this, he had been devilish successful; and he, Jack, had been a famous greenhorn, an egregious flat. Was such malignity possible? Such cleverness in a mere horned scrub? He would have liked to put this to Stephen, for Stephen had a headpiece; and Jack, almost for the first time in his life, was by no means sure of his perfect comprehension, natural intelligence and penetration. The Admiral had not congratulated him: could that conceivably mean that the official view was . . ? But Stephen had no notion of any parole that would keep him out of the naval hospital: the squadron had had more than two hundred men wounded, and he spent almost all his time there. ‘You go a-walking,’ he said. ‘Do for all love go walking up very steep heights – traverse the Rock from end to end
-traverse it again and again on an empty stomach. You are an obese subject; your hams quiver as you go. You must weight sixteen or even seventeen stone.’
‘And to be sure I do sweat like a mare in foal,’ he reflected, sitting under the shade of a boulder, loosening his waist-band and mopping himself. In an attempt at diverting his mind he privately sang a ballad about the Battle of the Nile:
We anchored alongside of them like lions bold and free. When their masts and shrouds came tumbling down, what a glorious sight to see!
Then came the bold Leander, that noble fifty-four, And on the bows of the Franklin she caused her guns to roar;
Gave her a dreadful drubbing, boys, and did severely maul;
Which caused them loud for quarter cry and down French colours haul.
The tune was charming, but the inaccuracy vexed him:
the poor old Leander had fifty-two guns, as he knew very well, having directed the fire of eight of them. He turned to another favourite naval song:
There happened of late a terrible fray, &gun upon our St James’s day, With a thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, Thump, thump a thump, thump.
An ape on a rock no great way off threw a turd at him, quite unprovoked; and when he half rose in protest it shook its wizened fist and gibbered so furiously that he sank down again, so low were his spirits.
‘Sir, sir!’ cried Babbington, tearing up the slope, scarlet with hailing and climbing. ‘Look at the brig! Sir, look over the point!’
The brig was the Pasley: they knew her at once. The hired brig Pasley, a fine sailer, and she was crowding sail on the brisk north-west breeze fit to carry everything away.
‘Have a look, sir,’ said Babbington, collapsing on the grass in a singularly undisciplined manner and handing up a little brass spyglass. The tube only magnified weakly, but at once the signal flying from the Pasley’s masthead leapt out clear and plain – enemy in sight.
‘And there they are, sir,’ said Babbington, pointing to a glimmer of topsails over the dark curve of the land beyond the end of the Gut.
‘Come on,’ cried Jack, and began labouring up the hill, gasping and moaning, running as fast as he could for the tower, the highest point on the Rock. There were some masons up there, working on the building, an officer of the garrison artillery with a splendid great telescope, and some other soldiers. The gunner very civilly offered Jack his glass: Jack leant it on Babbington’s shoulder, focused carefully, gazed, and said, ‘There’s the Superb.
And the Thames. Then two Spanish three-deckers one’s the Real Carlos, I am almost sure: vice-admiral’s flagship, in any event. Two seventy-fours. No, a seventy-four and probably an eighty-gun ship.’
‘Argonauta,’ said one of the masons.
‘Another three-decker. And three frigates, two French.’
They sat there silently watching the steady, calm pro. cession, the Superb and the Thames keeping their stations just a mile ahead of the combined squadron as they came up the Gut, and the huge, beautiful Spanish first-rates moving along with the inevitability of the sun. The masons went off to their dinner: the wind backed westerly. The shadow of the tower swept through twenty-five degrees.
When they had rounded Cabrita Point the Superb and the frigate carried straight on for Gibraltar, while the Spaniards hauled their wind for Algeciras; and now Jack could see that their flagship was indeed the Real Carlos, of a hundred and twelve guns, one of the most powerful ships afloat; that one
of the other three-deckers was of the same force; and the third of ninety-six. It was a most formidable squadron – four hundred and seventy-four great guns, without counting the hundred odd of the frigates – and the ships were surprisingly well handled. They anchored over there under the guns of the Spanish batteries as trimly as though they were to be reviewed by the King.
‘Hallo, sir,’ said Mowett. ‘I thought you would be up here. I have brought you a cake.’
‘Why, thankee, thankee,’ cried Jack. ‘I am devilish hungry, I find.’ He at once cut a slice and ate it up. How extraordinarily the Navy had changed, he thought, cutting another: when he was a midshipman it would never in a thousand years have occurred to him to speak to his captain, far less bring him cakes; and if it had occurred to him he would never have done so, for fear of his life.
‘May I share your rock, sir?’ asked Mowett, sitting down. ‘They have come to fetch the Frenchmen out, I do suppose. Do you think we shall go for ’em, sir?’
‘Pompée will never be fit for sea these three weeks,’ said Jack dubiously. ‘Caesar is cruelly knocked about and must get all her new masts in: but even if they can get her ready before the enemy sail, that only gives us five of the line against ten, or nine if you leave the Hannibal out – three hundred and seventy-six guns to their seven hundred odd, both their squadrons combined. We are short-handed, too.’
‘You would go for them, would not you, sir?’ said Babbington; and both the midshipmen laughed very cheerfully.
Jack gave a meditative jerk of his head, and Mowett said, ‘As when enclosing harpooners assail, In hyperborean seas the slumbering whale. What huge things these Spaniards are.
The Caesars have petitioned to be allowed to work all day and night, sir. Captain Brenton says they may work all day, but only watch and watch at night. They are piling up juniper-wood fires on the mole to have light.’
It was by the light of these juniper fires that Jack ran into
Captain Keats of the Superb, with two of his lieutenants and a civilian. After the first surprise, greetings, introductions, Captain Keats asked him to take supper aboard – they were going back now – only a scrap-meal, of course, but some genuine Hampshire cabbage brought straight from Captain Keats’ own garden by the Astraea.
‘It is very kind of you indeed, sir; most grateful, but I believe I must beg to be excused. I had the misfortune to lose the Sophie, and I dare say you will be sitting on me presently, together with most of the other post-captains.’
‘Oh,’ said Captain Keats, suddenly embarrassed.
‘Captain Aubrey is quite right,’ said the civilian in a sententious voice; and at that moment an urgent messenger called Captain Keats to the Admiral.
‘Who was that ill-looking son of a bitch in the black coat?’ asked Jack, as another friend, Heneage Dundas of the Calpe, came down the steps.
‘Coke? Why, he’s the new judge-advocate,’ said Dundas, with a queer look. Or was it a queer look? The trick of the flames could give anyone a queer look. The words of the tenth Article of War came quite unbidden into his mind: If any person in the fleet shall cowardly yield or cry for quarter, being convicted thereof by the sentence of a court-martial, shall suffer death.
‘Come and split a bottle of port with me at the Blue Posts, Heneage,’ said Jack, drawing his hand across his face.
‘Jack,’ said Dundas, ‘there is nothing I should like better, upon my oath; but I have promised Brenton to give him a hand. I am on my way this minute – there is the rest of my party staying for me.’ He hurried off into the brighter light along the mole, and Jack drifted away: dark steep alleys, low brothels, smells, squalid drinking-shops.
The next day, under the lee of the Charles V wall, with his telescope resting on a stone, and with a certain sense of spying or eavesdropping, he watched the Caesar (no longer the flagship) being eased alongside the sheer-hulk to receive her new lower mainmast, a hundred feet long and more than
a yard across. She got it in so quickly that the top was over before noon, and neither it nor the deck could be seen for the number of men working on the rigging.