The Thirteen Gun Salute by O’Brian Patrick

‘Oh,’ cried Fox, ‘there I can be of service, if you wish. My Ali has a cousin Ahmed who is out of a place, or about to be

105out of a place, a well-trained intelligent young fellow who was with a retired Straits merchant, Mr Wailer: he died a little while ago. I should have taken him myself, but with my suite I shall have no room. If you wish I will tell Ali to send him round. I am sure Mrs Wailer will give him a good character.’

‘That would be very kind indeed; I should be most obliged to you, sir.’

‘Speaking of suites,’ said Jack, ‘I do not know that it would be in order to discuss practical arrangements at this point, but before I go down to Portsmouth I should like to

hear Mr Fox’s views on numbers and messing, so that the carpenters and joiners can get to work at once; for there is not a moment to be lost.’

‘Yet if Sir Joseph and Dr Maturin do not mind, perhaps we might deal with the question straight away,’ replied Fox. ‘For as you so rightly say, we cannot spare a minute.

I have been in ships that try to beat into the north-east monsoon, having missed the southwest, and it is terribly wearing to the spirit, as well as being fatal to success in a case like ours.’

While these arrangements were being worked out, Stephen and Blaine, who were side by side, exchanged views on the wine they were drinking with their lamb, a delightful St Julien, and about other wines from the Medoc – the extraordinary variations in their price – the pitiful nonsense of most talk on the subject.

‘So although I shall leave with only a secretary and a couple of servants,’ said Fox, summing up, ‘when we touch at Batavia, Raffles will find me two or three imposing but largely ornamental figures who, together with their servants, will counterbalance the French mission; and obviously I shall need room for them.’

‘Pulo Prabang,’ said Stephen after a pause. ‘The name has been reminding me of two things ever since I first heard it, and now they are coming to the surface of what I facetiously call my memory. The first is that in your lecture, sir, you spoke of it as exhibiting some of the very few remains of Buddhism in the country of the Malays.’

‘Yes,’ said Fox, smiling. ‘It is an exceedingly interesting place from many points of view, and I long to see it. The Sultan is of course a Mahometan, like most Malaya; but like most Malays he is also far from zealous. And as one usually finds in those parts, he and his people retain many other pieties, beliefs, superstitions – call them what you please – and he would never, never disturb the Buddhist sanctuary at Kumai. Nor would anyone else: that would be the height of folly, sacrilege, and what is perhaps even more to the point, ill-luck for ever. The man who told me about the temple thought he could make out Hinayana influences, which would make it unique. Geologically the island is of great interest too, being the site of two ancient volcanic eruptions that have left vast and remarkably perfect craters, one by the sea, where the Sultan has his port, and the other high in the mountains. The second is now a lake, and by it stand the temple and the sanctuary. My informant says that the few monks come from Ceylon, but as our conversation was in French, a language neither of us spoke at all well, I may be mistaken; perhaps it was their rite that came from Ceylon. At all events 1 am quite sure Raffles said that the orang-utang and the rhinoceros were to be seen; and I believe he mentioned the elephant.’

‘What joy,’ said Stephen. ‘And that brings me to my second point. Surely Pulo Prabang is the place to which van Buren retired when we took Java, is it not?’

‘Van Buren? I do not think I recall the name.’

‘Cornelius van Buren. Some people put him on a level with Cuvier; some even higher. In any case there is no greater authority on the spleen.’

‘The anatomist? Of course, of course. Forgive me, my wits were astray: I am afraid I do not know what happened to him, but Raffles will certainly tell us.’

From the anatomist they went on to those who supplied anatomists with what Blaine pleasantly described as their raw material: resurrection-men, hangman’s assistants, Thames watermen. ‘There are also those who are on what is called the smothering-lay, men who entice benighted youths or country-

men who have had their pockets picked to a kipping-ken, and when they are asleep, lay another mattress on them and lie upon it themselves, two or three together.’

From wicked men in general they passed to traitors in particular and then quite abruptly to Ledward; and both Jack and Stephen were astonished at Fox’s passionate hatred of the man, the more so as their recent talk had been light, almost trifling. Fox was so moved that he spoke grossly – obviously an unusual thing with him, and oddly grating –

turned pale and ate no more until the cloth was drawn and port and walnuts were on the table, and when the coming and going of servants necessarily changed the subject.

He recovered fairly soon, however; and they sat long over their wine, the decanter twice renewed and the dinner ending very cheerfully. He declined their invitation to go with them to a concert of ancient music – to his great regret he could not tell one note from another – thanked them handsomely for the pleasure, the very great pleasure, of their company and for his excellent dinner, and so took his leave.

While Jack was talking to a friend in the hall of the concert room Stephen said to Blaine, ‘There was another point I thought of raising but did not: I should have mentioned it to you long before. I trust I am right in supposing that there is no question of hierarchy, no question of relative rank, where the envoy and I are concerned?’

‘Oh no. None whatsoever. It is perfectly understood that although Fox will ask your advice if any difficulties should arise, he is not required to follow it; on the other hand you are under no obligation to follow his recommendations either. There is nothing but a consultative nexus. He is in Pulo Prabang to conclude a treaty with the Sultan. You are there to observe the French; though naturally you will communicate any intelligence that may come into your possession and that may help him in his task.’

‘Stephen, a very good morning to you,’ said Jack, looking up from his letter. ‘I hope you slept well?’

‘Admirably well, I thank you. Lord, how I love the smell of coffee, bacon, toasted bread.’

‘Do you remember a very horrible midshipman called Richardson?’

‘I do not.’

‘Spotted Dick they used to call him in the Boadicea: he had more pimples than were quite right even in the Navy. We saw him again in Bridgetown, Admiral Pellow’s flag-lieutenant. He had quite lost them by then.’

‘So we did too. A mathematician, as I recall. What of him?’

‘He is on the beach, so I sent down to ask whether he would like to be third in the Diane. And here is his letter, overflowing with delight and gratitude. I am so glad. Now do you remember Mr Muffitt?’

‘The captain of the Lushington Indiaman when we had our brush with Linois on the way back from Sumatra?’

‘Well done, Stephen. He has made the Canton voyage God knows how many times and he knows the South China Sea intimately well, which I do not. I wrote to ask his advice and here’ – waving another letter – ‘he invites me down to Greenwich. He has retired from the sea, but loves to watch the ships go up and down the river.’

Mrs Broad came in to say good day and to bring more bacon and a dish of Leadenhall sausages, three of which Stephen instantly devoured. ‘No one would think,’ he

said indistinctly through the third, ‘that I had had a good dinner yesterday, and an excellent supper.’

‘The club’s port was the best I have drunk for years,’ said Jack. ‘Fox stood it remarkably well: never a tremor as he went downstairs, which is more than could be said for Worsley and Hammond and some other members. What did you think of him?’

‘Sure my first impression was good, and he is certainly an intelligent, knowledgeable man; but this impression did not last quite as well as I could have wished.

He laid a great compliment on his speech, as though he wished us to love him; and perhaps he talked a little too much, as barristers so often

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