Yet Sophia Aubrey was no fool. Although she knew that short of defeat in the everlasting war and the bankruptcy of the state they would be unlikely to have any serious material worries again she also knew that Jack would never be really happy unless his name were restored to the Navy List. He was cheerful enough on the surface, pleased to be with her and the children, and of course this release from anxiety and from the apparently interminable law-suit had had a great effect; but she knew perfectly well that his appetite for living was very, very much less than it had been—for one example out of many, the stables contained only two dull utilitarian horses and he did not mean to hunt—and that as far as many sides of his life were concerned he was as it were flayed. They entertained very little and they hardly dined out at all: this was partly because most of his old shipmates were at sea, but even more because he refused all invitations except from men to whom he was particularly obliged or who had shown their friendship quite unmistakably at his trial.
He was easily wounded, and only a little while ago Sophie had had a difficult time with the representatives of the committee of West India merchants who had talked to her about their present or rather about the arms and the inscriptions that were to be engraved upon it, for the plate was already there in Storr's workshop. She had begged them to omit 'late of the Royal Navy' and 'formerly His Majesty's ship' and the repeated mentions of the word privateer; but the gentlemen had been so pleased with their own composition and so strongly inclined to think it could not be improved upon that she doubted there would be any change.
A party of seamen padded past the window on their way to deal with the drawing-room in the naval fashion; that is to say, to strip it to the boards, scrub and polish everything in sight and then refurnish it completely, chairs, tables and bookcases all exactly squared. Since in the ordinary course of events they did this daily to their captain's quarters at sea, it seemed to them natural that they should do the same by his house on shore; and since the end of their week's leave of solid debauchery in Shelmerston they had repainted all the woodwork at Ashgrove as well as whitening all the stones bordering the drive and the paths in the garden.
They had hardly gone by before a blackbird began to sing from a tree on the far side of the lawn. He was a great way off, but with all its inconveniencies the cottage did have the merit of being a reasonably quiet place and he could be heard in all his glorious purity. 'How I wish I could sing like that,' murmured Jack, rapt in admiration.
'My dearest love,' said Sophie, pressing his hand, 'you sing far, far better.'
The bird stopped in mid-phrase and a hooting and bawling of children could be heard approaching.
'Oh do come on, George, you fat-arsed little swab. Bear a hand, bear a hand there, can't you?' called Charlotte.
'I'm a-coming, ain't I? And you are to wait for me,' cried George, quite faint in the distance.
'Charlotte, you are not to roar out like that so near the house. It ain't genteel and besides they'll hear you,' said Fanny, also in a close-reefed topsail screech. An outsider might have found their conversation coarse and aggressive as well as horribly loud; but they had been brought up largely by the seamen who replaced ordinary servants at Ashgrove, and they usually talked lower-deck when they were at liberty. Their abuse was almost always entirely conventional and they were in fact much attached to one another, which was obvious when they appeared at the window, each girl having her little brother by the hand and all three leaping up and down with delight.
'It's come, it's come,' they cried, but not quite together: a discordant noise.
'It's come, sir. It's come, ma'am,' cried Killick, flinging the door wide open. He performed what he conceived to be a butler's duties at Ashgrove; and in his view butlers were perfectly entitled to grin and jerk their thumbs over their shoulders. 'Which it's in a covered cart with two coves with blunderbusses as well as the driver in the stable-yard, sir. There was a gent in charge, to make an address, but he got pissed pardon me overtook in liquor at Godalming, so they come on alone. The address is wrote on paper, any gate, so you can read it yourself. They ask do you choose to have the crates carried in, sir?'
'No,' said Jack. 'Take them into the kitchen—but they are to unload their blunderbusses before setting foot in the house—and give them beer and bread and cheese and ham and pork pie. And you and Bonden bring in the crates, with a screw-driver and a small crow.'
The crates came, escorted by children crying 'Oh Papa may we open them now?' from as far as the kitchen passage.
'George,' said his father, surveying the trim sealed and banded chests, with J, Aubrey, Ashgrove Cottage, Hants, Esquire HANDLE WITH GREAT CARE painted on the top, 'Jump up to your grandmother's room like a good fellow, and tell her there is something come from London.'
