‘Are you quite sure?’ they asked Dashwood, who had had the morning watch.
‘I would not positively take my oath,’ he said, ‘because he was muffled against the rain, and it was dark. But I have never seen anyone else on earth come up the side like a left-handed bear: you would never believe it could be done, without you see it. I should be certain, if the boat had not answered “aye aye”.’
‘That decides it,’ said Mr Simmons. ‘The Admiral’s coxswain could never have made such a mistake. It must have been some commissioned officer that the Captain knew well enough to call him his dear fellow; an old shipmate, no doubt. It cannot be Dr Maturin.’
‘Certainly not,’ said Mr Randall.
‘Never in life,’ said the master.
The purser, whose cabin had been out of reach of the bees, was more concerned with the political aspects of their sudden move, and with the wretched state of his stores. ‘I have not above fifty fathoms of duck aboard,’ he said, ‘and not a scrap of sennit. What will become of us when we cross the line? What will become of us at Madeira, even: to say nothing of Fernando Poo? And Fernando Poo is our destination, I am very sure, for reasons of high strategy.’
Some time before this, Jack, having given directions to put to sea, came back in his nightshirt and watch-coat to his cabin, where his immediate orders lay, next to the sheaf of detailed instructions and a fat sealed envelope marked Not to be opened until latitude 430
N. He looked somewhat ecclesiastical, but also deeply concerned. ‘Dear Stephen,’ he said, ‘thank you a thousand times for coming down so quick; I hardly hoped to see you before Falmouth. But I find I have lured you aboard on false pretences
– Madeira and the West Indies are quite exploded. I am ordered to proceed to sea with the utmost possible dispatch – rendezvous off the Dodman.’ He held the paper close to the light. ‘Rendezvous with Indefatigable, Medusa and Amphion. Strange. And sealed orders not to be opened until so and so. What can they mean by that, Stephen?’
‘I have no idea,’ said Stephen.
‘God damn and blast the Admiralty and all its lords,’ cried Jack. ‘Utmost dispatch – muck up all one’s plans -I do apologize most humbly, Stephen.’ He read on. ‘Hey, hey, Stephen?
I thought you had no idea: I thought you had just chanced to come down with the messenger. But in case of separation of one or more. . . certain eventualities and all that, I am requested and directed to avail myself of the counsels and advice of S. Maturin, esquire, MD etc., etc., appointed pro hac vice a captain in the Royal Navy his knowledge and discretion.’
‘It is possible that you may be required to undertake some negotiations, and that I may be of use in them.’
‘Well, I must be discreet myself, I find,’ said Jack, sitting down and looking wonderingly at Stephen. ‘But you did say. . .’
‘Now listen, Jack, will you? I am somewhat given to lying: my occasions require it from time to time. But I do not choose to have any man alive tell me of it.’
‘Oh no, no, no,’ cried Jack. ‘I should never dream of doing such a thing. Not,’ he added, recollecting himself and blushing, ‘not when I am in my right mind. Quite apart from my love for you, it is far, far too dangerous. Hush: mum’s the word. Tace is the Latin for a candle. I quite understand – am amazed I did not smoke it before: what a deep old file you are. But I twig it now.’
‘Do you, my dear? Bless you.’
‘But what takes my breath away, what flabbergasts me to this high pitch,’ said Jack, ‘is, that they should have given you a temporary commission. The Navy, you know, is uncommon jealous of rank, very sparing of such compliments. I hardly remember ever to have heard of it, except once. They must think the world of you in Whitehall.’
‘I wonder at it too, this insistence upon a commission. It struck me at the time. I am sensible of the compliment, but puzzled. Why should I not have been your guest?’
‘I have it,’ cried Jack. ‘Stephen, may I ask without indiscretion whether this could be a –
what shall I say?
– a profitable expedition?’
‘It might be, too.’
‘Then they mean to cut you in on the prize-money. Depend upon it, they mean you to share as a captain. These are Admiralty orders, so no flag gets a share: if it comes to anything, your cut should be pretty handsome.’
‘What a pretty thought in Sir Joseph; remarkably delicate in him. I do not regret sending him my gynandromorph by the messenger now: the fellow seemed amazed, as well he might – a princely gift. Tell me, what would be a captain’s share of – I name a hypothetical sum – a million pounds?’
‘Taken by a squadron with four, no, five, captains in it? Let me see, fives into ten is two, and eights into two hundred, five and twenty – seventy-five thousand pounds. But there are no prizes like that afloat these days, my poor Stephen, more’s the pity.’
‘Seventy-five thousand pounds? How absurd. What could Sir Joseph imagine I should do with such a sum? What could any reasonable man do with such a sum?’
‘I can tell you what I should do,’ cried Jack, his eyes ablaze. He darted out of the cabin in spite of the cry of ‘Stay!’ to see whether the inner jibe were drawing, and every bowline harp-string taut. Having harassed the watch
for some minutes he returned, leaving tart, unfavourable comments behind him.
‘I hope this skipper is not going to turn into a jib and stays’l jack,’ said the captain of the foretop.
‘I don’t like the look of it at all,’ said the yeoman of the sheets. ‘This giving of himself such airs is something new.’
‘Perhaps he has a rendezvous with his Miss,’ said Blue Edward, the Malay. ‘God damn my eye, I should crack on, if I had such a Miss to see, Sophie by name.’
‘No disrespectful words, Blue Edward,’ cried George Allen. ‘For I won’t abide it.’
‘A man might, of course, make a circumambulation of Lapland, or emulate Banks in the Great South Sea,’ observed Stephen. ‘But tell me, Jack, how did your journey go? How did Sophie withstand the motion of the vessel? Did she take her porter with her meals?’
‘Oh, admirably, admirably!’ It had been the most perfect series of warm, gentle days, scarcely a fleck of white water – Simmons had made a magnificent show with royals and skysails, and studdingsails aloft and alow; she had never seen anything more beautiful, she said – the Lively had left the Amethyst standing: red faces on her quarterdeck – and then there had been some charming dead calms, the whole day long – they had often talked of Stephen – how they had missed him! – and she had been so kind to that youngster Randall, who wept when poor Cassandra died – Randall senior loved her to distraction; so did the whole gun-room – they had dined twice with the officers – Cecilia seemed very well with Dredge, of the Marines – Jack was grateful to him for drawing her off – certainly Sophie had drunk her porter, and a glass of bosun’s grog – had eaten splendidly: Jack loved a girl that tucked in hearty – and as for the future, they were full of hope, but. . . could do with very little. . . no horses. .
cottage. . . potatoes. ‘Stephen,’ he said, ‘you are asleep.’
‘I am not,’ said Stephen. ‘You just mentioned the last
syllable of recorded time with evident approval. But I am weary, I confess. I travelled all night, and yesterday was something of a trial. I will turn in, if I may. Where must I sleep?’
‘There’s a question,’ said Jack. ‘Where should you berth, in fact? Of course you shall sleep in my cot; but officially where should you be? That would puzzle Solomon. What seniority did they give you?’
‘I have no idea. I did not read the document; apart from the phrase. We, reposing especial trust and confidence in S.M., which pleased me.’
‘Well, I suppose you are junior to me; so you shall have the leeward side of the cabin and I the windward, and every time we go about, we shall change sides, ha, ha, ha. Ain’t I a rattle? But seriously, I suppose you should be read in to the ship’s company – an amazing situation.’
‘If there is any doubt, pray do no such thing. It would be far better for me to remain unobserved. And Jack, in all this that has passed between us, all that you may have guessed, I rely wholly upon your discretion, eh? There are moments when my life might turn upon it.’