Aubrey and the intelligence of Maturin. Like I said before, the problem with
The Mauritius Command was that its was sort of a game of Naval chess:
Néréide moves to intercept
Bellone,
Boadecia moves to intercept
Astreé, and so on. That's enjoyable...for a while.
Desolation Island, however, is more strictly a sailing adventure, Aubrey and his crew alone on the ocean overcoming perpetual challenges. And there are lots of problems to be overcome: storms, disease, a Dutch ship-of-the-line, and finally a collision with Antarctic ice that nearly sinks Aubrey's ship. It was very refreshing to me for O'Brian to have the action based on the toils of the trip rather than the moves of opposing fleets. But then, I'm in it for the sailing more than for the war.
Maturin meanwhile, is busy with his own mental games. He competes with a new character, a beautiful American spy named Wogan. He competes with numerous medical challenges, not the least of which is an epidemic that nearly wipes out the crew. And he competes with himself: his pining for the impossible Villiers, his laudanum addiction. Since the voyage takes Maturin from the warm Cape Verdes to the freezing Kerguelens--originally called "Desolation Islands" by no less than
Captain James Cook--there is plenty to keep the naturalist Maturin, and us, occupied.
It is too broad to say that Aubrey is the brawn and Maturin is the brains. Yet there is something to be said of the balance that O'Brian obtains in
Desolation Island between the life-and-death events of
HMS Leopard and the cunning espionage (and self-flagellation) of its physician. Between the two, Book Five is simply a rollicking good yarn.
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| "Thatched Cottage, Ringwood, Hampshire" by T. Noelsmith |
(1) Captain Aubrey and his family are living in fair comfort at Ashgrove Cottage, the wealth of his success from the Mauritius campaign allowing them to improve their home. Stephen Maturin comes to observe the physicians attending to the elder Mrs. Williams. Aubrey excitedly tells his friend about his next command, the two-deck, fourth-rate
Leopard, recently rebuilt and not the horrible boat of old reputation. His task is to sail to
New South Wales and look into the situation of Governor
Bligh, once Captain of the famously mutinous
Bounty. Aubrey then reveals to Maturin the scheme he has entered into with a man named Kimber, who has promised to turn the dross of an old Roman mine on Aubrey’s property into profitable silver. In spite of his compatriot’s spirits, Maturin is low: He has lost a patient, he has lost a folder of confidential papers, and he is pining for Diana Villiers. The two ride to Portsmouth, and Maturin watches as Aubrey gambles at cards. Returning to Ashgrove by starlight, Aubrey tells Maturin that the
Leopard will be crewed by old friends, including Pullings and Babbington. Later in the week, they meet with Pullings and
Captain Heywood, who was a
Midshipman on the Bounty during the mutiny, but his reminiscences offer little information about Bligh. Although he is drawn to join Aubrey on his voyage, Maturin’s duty to British intelligence forces him to decline.
