The Theory of Relativity
It is perhaps not well known that the size of a naval officer's
spyglass bears a direct relationship to "that part of a gentleman's
anatomy which members of the fair sex find to be of most significance
to themselves." And how does a lady assure that the object of her
affection possesses a suitable telescope? Why, by making him a
gift, by interceding with his superiors, or, if all else fails, by way
of a little coercion. All is revealed in a series of very, well,
revealing letters
I.
The Sea Lords
The Admiralty
London
13 November 1782
Your Lordships,
I feel it my obligation to bring to
your attention, I hardly need say in the strictest confidence, that an
officer and gentleman who was recently posted captain in His Majesty's
Royal Navy is nevertheless in want of a spyglass suitable to his
position and qualifications. It has been explained to me that a
naval officer's spyglass bears no little relationship to the regard in
which he is held by the Navy and his fellow officers. More
particularly, its length is perceived to be in some proportion to that
part of a gentleman's anatomy which members of the fair sex find to be
of most significance to themselves.
In the interests of achieving my
purpose, I hope you will forgive me if I express myself plainly:
The organ of which I speak, Your Lordships, is a gentleman's
affair. And if that very affair is, shall we say, of a certain
size, of exceptional character, and has been employed on various
occasions to salutary effect, then it is a very sad day indeed for
Britain and for the Royal Navy that the owner of said affair is
possessed of a mere middling telescope.
That no inadvertent error is made, I
shall reveal that the gentleman to whom I refer is Captain Edward
Pellew of the *Suffolk.* Far from being aware that I make this
plea on his behalf -- he is after all, engaged to be married to another
-- Captain Pellew would no doubt be mortified at my boldness.
Regrettably, at every occasion on which we have been in company, the
good Captain has been at something of a loss to meet my expressions of
friendship in the spirit with which they have been intended.
Nonetheless, I have been fortunate enough to find myself in close
proximity to the good Captain under circumstances that allow me to
assure Your Lordships that the affair of which I speak is of a high and
promising standard.
Even a weak and feeble woman would wish
to do her duty by her country and the gallant officers who serve her in
perilous times. As the daughter of a naval officer as well as an
ardent admirer of those who serve His Majesty in the Royal Navy, I am
honored to make provision for a most deserved token of recognition to
the officer in question. I have accordingly arranged for a very
excellent telescope to be manufactured by Stanley and Sons, Bolton
Street. I entreat your Lordships to see that this object, which
is of brass and sheathed in Moroccan leather and extends to a length of
18 inches, finds its way into the hands of the aforementioned
Captain. I am indebted to Your Lordships and sign myself, etc.,
etc.,
S.H. (A Patriotic Lady)
II.
Lieutenant. R. Chadd
Justinian
Portsmouth
6 May 1791
Dear Chadd,
You cannot imagine how embarrassed I am
to be writing you in such circumstances. Enclosed you will find a
bank draft, and a letter for Captain Keene in respect of Mr. Bowles,
dictated to me by the most extraordinary woman, who more or less
accosted me and pretty nearly gave me no choice. Bear with me and
I shall explain, but I beg you will give the letter to the Captain
without mentioning how you came by it. If the wily old file does
not recognize my hand, I may yet live this down.
Perhaps you recollect that I was going
to spend my leave with my cousin James Ellis near Weymouth, since the
pater bolted off to Jamaica with that upstart Carstairs woman and my
own home is let to strangers. Ellis is a decent enough fellow,
but far too inclined to engage with the hoi polloi for my taste.
I suppose I was weak in allowing myself to be dragged along to the
village May Day fete. Really, I had no idea what a pagan, drunken
rite lay ahead.
Oh, it was a lovely day and all that,
plenty of country food, oceans of drink, armies of blushing, giggling
girls. Fiddler's Green, in short. But you never saw such
goings on. The May Pole, the Queen of the May, and the Green Man
were barely the start of it. Bloody Morris dancing, I ask
you. By mid-afternoon the licentiousness of these villagers
simply knew no bounds. I had no idea where James had gone off to
and damned if I wanted to know.
I could have walked back to the
Grange, of course, but instead repaired to one of the tables set up on
the green with a plate of very nice fresh bread and cheese and a
tankard or two of the best Dorset ale. Simply enjoying the
pleasant air and minding my own business, as you might say, feeling an
unusual degree of relaxation and well-being, when the cheekiest woman
you could ever hope meet plunks herself down next to me and begins,
without a by-your-leave, the most amazing discourse to which I have
ever been subjected.
I suppose she may have been
forty-some years of age, but with a certain country bloom still about
her -- rosy cheeks, freckles, bright blue eyes and a blonde fringe
peeping out from her clean starched cap. I would not have said no
to a bit of decent, entertaining company, but little did I realize that
this Rosie person, for so she named herself, was the devil's spawn in
disguise -- the temptress, the slattern.
Village gossip being what it is,
she knew all about me and asked me if I were of the *Justinian* and if
so, did I know the ship's master, Matthew Bowles. Well, of course
I do and I said so, whereupon she allowed that I was in a position to
do her a great favor if I had a mind to. She asked who was the
Captain of *Justinian* and said she had long wanted to write him a
letter, only she could not write.
