'Sure my first impression was good, and he is certainly an intelligent, knowledgeable man; but this impression did not last quite as well as I could have wished. He laid a great compliment on his speech, as though he wished us to love him; and perhaps he talked a little too much, as barristers so often do. But then until you know a man well it is hard to know how much to put down to nervousness, and it is a nervous thing to be outnumbered three to one. Sir Joseph, who is better acquainted with him, rates his abilities very high—likes him too, I believe. And it was pleasant to hear him speak with such generous enthusiasm of his friend in Batavia, Raffles.' He rang for more coffee, and pouring Jack a cup he went on, 'Few men like to be trampled upon, but it seems to me that some go too far in avoiding it, and try to assume a dominating position from the start or at least as soon as the first civilities are over. Dr Johnson said that every meeting or every conversation was a contest in which the man of superior parts was the victor. But I think he was mistaken: for that is surely wrangling or hostile debate, often self-defeating—it is not conversation as I understand it at all, a calm amicable interchange of opinions, news, information, reflexions, without any striving for superiority. I particularly noticed that Sir Joseph, indulging in several of his masterly flashes of silence—rather prolonged flashes—remained quite obviously the most considerable man among us.'
Jack nodded and breakfasted on: he had now reached toast and marmalade, and when he had emptied the nearer rack he said, 'Years ago I should have thought he was a great man and excellent company. But I have grown more reserved since then—a cantankerous old dog rather than a friendly young one—and although he may indeed be a great man I shall not make up my mind till I know him better. You did not hear us arranging his accommodation in Diane? He has exactly Mr Stanhope's ideas of the importance of an envoy, the direct representative of the Crown. We shall mess separately, except for particular invitations, though the extra bulkheads will make clearing the ship for action a longer, more complicated affair. And, by the way, you have not told me how you prefer to travel, as physician to the envoy and his suite or as my guest'
'Oh as your guest Jack, if you please It would be so much simpler, and they can always ask for my services, if they need them.'
'I am sure you are right,' said Jack. 'Stephen, I am away to Buckmaster's in five minutes: my uniform no longer fits. Will not you come with me? You could do with a decent coat.'
'Alas, brother, I am taken up this morning. I have an interesting, delicate operation with my friend Aston at Guy's; and you will be at the House in the afternoon. But let us meet in the evening and go to the opera if Sir Joseph will lend us his box. They are playing La Clemenza di Tito.'
'I shall look forward to it,' said Jack. 'And perhaps tomorrow we will take a boat down to Greenwich.'
Stephen's operation went well, although throughout its not inconsiderable length the patient cried 'Oh God, oh Jesus, oh no no no, no more for God's sake. Oh God, oh God, I can't bear it,' the rapid flow of words broken by screams, for the frailty of his teeth and the state of his nose forbade the efficient use of a gag; and this Stephen found unusually tiring, so instead of calling on Sir Joseph Banks at Spring Grove as he had intended he sat in an easy chair by the window in his room at the Grapes and looked first for van Buren's essay on the spleen in primates (the zoological primates) in the Journal des Sçavans and found that it was indeed dated from Pulo Prabang. Then he searched back among those diaries he had preserved—some had been taken, sunk or destroyed—and he found that of the year in which he first met Jack Aubrey.
