‘Hear him,’ croaked the others. ‘Right parched we are. Drinking piss this last week.’
‘Listen,’ said Jack in his strong, carrying voice. ‘You take the Moors’ weapons and pile them at the end of the mole, tie their hands, and I shall signal the schooner to send in a boat full of fresh water and something to eat.’
The British subjects uttered a hoarse discordant cheer; Jack fired three or four times at random to keep up the tension; and the weapons came piling up on the mole.
Just off the lagoon the Surpiises, overflowing with satisfaction and wit, carried out the small heavy, heavy, wonderfully heavy little chests from the galley to those places deep in the .Surp rise where their weight wpuld be most useful as ballast. The Moorish prisoners, reasonably fed and watered,were stowed in the cable-tiers. They were, at least for the time being, very low in their spirits: indeed morally destroyed: but Jack had seen strange surprising changes in men freed from mortal danger: he reckoned with the resilience of the human spirit, particularly the maritime human spirit; and having, with his officers, fixed the ship’s position with the utmost accuracy he set her course for the nearest point in Africa, where he meant to put them ashore.
For the moment however he and Stephen were breakfasting in comfort, gazing with some complacency at the island Cranc. ‘Jacob tells me,’ said Stephen, ‘that in Moorish Arabic the place is now called Fortnight Island. It had been a moderately prosperous fishing and corsair port – dates, carobs, pearl oysters, coral – hence the mole and the ruins
– until the time of, I think, Mulei Hassan; but then a new eruption destroyed the few springs, broke the aqueducts and cisterns and slowly liberated that noxious vapour we observed. It seems that you can breathe it for fourteen days with nothing but headaches and gastric pains; but on the fifteenth you die.’
‘I beg pardon for interrupting you, sir,’ said Harding, ‘but you desired me to tell you when all was aboard. The last chest has just been handed down.’ As he spoke his usually grave face spread in a most infectious smile: that last case, carried staggering by strong men, weighed well over a hundred and twelve pounds, and Harding, though not an avaricious or grasping man, knew just how many ounces of that mass belonged to him as prize-money.
Patriotism, promotion, and prize-money have been described as the three masts of the Royal Navy. It would be illiberal to assert that prize-money was by any means the most important, but as they left the flat shore north of Ras Uferni in Morocco, where they had at last disembarked their prisoners after a tedious voyage with contrary winds, it was certainly the subject still most frequently discussed.
‘If you people will sail the galley into Gibraltar with us,’
said Captain Aubrey to the slaves, ‘You shall share as able 275
seamen.
‘Why, thankee, sir,’ said Hallows, their spokesman. ‘We take it uncommon handsome: and I promise we shall do our duty by your prize.’
‘That’s right,’ said his mates, and indeed they handled the galley very well. But they did think it part of their duty to run alongside the frigate on three separate occasions, begging the officer of the watch to shorten sail. ‘There are too many eggs in this one basket to risk anything at all,’ was the usual formula, thought to be both conciliating and witty.
Jack was on deck the last time they did this, and he said, ‘Hallows, if you do not keep your station I shall turn you ashore,’ with such conviction that although they very nearly came within hail to tell the frigate that there was an enormous great fire on the very top of Cape Trafalgar, they thought better of it and kept the news for Ringle.
Indeed there were fires all along the European side of the Straits, exciting unspeakable wonder aboard the three vessels: but the sight of Gibraltar itself ablaze with innumerable bonfires, the harbour filled with ships dressed over all, bands playing, trumpets blowing and drums beating madly checked all conjecture, and Surprise, having made her number, wafted silently to her usual place, with her companions.
‘The flag-lieutenant, sir, if you please,’ said a midshipman at his side.
‘Give you joy of your splendid prize, sir,’ cried the flaglieutenant. ‘By God, you could never have timed t better.’
‘Thank you, Mr Betterton,’ said Jack. ‘But pray tell me what is afoot?’
The flag-lieutenant stared for a moment, and then he gravely replied, ‘Napoleon is beat, sir. There was a great battle at Waterloo in the Low CountHes, and the Allies won.’
‘Then it is I that give you joy, sir,’ said Jack, shaking his hand. ‘Have you any details?’
‘No, sir. But the courier is arrived and the Commanderin-Chief will have them.
When your number was reported he bade me remind you of your engagement: Lady Barmouth has taken the coach to fetch the Keiths.’
‘Please tell Lord Barmouth that Dr Maturin and I shall be charmed to wait upon him, above all on such a day.’
‘There you are at last, Aubrey,’ cried the Commander-inChief, obviously overcome by the events and obviously somewhat flushed with wine. ‘Doctor, your servant, sir: very
happy to see you. So here you are at last, Aubrey, and with a thundering great prize at your tail. Give you joy, of course
but the fellow must have led you a most infernal long chase?’
‘He did indeed, my Lord. He went to ground in an island I had never heard of, called Cranc, an island with a very shallow but sheltered lagoon – too shallow for Surprise – and I had to winkle him out by a kind of Diamond Rock caper, getting a gun up a five hundred foot cliff to fire down on him.’
‘Well, I am sure it was very creditable and I congratulate you of course; but I wish to God you could have done it under any other Dey of Algiers – this one has cut up very rough indeed – says it was his galley and everything in it – sent me a furious note and swears he will take it out of our merchantmen if there is no restitution, compensation and the rest of it.’
‘But my Lord, the galley fired on us first. That made him a pirate and fair game.’
‘That is not what the Dey says.’ ‘Is the word of an upstart Dey who was never there and who knows nothing about it to be taken against that of a sea-officer who was there and who does know all about it?’
‘…under any other Dey,’ repeated Barmouth. ‘My politico takes the gloomiest view of the whole situation, and so I fear does the Ministry. They have a special commission out there, half a dozen men of the first distinction, to discuss the possibilities of a treaty, Ali Bey having always been so much in favour of England . . . Was it a very large sum of money, Aubrey?’
‘I cannot say, my Lord: it was in the form of very small gold ingots, about the size of the upper joint of one’s finger. But there was one chest that must have tipped the scale at eight stone or more.’
‘A hundredweight … how many chests were there?’
‘I did not count, my Lord.’
‘Well, if there were only eight, my flag-officer’s third would have amounted to about five thousand. It fairly makes me tear my hair . . .’ Jack was tempted to say that he was not acting under Barmouth’s orders at all, but carrying out Keith’s, which were still valid.
However, he kept his mouth shut: Barmouth muttered under his breath for a while; then, recollecting himself, he said, ‘But in course it is far worse for you; and how you will ever explain it to your people without a bloody mutiny I cannot tell. But hush, the Keiths have just arrived.’
The door opened and in walked the ladies – very fine ladies indeed, glowing with happiness, victory and all their best jewels, followed by Lord Keith. ‘Jack!’ cried the one, and ‘Dearest Cousin Jack!’ the other; and both kissed him • most fondly.
With the utmost affection and the happiest look he said, ‘Queenie and Isobel, Isobel and Queenie, how very delightful it is to see you both together, and in such glorious looks, my dears.’
‘Do you remember . . . ?’ cried the one, and ‘Do you remember . . . ?’ cried the other, until the Commander-inChief broke up the unseemly group, insisting in no very urbane or even civil tone, that their guests should be seated.
He took one end of the table, with Queenie on his right and Arden, his political adviser (only just not late and still pale with emotion) on his left; Isobel Barmouth the other end, with Lord Keith on her right and Cousin Jack on her left.