The Yellow Admiral is as good as any of the previous 17 Aubrey/Maturin novels: as good as novels get. It has occurred to me, and not for the first time as I have read and reread the entire series and observed the whole cast of characters mature, that what we call the Aubrey/Maturin series is really one very long book with eighteen chapters.
One can read the Holmes/Watson books in any order; the characters never change, and I don't recall references by Doyle to previous events, such as those backwards glimpses O'Brian slyly slips to us steady fans from time to time that must sail right over the heads of hit-and-run readers.
With not a molecule of discredit to her genius intended, Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot remained the same character through 25 stories, and I'm not aware of any maturation of Miss Jane Marple. Of course, Agatha Christie probably felt that her readers preferred the familiarity that the sameness of characters provided.
What gives me the feat tha! ! t The Yellow Admiral might be the final Aubrey/Maturin episode? Diana never once jumps the traces; Jack mends all his fences at home; Sir Joseph Blaine is very much back in control in his seemingly obscure but influential position with "the Committee;" and Stephen has lived through a volume without a crisis. Then, just as Jack Aubrey has gotten used to the idea of building the Chileans a navy, while on a little respite in Funchal, Madeira, with his family and almost everyone else dear to him, he receives an urgent dispatch from Lord Keith of the Admiralty, advising him that Napoleon has escaped from Elba. Writes Keith: "You are to take all His Majesty's ships and vessels at present in Funchal under your command, hoisting your broad pennant in 'Pamone,' and . . . proceed without the loss of a moment to Gibraltar, there to block all exits from the Straits by any craft soever until further notice. And for so doing the enclosed order shall be your warrant."
A! ! t the bottom of Keith's letter was a handwritten note from ! dear, dear Queenie, an important figure in Jack's youth and during his career, now married to Lord Keith: "Dearest Jack -- I am so happy for you -- love -- Queenie."
So the Chileans must develop their navy without the services of Captain Aubrey. And there will be no yellow admiral in the person of Lucky Jack Aubrey.
Thus, with this pristine conclusion, I fear that we have seen the last chapter in the adventures of Captain Jack Aubrey, Royal Navy, and his loyal friend and invaluable companion Stephen Maturin. But O'Brian will be writing, that's for sure. And if his next work is another splendid biograpy, a fine story on another subject, short stories, whatever he writes will be a thrill for me to read.