He looked doggedly through the sheets of physical observations he had made for Humboldt, temperature and salinity of the sea at various depths, barometric pressure, temperature of the air by wet and dry bulb thermometer, a chain of observations more than half way round the world, and he derived a certain satisfaction from them. Eventually he heard Pullings’ steps.
‘Sit down, Tom,’ he said, waving to a chair. ‘I have seen Oakes, and the only explanation he could bring out was that she was very unhappy: then the damn fool threw Padeen in my teeth.’
‘You did not know, sir?’
‘Of course I did not. Did you?’
‘I believe it was common knowledge in the ship, but I had no certainty. Nor did I enquire.
My impression was that the situation being so delicate you did not choose to have it brought to your attention or for there to be any question of returning to Botany Bay.’
‘Was it not your duty as first lieutenant to let me know?’
‘Perhaps it was, sir; and if I have done wrong I am very sorry for it. In a regular King’s ship with a pennant, a party of Marines, a master-at-arms and ship’s corporals I could not have avoided knowing it officially, and then in duty bound I should have been obliged to inform you. But here, with no Marines, no master-at-arms and no snip’s corporals I should have had to listen at doors to be certain. No, sir: nobody wanted to tell either me or you, so that you, officially in the dark until it was too late, could not be blamed – could sail on for Easter Island with an easy conscience.’
‘You think it is too late now, do you?’
‘Wittles is up, sir, if you please,’ said Killick at the door of the dining-cabin.
‘Tom,’ said Jack, ‘we left that odious wench in the starboard cable-tier. I dare say Oakes has fed her, but she cannot stay there watch after watch: she had better be stowed forward with the little girls until I have made up my mind what to do with her.’
This was one of the few Sundays when no guests had been invited to the cabin, the Captain feeling so out of sorts, one of the few Sundays when Dr Maturin dined in the gunroom, and Aubrey sat in the solitary splendour usual in some captains but rare in him –
he liked seeing his officers and midshipmen at his table and particularly his surgeon. Not that Stephen could in any way be called a guest, since they had shared the cabin these many years, and until recently he had actually owned the ship.
He might have been expected for coffee, but in fact Jack saw nothing of him until the evening, when he walked in with a dose and a clyster: he and Martin had spent the intervening hours describing the more perishable specimens from their tour in the bush, and writing to their wives.
‘Here’s a pretty kettle of fish,’ cried Jack. ‘An elegant Goddamned kettle, upon my word.’
Solitude and a heavy afternoon sleep had increased his ill-humour, and Stephen did not at all like the colour of his face. ‘What’s afoot?’ he asked.
‘What’s afoot? Why, the ship is turned into a bawdy-house – Oakes has had a girl in the cable-tier ever since we left Sydney Cove – everybody knew, and I have been made a fool of in my own command.’
‘Oh, that? It is of no great consequence, brother. And as for being made a fool of, it is no such matter but rather a mark of the people’s affection, since they wished to avoid your being placed in a disagreeable oosture.’
‘You knew, and you did not tell me?’
‘Of course I did not. I could not tell my friend Jack without at the same time telling Captain Aubrey, authority incarnate; and you are to observe that I am not and never have been an informer.’
‘Everyone knows how I hate a woman aboard. They are worse than cats or parsons for bad luck. But quite apart from that, quite rationally, no good ever came of women aboard –
perpetual trouble, as you saw yourself at Juan Fernandez. She is an odious wench, and he is an ungrateful scrub.’
‘Have you seen her, at all?’
‘I caught a glimpse of her in the cable-tier just after leaving you this morning. Have you?’
‘I have, too. I went along to ask the little girls how they did and to hear them their piece of catechism and there I found a midshipman with them, a young midshipman I did not know, a handsome youth: then I perceived that he was a young woman and I begged her to sit down. We exchanged a few words – her name is Clarissa Harvill – and she spoke with a becoming modesty. She is clearly a woman of some family and education: what is ordinarily called a gentlewoman.’
