a literal sack of bees.

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However, the way he presents this information is funny as fuck. It is absolutely a retcon.

Jack’s like, oh yeah, Mrs. Poll Skeeping is going to help you out in the sick-berth

And Stephen is like, a woman? On a ship? Aren’t you, like, vehemently against that?

'You will not mention this to Sophie, nor to any other person,' said Stephen, with a cold, penetrating glare. 'Must I not even start looking to my sea-chest?' 'What a fellow you are, Jack!' cried Stephen, in great disgust. 'Of course you must not, not until the port admiral's messenger is come. Cannot you see the obvious cause and effect? I should have thought it plain even to the meanest intelligence.' 'A ship!' cried Jack, springing heavily into the air. There were tears in his eyes, and Stephen saw that he might wish to shake hands at any minute. He disliked all effusion, privately thinking the English far too much given to weeping and the flow of soul; he pursed his lips with a sour expression, and put his hands behind his back. He said, 'Plain to the meanest intelligence: I appear—you have a ship. What must Sophie conclude? Where is my character?'

--The Mauritius Command