The Thirteen Gun Salute by O’Brian Patrick

‘Those are most valuable figures,’ said Fox, writing them down. ‘Thank you very much indeed. But Paris may also have had in mind the potential threat that would compel us to weaken our forces elsewhere. A potential threat often has effects far beyond . . . but I am not to be teaching you about strategy or tactics,’ he said with a smile. ‘Doctor, can you add a shot to my locker?’

‘I have little definite to say at present and I do not propose to trouble you with surmises,’ said Stephen. ‘But I will observe that at least some of the shipwrights are impressed Spaniards, likely to run away to the Philippines as soon as ever they can; that

at least some of the proposed French guns are said to be honey-combed: while at least some of the powder suffered extremely from wet during the voyage and from the gunner’s negligence in omitting to invert the barrels in due sequence. That is all I have to report; but if I might be allowed a suggestion I should say that by way of setting off Ledward’s undoubted advantage in already having met the Sultan – having hunted with him and perhaps prepossessed him in his favour

– it might be useful to invite His Highness to visit the ship the very next day and see the great guns fired. A thundering discharge of whole broadsides and the visible destruction of floating targets would both divert him and give him some notion of our capabilities.’

‘Yes, indeed. I shall certainly propose it to the Vizier at once: a very good idea in every way.’ He poured out more ale, already flat and tepid, and said, ‘Now, unless anything else occurs to either of you, let me say something about our clothes for the audience: splendour is everything on these occasions, and I have half the Chinese tailors in Prabang working on garments for our attendants. The officers are perfectly correct in their full dress and my suite and I are properly provided, while the Marines, of course, could not do better. But I was wondering, Captain, whether your bargemen might not escort you, carefully turned out, together with your officers and midshipmen of course.

And then my dear Maturin, what about you? A black coat, even a very good black coat, would hardly answer the purpose here.’

‘If it is splendour that is required, and if cloth and craftsmen are to be had, I shall go in my robes as a doctor of medicine, with scarlet gown and scarlet hood.’

And it was in a scarlet, or at least a Chinese red, gown and hood that he paced through the eastern gateway of the palace at Jack’s side: a fairly rapid pace, because rain, furious tropical rain, was threatening, and the envoy had only one plumed hat. As fast as dignity allowed the mission and all belonging to it advanced across the open space before the moat and the inner wall, forty feet high and twelve thick, built by the Sultan’s Javanese ancestors. They made a brave show, headed by the envoy on a state horse in silver-studded crimson harness led by grooms wearing sarongs and turbans made of cloth of gold; and the crew of the Diane’s barge in new white broad-brimmed sennit hats with ribbons, brass-buttoned blue jackets, snowy

duck trousers, black shoes with genteel bows, and serviceable cutlasses by their sides were particularly remarked. On through another courtyard with the Sultan’s men blowing trumpets and beating drums, and as the first warm heavy drops splashed down, into the palace.

Fox’s attaché Loder might be indifferent company, but he was an excellent chef de protocole, and he and the Vizier’s secretary had arranged the placing of the mission with the utmost precision, the most exact regard for precedence. Each man filed into his allotted place along the eastern wall of the great hall of audience with Fox and his immediate colleagues standing a few yards to the left of the empty throne. They stood there for some little time, listening not without satisfaction to the rain, and then they heard the drums and trumpets for the French. Duplessis came first in a gliding run, followed by his suite, four men in official uniform and Ledward and Wray in bright blue coats with the star and ribbon of some order, then the French naval officers and the troop of attendants, all of them more or less soaked. For the first moments the French were wholly taken up with straightening their line, much upset by the last rush, and with their wet clothes,

feathers, and papers; but as soon as they had settled in their due places Duplessis, on the far side of the throne, looked across the open space and gave Fox what could just be described as a bow: it was returned with an exactly matching degree of cordiality. At the same moment Wray caught sight of Stephen’s scarlet robe and recognized first his face and then Jack Aubrey’s with utter horror. He made a kind of harsh inward sob and grasped Ledward’s arm: Ledward looked in the same direction; he stiffened, but betrayed no emotion and the appearance of the Sultan at the far end of the hall diverted the attention of all, yet not before Stephen had noticed the expression of cold hatred on Fox’s white, closed face, one that he had rarely seen equalled.

The Sultan advanced, shaded by fan-bearers, supported on either side by his great feudatories and followed by the Vizier and the members of his council; he was a good-looking man,

tall for a Malay, about forty-five; and he wore a famous ruby in his turban. He advanced slowly, looking from side to side with a civil expression; the French had the strange notion of clapping, as though at a theatrical performance, but he showed little surprise or displeasure, and when he turned to take his seat on the throne he bowed to each side with equal courtesy.

His attendants had all gathered in the space behind, but now the Vizier, a small dried man, stepped forward and stated in very respectful terms that two envoys had come, the first from the Emperor of France, the second from the King of England, and they begged to deliver their masters’ messages. The Sultan said, ‘In the name of Allah, the Merciful, the Compassionate, let the first corner speak first.’

Duplessis,

with

Ledward behind him, took up his station before the throne, and having bowed he began to read from his damp paper. A poor performance: the ink had run, the reader’s spectacles were fogged with steam, and he himself was much oppressed by the heat and his wet uniform. Each paragraph was translated by Ledward. A very fluent translation but also unconscionably free; and it was delivered in a hard voice, strangely at variance with its compliments and its expressions of good-will and earnest desire for an even closer alliance between the cousins of Pulo Prabang and the French Empire.

It had been agreed between the Vizier and the two envoys separately that since the Sultan intended to give a feast after the audience rather than hold a meeting of his council, the addresses should not exceed a quarter of an hour. To the astonishment of their party, Duplessis and Ledward did not speak so long; and Fox, who began badly, stumbling over the Sultan’s titles ‘Flower of Courtesy, Nutmeg of Consolation, Rose of Delight’ so that he had to repeat them twice, scarcely reached ten minutes, in spite of a brilliant recovery and a much-admired evocation of the Sultan’s illustrious descent. When he came to an end, bowed, and retired, the councillors exchanged covert looks of surprise, accustomed as they were to speeches that flowed on and on in self-generating eloquence;

but the Sultan, realizing his good fortune after a moment’s silence, smiled and said, ‘In the name of Allah, the Merciful, the Compassionate, be welcome, gentlemen.

Pray return our best thanks to your rulers, whom Heaven preserve, for their noble presents, ever to be preserved both in our treasury and our heart; and let the feast commence.’

It was now that the value of sterling insensibility became evident. Fox was still so affected by this encounter, although it had been long expected, that his social powers were much obscured, but Johnson, Crabbe and Loder talked away steadily, loudly and with frequent bursts of laughter, and the head of the English table kept up a creditable din.

This table ran the length of the banqueting hall, and in compensation for their position during the audience the English were now placed on the Sultan’s right, his table crossing the head of the room. Stephen was quite far down, and as he was one of the few who could carry on a conversation in Malay he had been placed between an elderly, morose and taciturn person whose function he never discovered and Van Da, who had first received them. He was an agreeable neighbour: as a passionate hunter he knew a great deal about the forest, the jungle and the higher mountain. ‘I saw you the other day above Ketang,’ he said, laughing cheerfully. ‘You were flying from the bees like a deer

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