‘No,’ he said, coming to a halt outside the hospital gates, ‘I cannot guarantee that Padeen will not escape any more than I can guarantee that the wind will not blow. But I will place the cost of a passage home in Mr Paulton’s hands, which I conceive deals with the eventuality of an escape. And I will propose a
–
what is the word? acknowledgment, perhaps: in any case a present, a gratification –
if he will dedicate this book, which is more a disquisition on the status of women in an ideal society
and a discussion of the currently accepted contract between the sexes than what is ordinarily called a novel or tale – if he will dedicate this book to Lavoisier, who was kind to me when I was young: Diana and I are much attached to his widow, and I am sure it would give her great pleasure. Martin, you understand the present state of these matters far better than I do, being so much more at home with men of letters, soI beg you will advise me on the nature of this acknowledgment, bearing in mind that I am not alone in wishing to honour Lavoisier’s memory – I can draw on at least a dozen fellows of our society.’
The hospital gates opened and a black-coated man in a physical wig rode out on a stout cob. He gave Stephen, who was in uniform, a sharp look, checked his horse, but then rode on. ‘I presume that is Dr Redfern,’ said Stephen, and his mind was so taken up with reasons for and against calling on him that he scarcely heard any part of Martin’s observations on the market in dedications except for his hesitant naming of a sum.
‘You are hardly generous to your friend or to Lavoisier’s memory,’ he said. ‘But it so happens that I have something in that order of magnitude with me, in Bank of England notes; which is so much better than promises or a draught on a distant bank. May I trespass still farther on your kindness and beg you to put these propositions to your friend? You will feel any reticence, the first shade of reluctance or offence, before I should do so: you will not mistake the formal for the real. Let us go back to the ship, and I shall put these notes in a cover, so that you may have them with you. I must go back in any case, to shave and put on buckled shoes for Government House. Did I tell you that those wicked creatures escaped from their orphanage and came back to the Surprise in the middle watch, declaring that they should never leave her again?’
‘Heavens, no! Do you mean to take them back?’
‘I do not. On my part the move was one of those reasonable, wise, profoundly mistaken actions, influenced to some extent by my esteem for Mrs Macquarie. I must now go and present my excuses with what face I can put on it, and she having been so kind.’
‘What did the little girls object to?’
‘Everything, but particularly the fact that some of the other children were black.’
Although Stephen’s sallow face was almost pink with close shaving and although his wig was powdered, Her Excellency was not at home. He had been fully prepared for the interview, with excuses, explanations, thanks all to hand; and now, feeling oddly put out, he walked down the drive, only slightly encouraged by the sight of a cockatoo new to him landing in a gum-tree and raising a crest like his own familiar hoopoe. ‘Shall I ever, at any time, get out of this sink of iniquity and travel inland with a fowling-piece and a collecting-case?’ he asked the kangaroo. Only a little way below Government House the ugly crowds of convicts and soldiers reappeared, enlivened, but only a little, by Surprises ashore. He made his way slowly through them to Riley’s hotel and called for a tint of whiskey. It was
the man of the house who brought it and on seeing Stephen he cried ‘Why, it is your honour again, and a very good day to you, sir. How well your honour is looking.’
‘Tell me, Mr Riley,’ said Stephen, ‘is there ever an honest horse-coper in this town? Or at least one that merits Purgatory rather than Hell? I saw a yard called Wilkins Brothers with some animals in it, but they did not look quite wholesome to me.’
‘Sure they are only purple dromedaries, sir.’
‘Ah? They looked quite like horses to me: but miserable screws I will admit.’
‘I meant the Wilkins brothers, sir. I take it your honour is not in the penal line?’
‘Faith, no. I am the surgeon of that frigate down there.’
‘And an elegant ship I am sure she is. But here in the colony by purple dromedaries we mean little small bungling pickpockets, jackeens that get transported for robbing the poor-box or a blind man’s tray. You was thinking of hiring, I do suppose?’
‘We are here for something like a month, so buying and selling again might be the more easy.’
‘Oh more easy by far, with the creature always under your hand, and she used to you.’
‘Why do you say she?’
‘Because I have three beautiful mares behind the gable of the house itself, and any one of them would carry you fifty Irish miles a day for your month on end.’
They were all three long past mark of mouth, but Stephen settled for a flea-bitten grey with an amiable face and a comfortable walk, the pace she was most likely to travel at, and a somewhat more ancient but very steady bay for Martin, who was no great horseman.
On the grey he rode towards Parramatta; but scarcely was he clear of the houses, barracks and hovels than he met Jack Aubrey and the carpenter. He turned back with them, and learnt that their voyage could hardly be called a success: the spars were there, and remarkable timber too, said the carpenter; but as they were Government property it appeared that authority would have to be sought from a number of sources, and Mr Jenks, whose consent had to be obtained first, was not in the way.
‘Obstruction at every infernal step,’ said Jack. ‘How I hate an official.’ But his face cleared when Stephen told him of the little girls’ escape and asked whether he disliked having them aboard.
‘Never in life,’ he said. ‘I quite like to see them skipping about. They are far better than wombats. Last time we touched here, you bought a wombat, you remember, and it ate my hat. That was in the Leopard: Lord, the horrible old Leopard, how she griped!’ He laughed at the memory, but Stephen saw that he was not his old self: there was an underlying resentment, and he looked yellowish, far from well.
As they were parting to leave their horses at different stables, Jack said ‘Surely it is a very shocking thing for both governor and lieutenant-governor to be away at the same time. I cannot get any sense out of Colonel MacPherson. How I wish I knew when Macquarie was coming back.’
‘I mean to wait on Mrs Macquarie again tomorrow, and perhaps she will tell me,’ said Stephen.
In the morning, trim once more, but this time with a face not only smooth but with a look of unusual satisfaction, or contained hopefulness, because Martin had come back with a most gratifying account of his interview: John Paulton wholly accepted both proposals –
was infinitely touched that Dr Maturin should think his book the proper vehicle for a tribute to M. de Lavoisier, whose death he too had deplored – would welcome Padeen and put him to some gentle task such as watching the lambs – and he sent a graceful note with a postscript reminding Stephen of their engagement for Sunday, which he looked forward to with the keenest delight. More than this, within three quarters of an hour of leaving the ship, Adams returned with word that the change of assignment had been made. There was no difficulty about it at all; and any other request on the part of the gentleman would receive the promptest attention.
He greeted the lodge-keeper and the saluting sentry (for he was in uniform, his best) and walked up the drive. Beyond the kangaroo be saw Dr Redfern walking down it, and when they were at a proper distance he took off his hat, saying ‘Dr Redfern, I believe? My name is Maturin, surgeon of the Surprise.’
‘How do you do, sir?’ said Redfern, his stern face breaking into a smile as he returned the salute. ‘Your name is familiar to me from your writings, and I am very happy to meet you.
May I be of any service to you in this remote corner of the world? I have a fair experience of its ways and its diseases.’