Well, why would you want to write
to him, said I, innocent as a lamb, when she proceeds to tell me,
who has served in His Majesty's Navy man and boy these many years, that
Master Bowles has been sorely mistreated in the Service and is somehow
in dire need of a larger spy glass. One befitting his
"endowments," she says, although the Dear only knows where she learned
such a word.
Good God, old Bowles has a
perfectly respectable spy glass, eighteen inches at least. I
could not think what the woman was on about, but she says to me that it
is well-known in Navy circles that any commissioned or warrant officer
who walks the quarterdeck must have a telescope that is somehow
proportioned in relation to his anatomy. I thought the woman a complete
lunatic. Since I had never heard of any such thing, I had another
few draughts of ale to see if it helped me make any more sense of her
insane ramblings.
She had seen "Bowlesy," she
blathered on, not three years hence as he passed through Weymouth on a
market day, shortly after she was widowed. He had happened to
show her his spy glass (although now that I think about it, he may very
well have showed her something else as well) and she was shocked and
disappointed, she avowed, to see its puny size in relation to his -- I
can hardly bring myself to say this, but if I do not this letter will
make no sense at all -- "thumping great cock," with which he has
apparently pleasured her on and off ever since she was a girl.
And ever since she saw him, she had been of a mind to write to his
Captain and ask that he be given a lovely great spy glass to match his
lovely big . . . well, you get the picture.
In fact, she said she had it on
good authority that ladies who were married to or interested in naval
officers sometimes specially commissioned a telescope as a gift.
Honestly, I have no idea where this doxie gets her information.
Although, come to think of it, Mr. Clayton does have a rather long and
well-made glass, which he can ill-afford and which far outstrips his
station.
Well, if that was the end of it,
all well and good, but no such luck. She coaxed me into walking
with her up the lane by the church, saying she wanted to give me some
money to put in with the Captain's note. We were no more out of
sight of the revelers on the green when she pulled me into some byway,
pushed me up against a wall and began fishing around in my britches,
saying, "Just you come with me my lad," and that she might want to put
in a good word for me as well.
I am perfectly well aware that I
did not need to yield to her crude advances, but I had had rather a lot
to drink, as it happens, and she did have a tempting figure for a woman
her age, and a pretty face as well. She smiled at me with those
even white teeth, and her hand was doing such things to me, I swear you
cannot imagine.
Before I knew what she was about,
she had my britches unbuttoned and had slipped to her knees -- her
knees, Chadd, my God. I'll never forget the feel of her soft
mouth on my stiffening prick as long as I live. She kept her eyes
open, looking up at me the whole time, the witch. I swear she
made me harder and larger than I've ever been and she sucked me like a
chain-pump.
One of her hands kneaded my
buttocks and with the fingers of the other she tickled my balls.
It could not have been more than a few minutes until I exploded and she
shocked me even further by swallowing every drop of spunk that flowed
out of me. I felt hot and cold and limp and galvanized all at one
time. Just stood there panting against the wall as she petted my
softening member, crooned to it, and tucked it gently away.
"Ooh, that was lovely, weren't
it?" she whispered. "And that's a handsome pecker you've got
there, I do say. I expect your good Captain should see you have a
proper glass as well." Oh, Christ, no I told her. She could
have found someone else to write her letter, of course, so I said yes I
would be delighted to write it myself and even to make a small
contribution toward Bowles's blasted glass if only that would be an end
to it and she would leave me out of the business entirely.
If you are the friend to me that I
believe you to be you will not broach this subject when next we
meet. I really could not bear it. Only give the bank draft
and the enclosed letter to Captain Keene and let us never speak of
it. For this, I am your grateful and humble friend, etc.,
F. Eccleston (Lieutenant)
* * *
Captain Keene
Justinian
1 May 1791
Dear Sir:
You will not know me, and I am
asking another to write to you on my behalf as I never learned to read
or write or figure, having worked on farms and in dairies all my
life. I have asked this fellow just to write down my words as I
say them. Although you may think I should have addressed the Navy
Board, as you are an officer and a gentleman I am sure that you will
honor my request.
I was raised near Weymouth and
have known your sailing master, Matthew Bowles, since he were a
lad. He's a good man, is Mr. Bowles, though he has been at sea
for many a year and I see him but rarely. I happened to learn
from one who knows that an officer who walks the quarterdeck, whether
by warrant or commission, is expected to have a telescope that shows
what kind of man he is under his uniform, so to speak. But when I
last saw my friend he was possessed of a middling glass, some eighteen
inches, which may do very well for some, but not for a man of his endowments.
I broke him in myself, as you might
say, when we were but lad and lass in the field and he took to it as a
duck takes to water or alas as he himself took to water later on.
I tell you fair, sir, he has got the largest prick I've ever seen in my
life and it's no secret that I've seen more than a few.
Now, I got a nice little nest egg when
my mam died and have some money put by myself as well. We may be
country folk hereabouts, but we ain't so very poor, you know.
Besides, I was recently given another small sum toward this particular
purchase. I have heard that the best telescopes come from
Stanley's in London and I beg you will see that one is ordered for and
given to Mr. Bowles, from "A Friend", because he well deserves
it. It need not be the very finest model, for he is a modest man,
but it must be *very large* or it won't be right.
I thank you in advance for your
kindness, sir, for I am in
your debt. With sincere good wishes for your
own health and happiness, etc.,
Rose Michaels (Mrs.) (Rosie Cluett
as was)
Go to
Part Two