‘Oh yes,’ said Jack, his face brightening somewhat. ‘He called to take leave some days ago: he has to go back to his cousin’s place along the coast, not far from Bird Island. He hoped we would come to see him by boat, or if that were impossible, that you would look in on him during your northern trip. What a very agreeable evening we had with him, upon my word! Such a jovial companion, and such a hand with his violin. How glad I was I insisted upon playing second fiddle:
even so, he put me to the blush.’
News that the ship was moored came below, and presently Stephen said, ‘Jack, tomorrow I must wait on Mrs Macquarie and try to make my excuses at last. But before that, before breakfast indeed, I should like to examine you to find whether your plethory is wholly digested, and prescribe physic if it is not.’
‘Very well. But I tell you what it is, Stephen: we sail on the twenty-fourth. Even if the Governor is back by then, which I think very likely, and even if everything then goes more smoothly, which I think possible, I have decided to renounce some of the repairs and to sail with the change of the moon: I am sorry if it cuts your journey short or interferes with your plans.’
‘Not at all. I shall start a little earlier, tomorrow itself, perhaps; and unless we are devoured by some nondescript wild beast or get lost in the worst kind of bush, to which the Labyrinth is child’s play and the maze at Hampton Court an inconsiderable toy, we shall be back on the twenty-third. I shall tell Padeen when we pass by Paulton’s place.’
‘What now?’ called Jack, turning to the door.
‘Here’s a damned thing, sir,’ cried Pullings. ‘The guards at South Point insisted on examining the blue cutter – tried to stop it – Oakes who was in charge said he would blow out the brains of the first man that laid a hand on the gunwale.’
‘Quite right too. The boat was wearing a jack?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘That makes it more monstrous still. I shall report it to the
Admiralty; I shall raise it in the House. Hell and death, they will be opening my letters and dispatches next, and sleeping in my cot.’
Once more Stephen, brushed, dressed, shaved and powdered to the height of Killick’s lofty standards, sent in his card, and this time, although Her Excellency was engaged, he was particularly desired to wait: she would be free in five minutes. The five minutes stretched out to ten and the hail door opened to admit his cousin James Fitzgerald, a somewhat worldly priest, nominally a member of the Fathers of the Faith, a Portuguese order. They looked at one another with a cat-like determination not to show surprise but their greeting and their embrace was affectionate: they had after all spent many a happy day running about the Galtee mountains together from the house of a grand-uncle common to both. They now exchanged some family news, worked out just when they had last met, which was also in an ante-room, that of the Patriarch of Lisbon, and then James said ‘Stephen, forgive me if I am indiscreet, but I hear you may be going northward, by way of Woolloo-Woolloo, presently.’
‘Do you, Coz?’
‘And if that should be so, may I advise you to take great care? There is a band of absconders, United Irishmen, hard men, living between there and Newcastle, and some of them think you may have changed sides since ninety-eight. You were seen on the deck of an English ship that chased Gough into the Soiway Firth: and after he had been hanged some of his friends were transported.’
‘They cannot be men who ever knew me. I was always totally opposed to violence in Ireland, and I deplored the rising. I begged Cousin Edward not to use force. And even now Catholic emancipation and the dissolution of the union – acts of parliament, no more –
would deal with the situation. But Buonaparte’s tyranny is something new in its kind – far, far more thorough and intelligent – and in this case force is the only remedy. I am willing to help anyone to bring him down; and so, as I know very well, are you and your order. His success would be the ruin of Europe; his help fatal to Ireland. Yet never, never, never in my life have I played the informer.’
Before Father Fitzgerald could reply a footman came in and said ‘Dr Maturin, sir, if you please.’
‘Dr Maturin,’ said Mrs Macquarie, ‘I am so very sorry to have kept you waiting. Poor Colonel MacPherson was with me in such a state of anxiety.’ She looked as though she were going to say more, but changing her mind she asked Maturin to sit down and went on, ‘Well, and so you have been travelling about in the bush. I hope you liked it.’
‘It was an exceedingly interesting experience, ma’am; we survived, thanks to an intelligent black, and we brought back
an ass-load of specimens that will keep us busy for the next twelvemonth and more. But before I say anything else, allow me to make my most humble apologies for the behaviour of those wicked little girls. It was a truly wretched return for your kindness, and I blush at the recollection.’
‘It did not altogether surprise me, I must confess. They were as wild as young hawks, poor little things: and even before they lost their heads, bit the matron, broke the window and climbed down the outside of the house – how they managed not to break their legs as well I cannot tell – they said they did
not like the company of girls; they far preferred being with men. Should you like to try again, perhaps?’
‘No, ma’am, though I thank you very heartily. I do not think it would answer; and in any case the ship’s company would rise upon me. My solution, since I cannot restore them to their native island, now deserted, is to wrap them in wool and keep them below in the high southern latitudes, and in London to confide them to the care of an excellent motherly woman I have known these many years, who keeps an inn in the Liberties of the Savoy, and who keeps it delightfully warm.’
They spoke of Mrs Broad’s qualities and of the numbers of tropical blacks who became acclimatized to London; and then Mrs Macquarie said ‘Dr Maturin, may I speak to you quite unofficially about this present unhappy state of affairs? My husband will be back at last in a few days and it would distress
him even more than it distresses me: I should so like to make relations just a little better before he returns, if I possibly can. I am aware there has always been rivalry between the Army and the Navy here – you know the reasons better than I, since you were here in Admiral Bligh’s time – but poor Colonel MacPherson is a newcomer, a stranger to it all, and is much concerned at having his letters returned as improperly addressed. As for the contents, he leaves that to the civilians; but he is a great stickler for forms, and it was with tears in his eyes that he showed me this cover, begging me to tell him if I could see the least impropriety in the direction.’
Stephen cocked his eye at the cover and said ‘Well, ma’am, I believe it is usual to add MP
to the address of an officer who is also a member, to say nothing of FRS for one who belongs to the Royal Society and JP if he is also a magistrate. But Captain Aubrey is not in the least punctilious and he would never have taken the slightest notice of the omissions if he had not been incensed by what looks very like ill-will, deliberate delay and frustration on the part of certain officials. He met it before, when his ship put in just after Governor Bligh’s disagreement with Mr Macarthur and his friends.’
‘Is Captain Aubrey a member of parliament?’ cried Mrs Macquarie, startled into foolishness. Then recovering herself she uttered a low gurgling laugh and said ‘Oh, oh: there will be some red ears among the civilians: they dread a question in Parliament worse than damnation.’
When Stephen rose to take his leave she asked him whether he would dine informally tomorrow – Dr Redfern would be there and both he and she would like Mr Maturin’s opinion of their projected hospital.
‘Alas, ma’am,’ said Stephen, ‘at crack of dawn I am engaged to ride away towards the forests of the Hunter river, the home, I am told, of the carpet snake, and many a curious bird.’
‘Pray take great care not to get lost,’ she said, giving him her hand. ‘Almost everybody goes there by sea. And do let us know when you are back: I should like you to meet my husband, who is a great naturalist.’