Post Captain

by Patrick O'Brian

  However, Jack had been gazing at this scene ever since the pale disc of the sun had made it visible, and during the pull to the flagship his mind was taken up with other things: his expression was grave and contained as he went up the side, saluted the quarterdeck, greeted the Cumberland's captain, and was shown into the great cabin.

  Admiral Harte was eating kippers and drinking tea, his secretary and a mass of papers on the other side of the table. He had aged shockingly since Jack had last seen him; his shallow eyes seemed to have moved even closer together and his look of falsity to have grown even more pronounced.

  'So here you are at last,' he cried—with a smile, however, and reaching up an unctuous hand. 'You must have come dawdling up the Channel; I expected you three tides ago, upon my honour.' Admiral Harte's honour and Jack's dawdling were much on a par, and Jack only bowed. The remark was not intended to be answered, in any case—a mere automatic unpleasantness—and Harte went on, with an awkward assumption of familiarity and good fellowship. 'Sit down. What have you been doing with yourself? You look ten years older. The girls at the back of Portsmouth Point, I dare say. Do you want a cup of tea?'

  Money was Harte's nearest approach to joy, his ruling passion: in the Mediterranean, where they had served together, Jack had been remarkably successful in the article of prizes; he had been given cruise after cruise, and he had put more than ten thousand pounds into his admiral's pocket. Captain Harte, as commandant of Port Mahon, had come in for no share of this, of course, and his dislike for Jack had remained unaffected; but now the case was altered; now he stood to gain by Jack's exertions, and he meant to conciliate his good will.

  Jack was rowed back again, still over this silent water, but with something less of gravity in his look. He could not understand Harte's drift; it made him uneasy, and the lukewarm tea was disagreeable in his stomach; but he had met with no open hostility, and his immediate future was clear—the Polychrest was not to go with this convoy, but was to spend some time in the Downs, seeing to the manning of the squadron and the harassing of the invasion flotilla over the way.

  Aboard the Polychrest his officers stood waiting for him; the hammocks were up, as neat as art could make them, the decks were clean, the ropes flemished, the Marines geometrically exact as they presented arms and all the officers saluted; yet something was out of tune. The odd flush on Parker's face, the lowering obstinacy on Stephen's, the concern on Pullings', Goodridge's and Macdonald's, gave him a notion of what was afoot; and this notion was confirmed five minutes later, when the first lieutenant came into his cabin and said, 'I am very much concerned to have to report a serious breach of discipline, sir.'

  A little after breakfast, while Jack was aboard the admiral, Stephen had come on deck: the first thing he had seen there was a man running aft with a bosun's mate beating him from behind—not an uncommon sight in a man-of-war. But this man had a heavy iron marline-spike between his teeth, held tight with spunyarn, and as he screamed, blood ran from either side of his mouth. He came to a dead halt at the break of the quarterdeck, and Stephen, taking a lancet from his waistcoat pocket, stepped up to him, cut the spunyarn, took the spike and threw it into the sea.

  'I remonstrated with him—I told him that the punishment was inflicted upon my orders—and he attacked me with an extreme ferocity.'

  'Physically?'

  'No, sir. Verbally. He cast out reflections upon my courage and my fitness to command. I should have taken decided measures, but I knew that you were shortly to return, and I understood he was your friend. I hinted that he should withdraw to his cabin: he did not see fit to comply, but stayed pacing the quarterdeck, on the starboard side, although it was represented to him that with the captain out of the ship, this was my prerogative.'

  'My friendship for Dr Maturin is neither here nor there, Mr Parker: I am surprised that you should have mentioned it. You must understand that he is an Irish gentleman of great eminence in his profession, that he knows very little, almost nothing, of the service, and that he is extremely impatient of being practised upon—being made game of. He does not always know when we are earnest and when we are not. I dare say there has been some misunderstanding in this case. I remember him to have flown out very savagely at the master of the Sophie over what he conceived to be a misplaced joke about a trysailmast.'

  'A master is not a lieutenant.'

  'Now, sir, do you instruct me upon rank? Do you pretend to tell me something that is clear to a newly-joined midshipman?' Jack did not raise his voice, but he was pale with anger, not only at Parker's stupid impertinence but even more at the whole situation, and at what must come. 'Let me tell you, sir, that your methods of discipline do not please me, I had wished to avoid this: I had supposed that when I observed to you that your punishment of Isaac Barrow was perfectly illegal, that you would have taken the hint. And there were other occasions. Let us understand one another. I am not a preachee-flogee captain: I will have a taut ship, by flogging if need be, but I will have no unnecessary brutality. What is the name of the man you gagged?'

