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Patrick O’Brian’s Aubrey-Maturin tales are widely acknowledged to be the greatest series of historical novels ever written. Now, for the first time, they are available in electronic book format, so a whole new generation of readers can be swept away on the adventure of a lifetime. This is the thirteenth book in the series.
For all Jack Aubrey’s life he has triumphed, often sensationally, over the dangers of the sea and the violence of the enemy. But his rashness, his guilelessness, his indiscretion have time and time again enabled his rivals to prevent him reaping his just rewards. The nadir was reached in The Reverse of the Medal when, the victim of a skilful frame-up, he was convicted of fraud and struck off the Navy list just as he was coming within sight of flag rank. The subsequent exposure of the conspiracy, coupled with his brilliant success in command of a privateer, had brought him to a position where Their Lordships were more or less bound to reinstate him.
This, as the present book opens, they have done, and he and his old friend Dr Maturin are sailing on a secret mission with a hand-picked crew, most of them shipmates from the adventures and lucrative voyages of earlier years.
342 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1989

'Bears I have borne, sir, and badgers...' said Mrs. Broad, her arms folded over a formal black silk dress.
'It was only a very small bear,' said Stephen, 'and long ago.' (p. 112)
'What do you know about the last American war?'
'Not very much, sir, except that the French and Spaniards joined in and were finely served out for doing so.'
'Very true. Do you know how it began?'
'Yes, sir. It was about tea, which they did not choose to pay duty on. They called out No reproduction without copulation and tossed it into Boston harbour.'
Jack frowned, considered, and said, 'Well, in any event they accomplished little or nothing at sea, that bout.' He passed on to the necessary allowance for dip and refraction to be made in working lunars, matters with which he was deeply familiar; but as he tuned his fiddle that evening he said, 'Stephen, what was the Americans' cry in 1775?'
'No representation, no taxation.'
'Nothing about copulation?'
'Nothing at all. At that period the mass of Americans were in favour of copulation.'
'So it could not have been No reproduction without copulation?'
'Why, my dear, that is the old natural philosopher's watchword, as old as Aristotle, and quite erroneous. Do but consider how the hydra and her kind multiply without any sexual commerce of any sort. Leeuenhoek proved it long ago, but still the more obstinate repeat the cry, like so many parrots.'
'Well, be damned to taxation, in any case. Shall we attack the andante?'
Quite early in the morning Captain Aubrey stood tall and shadowy by Stephen’s cot. “Are you awake?” he asked in a soft voice.
“I am not,” said Stephen.
“We are going ashore in the new pinnace, and I thought you might like to come too. There may be a whole colony of nondescript boobies.”
“So there may - how truly kind - I shall be with you in a minute.”
