Jack had started to his feet, and now he said, ‘May I wait upon you later, sir, when you are less engaged?’
‘Is there anything urgent, Mr Campbell?’ asked Lord Keith, with a temporizing wave.
‘Tedious and toilsome, rather than immediate, apart from one enclosure that I have already sent on.’
‘Very good, very good. Thank you, Mr Campbell. Sit down, Aubrey. I will just run through the heads of these, then attend to your statements of the squadron’s condition, and give you some notion of what I should like you to do.’ A pause, during which the Admiral’s long-practised hand ran through the dockets, already marked with Campbell’s secret mark of importance: none rated above c3, and putting them down he said, ‘Well, Aubrey, in the first place you must allot a force adequate for the protection of the Constantinople trade. Convoys have been re-introduced, you know one is due within the week – and the Algerians in particular have grown very bold, though some vessels are also to be expected from Tripoli, Tunis and the rest, while other corsairs push up from Sallee and pass the Straits in the dark of the moon. Then you must prevent any unauthorized outward or inward movement to the best of your ability. But your most important task by far is to look into those Adriatic ports you know so well. Even the small places are capable of building a frigate, and we have reports of actual ships of the line on the stocks in four places whose names Campbell will give you. If any of the two-deckershave openly declared for Napoleon you must not venture upon an action but send to me without the loss of a moment. Where frigates, corvettes or sloops are concerned,
particularly if they are unfinished, you must endeavour to stop the building and obtain their disarmament, all of which requires the utmost degree of tact: I am so glad you have Maturin with you. An incident would, as I have said, be disastrous: though of course if there is a clearly-expressed intent of joining Bonaparte, you must burn, sink or destroy as usual.’
‘Aye-aye, sir,’ said Jack, and then, ‘My Lord, I believe you spoke of a courier. If he is not already gone, may I beg for my tender Ringle to be sent out immediately? William Reade, master’s mate, handles her very well indeed – an uncommon fast and weatherly Chesapeake clipper – and I shall have the utmost need for such a craft.’
‘William Reade, the young gentleman that lost an arm with you in the East Indies?’
asked the Admiral, scribbling a note. ‘Certainly. Should you like to send him a message –
things to be brought out? Or Maturin? Well, I think that is the essential: you will of course receive detailed orders and some estimate of what you can expect from Malta when you are in Mahon.’ The Admiral stood up. ‘I hope you will dine with us tomorrow?’ Jack bowed, said, ‘Very happy,’ and Keith went on, ‘I do not wish to be importunate, but if you feel you could convey some sense of our feeling – our concern
our sympathy – to Maturin, pray do so. In any case, I look forward to learning his views on the situation this evening, when he will have been closeted with Campbell and the two gentlemen who came down from Whitehall. Do not ask him to come aboard the flag: they will go to see him in Pomone.’
A little before the evening gun Preserved Killick, Captain Aubrey’s steward, an ill-faced, ill-tempered, meagre, atrabilious, shrewish man who kept his officer’s uniform, equipment and silver in a state of exact, old-maidish order come wind or high water, and who did the same for Aubrey’s close friend and companion, Dr Stephen Maturin, or even more so, since in the Doctor’s case Killick added a fretful nursemaid quality to his service, as though Maturin were “not quite exactly” a fully intelligent being, approached Stephen’s cabin. It is true that in the community of mariners the “not quite exactly” opinion was widely held; for although Stephen could now tell the difference between starboard and larboard, it still called for some reflection: and it marked the limit of his powers. This general view, however, in no way affected their deep respect for him as a medical man: his work with a trephine or a saw, sometimes carried out on open deck for the sake of the light, excited universal admiration, and it was said that if he chose, and if the tide were still making, he could save you although you were already three parts dead and mouldy.
Furthermore, a small half of one of his boluses would blow the backside off a bullock. The placebo effect of this reputation had indeed preserved many a sadly shattered sailor, and he was much caressed aboard. A little before the evening gun, therefore, Preserved Killick walked into Stephen’s cabin and found him sitting there in his drawers, a jug of now cold water and an unused razor in front of him, together with a clean shirt, neck-cloth, new-brushed black coat, new-curled wig, clean breeches, silk stockings and a respectable hand-kerchief, reading the close-written coded message from Sir Joseph Blaine, the chief of naval intelligence that had just arrived by courier.
‘Oh sir,’ cried Killick: but even as he exclaimed he choked the inborn shrew, lowering the ‘sir’ to the gentlest tones of remonstrance.
‘One moment, Killick,’ said Stephen, resolving a particularly intractable group: he wrote it in the margin, covered it close, and said, ‘I am yours.’
Apart from the words ‘Which the gentlemen have been waiting ten minutes – called twice for wine, and was you quite well?’ Killick dressed him silently, efficiently, and led him to the captain’s cabin, where the Admiral’s secretary and the two gentlemen from Whitehall rose to greet him. One of them, Mr William Kent, was a familiar figure, his high office sometimes required him to resolve difficulties between the various departments of government and the services so that confidential work might be carried on in official silence: the other, Mr Dee, he knew only from having seen him at a few restricted conferences at which he spoke rarely or not at all, though he was treated with deference as an authority on eastern matters, particularly those concerned with finance – he was connected with some of the great banking-houses in the City. Sir Joseph’s coded message had only said ‘You will of course remember his book on Persian literature’.
Stephen did indeed remember it: he had had his own battered second-hand copy rebound – a first edition – and he recalled that the binder had put the date of publication at the bottom of the spine: 1764.
As they all sat down again, Stephen, with his back to the light, looked at Mr Dee with discreet curiosity, as at one whose work had enriched his youth: Mr Dee’s face, alas, showed little but discontent and weariness. He did not see fit to open the conversation, so after a hesitant glance or so William Kent it was who addressed himself to Stephen, saying, ‘Well, sir, since you have been wind-bound for so long – quite out of touch –
perhaps it would not be improper to give a brief sketch of the present situation?’
Stephen bowed, and leant towards him. Kent’s summary was essentially the same as Lord Keith’s; but Stephen, being unaffected by considerations of rank, tact, ignorance or particular respect, had no hesitation in asking questions, and he learned that the Netherlanders were by no means happy about the presence of Wellington’s and Blücher’s armies; that the various rulers, commanders, and war offices were indeed at odds upon a very wide variety of subjects; that secrecy about plans, orders and appointed meetings scarcely existed in the Austrian army, with its many nationalities, rivalries and languages; and that as opposed to the effervescent sense of returning glory in France, there was a total lack of enthusiasm in many of the Allied regiments, and something worse, not far from mutiny, among the Russians, particularly the units from the wreck of divided Poland.
Barclay de Tolly was doing all that a good soldier could do with his ill-equipped and discontented forces, but he could not make them move fast and they were already sixteen days behind the agreed timetable. They had an immense distance still to travel, and the rearguard had not yet even left its distant barracks. There was also mutual distrust, a fear of betrayal on the part of other members of the coalition or on that of some one or another of the many subject nations that made up the eastern powers.
Mr Dee coughed, and leaning forward he spoke for the first time, reminding Kent of an ancient Persian war in which a more numerous army made up of different nations had behaved in much the same way, being utterly shattered by the united Persian force on the banks of the Tigris: his account went on and on but as his voice was weak Stephen could not follow at all well – he was ill-placed for listening