Pray accept this letter: it contains a specimen and a full description. Good day to you, sir, and a pleasant journey.’
By this time Sowerby was almost blind with nervous tension; his colour came and went, his words tumbled over one another; but by some miracle he handed the letter without dropping it, stepped safely past Ahmed’s restive horse, put on his hat, avoided a stone pillar at the roadside by half an inch, and walked rapidly off.
Steadily they rode, steadily it rained. From time to time freshwater turtles crossed the road, partly walking, partly swimming, always directing their course to the south-west.
More frequently, after the first hour, and in far greater numbers, troops of massive fire-bellied toads also made the passage; they too pressed on earnestly to the south-west. But by this time the horses, which had capered at the sight of turtles, were too depressed to shy at even a very numerous body of toads; they plodded on and on, their ears drooping and the warm water streaming off their backs.
It streamed off Stephen’s back too, between his coat and his skin, for he had decided against the cloak; and it would have streamed off Sowerby’s specimen too but for the fact that one of Stephen’s meannesses had to do with wigs. His comfort, his status as a physician, and his sense of what was right required him to have a wig; but he was very reluctant to pay for it. He was now reduced to one alone, a physical bob; and as he
considered the Batavian wig-makers’ prices exorbitant, this survivor was to serve for all occasions. At present it was protected by a round hat, itself kept from the downpour by a neat removable tarpaulin sheath, and tied under his chin by two lengths of white marline, while a stout pin ran through it all, making the valuable wig as fast to its wearer’s head as his scalp itself, and in the crown of this round hat lay Sowerby’s letter.
As he sat in the blue morning-room at Buitenzorg, wearing one of the Governor’s powdering-gowns while his own clothes were being dried elsewhere, he held up the crisp dry envelope and said, ‘I am about to achieve immortality. Mr Sowerby intends to name a nondescript plant after me.’
‘There’s glory for you!’ cried Raffles. ‘May we look at it?’
Stephen broke the seal, and from several layers of specimen-paper inside the letter he drew a flower and two leaves.
‘I have never seen it before,’ said Raffles, gazing at the dirty
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brown and purple disc. ‘It has a superficial resemblance to a stapelia, but of course it must belong to an entirely different family.’
‘Sure it smells like some of the more fetid stapelias too,’ said Stephen. ‘Perhaps I should move it to the window-sill. He found it growing as a parasite on the glabrous bugwort.
These viscid tumescent leaves with inward-curling margins incline me to think that it is also insectivorous.’ They considered the plant in silence, breathing as it were sideways, and then Stephen said ‘Do you think the gentleman may have had some satirical intent?’
‘No, no, never in life,’ said Raffles. ‘Such a thing would never occur to him: he is wholly methodical, utterly humourless; a classifier who has nothing to say to values.’
‘Lord, Raffles,’ cried his wife, coming in, ‘what is this very ill smell? Has something died behind the wainscot?’
‘My dear,’ said the Governor, ‘it is this new plant, which is to be named after Dr Maturin.’
‘Well,’ said Mrs Raffles, ‘it is much better to have a flower named after one than a disease or a fracture, I am sure. Think of poor Dr Ward and his dropsy. And certainly this is a prodigious curious plant: but perhaps I might ask Abdul to take it to the potting-shed. Dear Doctor, they tell me your clothes will be quite dry in half an hour; so we shall have an early dinner. You must be starving.’
‘The naming of creatures after one’s friends or colleagues is a very pretty custom,’
observed the Governor, when she had gone. ‘And no one ever did it more handsomely than you with Testudo aubreii, that glorious reptile. And speaking of Aubrey reminds me that I have not seen him for days. How does he do?’
‘He does very well, I thank you, running about day and night to get his ship to sea with even more than the usual mad naval haste – running about with such zeal that he has scarcely time for meals and none for over-eating, I am happy to say.’
‘Does he need any more hands?’
‘I think not. There are about 130 of us left, and seeing the Nutmeg will need only small gun-crews – no more than three or four to a carronade, if I do not mistake – he feels that she is quite well-manned. And he is happy with the notion of promoting his carpenter’s mate to poor Mr Hadley’s place. But as you know he is still short of a nurser, a clerk and two or three young gentlemen.’
‘As for the purser, my enquiries have not led me to any man I could recommend, but I have an excellent clerk – he was wounded in the leg when we took this place, but he is recovered now and he gets about quite nimbly – and two young gentlemen, who may or may not suit. Do you think Aubrey could dine on Thursday? I could produce my candidates before or after, just as he chooses. And I could ask him, in a general way, about his immediate plans. I think I could do so without indiscretion, because quite apart from my intense curiosity about whether he means to risk an encounter with the Cornélie or to outrun her, I could, by stretching my authority a little, detach a sloop, the Kestrel, to accompany him as far as the Passage, if he wishes. She should be in by the end of the week.’
Stephen said ‘Speaking without the least authority – what is that at the window?’
‘A tangalung, a Java civet,’ said Raffles, opening the case-
ment. ‘Come, Tabitha.’ And after a pause the pretty creature, striped and spotted, came and sat in his lap, looking at Stephen with a frown.
Stephen lowered his voice respectfully and went on, ‘Without the least authority, I think I may assert that no offer could be more unwelcome.’
‘Oh, indeed?’
‘My impression – and this is only my impression: I betray no confidence, still less any consultation – is that Aubrey means to attempt the Cornélie if he can find her. The presence of the
Kestrel could make no difference to the physical outcome of
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the engagement, since she carries only fourteen pop-guns and is no more capable of setting about a frigate than a frigate is capable of setting about a ship of the line; but it would have a disastrous effect upon the metaphysical result. If Aubrey’s attempt should fail, then the Kestrel must be sunk or taken too: the Cornélie would beat two opponents and cover herself with laurels. But if Aubrey’s attempt is successful, as God send, then the Cornelte is defeated by the overwhelming odds of two to one, she suffers no disgrace and Aubrey wins no glory For you are to consider that newspapers and the public take very little notice of the relative strength of opposing ships
Aubrev is much attached to glory?
‘Certainly he fairly worships Nelson But I do not think there is any taint of vanity about him, as perhaps there was in
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his hero. Aubrey’s personal triumph however, is a rhatter of no importance in this hypothetical encounter: the essential aim, which he recognizes with perfect clarity, is to lower
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French self-esteem, particularly French naval self-esteem. It is, I do assure you, a matter of such importance that I should go to – have been to – surprising lengths . .
The nature of these lengths was never revealed: the door opened and the English butler, once a fine plump rosy specimen of his kind but now yellowed and shrunken with Javan ague, announced that His Excellency was served.
‘Heavens, Mr Richardson, my dear, what a hullabalboo!’ cried Stephen, going aboard the Nutmeg. ‘What are all these people about?’
‘Good morning, sir,’ said Richardson. ‘They are rattling down the shrouds.’
‘Well, God be between them and evil,’ said Stephen. ‘It looks horribly dangerous to me.
Would himself be in the ship?’
He was in the cabin, taking his ease with a pot of coffee after an exceedingly hard morning that had begun in the darkness:
he looked pale, worn, but contented.
‘I should never have believed that so much could be done in three days,’ said Stephen, looking around, ‘for it is absolutely no more since I was here. The cabin is almost the same as our old one – clean, trim, comfortable; and these neat little carronades leave one so much more room, what joy. Raffles asks us to dine on Thursday, here in Batavia: he has a clerk for you whom he guarantees and two niidshipmen whom he does not. No honest purser, I am afraid.’