‘Gentlewomen do not get sent to Botany Bay.’
‘Nonsense. Think of Louisa Wogan.’
Jack gave the unanswerable Louisa a passing glance and returned to his fury. ‘Bawdy-house,’ he cried. ‘It will be the lower deck full of Portsmouth brutes next, and a Miss in every other cabin – discipline all to pieces – Sodom and Gomorrah.’
‘Dear Jack,’ said Stephen, ‘if I did not know that your liver was speaking rather than your head or God preserve us your heart this righteous indignation and solemnity would grieve me, to say nothing of your broadside of first stones, for shame. As you told me yourself long ago the service is a sounding-box in which tales echo for ever, and it is perfectly well known throughout the ship that when you were about Oakes’ age you were disrated and turned before the mast for hiding a girl in that very part of the ship. Surely you must see that this pope-holy sanctimonious attitude has a ludicrous as well as a most unamiable side?’
‘You may say what you please, but I shall turn them both ashore on Norfolk Island.’
‘Pray take off your breeches and bend over that locker,’ said Stephen, sending a jet from his enema through the open stern window. A little later, and from this position of great moral advantage, he went on ‘What surprises me extremely in this whole matter is that you should so mistake the people’s frame of mind; but then in many ways, as their surgeon, I am closer to them than you are. It appears to me that you do not sufficiently distinguish between the ethos of the man-of-war and that of the privateer. The prevalent feeling or tone of this community is far, far more democratic; consensus is required; and whatever the law may say, you command the Surprise, the Surprise as a privateer, only because of the respect the people have for you. Your commission is neither here nor there: your authority depends wholly upon their respect and esteem. If you were to order them to put a callow youth and a slip of a girl down on a virtually abandoned island and sail on with me and Padeen you would lose both. You have many old followers on board who might say My Captain, right or wrong; but you have no Marines, and I do not think the followers would prevail, with the community as it now stands and with its overriding sense of what is fair and right. You may put your breeches on again.’
‘Damn you, Stephen Maturin.’
‘And damn you, Jack Aubrey. Swallow this draught half an hour before retiring: the pills you may take if you do not sleep, which I doubt.’
Chapter Two
Like most medical men Stephen Maturin had seen the effects of addiction, full-blown serious addiction, to alcohol and opium; and like many medical men he knew from inner experience just how immensely powerful that craving was, and how supernaturally cunning and casuistical the deprived victim might become. It was therefore only with the greatest reluctance that he had included one small square case-bottle of laudanum (the alcoholic tincture of opium, alas) in his medicine chest. Once laudanum had come aboard by the carboy, and indulgence in it under stress had very nearly wrecked his own life and Padeen’s; now, although he was reasonably sure of himself he had not the same confidence in Padeen, and this single bottle, often disguised and sometimes filled with an emetic, was kept in an iron box, far from the ordinary drugs. A ship had to be provided with a certain amount, since there were cases in which the tincture alone would give relief; and the square bottle was the very smallest that could still be called reasonable – that could be reconciled with Stephen’s medical conscience. ‘It is a curious thing,’ he said to Martin, turning the key in the iron box, ‘that a man who knows perfectly well that in decency he must not practise on his friends has not the slightest hesitation in doing so when it comes to medicine. We give strongly-coloured, strongly-flavoured, physically inoperative draughts, pills, boluses in order to profit by the patient’s belief that having been dosed he now feels much better – a belief whose invaluable physical effects you have often seen. In this case I exhibited the tincture in the unusually powerful dose of five and thirty drops, disguising it with asafetida and a little musk and suppressing its name, since the patient has a horror of opium, while at the same time, to deal with the initial stimulation that often accompanies the ingestion of narcotics by those unaccustomed to them, I provided four pills of our usual pink-tinted chalk, to be taken in the event of wakefulness.