an awkward assumption of familiarity and good fellowship. ‘Sit down. What have you been doing with yourself? You look ten years older. The girls at the back of Portsmouth Point, I dare say. Do you want a cup of tea?’
Money was Harte’s nearest approach to joy, his ruling passion: in the Mediterranean, where they had served together, Jack had been remarkably successful in the article of prizes; he had been given cruise after cruise, and he had put more than ten thousand pounds into his admiral’s pocket. Captain Harte, as commandant of Port Mahon, hd come in for no share of this, of course, and his dislike for Jack had remained unaffected; but now the case was altered; now he stood to gain by Jack’s exertions, and he meant to conciliate his good will.
Jack was rowed back again, still over this silent water, but with something less of gravity in his look. He could not understand Harte’s drift; it made him uneasy, and the lukewarm tea was disagreeable in his stomach; but he had met with no open hostility, and his immediate future was clear – the Polychrest was not to go with this convoy, but was to spend some time in the Downs, seeing to the manning of the squadron and the harassing of the invasion flotilla over the way.
Aboard the Polychrest his officers stood waiting for him; the hammocks were up, as neat as art could make them, the decks were clean, the ropes flemished, the Marines geometrically exact as they presented arms and all the officers saluted; yet something was out of tune. The odd flush on Parker’s face, the lowering obstinacy on Stephen’s, the concern on Pullings’, Goodridge’s and Macdonald’s, gave him a notion of what was afoot; and this notion was confirmed five minutes later, when the first lieutenant came into his cabin and said, ‘I am very much concerned to have to report a serious breach of discipline, sir.’
A little after breakfast, while Jack was aboard the admiral, Stephen had come on deck: the first thing he had seen
there was a man running aft with a bosun’s mate beating him from behind – not an uncommon sight in a man-of-war. But this man had a heavy iron marline-spike between his teeth, held tight with spunyarn, and as he screamed, blood ran from either side of his mouth. He came to a dead halt at the break of the quarterdeck, and Stephen, taking a lancet from his waistcoat pocket, stepped up to him, cut the spunyarn, took the spike and threw it into the sea.
‘I remonstrated with him – I told him that the punishment was inflicted upon my orders –
and he attacked me with an extreme ferocity.’
‘Physically?’
‘No, sir. Verbally. He cast out reflections upon my courage and my fitness to command. I should have taken decided measures, but I knew that you were shortly to return, and I understood he was your friend. I hinted that he should withdraw to his cabin: he did not see fit to comply, but stayed pacing the quarterdeck, on the starboard side, although it was represented to him that with the captain out of the ship, this was my prerogative.’
‘My friendship for Dr Maturin is neither here nor there, Mr Parker: I am surprised that you should have mentioned it. You must understand that he is an Irish gentleman of great
eminence in his profession, that he knows very little, almost nothing, of the service, and that he is extremely impatient of being practised upon – being made game of. He does not always know when we are earnest and when we are not. I dare say there has been some misunderstanding in this case. I remember him to have flown out very savagely at the master of the Sophie over what he conceived to be a misplaced joke about a trysailmast.’
‘A master is not a lieutenant.’
‘Now, sir, do you instruct me upon rank? Do you pretend to tell me something that is clear to a newly-joined midshipman?’ Jack did not raise his voice, but he was pale with anger, not only at Parker’s stupid impertinence but
even more at the whole situation, and at what must come. ‘Let me tell you, sir, that your methods of discipline do not please me, I had wished to avoid this: I had supposed that when I observed to you that your punishment of Isaac Barrow was perfectly illegal, that you would have taken the hint. And there were other occasions. Let us understand one another. I am not a preachee-flogee captain: I will have a taut ship, by flogging if need be, but I will have no unnecessary brutality. What is the name of the man you gagged?’
‘I am sorry to say I do not recall his name for the moment, sir. A landsman, sir – a waister in the larboard watch.’
‘It is usual in the service for an efficient first lieutenant to know the names of the men. You will oblige me by finding it directly.’
‘William Edwards, sir,’ said Parker, some moments later.
‘William Edwards. Just so. A scavenger from Rutland:
took the bounty. Had never seen the sea or a ship or an officer in his life – no notion of discipline. He answered, I suppose?’
‘Yes, sir. Said, “I came as fast as I could, and who are you, any gait?” on being rebuked for slackness.’
‘Why was he being started?’
‘He left his post without leave, to go to the head.’
‘There must be some discrimination, Mr Parker. When he has been aboard long enough to know his duty, to know the officers and for the officers to know him – and I repeat that it is an officer’s duty to know his men – then he may be gagged for answering. If indeed he should do so, a most unlikely event in a ship even half well run. And the same applies to most of the crew; it is useless and detrimental to the good of the service to beat them until they know what is required of them. You, an experienced officer, clearly misunderstood Edwards: you thought he intended gross disrespect. It is exceedingly possible that Dr Maturin, with
no experience whatsoever, misunderstood you. Be so good as to show me your defaulters list. This will not do, Mr Parker. Glave, Brown, Stindall, Burnet, all newly-joined landsmen:
and so it runs, a list long enough for a first-rate, an ill-conducted first-rate. We shall deal with this later. Pass the word for Dr Maturin.’
This was a Jack Aubrey he had never seen before1 larger than life, hard, cold, and strong with a hundred years of tradition behind him, utterly convinced that he was right. ‘Good morning, Dr Maturin,’ he said. ‘There has been a misunderstanding between you and Mr Parker. You were not aware that gagging is a customary punishment in the Navy. No doubt you looked upon it as a piece of rough
horseplay.’
‘I looked upon it as a piece of extreme brutality. Edwards’s teeth are in a state of advanced decay – he has been under my hands – and this iron bar had crushed two molars. I removed the bar at once, and. .
‘You removed it on medical grounds. You were not aware that it was a customary punishment, awarded by an officer – you knew nothing of the reason for the punishment?’
‘No, sir.’
‘You did wrong, sir: you acted inconsiderately. And in your agitation, in the heat of the moment, you spoke hastily to Mr Parker. You must express your sense of regret that this misunderstanding should have arisen.’
‘Mr Parker,’ said Stephen, ‘I regret that there has been this misunderstanding. I regret the remarks that passed between us; and if you wish I will repeat my apology on the quarterdeck, before those who heard them.’
Parker reddened, looked stiff and awkward; his right hand, the usual instrument for acknowledging such declarations, was immobilized in his sling. He bowed and said something about ‘being entirely satisfied – more than enough – for his part he too regretted any disobliging expression that might have escaped him.’
There was a pause. ‘I will not detain you, gentlemen,’ said Jack coldly. ‘Mr Parker, let the starboard watch be exercised at the great guns and the larboard at reefing topsails. Mr Pullings will take the small-arms men. What is that infernal row. Hallows,’ – to the Marine sentry outside the door – ‘what is that din?’
‘Beg pardon, your Honour,’ said the soldier, ‘it’s the captain’s steward and the gun-room steward fighting over the use of the coffee-pot.’
‘God damn their eyes,’ cried Jack. ‘I’ll tan their hides
–
I’ll give them a bloody shirt – I’ll stop their capers. Old seamen, too: rot them. Mr Parker, let us establish a little order in this sloop.’
‘Jack, Jack,’ said Stephen, when the lamp was lit, ‘I fear I am a sad embarrassment to you. I think I shall pack my chest and go ashore.’