He had not used this particular code for a great while and at first it offered some difficulty; but in time he was reading fluently enough. 'Yes,' he said, 'even as late as that I was stunned entirely, I find—no feelings at all but sorrow, and even that a dull grey: music the only living thing.' He read on, going faster now and catching the mood of his former self not so much from the entries as from all the associations they brought back to vivid present life. 'Sure I have changed from the man who could speak such words to Dillon,' he said, 'but it is rather a recovery from an enormous blow, a reversion to a former state, than an evolution. The change in Jack is in fact more considerable, for even the most prescient eye could scarcely have seen the present Captain Aubrey in the wilful, indeed wanton, undisciplined Jack of those days, somewhat profligate and so impatient of restraint. Or do I exaggerate?' He turned the pages, running through his first contacts with naval intelligence—dear John Somerville, the fourth generation of a family of Barcelona merchants, a member of the Germandat, the Catalan brotherhood struggling against the Spanish, the Castilian, oppression of their country—the Catalans' hatred for the French armies that had burnt Montserrat and ravaged towns, villages, and even remote isolated mountain farms, destroying, raping, murdering—the Germandat's total refusal when in 1797 the Castilians deserted their English allies and joined the French—the appalling successes of Buonaparte's campaigns and Stephen's realization that the only hope for Europe was an English victory, which must be won at sea; and that this victory was a necessary condition for both Catalan autonomy and Irish independence. The diary recorded his connexion with Somerville after his early days in the Sophie and with Somerville's English chief, one of Blaine's best agents until his horrible death in France: recorded it in much too much detail, and though to be sure the code never had been broken some of the entries made him shudder even now. What insane risks he had run before he came to understand the true nature of intelligence!
Lucy brought him abruptly back to the present by knocking at the door and saying in a voice that showed neither pleasure nor approval that there was a black man downstairs with a letter for Dr Maturin.
'Is he a seaman, Lucy?' asked Stephen, his bemused mind turning to some one of the black members of the Surprise's crew, now thousands of miles away.
'No, sir,' said Lucy. 'He is more like a native.' And leaning forward she added in a low tone, 'He has black teeth.'
'Pray bring him up.'
It was Fox's Ahmed; and although his teeth were indeed quite black from the chewing of betel, his face was only a moderate brownish yellow. At this juncture it wore an anxious expression, and he stood there bowing in the doorway, holding the letter in both hands. He was wearing European clothes and in many parts of the town, particularly down by the Pool or Wapping, he would have passed unnoticed; but the Liberties of the Savoy was not one of them. In fact legally it was not part of London or Westminster at all, but of the Duchy of Lancaster, and culturally it was a self-contained village, with no notion at all of natives, nor even of people from the Surrey side.
'Ahmed,' said Stephen, 'come in.' The letter was a friendly note from Fox, saying how much he had enjoyed their dinner and enclosing a testimonial from Mrs Waller, who gave Ahmed an excellent character but said that he found England a little cold and damp in the winter, that he would probably thrive better on his native heath and that in any case she was obliged to reduce her household. 'I see,' said Stephen. 'Ahmed, how much English do you speak? And has Ali explained the situation to you?' Ahmed said he spoke little but understood more: Ali had explained everything. And on being asked when he could leave his place said, 'Tomorrow, tuan,' bowing again.
'Very well,' said Stephen. 'The wages are fifteen pounds a year: if that suits, bring your things here before noon. Can you manage your chest?'
'Oh yes, yes, tuan; Ali so kind with cart.' Ahmed bowed again and again, backed slowly to the door and even down the first few stairs, smiling as brilliantly as his dim teeth would allow.
'Now I shall have to calm Killick and Mrs Broad,' reflected Stephen. 'He is likely to grow more shrewish than usual, and she is certain to think of human sacrifices and heathens running amuck: a difficult interview I foresee.'
It was indeed heavy going at first. 'Bears I have borne, sir, and badgers . . .' said Mrs Broad, her arms folded over a formal black silk dress.
'It was only a very small bear,' said Stephen, 'and long ago.'
Yet it being Dr Maturin, and since Mrs Maturin was quite used to black teeth in India, some days' trial were eventually conceded; and before the end of those days the Grapes' blood was flowing quite normally: Ahmed, always clean, sober, meek and obliging, passed in and out exciting no adverse comment, whereas by contrast Killick ashore was often something of a nuisance, always noisy and frequently drunk; and when at the end of their stay in London a cart came to carry them and the baggage to the Portsmouth coach Mrs Broad, Lucy and Nancy shook Mr Ahmed by the hand as well as Mr Killick, and wished him a prosperous voyage and a happy return; they would be very pleased to see him again.
Jack and Stephen had left earlier by post-chaise, and when they were clear of the town, the horses stepping out briskly, Jack said, 'I wish Tom Pullings were with us. He does so love riding in a chaise and four.'