  'I am sorry to say I do not recall his name for the moment, sir. A landsman, sir—a waister in the larboard watch.'

  'It is usual in the service for an efficient first lieutenant to know the names of the men. You will oblige me by finding it directly.'

  'William Edwards, sir,' said Parker, some moments later.

  'William Edwards. Just so. A scavenger from Rutland: took the bounty. Had never seen the sea or a ship or an officer in his life—no notion of discipline. He answered, I suppose?'

  'Yes, sir. Said, "I came as fast as I could, and who are you, any gait?" on being rebuked for slackness.'

  'Why was he being started?'

  'He left his post without leave, to go to the head.'

  'There must be some discrimination, Mr Parker. When he has been aboard long enough to know his duty, to know the officers and for the officers to know him—and I repeat that it is an officer's duty to know his men—then he may be gagged for answering. If indeed he should do so, a most unlikely event in a ship even half well run. And the same applies to most of the crew; it is useless and detrimental to the good of the service to beat them until they know what is required of them. You, an experienced officer, clearly misunderstood Edwards: you thought he intended gross disrespect. It is exceedingly possible that Dr Maturin, with no experience whatsoever, misunderstood you. Be so good as to show me your defaulters list. This will not do, Mr Parker. Glave, Brown, Stindall, Burnet, all newly-joined landsmen: and so it runs, a list long enough for a first-rate, an ill-conducted first-rate. We shall deal with this later. Pass the word for Dr Maturin.'

  This was a Jack Aubrey he had never seen before, larger than life, hard, cold, and strong with a hundred years of tradition behind him, utterly convinced that he was right. 'Good morning, Dr Maturin,' he said. 'There has been a misunderstanding between you and Mr Parker. You were not aware that gagging is a customary punishment in the Navy. No doubt you looked upon it as a piece of rough horseplay.'

  'I looked upon it as a piece of extreme brutality. Edwards's teeth are in a state of advanced decay—he has been under my hands—and this iron bar had crushed two molars. I removed the bar at once, and . . .'

  'You removed it on medical grounds. You were not aware that it was a customary punishment, awarded by an officer—you knew nothing of the reason for the punishment?'

  'No, sir.'

  'You did wrong, sir: you acted inconsiderately. And in your agitation, in the heat of the moment, you spoke hastily to Mr Parker. You must express your sense of regret that this misunderstanding should have arisen.'

  'Mr Parker,' said Stephen, 'I regret that there has been this misunderstanding. I regret the remarks that passed between us; and if you wish I will repeat my apology on the quarterdeck, before those who heard them.'

  Parker reddened, looked stiff and awkward; his right hand, the usual instrument for acknowledging such declarations, was immobilized in his sling. He bowed and said somethi
ng about 'being entirely satisfied—more than enough—for his part he too regretted any disobliging expression that might have escaped him.'

  There was a pause. 'I will not detain you, gentlemen,' said Jack coldly. 'Mr Parker, let the starboard watch be exercised at the great guns and the larboard at reefing topsails. Mr Pullings will take the small-arms men. What is that infernal row. Hallows,'—to the Marine sentry outside the door—'what is that din?'

  'Beg pardon, your Honour,' said the soldier, 'it's the captain's steward and the gun-room steward fighting over the use of the coffee-pot.'

  'God damn their eyes,' cried Jack. 'I'll tan their hides—I'll give them a bloody shirt—I'll stop their capers. Old seamen, too: rot them. Mr Parker, let us establish a little order in this sloop.'

  'Jack, Jack,' said Stephen, when the lamp was lit, 'I fear I am a sad embarrassment to you. I think I shall pack my chest and go ashore.'

  'No, soul, never say that,' said Jack wearily. 'This explanation with Parker had to come: I had hoped to avoid it, but he did not catch my drift; and really I am just as glad to have had it out.'

  'Still and all, I think I will go ashore.'

  'And desert your patients?'

  'Sea-surgeons are ten a penny.'

  'And your friends?'

  'Why, upon my word, Jack, I think you would be better without me. I am not suited for a sea-life. You know far better than I, that discord among the officers is of no use to your ship; and I do not care to be a witness of this kind of brutality, or any party to it.'

