he instantly looked into the affairs of Roger Horehound, Jolly Roger as we used to call him, and found that he had taken no less than two hundred thousand pounds. Not that that
was in our department however: as you know the First Secretary has virtually nothing to do with intelligence -until recently it was entirely my concern. Jolly Roger’s goose was cooked, but there are people cleverer and more cautious than Roger, and it has sometimes appeared to me that this taking-over of our department may well have greed as its motive, or one of its motives; it is a department in which expenditure cannot be closely controlled and in which large sums pass from hand to hand. If that is the case, and I am more and more persuaded of it, then the people concerned will surely cling to some of this superabundance,’ – nodding towards the brass box. ‘Not Barrow, for although I find him singularly unlovable I am perfectly certain that he is honest, rigidly honest: but he is a fool. The people concerned, I say, will cling. . . the temptation is very great . . . But it so happens that I am very well with the Nathans and their cousins – they have supported us nobly in this war – and as soon as any one of these bills is negotiated I shall know of it and what is more important I shall know just who my enemies are.’ He made some remarks about the money-market to which Stephen paid little attention and then observed, with a chuckle, ‘Such an elegant little trap; if it had not existed I should have had to invent it. But should I ever have had such a happy thought? I doubt it. Tell me, my dear Maturin, does anyone know that you were coming to see me?’
‘No one. Except conceivably the porter at my club, who saw to the delivery of my note.’
‘What is your club?’
‘Black’s.’
‘It is mine too. I did not know you were a member?
‘I rarely go.’
‘It would be wiser for us to meet there. And Maturin, it would also be wise to armour yourself. I may of course be quite mistaken about the bad faith I referred to just now, but it can do no harm to suppose I am right. You
are in a vulnerable position. May I suggest that you let it be seen that you are not defenceless, not without allies, and that you cannot be treated as a man of no account might be treated – overwhelmed, put down, made to bear the blame? Will you not go to the birthday levee, for example? The Duke of Clarence will be there, and many of your grander friends.’
‘I might,’ said Stephen, with no conviction. He stood up to take leave, putting the brass box in his pocket. Weariness had quite dulled his mind.
‘And lastly may I suggest,’ said Blain in a low, hesitant voice, ‘may I suggest that if a mission across the Channel is proposed, you should refuse it?’ Stephen looked up, fully alive again. ‘No, no, I do not mean that,’ cried Sir Joseph, seeing the shocked, startled question in his face. ‘I only mean loose talk and inefficiency: anything more sinister would be only the most extreme hypothesis. But in your particular case I prefer the precautions to be extreme. Come. I will see you home. The streets are far from safe at night. Though indeed,’ he added, ‘it might save a world of trouble, were your pocket to be quietly picked again.’
In the morning, a bright clear morning so far, though to a sailor’s eye ‘there was foul weather breeding there in the east-north-east’, Jack and Stephen walked through the park to the Admiralty. Captain Aubrey, paying an official call, was in uniform: Dr Maturin, as a civil adviser, was in a decent snuff-coloured coat with cloth-covered buttons. They were shown into the waiting-room where Jack had spent so many hours of his life, and there they found a dozen officers already installed. Most were lieutenants and commanders, of course, they being the most numerous class; but so many of these had been passed over for
promotion that Jack found several contemporaries among them. Indeed, there was one lieutenant who had been second of the Resolution when he was a midshipman in her, and they were deep in recollections of her after-hold when a clerk came to tell Jack that the First Lord was now at leisure.
In his curiously frigid and inhuman way the First Lord was happy to welcome Captain Aubrey home and to say that the Board, on hearing his dispatch read by Mr Croker, had been glad to learn that the expedition to the South Sea was satisfactorily accomplished and the Surprise brought home in such good condition. He regretted having to tell Aubrey
that there was no suitable command vacant for him at the moment, but his name should certainly be borne in mind for the next eligible ship: he regretted still more having to say that the Board had decided to sell the Surprise out of the service, because he knew how attached sailors became to their vessels.
‘Yes, indeed, my lord,’ said Jack. ‘Never was a ship like Surprise: I have known her, man and boy, these twenty years, and we all loved her very dearly. But I trust I may be able to buy her: she is not likely to fetch a mint of money, I suppose.’
‘Let us hope for at least a moderate amount, for the sake of the naval estimates,’ said Melville, looking sharply at Jack Aubrey. Sea-officers quite often primed themselves with brandy, rum, or even gin for an interview at the Admiralty; but this was not the case with Jack. His lack of protest at the news (news whose bite was quite removed by his knowledge of the coming peace, when the frigate’s occupation would be gone), his whole attitude and the look on his face was caused by the cheerfulness at the idea of being rich again, of seeing Sophie within the next few days, and of telling her that their anxieties were at an end.
‘Finally, my lord,’ said Jack, standing up when the conversation drew to a close, ‘may I put in a word for Thomas Pullings, a very fine seaman, a commander, at present unemployed? He brought the Danaë home as a volunteer.’
‘I will bear him in mind,’ said Melville. ‘But as you know Whitehall is lined with commanders who are very fine seamen and who would be glad of a sloop.’ He walked to the door with Jack and just before he opened it Jack said ‘Now that our officia1 interview is over, may I ask how Heneage does?’
Heneage Dundas was Melville’s younger brother and the mention of his name brought a disapproving look. ‘Heneage is down at Portsmouth, seeing to the fitting-out of Eurydice for the North American station: he should sail within the month, and the sooner the better.
I do wish, Aubrey, that as a friend you could make him see how very much his irregularities are disapproved by the world in general. On Saturday still another bastard was laid at his door. It is a disgrace to himself, to his family, and even to his friends.’
In quite another part of the building Stephen was still waiting. He had asked for Sir Joseph and had been led to the obscure regions in the back: there he had been told that Sir Joseph was not available. ‘In that case I should like to see Mr Wray,’ he said, and they showed him to a small, blind, almost naked room. In order to get at least some sleep the night before he had taken his usual opiate, the alcoholic tincture of laudanum, and its calm, grey influence was upon him still, at least physically; furthermore the whole matter of this brass box had lost its importance, and so long as he could be cleanly rid of it he did not care. What really concerned him in this interview was learning just when Wray had given his letter to Diana.
Stephen therefore waited with never a restless movement, his mind swimming deep beneath the surface. Yet even he had his limits and when the clock striking the hour pierced through his thoughts he realized that he was being treated with disrespect. He waited until the quarter sounded and then he walked out, through a large office filled with
startled clerks and so down two corridors to the main waiting-room, where Jack had stayed for him.
There he left a note to the effect that his business with Sir Joseph or Mr Wray had been connected with the packet Danaë and that he would look in tomorrow at eleven in the morning. ‘Come,’ he said to Jack, ‘let us walk about until some respectable house will give us a meal. Do you know of any that opens early?’