'Where will he be by now, do you suppose?' asked Stephen.
'If they picked up the trades well north of the line, they might be somewhere near Cape San Roque: I hope so, I am sure. I hate to think of the Surprise rolling her masts out and spewing her oakum in the doldrums.' He shuffled among the papers on the seat beside him. 'Here are my orders—Admiralty orders, I am happy to say, so that if by any improbable chance we take a prize there will be no iniquitous admiral's third—and here is what Muffitt sent me this morning—most obliging of him—extracts from his logs in the South China Sea these twenty-five years past and more, charts, remarks on typhoons, currents, variations of the compass and the setting-in of the monsoons. It is extremely valuable, and it would be even more so if the Indiamen did not keep as close as they could to an established course from Canton to the Sunda Strait: they could hardly do otherwise in a sea that as far as anyone can tell is nowhere more than a hundred fathom water and generally less than fifty. A shallow, unexplored sea with volcanoes all round and therefore sudden unexpected shoals. It is not blue-water sailing at all, and as he frankly told me down at Greenwich they often prefer to lie to at night, or even anchor, which is easy enough in such modest depths.'
'A very sensible precaution too. I wonder everyone does not adopt it.'
'Why, Stephen, some people are in a hurry: men-of-war, for instance. It is no good carrying your pig to market and finding . . .' He paused, frowning.
'It will not drink?'
'No, it ain't that neither.'
'That there are no pokes to be had?'
'Oh well, be damned to literary airs and graces—it is no good hurrying as we have been hurrying these last few days and carrying your ship half way round the world, cracking on to make all sneer again, if you are going to balance your mizzen all night once you are past Java Head. Lord, Stephen, I am quite fagged with running about London so. Pillar and post ain't in it.' He yawned, made some indistinct remarks about time and tide, and went to sleep in his corner, going out like a light—his usual habit.
He was bright awake however well before the chaise reached Ashgrove, and he gazed out at his plantations, now in finer leaf than when last he saw them, and at the rather stunted shrubs along the drive, with delight. He was expected, for the clash of the new iron gate could be heard a great way off, and with even greater delight he saw his family in front of the house, the children waving already. But as he jumped out he saw with concern that in spite of her welcome Sophie looked thoroughly upset, her smile constrained, her whole attitude anxious. Mrs Williams was looking very grave. Diana was taken up with telling Stephen about a horse. The children seemed unaffected.
'A dreadful thing has happened,' said Sophie as soon as she had him alone. 'Your brother—my brother, since he is yours, and I love him dearly'—Sophie, when moved, had a way of talking very quick, her words tumbling over one another—'I mean dear Philip of course has run away from school and he declares he will go to sea with you.'
'Is that all?' cried Jack with great relief. 'Where is he?'
'On the landing. He dared not come down.'
Jack opened the door and hailed, 'Ho Philip, there. Come down, old fellow.' And when he came, 'Why brother, how glad I am to see you.'
'Give you joy, sir,' said Philip in a trembling voice.
'That is kind in you, Philip,' said Jack, shaking his hand, 'and it grieves me all the more to disappoint you. But this won't do, d'ye see? I cannot take my own brother as a youngster in a new command where I know none of the people and they know nothing about me. All the fellows in the midshipmen's berth and everybody else for that matter would put you down as a favourite at once. It would not do; upon my word it would not do. But do not take it too hard. Next year, if you mind your mathematics, Captain Dundas will take you in the Orion, I promise, a ship of the line. He has plenty of squeakers of your age—do not take it too hard.'
He turned away, because Philip was almost certainly going to cry, and Sophie said, 'There was a message from the Commissioner, asking you to call as soon as you could'
I shall write him a note at once. And another inviting poor Bushel of the Diane to dinner tomorrow. Or would that put you out, my dear?'
'Not in the least, my love.'
'Then please tell Bonden to stand by, dressed like a Christian, to go down with Dray as soon as the letters are wrote.'