  'Ours is a hard service, I admit. But you will find as much brutality by land.'

  'I am not a party to it by land.'

  'Yet you did not so much mind the flogging in the Sophie?'

  'No. The world in general, and even more your briny world, accepts flogging. It is this perpetual arbitrary harassing, bullying, hitting, brow-beating, starting—these capricious torments, spreadeagling, gagging—this general atmosphere of oppression. I should have told you earlier. But it is a delicate subject, between you and me.'

  'I know. It is the devil . . . At the beginning of a commission a raw, ugly crew (and we have some precious hard bargains, you know)—has to be driven hard, and startled into prompt obedience; but this had gone too far. Parker and the bosun are not bad fellows—I did not give them a strong enough lead at the beginning—I was remiss. It will not be the same in the future.'

  'You must forgive me, my dear. Those men are dropsical with authority, permanently deranged, I must go.'

  'I say you shall not,' said Jack, with a smile.

  'I say I shall.'

  'Do you know, my dear Stephen, that you may not come and go as you please?' said Jack, leaning back in his chair and gazing at Stephen with placid triumph. 'Do not you know that you are under martial law? That if you was to stir without my leave, I should be obliged to put an R against your name, have you taken up, brought back in irons and most severely punished? What do you say to a flogging through the feet, ha? You have no notion of the powers of a captain of a man-of-war. He is dropsical with authority, if you like.'

  'Must I not go ashore?'

  'No, of course you must not, and that's the end to it. You must make your bed and lie on it.' He paused, with a feeling that this was not quite the epigram that he had wished. 'Now let me tell you of my interview with that scrub Harte . . .'

  'If, then, as I understand you, we are to spend some time in this place, you will have no objection to granting me some days' leave of absence. Apart from all other considerations, I must get my dement and my compound fracture of the femur ashore: the hospital at Dover is at an inconsiderable distance—a most eligible port.'

  'Certainly,' cried Jack, 'if you give me your word not to run, so that I have all the trouble of careering over the country after you with a posse—a posse navitatum. Certainly. Any time you like to name.'

  'And when I am there,' said Stephen deliberately, 'I shall ride over to Mapes.'

  Chapter Eight

  'A gentleman to see Miss Williams,' said the maid.

  'Who is it, Peggy?' cried Cecilia.

  'I believe it is Dr Maturin, Miss.'

  'I will come at once,' said Sophia, throwing her needlework into a corner and casting a distracted glance at the mirror.

  'It must be for me,' said Cecilia. 'Dr Maturin is my young man.'

  'Oh, Cissy, what stuff,' said Sophia, hurrying downstairs.

  'You have one, no two already,' whispered Cecilia, catching her in the corridor. 'You can't have three. Oh, it's so unfair,' she hissed, as the door closed and Sophia walked into the morning-room with a great air of composure.

  'How happy I am to see you,' they said, both together, looking so pleased that a casual observer would have sworn they were lovers, or at least that there was a particular attachment between them.

  'Mama will be so disappointed to have missed you,' said Sophia. 'She has taken Frankie up to town, to have her teeth filed, poor pet.'

  'I hope Mrs Williams is well, and Miss Cecilia? How is Mrs Villiers?'

  'Diana is not here, but the others are very well, I thank you. How are you, and how is Captain Aubrey?'

  'Blooming, blooming, thank you, my dear. That is to say, I am blooming: poor Jack is a little under the weather, what with his new command, and a crew of left-handed hedge-creepers from half the gaols in the kingdom.'

  'Oh,' cried Sophie, clasping her hands, 'I am sure he works too hard. Do beg him not to work too hard, Dr Maturin. He will listen to you—I sometimes think you are the only person he will listen to. But surely the men must love him? I remember how the dear sailors at Melbury ran to do whatever he said, so cheerfully; and he was so good to them—never gruff or commanding, as some people are with their servants.'

  'I dare say they will come to love him presently, when they appreciate his virtues,' said Stephen. 'But for the moment we are all at sixes and sevens. However, we have four old Sophies aboard—his coxswain volunteered—and they are a great comfort.'

  'I can quite see they would follow him anywhere in the world,' said Sophia. 'Dear things, with their pigtails and buckled shoes. But tell me, is the Polychrest really so very—? Admiral Haddock says she can never swim, but he loves to make our flesh creep, which is very ill-natured in him. He says she has two main topsail yards, in such a sneering, contemptuous way. I have no patience with him. Not that he means it unkindly, of course; but surely it is very wrong to speak lightly of such important things, and to say she will certainly go to the bottom? It is not true, is it, Dr Maturin? And surely two main topsail yards are better than one?'