Before Mrs Williams could change into a suitable garment, arrange her hair and negotiate the staircase, the lid of the first chest had come off, and an extraordinary amount of straw and wood-shavings had invaded three quarters of the room; she cried out in horror, her powerful voice filling the breakfast-parlour. But Jack Aubrey had reached the layers of tissue-paper that concealed the heart of the matter and his hands were searching for a joint in the close-packed parcels. Sophie watched him with dread in her heart as he heaved at a bulky object in the middle, gently prised it free, unveiled its brilliant form—a soup tureen—and in a tone that quite drowned Mrs Williams' indignation he said 'Wait a moment, ma'am,' and passed it to his wife. The tureen, an ornate affair in the modern style, was so heavy that she nearly dropped it; but seizing the other handle she checked its downward swoop, and even before she had steadied it she saw that the inscription was as she had wished it to be . . . She read it out: To the most eminently distinguished naval commander, John Aubrey, esquire, this service is offered by the Association of West India Merchants in gratitude for his unfailing support and protection of the country's Trade (its life's blood) in all latitudes and in both wars, and in particular acknowledgment of his brilliant capture of that most determined and rapacious private man-of-war the Spartan, the largest of its class. Beneath this piece stood the words Debellare superbos, with two lions rampant pointing at them from either side.
'Very well put,' cried Mrs Williams. ' "Life's blood" is very well put. I congratulate you, Mr Aubrey.' She shook his hand with real cordiality; and taking the tureen from her daughter, she observed, 'It must weigh a hundred and fifty ounces.'
'Oh sir,' cried Charlotte, standing on tiptoe and peering into the chest, 'I believe there is another just the same. Please, please may I bring it out?'
'Do, by all means, my dear,' said Jack.
'It is far too heavy and delicate for a child,' said Mrs Williams, eagerly pushing forward and raising the next tureen. 'But she shall have the cover, which I see lies next.'
'May I have a go too, Papa?' whispered Fanny, pulling his sleeve.
Common justice required that she should, and presently the unpacking turned into a kind of lucky dip, each fishing in strict turn and calling or even shrieking out the name of the catch—sauce tureen, small ladle, large ladle, side-dish, cover, a monstrous epergne and so down to the scores of plates, big and little—until the tables overflowed and there was nowhere to tread without crushing straw or shavings into the carpet, to say nothing of tissue paper and jeweller's cotton, and the place looked like an idealized bandito's lair; for the West India merchants had done the thing handsomely, very handsomely.
'You will have to take on a mate or two in the polishing line,' said Jack to Killick, who was gazing round with a kind of imbecile rapture at the number of surfaces that he might now attack with powdered chalk and shammy leather: like many seamen he had a passion for making metal shine, and he had already reduced Jack's earliest silver plates to something not far removed from foil.
'Now everything must be washed in hot water and soap, because of the children's dirty hands,' said Mrs Williams, 'and when it is thoroughly dry it must be wrapped in baize and locked up in the strong-room. It is
far too good for use.'
'Charlotte,' said Jack. 'Here is a spoon for you, for your own; and here is one for Fanny.'
'Oh thank you, sir,' they cried, courtseying and blushing with pleasure: they were twins, and the perfect unison of their cry, expression, movement and blush was particularly absurd and touching.
'And here's for thee, George. You will need one when you join your first ship.'
Mrs Williams expressed her views on naval education; they were familiar to Jack Aubrey from pretty frequent repetition ever since George was breeched, but he heard them with a mind detached.
'Mama,' said Fanny, staring at the inscription on the first tureen, 'you left out debellare superbos at the bottom. What does it mean?'
'It is Latin, my dear,' said Sophie. 'And that is all I know. You will have to wait for Dr Maturin or Miss O'Mara.' Miss O'Mara, the daughter of an officer killed at the Nile, was the promised governess whose name usually darkened the little girls' days with apprehension whenever it was mentioned; but now Fanny scarcely noticed it. 'I shall ask Papa,' she said.
