“Sixty-nine miles,” Lieutenant Tufnell said, joining the passengers and announcing the results of the noon sight. “We’d hoped to do better, much better, but the wind frets.”
“My wife,” Lord William said, shaking out his napkin, “claims we would make faster progress if we sailed inside Madagascar. Is she right, Lieutenant?” His voice suggested that he hoped she was not.
“She is indeed right, my lord,” Tufnell said, “for there is a prodigious current down the African coast, but the Madagascar Straits are liable to be very stormy. Very stormy. And the captain deemed we might do better outside, which we will if the wind stirs itself.”
“You see, Grace?” Lord William looked at his wife. “The captain evidently knows his business.”
“I thought we were in a hurry to be first back to London,” Sharpe observed to Tufnell.
The first lieutenant shrugged. “We anticipated stronger winds. Now, shall I carve? Major, perhaps you will pass the coleslaw? Sharpe? That is a chitney in the covered dish, or should I say chatna? Chutney, perhaps? Baron, you might pour some wine? We’re indebted to Major Dalton for the wine and for this very fine tongue.”
The guests murmured their appreciation of Dalton’s generosity, then watched as Tufnell carved. The first lieutenant passed the plates up the table and, as a stronger wave heaved the ship, one of the plates slipped from Major Dalton’s hand to spill its thick slices of pickled tongue onto the linen cloth. “Lapsus linguae,” Fazackerly said gravely, and was rewarded with instant laughter.
“Very good!” Lord William said. “Very good!”
“Your lordship is too kind,” the barrister acknowledged with an inclination of his head.
Lord William leaned back in his chair. “You did not laugh, Mister Sharpe,” he observed silkily. “Perhaps you do not approve of puns?”
“Puns, my lord?” Sharpe knew he was being made a fool, but did not see any way out except to let it happen.
“Lapsus linguae,” Lord William said, “means a slip of the tongue.”
“I’m glad you told me,” a strong voice came from the far end of the table, “because I didn’t know what it meant either. And it’s not much of a joke even when you do know.” The speaker was Ebenezer Fairley, the wealthy merchant who was returning with his wife after making his fortune in India.
Lord William looked at the nabob, who was a corpulent man of blunt and straightforward views. “I doubt, Fairley,” Lord William said, “that Latin is a desideratum in business, but knowledge of it is an attribute of a gentleman, just as French is the language of diplomacy, and we shall need all the gentlemen and diplomacy that we can muster if this new century is to be a time of peace. The aim of civilization is to subdue barbarity”—he flicked a scornful glance at Sharpe—”and cultivate prosperity and progress.”
“You think a man cannot be a gentleman unless he speaks Latin?” Ebenezer Fairley asked indignantly. His wife frowned, perhaps feeling that her husband should not be belligerent with an aristocrat.
“The arts of civilization,” Lord William said, “are the highest achievements and every gentleman should aim high. And officers”—he did not look at Sharpe, but everyone around the table knew who he meant—”should be gentlemen.”
Ebenezer Fairley shook his head in astonishment. “You surely wouldn’t deny the King’s commission to men who can’t speak Latin?”
“Officers should be educated,” Lord William insisted, “properly educated.”
Sharpe was about to say something utterly tactless when a foot descended on his right shoe and pressed hard. He glanced at Lady Grace who was taking no notice of him, but it was her foot nonetheless. “I quite agree with you, my dear,” Lady Grace said in her coldest voice, “uneducated officers are a disgrace to the army.” Her foot slid up Sharpe’s ankle.
Lord William, unaccustomed to his wife’s approval, looked mildly surprised, but rewarded her with a smile. “If the army is to be anything other than a rabble,” he decreed, “it must be led by men of breeding, taste and manners.”
Ebenezer Fairley grimaced in disgust. “If Napoleon lands his army in Britain, my lord, you won’t care whether our officers talk in Latin, Greek, English or Hottentot, so long as they know their business.”