Patrick O'Brian: Post captain

The Lively raced up, turned into the wind, folded her wings like a bird and lay athwart the Fama’s hawse. The boat splashed down, crossed, and returned. The Spanish captain came up the side, saluted, presented his sword with a bow: Jack passed it to Bonden, just behind him, and said, ‘Do you speak English, sir?’

‘A little, sir,’ said the Spaniard.

‘Then I should be very happy to have your company at dinner, sir. It is waiting in the cabin.’

They sat at the elegant table in the transformed cabin. The Spaniards behaved extremely well; they ate well, too, having been down to biscuit and chick-​peas these last ten days; and as the courses followed one another their perfect dignity relaxed into something far more human. The bottles came and went: the tension wore away and away -talk flowed free in Spanish, English and a sort of French. There was even laughter and interruption, and when at last the noble pudding gave way to comfits, nuts and port, Jack sent the decanter round, desiring them to fill up to the brim; and raising his glass he said, ‘Gentlemen, I give you a toast. I beg you will drink Sophia.’

‘Sophia!’ cried the Spanish captains, holding up their glasses.

‘Sophie,’ said Stephen. ‘God bless her.’

End