Dr. Maturin had no such inhibitions. When he came into the cabin that evening he waited until Jack had finished a charming little rondo and then he said, "And are we not to make haste and cut the Line tomorrow, so?"
"No," said Jack, smiling at him. "If this wind holds, and it is almost certain to mind its duty as a true trade wind. I hope to cross in a little more than twenty-nine degrees of west longitude on Sunday. So tomorrow you should be quite near your old friends the St Paul's rock."
"Is that right? What joy: I must tell poor Martin. Tell, what was the rondo you were playing?"
"Yes. You know. Molter Vivace. You must have heard of Molter Vivace. Oh ha, ha, ha!" When at last he had had his laugh out, he wiped his eyes and wheezed. "It came to me in a flash, a brilliant illumination, like when you fire off blue lights. Lord, ain't I a rattle? I shall set up for a wit yet, and make my fortune. Molter Vivace... I must tell Sophie. I am writing her a letter, to be put aboard some homeward-bound merchantman, if we meet one off Brazil next week, which is probable. Molter Vivace, oh dear me."
"He that would make a pun would pick a pocket," said Stephen, "And that miserable quibble is not even a pun, but a vile clench. Who is this Molter?" he asked, picking up the neatly-written score.
"Johannes Melchior Molter, a German of the last age," said Jack. "Our parson at home thinks the world of him. I copied this piece, mislaid it, and found it ten minutes ago tucked behind our Corelli in C major. Shall we attempt the Corelli now, it being such a triumphal day?"
From: The Far Side of the World by Patrick O'Brian who died this day in the year 2000 ~ Rest In Peace Maestro