'The parlour, there,' hailed Dray, whose muddy boot (he had but one, the other leg being made of wood) confined him to the kitchen.
'Ho,' replied Killick, in an equally carrying voice.
'Express for the Captain.'
'There is an express for you, sir,' said Killick.
'An express! Oh what can it be?' cried Mrs Williams, putting her handkerchief to her mouth.
'Jump along to the kitchen and fetch it, will you, George,' said Jack.
'The boy fell off his horse in the lane, and is covered with blood,' said the returning George, with some satisfaction. 'So is the letter.'
Jack walked into the deep bow-window, and in the quietness produced by astonishment (an express was a very rare event at Ashgrove Cottage) he heard his mother-in-law whisper to Sophie 'What a shocking bad omen. How I hope it is not to say Mr Aubrey's bank is broke. Blood on the cover! I am certain it is to say Mr Aubrey's bank is broke. No bank is safe nowadays; they break right and left.'
He stood pondering for a moment. It was true that what little refitting the Surprise required was well in hand, and if that good, solid, reliable Tom Pullings had been aboard he could have been sure of finding her ready for sea within a very few hours. But Tom was not to report until Tuesday, and although Davidge and West were capable, experienced officers he did not know them well and he would not rely on their judgment alone where preparation for action was concerned: for Stephen would not have spoken of a short voyage or even shorter notice if there had not been some likelihood of action at the end of it.
As he weighed the possibilities he became aware that his silence and Mrs Williams' foolish whispers were casting a damp upon the occasion; the children were looking quite solemn. 'Sophie,' he said, putting the note into his pocket, 'I believe I shall run down and look at the ship in the morning, rather than wait until Tuesday. But in the meanwhile, let us carry all these things into the dining-room and spread them out as though we were going to give a banquet.'
With two extra leaves the dining-table could seat fourteen people comfortably, and these fourteen people required a prodigious quantity of plate. Although the service was more bulbous, fussy and convoluted than any Jack or Sophie would have chosen, even half-laid the table looked very grand in a rather ostentatious way, particularly as the curtains had been drawn and the candles lit to give the brilliance greater play, and the children were still hurrying to and fro like ants, filled with delight, when wheels were heard outside, and peering through the curtains they saw a chaise and four.
Stephen stepped from the carriage, bent and cramped with his long journey, and Padeen, carrying a bag: the children rushed off in a body, over-excited and shouting far too loud that 'Dr Maturin was come in a chaise and four, and one of the horses was in a fine lather, and Padeen still had his face done up in a bandage.'
'Stephen!' cried Jack, running down the steps. 'How happy I am to see you. You could not have chosen a better moment; we are just about to have a banquet. Padeen, I hope I see you better? Killick will help you carry the Doctor's bags up to his room.
The post-chaise rolled off, to wait at the Goat and Compasses until the postillion should have the good word, and Stephen walked in, kissing Sophie and the two little faces stretched expectantly up, and exchanged bows with George. 'I am glad to find you here,' he said to Jack in the hall. 'I was afraid you might have run down to Shelmerston yesterday or even the day before.'
'I only had your express an hour or so ago.'
'Good afternoon to you, ma'am,' said Stephen, bowing to Mrs Williams in the drawing-room. 'Would you believe such a thing? I sent off an express from London town no less—no remote Ballymahon or Cambridge in the bog—two days ago and it arrives only two hours before me. One pound sixteen shillings and eightpence in pure loss, besides half a crown for the boy.'
'Oh, I believe it only too easily, sir,' cried Mrs Williams. 'It is all part of the Ministry's design to ruin the country. We are governed at present by fiends, sir. Fiends.'
'I have a silver spoon of my own, sir,' said George smiling up at him. 'Should you like to see it?'
'Sophie,' said Jack, 'this is the most wonderful opportunity for christening the new plate. Stephen has not dined. We have not dined. Everything is laid out, or as near as damn it, for an admiral's inspection. Could we not run up a simple dish or two—there is some soused hog's face ready, I know—and dine in glory?'
'Of course we can, my dear,' said Sophie without hesitation. 'Give me an hour and there will be at least something under every cover.'
