goes by the board. Duff is a pretty good seaman, and he does his best, but the Stately had taken all night to tow to her berth. And in any case, there really is an old ship for you: she may not have been launched until eighty-two, but she was on the Brest blockade for years and years, which wore her out before her time – those frightful south-westers lasting for weeks on end, with tremendous seas – and she has neither been doubled nor braced.
She is now about as seaworthy as the Ark after Noah left her high and dry on the top of Ararat:
perhaps the slowest of her miserable class, sagging to leeward so as to make even a midland ploughboy stare. Yet since we have to live with her, I will tell you she gauges one
thousand three hundred and seventy tons: a hundred and fifty-nine foot six inches on the gundeck with a beam of forty-four foot four:
she carries twenty-six twenty-four pounders, twenty-six eighteen-pounders, six nine-pounders and sixteen mixed carronades, a broadside of only seven hundred and ninety-two pounds against the Terrible’s thousand odd; and if she can manage to fire two in five minutes it is looked upon as a wonder. Let us look at something more cheerful.’ Again the rushing blur. ‘Oh,’ cried Jack in a much happier voice, ‘I had not expected her so soon.
You recognize her, of course?’ Stephen made no reply. ‘The Nimble cutter, in which that good young fellow Michael Fitton brought us home from the Groyne. But I must not linger on her. Now here, look, is our prime jewel Pyramus, a really modern thirty-six-gun eighteenpounder frigate, nine hundred and twenty tons, a hundred and forty-one foot on the gundeck, thirty-eight foot five beam, broadside weight of metal four hundred and sixty-seven pounds, crew of two hundred and fifty-nine in capital order, long together, thoroughly used to their captain, that fine, taut spirited fellow Frank Holden, and to their officers, some of whom have sailed with us.’ He gazed at the ship with great approval, and then moved on. ‘This is Aurora, our second frigate,’ he said. ‘Another antique, I am afraid: she was laid down in 1771 and she only carries twenty-four nine-pounders, as they did in those days, but I have an affection for her because of the Surprise, not that she is anything like so fast or weatherly or comfortable. Five hundred and ninety-six tons, a hundred and twenty foot six on the gundeck, and she probably has a hundred and fifty of her hundred and ninety-six complement by now: Francis Howard has her, the Grecian –
but you know him perfectly well: we met off Lesbos. Now beyond her, towards St Helens, lie the Camille, twenty, just a rated ship, Orestes, a brig-rigged sloop, and some other craft. I will tell you about them as we ride down, and indeed show you when we are there.
But for now I should think you have had enough.’
‘Not at all,’ said Stephen, rising from his intolerably cramped position. ‘It is a far more imposing command than I had imagined, and far more glorious.’
‘It is, ain’t it?’ said Jack, guiding him out of the observatory. ‘Even without the Terrible and in spite of our old crocks it is a very fine squadron. I am as proud as Pontius Pilate. But, you know, it is a shocking responsibility. In Mauritius I had the Admiral behind me, even though he was rather far behind:
here I shall be entirely alone.’
Sophie met them on their way up to the house. She was in strikingly good looks, but at the same time her expression was uneasy: she called out one of the reasons for this while they were still at some distance: Mama and Mrs Morris had gone back to Bath, taking Briggs with them; she had let them have the coach, but Bentley would bring it back as soon as the horses were rested. This was a far more decided action than Stephen had ever known her take; yet she did not seem to think it of much consequence. It was not the disposal of a coach and a pair of horses that was disturbing her mind, still less the absence of her mother.
‘Oh,’ cried Jack, with no more than a nod at the news, ‘oh the smell of bacon and coffee: and even’ – opening the door
– ‘of toasted soft-tack. There is no finer beginning to a day. And kippered herrings too!’
They sat down, just the three of them, in the breakfast parlour, the pleasantest room in the house, and part of the original Ashgrove Cottage as it was before Jack
Aubrey, during those spates of gold that sometimes reached the more fortunate commanders in that prize-taking war, had thrown out wings,stable-blocks, the double coach-house, bow-windows here and there, the corner balcony, and a row of cottages for old shipmates: just the three of them, for although the children were much loved and cherished they ate with Miss O’Hara, sitting quite straight, never touching the backs of their chairs, and speaking only when they were spoken to.
The fine plump kippers were soon dispatched, the first coffee-pot had been emptied, and Jack was silently engaged with his eggs and bacon, listening with half an ear to Stephen’s minute and circumstantial account of the Madras fashion of making kedgeree, when Killick made his courtly entrance, jerked his chin in the direction of the Commodore and said ‘Which the Port Admiral’s flag-lieutenant is come, and begs the favour. I told Awkward Davies to take his horse to the stable and put him in the welwet saloon.’ Velvet had strong connotations of wealth and for Killick so had the word saloon; and since the front morning-room contained one velvet-covered chair and a few cushions nothing could induce him to call it anything else: only commissioned officers were ushered in.
‘Oh,’ said Jack, swallowing his coffee, ‘forgive me, my dear. I shall be back in a moment. It is the weekly return, for sure.’
But minutes went by, and the toast grew cold: clearly something more complex than weekly returns was in question.
Sophie felt the second coffee-pot for warmth, nodded, and poured Stephen yet another cup. ‘How pleasant to see you sitting there again,’ she said. ‘I have hardly had you to myself for five minutes, even after all this dreadfully long absence, thousands and thousands and thousands of miles. Nor Jack either. Always messages from the Admiral, or people coming to ask for appointments or to have their boy taken aboard one of the ships. And then although he is so delighted with this splendid command – it must lead to a flag, Stephen, must it not? – he is sadly worried too, above all with this perpetual chopping and changing. There are worries about Parliament as well, and the Woolcombe estate. . .
Oh, Stephen, we were so much happier when we were poor. Now there is so much to do and so much to worry about and the loathsome bank that will not answer letters that there is no time even to talk as we used. Only next Thursday there is a dinner for all the captains, although it is our anniversary: and someone is sure to get drunk. Tell me, how do you find him, after all these weeks?’
‘More worn than I could wish,’ said Stephen, looking at her.
‘Yes,’ said Sophie, and she paused before going on, ‘And there is something on his mind. He is not the same. It is not only the ships and all the business: besides, the invaluable Mr Adams takes a great deal of that off his hands. No. There is a sort of reserve . .. it is not that he is in the least unkind
-. . but you might almost say a coldness. No. That would be an absurd exaggeration. But he often sleeps in his study because of the paper-work or because he is out late. And even when he does not he gets up at night and walks about until the morning.’
In this most unpromising conversation Stephen could find nothing better to say than
‘Perhaps he will be happier once he gets to sea,’ which earned him a reproachful look.
Both were poised to say something almost certainly unfortunate when Jack came in from seeing the flag-lieutenant off, the remains of a farewell smile still on his face. It died entirely as he said ‘I am afraid I was right about Pyramus. She is to be taken away from
the squadron, and we are to have the Thames instead. The Thames, a thirty-two gun twelve-pounder ship.’
‘Only four guns less than Pyramus,’ observed Sophie, in one of those ill-fated attempts at comfort.
‘Certainly. But her two and thirty guns are only twelvepounders, as against Pyramus’s eighteens: and her broadside weight of metal is a mere three hundred pounds as against four hundred and sixty-seven. But whining will do no good. Come, Stephen, we must be away. Is there another cup of coffee?’