She was in fact perfectly familiar from his last night's studies, yet as he led Stephen up and down the ladders, along the decks and into the holds he kept exclaiming 'Oh what a sweet little ship! What a sweet little ship!' And when they were on the forecastle again, looking back towards Batavia, he said 'Never mind the paintwork Stephen; never mind the masts; a few weeks' work in the yard will provide all that. But only a brilliant hand with noble wood at his command -- you saw those perfect hanging knees? -- could produce such a little masterpiece as this.' He considered for a while, smiling, and then said, 'Tell me, what was the title poor Fox tripped over during our first audience of the Sultan?'
'Kesegaran mawar, bunga budi bahasa, hiburan buah pala.'
'I dare say. But it was your translation of it that I meant. What was the last piece?'
'Nutmeg of consolation.'
'That's it: those were the very words hanging there in the back of my mind. Oh what a glorious name for a tight, sweet, newly-coppered, broad-buttocked little ship, a solace to any man's heart. The Nutmeg for daily use: of Consolation for official papers. Dear Nutmeg! What joy.'
-- Patrick O'Brian, The Nutmeg of Consolation
(With thanks to 'mouse, who always gives me something wonderful to read.)