'In the meanwhile, Stephen, let us go into the smoking-room and drink a glass of madeira; and I dare say you would like a cigar after your journey.' In the smoking-room he said, 'Your Padeen looks as if he had been in the wars. Was the operation very painful?'
'It was. It was extremely painful and prolonged. But he came by those lumps and bruises that you observe in a battle at Black's. In the room where the members' servants take their ease, three men put a mock on his bandage and asked him was his father an ass or a rabbit? He destroyed them entirely. Broke the leg of the one—tibia and fibula: a compound fracture—flung the other bodily into the broad old-fashioned fire they have down there and held him on it for a while, and chased the third till he leapt into the lake at St James's park, where Padeen would not follow because of his fine black clothes. Fortunately some of the members are Middlesex magistrates and I was able to bring him away.'
'It will not do to meddle with him. He is the kind of lamb that lies down with the lion, in wolf's clothing. I saw him board the Spartan like a good 'un.'
'So he did, too.' Stephen walked over to the fire, lit his cigar and said 'Listen, Jack: we have the possibility of a truly naval action, by which I mean attacking a frigate of the French navy. I am assured that success or even honourable failure in such an encounter might have a favourable effect upon your eventual restoration to the post-captains' list.'
'By God, I should give my right arm for that,' said Jack.
'Pray do not say such things, my dear,' said Stephen. 'It is tempting fate. My friend holds out no sort of guarantee of course, but it is a fact that to the official mind a battle with a national man-of-war counts, whereas an equally severe battle with a private man-of-war does not. Now very briefly the position is this: among the shipping at St Martin's there is a new frigate called the Diane, of thirty guns. She has been particularly designed and fitted out for a voyage to South America, particularly Chile and Peru, not unlike ours, and perhaps to the South Seas to harry our whalers there. Her stores are almost all aboard; so are the more or less official French representatives; and she is to sail at slack water on the night of the thirteenth, the dark of the moon, to clear the Channel before daylight. She and some other vessels in St Martin's have been blockaded there for some time by a small inshore squadron that included the Nymphe, perfectly capable of coping with her and any of the brigs or gunboats that might come out to h
elp her. Yet the exigencies of the present situation are such that during this critical period neither the Nymphe nor her frequent companion the Bacchante can be spared from a more important operation elsewhere and the squadron is reduced to the Tartarus and the decrepit Dolphin. This deficiency is endeavoured to be concealed by the presence of the Camel store-ship and another vessel, but the enemy are aware of our motions and mean to carry out their plan. It therefore occurred to my friend that if the Surprise were to intervene it might be to the benefit of all concerned.'
'By God, Stephen,' said Jack, shaking his hand, 'you could not have brought me happier news. May I tell Sophie?'
'No, sir, you may not; nor anyone else until we are at sea or upon the very point of heaving our weigh—I mean topping our boom. Now listen, Jack, will you? I have taken it upon myself to give your consent—'
'And well you might, ha, ha, ha!'
'—to the operation, to the attempted operation, and to the somewhat devious official aspect that it is to assume. We have let or hired the ship to the Crown, and the Admiralty has provided a document that will deal with the situation in the event of any serving officer's proving difficult or legalistic. Since dear William Babbington is now the senior officer present the likelihood of disagreement seems tolerably remote; but it is as well to have the paper and we may well think it the best cover or protection for our South American voyage. It begins By the Commissioners for executing the office of Lord High Admiral of Great Britain et cetera and it is addressed To the Flag Officers, Captains and Commanders of His Majesty's Ships and Vessels to whom this shall be exhibited. Then the body of it runs: Whereas we have directed John Aubrey, Esquire, to proceed in His Majesty's hired vessel the Surprise upon a particular service, you are hereby required and directed not to demand of him a sight of the Instructions he has received from us for his proceedings on the said service, nor upon any pretence whatever to detain him, but on the contrary to give him any assistance he may stand in need of, towards enabling him to carry the said instructions into execution. And it is signed by Melville and two other lords of the Admiralty, and at their command by that black thief Croker. And as you see, it is dated and sealed.'
Book 12 - The Letter of Marque Page 14