Our South American caper absolutely calls for a strong crew, even without paying any attention to our engagements with the Chileans. Surveying, really surveying these coasts –
but then you know about the weather and the tides of the Horn – requires truly able seamen aboard the surveyor’s ship.’
‘It was the world’s pity that those wretched fellows ran off.’
‘Yes, it was: by the time we had rounded the Horn, the bosun and his mates, to say nothing of the officers’ efforts and my own, might have turned the rag-tag and bob-tail half into something like real seamen. I do not really blame them, however. We had nothing much to offer them except for hard work, short commons and hard lying – no possibility of prizes and no home leave. It is true that once even indifferent seafarers are no longer in demand – which will be in a month or two – and once their money is spent, which is likely to be sooner by far, a berth in Surprise might be something to be envied. But as far as we are concerned, I am pretty sure of being able to pick up enough truly able-bodied seamen paid off from King’s ships with the corning of peace to form a strong crew, capable of fighting the ship. At present we can handle her with those good souls who have stayed, but we could not fight her. You do not seem quite happy, brother?’
‘It is the Chileans who worry me. All this – the present repair, the dillying in Madeira – all this will take a whole almanac of time: and the Chileans are in a high revolutionary fervour, eager for immediate or almost immediate results. Will they wait?’
‘They have no choice. It is not every day that Government fits out a man-of-war to chart their waters, and do little acts of kindness on the way.’
‘Well, I hope you are right, my dear. But do not forget that they are foreigners.’
‘To be sure, that is very much against them, poor souls. Yet from what you have told me, they have been very steadily set upon independence for many years now. Nothing very flighty or enthusiastic in that, I believe? When we are in London, or elsewhere for that matter, should you like me to speak to the heads of the mission and put the case to them in plain seamanlike terms? They could not fail to be convinced.’
Chapter Two
To a casual observer it would have seemed difficult if not impossible to carry on an affair in so small and tight-knit a community as Gibraltar; yet it was done or attempted to be done by those who did not mind mixing levity and love, done on a quite surprising scale; and when Lord Barmouth’s current mistress, an exceptionally vicious woman who hated Isobel, told him that she and Jack Aubrey met daily in a hayloft or at the house of a complaisant friend, it did not surprise him very much. He by no means wholly believed it: an affectionate, easy familiarity was not at all surprising in those who had been children together. Yet he did not like having it said – where horns were concerned he far preferred giving to receiving or even appearing to receive – and although no one had ever questioned his courage in battle, domestic war was another matter entirely. Not only was his own conduct exceptionable to a very high degree, but Isobel, if angered, had a flow of language that he quite dreaded: she was an exceptionally courageous woman, and once her temper had risen beyond a certain degree she was as wholly determined and unshakeable as one of those terriers that will let itself be killed before losing hold. He was also, in his way, deeply attached to her, and very willing that she should be in a good humour with him.
He reflected, therefore: and among other things that occurred to him was the fact that Aubrey was one of Keith’s rare proteges. Keith, though resting from his labours at the moment, had very great influence and might easily return to high office. Presently, having walked up and down, Barmouth sent two discreet men to the yard. They confirmed his impression that almost all the remaining Surprises were actively engaged with caulking, painting, and rerigging her boats; and that the frigate herself was still in that improbable position, given over to her captain, carpenter, his mates and auxiliaries.
He threw a shabby old cloak over his uniform, and making his way down to the yard, threaded through those vessels last on the list for repairs until he dropped from the mole on the Surprise’s deck. A few people stared at him open-mouthed but he moved rapidly forward and below until he reached the dim, crowded forepeak. Above the sound of mallets he called, ‘Captain Aubrey, there.’ And in the appalled dead silence, ‘How are you coming along?’
‘Admirably well, sir, I thank you. Some of my carpenter’s old shipmates and friends are bearing a hand. And if I may hold this lantern, my Lord, and beg you to look at the lower breast-hooks I think you will agree that they are making a very pretty job of it indeed.’
‘Uncommon pretty,’ said Barmouth, gazing with narrowed, knowing eyes. ‘Uncommon pretty. Let them carry on, while we take a turn upon the mole.’
Upon the mole, the deserted mole, he spoke quite easily: ‘I am glad to see you so forward with your repairs, Cousin Jack; for there is a certain amount of uneasiness in Whitehall about your ultimate destination, and I think I must relax the rigour of my order on precedence and get Surprise to sea a good deal earlier than I had thought. The moment you think it safe to take her off the slips we will step your foremast anew, rattle down the shrouds and send you on your way with adequate stores, to say nothing of munitions.
Powder and shot is by no means in short supply.’
‘You are very good, my Lord,’ said Jack with lowered eyes, keeping the suspicion out of his tone and expression with tolerable success. ‘I shall look forward to it exceedingly.’
* * *
‘I shall look forward to it exceedingly, I said to him, Stephen: but I do assure you, I found it quite hard to utter the words, being close on dumbfounded, reduced to silence, I was so amazed by this strange sudden turn. Yet in a flash, it occurred to me that this might be your doing, with – what shall I say? – your connexions.’
‘Never in life, my dear,’ said Stephen, gazing upon him with real affection – and silently, within his own bosom, ‘Did it never come into your mind that the freedoms you have taken with the gentleman’s wife – these twilight rambles, this sea-bathing under the moon –
however innocent, could scarcely pass unnoticed in this idle peacetime population of lechers, and that the glad news would have been conveyed to the ear most intimately concerned?’ Aloud he went on, ‘Though I must confess that now the peregrines have hatched, I too should be more than happy to be on the wing. Shall we steer directly for Sierra Leone?’
‘Oh dear me, no, Stephen. This is no more than a patching to allow us to reach a yard in Madeira, a professional yard that will give its full attention and allow the barky to face the high southern latitudes and their ice – you know all about that, dear Lord alive – how nearly we were crushed south of the Horn and on the Horn itself, quite apart from the wicked American. Madeira for a thorough repair and a full crew. At present we can just about handle the ship: but to fight her, to fight her both sides, and to sail her in the worst parts of the far South Atlantic, we need another forty really able seamen. Ordinarily we should be able to find them without much difficulty in Funchal.’
‘Oh,’ said Stephen.
‘I fear I have disappointed you?’
‘To tell the truth, I had hoped that we should slope away for the Guinea Coast, for Sierra Leone, as soon as these admittedly dreadful leaks were staunched and the foremast replaced: that we should slope away directly.’
‘Dear Stephen, I did tell you about this necessary pause in Madeira before; and many and many a time have I warned you that in the service nothing, nothing whatsoever, takes place directly.’ A pause. ‘Pray tell me: where did you learn that term slope awayt’
‘Is it not a nautical expression?’
‘I am sure it is; but I do not remember to have heard it.’
‘I take the words to refer to that slanting progress, with the breeze not from behind, nor even sideways, but from ahead or partially ahead, so that the vessel slopes towards its goal. Yet no doubt I mistake: and no doubt I have used the wrong term.’