Master and Commander

As the Sophie heads toward its confrontation with the Cacafuego, O’Brian explores why some people are driven to seek out violence. While Maturin is a pacifist and refuses to participate in any form of combat, both Aubrey and Dillon crave battle. This proclivity alarms Maturin, who reflects that Dillon’s increasingly provocative comments maligning Aubrey’s courage are designed to compel a duel. He considers the days of their voyage through the Mediterranean exceptionally peaceful, writing in his diary, “they might have been among the happiest, if I had not been so aware that JA and JD might kill one another in the civillest way in the world, at the next point of land: for it seems these things cannot take place at sea” (277). The need for military discipline aboard the ship means that the duel cannot occur on the voyage, emphasizing the divide between The Customs of Sailors Versus the Customs of Shore.

Frustrated by his friends, Maturin reflects that both Aubrey and Dillon desire violence during times of stress. However, he suspects that “the difference is that […] JA merely longs for the shattering noise, immense activity of mind and body, and the all-embracing sense of the present moment, I am very much afraid that JD wants more” (304). Dillon’s own self-hatred after the incident with the Irish rebels makes him crave battle because it would allow him to take out his anger and possibly die. Aubrey, unaware of Dillon’s inner turmoil, simply wishes for conflict due to his ambitious, daring nature. Maturin, however, has not only been privy to Dillon’s struggles but also understands them from a personal perspective due to their shared past. This allows him to understand Dillon’s behavior in a way that Aubrey cannot.

While previous chapters have developed the idea of different systems of law—including the laws of the Navy versus those of the shore, or the natural law of animal behavior—Maturin finally articulates in these chapters his belief that all men suffer because they are loyal to conflicting laws. He tells Aubrey, who is still upset by Mrs. Harte’s romantic betrayal, that “there are parallel sets of laws in different keys that have nothing to do with one another and that are even downright contradictory” and that this is “a great source of torment” (318). Aubrey initially does not believe him, so Maturin draws upon their shared love of music, metaphorically comparing a person’s varying obligations—social, religious, and so on—to an instrument being tuned to many different keys. Often, these work together or run parallel to one another. When they clash, however, it causes a person to suffer. There is not always an easy way to solve this conflict; Dillon, for instance, believes he can only be satisfied by a duel, as he will either be able to regain his perceived lost honor or he will die in the process, which will free him from his turmoil.

Maturin’s comments about conflicting “laws” advance a central idea of the book—that the crew of a ship must live and work together successfully despite their differences. In this debate, Maturin represents the pragmatic perspective, his scientific rationality causing him to overlook certain social rules and common beliefs. When Dillon is excited to be fighting foreign soldiers rather than privateers and outlaws, Maturin comments, “a ball fired from a privateer‘s cannon makes the same hole as a king’s” (324). This shows that despite his time aboard the Sophie, he still does not perceive the world as a sailor, especially not an ambitious one. However, his overall observations are not false: Ultimately, the success of the Sophie revolves around the cohesion of the crew as a unit and their respect for Aubrey as their captain.

This issue of “law” plays into the emphasis on The Cost of Ambition in these chapters. O’Brian shows how every decision that a naval officer makes could lead to the death of others. When Henry Ellis falls overboard during a close chase with a French ship, Aubrey wonders if the delay caused by rescuing him will lead to their death or capture: “[T]hese considerations and many others, including a knowledge of the extreme intensity of the eyes directed at him, a recollection of the odious nature of the parents, the status of the boy as a sort of guest, Molly Harte’s protégé, [fly] through his racing mind” (285). This illustrates Aubrey’s responsibilities as a captain: everything that he must take into consideration as he leads his crew. While the sailors know that there is a chance they may die at sea, ultimately, they must be able to put their trust in Aubrey’s judgment calls. Aubrey, meanwhile, must not only weigh each individual against the safety of the ship and the whole crew, but he must consider his social obligations—the moral, social, and literal laws to which he is bound. In trying to maintain his good standing with his crew and his reputation on land while also gaining fame and fortune, Aubrey must sometimes sacrifice victory, and other times, lives.

While Aubrey is able to rescue Ellis from drowning and escape the French ship, his decision ultimately proves meaningless as Ellis is later killed during the boarding of the Cacafuego. Similarly, Aubrey’s conflict with Dillon is resolved by his death in battle. The chapter ends on a somber note as Aubrey discovers Dillon’s body: “[T]urning him he saw the great wound in his heart” (333). By establishing that the wound was in his heart, O’Brian symbolically indicates that Dillon’s death was the result of both their quest for military glory and his own conflicting loyalties to the British Navy and to Ireland. By focusing on the death of these crewmembers rather than a joyful victory, O’Brian disrupts the narrative of war as exciting and glorious, instead depicting violence as a tragic response to the confusing system of conflicting human laws.