  'I am no sailor, as you know, my dear, but I should have thought so. She is an odd, pragmatical vessel, however, and she has this way of going backwards when they mean her to go forwards. Other ships find it entertaining, but it does not seem to please our officers or seamen. As for her not floating, you may set your mind at rest. We had a nine days' blow that took us far out into the chops of the Channel, with an ugly, pounding sea that partially submerged us, shaking away spars, booms, ropes; and she survived that. I do not suppose Jack was off the deck more than three hours at a time—I remember seeing him lashed to the bitts, up to his middle in the water, bidding the helmsman ease her as the seas came in; and on catching sight of me said, "She'll live yet." So you may be quite easy.'

  'Oh dear, oh dear,' said Sophia in a low voice. 'At least, I do hope he eats well, to keep up his strength.'

  'No,' said Stephen, with great satisfaction, 'that he does not. I am glad to say he does not eat at all well. I used to tell him over and over again, when he had Louis Durand as his cook, that he was digging his grave with his teeth: he ate far, far too much three times a day. Now he has no cook; now he makes do with our common fare; and he is much the better for it—has lost two stone at least. He is very poor now, as you know, and cannot afford to poison himself; to ruin his constitution: it is true that he cannot afford to poison any guests either, which grieves him. He no longer keeps a table. But you, my dear, how
are you? It seems to me that you are more in need of attention than our honest tar.' He had been watching her all this time, and although that unbelievable complexion was as lovely as ever, it was lovely in a lower tone, once the pinkness of surprise had faded; there was tiredness, sorrow, a want of light in her eyes; and something of the straight spring had gone. 'Let me see your tongue, my dear,' he said taking her wrist. 'I love the smell of this house,' he said, as he counted automatically. 'Orris-root, I believe? There was orris-root everywhere in my childhood home—smelt it as soon as you opened the door. Yes, yes. Just as I thought. You are not eating enough. What do you weigh?'

  'Eight stone and five pounds,' said Sophia, hanging her head.

  'You are fine-boned, sure; but for an upstanding young woman like you it is not nearly enough. You must take porter with your dinner. I shall tell your mother. A pint of good stout will do all that is required: or almost all.'

  'A gentleman to see Miss Williams,' said the maid. 'Mr Bowles,' she added, with a knowing look.

  'I am not at home, Peggy,' said Sophie. 'Beg Miss Cecilia to see him in the drawing-room. Now I have told a lie,' she said, catching her lip behind her teeth. 'How dreadful. Dr Maturin, would you mind coming for a walk in the park, and then it will be true?'

  'With all the pleasure in life, lamb,' said Stephen.

  She took his arm and led him quickly through the shrubbery. When they came to the wicket into the park she said, 'I am so wretchedly unhappy, you know.' Stephen pressed her arm, but said nothing. 'It is that Mr Bowles. They want me to marry him.'

  'Is he disagreeable to you?'

  'He is perfectly hateful to me. Oh, I don't mean he is rude or unkind or in the least disrespectful—no, no, he is the worthiest, most respectable young man. But he is such a bore, and he has moist hands. He sits and gasps—he thinks he ought to gasp, I believe—he sits with me for hours and hours, and sometimes I feel that if he gasps at me just once more, I shall run my scissors into him.' She was speaking very quick, and now indignation had given her colour again. 'I always try to keep Cissy in the room, but she slips away—Mama calls her—and he tries to get hold of my hand. We edge slowly round and round the table—it is really too ridiculous. Mama—nobody could mean to be kinder than my dear Mama, I am sure—makes me see him—she will be so vexed when she hears I was not at home to him today—and I have to teach Sunday school, with those odious little tracts. I don't mind the children, much—poor little things, with their Sundays spoilt, after all that long church—but visiting the cottagers makes me perfectly wretched and ashamed—teaching women twice my age, with families, who know a hundred times more about life than I do, how to be economical and clean, and not to buy the best cuts of meat for their husbands, because it is luxurious, and God meant them to be poor. And they are so polite and I know they must think me so conceited and stupid. I can sew a little, and I can make a chocolate mousse, but I could no more run a cottage with a husband and little children in it on ten shillings a week than I could sail a first rate. Who do they think they are?' she cried. 'Just because they can read and write.'