Tempo

“Your technique is excellent, but your movements are much too stiff. It’s quite throwing off my rhythm. Your movements should be more languid, less abrupt. Perhaps if you changed the angle of your grip?”

“Nonsense! My grip, my dear Stephen, is a near perfect textbook representation..”

“You will be prickly over the slightest criticism.”

“I am not in the least prickly. I desire a near breathless state and I cannot achieve that with long, languid strokes. I am a man of action, Stephen, as you should well know after all these years. I enjoy the frantic pace and excitement--”

“Think of this as the sea on a calm day. A gentle swelling, a filling of power, built slowly over time and then released in an explosion of sight and sound. Loosen your shoulder some.”

Lucky Jack Aubrey frowned at his friend. “First I should change my grip. Now I should loosen my shoulder. Is there anything else I can do to please you?”

“All I am saying is that I cannot match your pace in my current condition, Jack,” Stephen said as he peered at the captain over his spectacles.

Jack shifted his stance and sighed. “Very well then, Stephen, I shall slow down so that you can keep up.” He cleared his throat and tapped his bow on the music stand. “Shall we begin again?”