Jack knew very well that the Commissioner would have to confer with the Master Shipwright to put the Navy Board's order into just the right shape and indeed to start the urgent work even before the order had a formal existence: the highly-skilled confidential joiners who were to fashion places for the treasure had already come down—treasure which, combined with the envoy's less tangible offerings, would outweigh anything the French could provide; at least that was what the ministry hoped.
He had never met Captain Bushel, and his invitation was necessarily formal; but he put it in as friendly a manner as he could, hoping that it might make the supersession slightly less painful.
It appeared to have no such effect, however. Bonden brought back a note in which Captain Bushel regretted that a previous engagement prevented him from accepting Captain Aubrey's invitation: he ventured to suggest that Captain Aubrey should come aboard tomorrow at half past three o'clock. Captain Aubrey would understand that Captain Bushel, having introduced the officers, should prefer to leave the ship before his successor was read in.
The note came when Captain Aubrey was deep in a very earnest game of speculation, the children hooting and roaring steadily. Philip had recovered his spirits; his niece Caroline was particularly kind in guiding his play, and his eyes sparkled as he piped his bids. At the moment Jack only took notice of the refusal and then carried on with his plot for undermining George, who had little notion of the laws of probability. But later he reflected that Bushel must be rather a pitiful fellow to resent his displacement to such a pitch. The previous engagement might possibly exist, but the total lack of any formal compliments or thanks for the invitation was churlish, while the appointing of a time was most incorrect, and the failure to offer a boat to take him out was shabby in the extreme. It would be perfectly in order for Jack to choose his own date and his own hour: he was senior to Bushel by several years. But although he had never been superseded himself he knew it was generally a most disagreeable process; perhaps so disagreeable in this case that it justified a high degree of resentment. 'Anyhow,' he said, 'I shall follow the scrub's directions.' And in a more inward voice, scarcely a whisper to his most private being, he said, 'Indeed, I should do anything short of slaughtering Sophie and the children to be in my place again.' For although he had been gazetted and although his name was on the list, it was the symbolic and for the sea-officer quasi-sacramental reading-in that would pass the ring and marry him to the Navy once more.
They drove down all four in Diana's coach, with Killick and Bonden up behind—a sight that would have made London stare but that was usual enough around Portsmouth, Chatham and Plymouth—for after Jack had
done his business with the Commissioner and had taken possession of the Diane they were to dine at the Crown and the women were to be shown the ship.
The Commissioner and Master Shipwright deeply relished anything in the secret line; they were as brisk and co-operative as could be—the confidential joiners' work would be masked by the alterations necessary for the envoy and his people—and when Jack said he was going across to the Diane the Commissioner immediately offered his own barge to take him
The frigate was lying conveniently near at hand, just this side of Whale Island, and it was clear that Captain Bushel was still removing his belongings: boats were plying to and fro.
'Pull round her, will you? said Jack to the coxswain, for there was still some time to go. 'Pull easy.'
He gazed at her with intense concentration, shading his eyes from the bright sunlight. Trim, shipshape, prettier than he had remembered her: she must have a good first lieutenant. A trifle by the stern, perhaps, but otherwise he could not fault her.
Two leisurely circuits and he looked at his watch again 'Larboard,' he said, to avoid the awkwardness of the coxswain calling out Diane when her nominal captain was still aboard.
Up the side: man-ropes but no ceremony. He saluted the quarterdeck and every hat came off in reply, a simultaneous flash of gold.
'Captain Bushel?' he said, advancing with his hand held out. 'Good afternoon, sir: my name is Aubrey.'
Bushel gave him a limp hand, a mechanical smile, and a look of hatred. 'Good afternoon to you, sir. Allow me to name my officers.'
They came forward in turn: the first lieutenant, Fielding; the second, Elliott. 'My third, Mr Dixon, has been removed, and is to be replaced as I understand it by a person of your choosing,' said Bushel. Then the solitary Marine officer, Welby; Warren the master, a fine looking man; Graham the surgeon; the purser Blyth. They all looked gravely and attentively at him; and as he shook their hands he did the same by them. The little knot of midshipmen were not introduced.
The Thirteen-Gun Salute Page 12