another out, is to destroy the chief men of his allies and opponents and turn the place into a Paradise in which the survivors and the French colonists are to hold everything in common: no wealth, no poverty.’ He reflected, paraphrased Wainwright’s account more fully, more accurately, and said ‘His name is Jean Dutourd.’
At this Stephen’s face showed a sudden life, a glow of satisfaction. ‘What joy,’ he said. ‘It could not be improved.’
‘You know him?’ cried Jack.
‘I do too. He has written about equality, the perfectibility of human nature, and the essential goodness of mankind for many years – he judges others by himself, poor soul –
and he has a considerable following. I was acquainted with him in Paris; and once to my surprise I saw him at Honfleur, sailing about in a very spirited way in a boat with two masts. In personal relations a kinder man never breathed, and in his system the whole purpose was for the good of others: he spent a fortune in trying to settle the Jews in Surinam and another – for he is very rich – in farms and manufactories for young criminals.
But although I believe that the man who told Captain Wainwright of Dutourd’s deliberate, Machiavellian desire of knocking his Polynesian associates on the head may have been a little excessive, I have no doubt that in defence of a system Dutourd could be utterly ruthless – a very short way indeed with dissenters. And the result though perhaps not the sin might be much the same. One of his books on the Pacific paradise infected that American naval officer – Killick, what are you doing to that young woman?’ he called through the open stern window.
‘Nothing, sir,’ said Killick instantly, and after a gasping pause, ‘It is quite all right – perfectly natural. I was just saying good night. Which she pulled me across, the liberty-boat having gone too soon.’
‘Killick, come aboard at once,’ said Jack.
‘Which the boarding-netting is rigged, sir. I thought to creep up by the quarter-gallery, but you ain’t turned in yet,’ said Killick in a tremulous voice; though he did extract some hint of grievance and hard usage from their sitting up so late.
‘Come in by the sash-light,’ said Jack.
The sash-light could be reached by a spring from the canoe: Killick, though totty from his swink, attempted it, fell back into the sea, sending up a phosphorescent splash like a moderately good firework, tried again and this time grasped the sill. But he hung there gasping, and it was not until the young woman, with a shriek of laughter, had shoved him from behind, that he came inboard, sodden, resentful, and sadly out of countenance, going straight through the door with a bowed head, a mumble and a gesture towards his forelock.
They sat back, each secretly pleased with having acquired a moral advantage over Killick at last; and Jack returned to the paragraph in his orders in which it was stated that in any event Moahu already belonged to the British crown, Cook having taken possession of the archipelago in 1778.
Stephen said, ‘I believe the same applies to a very great many other places in the Pacific Ocean. I remember Sir Joseph telling me that Otaheite, or Tahiti as some people say, was called King George’s Island when he was there observing the transit of Venus: though indeed it was Wallis rather than Cook who discovered and annexed it. He did not think the chiefs or their people took the matter at all seriously, and I do not suppose the lady in question would do so either – a polite formality, no more.’
‘Forgive me if I am stupider than usual, Stephen, but what lady is in question?’
‘Why, Puolani, Wainwright’s poor weak woman, the queen of the south. For I imagine it is she you mean to support, the privateer being allied to her enemy in the north, the doubly inimical privateer, both American and French?’
‘Of course. I am sorry. She had slipped my mind.’
‘Yet even if it were more than a political formality, being a subject of the very remote King George -‘
‘God bless him.’
‘By all means, my dear – would seem a less dreadful fate than being under the immediate and present rule of France or America or the architect of a system that roots up every form of social existence known to man and that is very likely to hurry unbelievers or heretics to the stake.’
‘So may I take it that you have no objections?’ asked Jack, who was indeed very weary, sleepy and stupid by now.
‘As you know very well,’ said Stephen, ‘I am in favour of leaving people alone, however imperfect their polity may seem. It appears to me that you must not tell other nations how to set their house in order; nor must you compel them to be happy. But I too am a naval officer, brother; long, long ago you taught me that anyone nourished on ship’s biscuit must learn to choose the lesser of two weevils. On that basis alone I may be said to have no objection to Moahu’s becoming a nominal British possession.’
It was far into the silent middle watch before they parted, and Stephen, having looked into the sleeping sick-berth, tiptoed along the gunroom with a dark-lantern to his lower cabin in the hope of escaping the infernal din of holystones and swabs, ritual cries, the wheeze of pumps and the clash of buckets that began before dawn: for he was a creature that needed sleep if his mind were to function at all, and he looked forward to his free day on Annamooka, a day of intense observation and discovery that would call for all his powers if it were to be carried out intelligently.
Jack Aubrey, on the other hand, possessed in an eminent degree that ability to plunge straight into a deep, restorative sleep without which sailors do not survive, and to wake bright, sometimes intolerably bright, and efficient after an hour or two, no more. He had bathed and he was cheerfully eating his first breakfast, served by a haggard, mournful, unnaturally submissive Killick, when word came below that a small canoe was putting off from the Daisy. It was Wainwright himself, and he brought the news that Tereo, the old chief, had arrived, had given orders that no market should be opened, no trading take place, before there had been an exchange of visits and presents. That was why the beach was empty; that was why there was no swarm of visiting canoes. ‘He is a very authoritarian and formal old gentleman,’ said Wainwright. ‘He rebuked Pakeea for his free and easy ways and confiscated his red feathers. His presents should be coming off in about half an hour, and then you ought to make a return and visit him. I think it might be a mistake to start watering before you have asked his leave.’
‘Is there likely to be any difficulty?’
‘Not if you handle him right.”
‘Captain Wainwright, I should be infinitely obliged if you would help me through the whole of this business. There must be no misunderstanding, no disagreement, no time lost.’
‘Of course I will, sir. But it is I that am obliged: your Mr Bentley’s mate is caulking our red whale-boat at this moment, and he himself is fashioning a new rider. Perhaps, sir, if you were to show me what you have in the way of trade-goods I could pick out a reasonable return for what you are about to be given. Pakeea told me to the last yard of tapa.’
They were turning over the adzes, axes, beads, glass balls, printed cotton, brass and pewter basins, when a pahi put off from the shore, paddled by girls and commanded by an immensely stout middle-aged woman. ‘That is Tereo’s sister,’ said Wainwright. ‘A jolly old soul. It might be as well to rig a bosun’s chair.’
A jolly old soul she doubtless was, for the habitual expression of her face had lined it with smiling and laughter; but at present, as she was lowered gently to the deck, she behaved with a natural and impressive gravity. Three of her maidens ran nimbly up the side to join her; they too wore clothes from knee to shoulder, being, as Wainwright whispered in Jack’s ear, women of high birth, related to the great families of Tongataboo. They were taller and a lighter brown than the cheerful bare-bosomed girls in the pahi, and they too were grave. They spread out the presents – bolts of tapa cloth, dark red, orange and its natural fawn, made from bark; young hogs confined in matting; baskets of live chickens and dead wildfowl, which included a purple coot and some rails that made Martin stiffen like a setter; billets of sandalwood; baked dogs; sugar-cane, fruit and berries; and two clubs made of a hard, dark wood with a sperm-whale’s tooth set in each formidable head.