‘I am heartily glad that Mrs Williams is gone back to Bath to live there with her friend,’ he said. ‘Sophie was never the same with her in the place. And I must say it was amazingly handsome in Diana to give them the little house.’
‘Dear Diana: she is in funds again. So am I, as I told you.’
‘And for my part I am not quite the abject, bankrupt pauper I was. The lawyers sent me some reports that would have sent me to the masthead if Sophie’s letter had not arrived just before them: two of our appeals have succeeded, and Lawrence, that dear good man, says he is virtually certain of winning the third and last. And my share of this last prize should just about set me afloat again, in a very modest fashion.’
‘From all I hear it was a splendid prize. I give you joy of her, brother, with all my heart.’
‘Thank you, Stephen. She was, indeed. Rather in the style of the Frenchman we took off the Dry Tortugas, Hebe, formerly our Hyaena, you remember. She had taken an English Guineaman and her lovely cargo of gold-dust and ivory. Except that the Deux Frères, this most recent prize, had taken two Guineamen, each of them larger and richer than that dear old Intrepid Fox.’
Stephen nodded gravely. ‘I am sure you pursued her with all the zeal in the world.’
‘So I did, by God. But with no real thought of prize-money – certainly not prize-money to that staggering extent. No. I saw her chasing one of our merchantmen, already within long
shot. I was fairly spoiling for a fight: it was the fight I was after and it was the fight I cracked on for. And the plain call of duty too, of course.’
‘It has been reported that you broke away from manoeuvres and chased from a desire for gain.’
‘That was an untrue report. The weather was thick and growing thicker; signals were barely visible. I had to act quickly or not at all, and I may not have been strictly correct in acknowledging, but I certainly did say I was chasing north-west, before the rest of the squadron disappeared from sight. And in fact I did take a dangerous enemy privateer and I preserved a British merchantman: that was my aim. The money, though uncommon welcome to all hands, had nothing whatsoever to do with it – was neither here nor there.’ A pause. ‘No,’ Jack went on. ‘I was brought up to think that making money was a very proper thing to do: the proper. . . something. . . of mankind. Pursuit, perhaps: the proper pursuit.
My father did not have a great deal of time to improve my morals, but now and then he used to urge me to take notice of various precepts of a religious nature. He was at Eton, you know…’
‘That large school near Windsor?’
‘Just so.’
‘A sad place, I fear. I was there with a friend – we had
meant to view the castle – but on reaching a place called Salt Hill we were beset, surrounded by a host of boys and youths dressed as Jack Puddings and merry-andrews in antic garments who insisted upon alms, sturdy threatening beggars: we had little between us, and they gave us very ill language indeed before going on to some unfortunate newcomers in a gig. Yet it is true that I have heard they possess a store of Greek between them.’
‘I dare say they have: but it is almost the only Latin that my father learnt, and the text he always quoted to me was
Rem facias, rem
Si pOSSiS, recte, si non, quocumque modo, rem.
Just where it was in the Bible I am not sure. My father thought it was one of the minor prophets. It often occurs to me when I am shaving or when church is being rigged, but it was not in my mind at all, not for a moment when I was chasing the Deux Frères, though it would have been appropriate in a way, and perhaps even lucky. Sometimes I think I ought to hand it on to George. When all is said and done, a Latin text is something for a boy to possess.’
‘Dear Jack, I am sorry to contradict your father – probably some wicked school-fellow made game of him – but it is Horace, not the Bible; and Mr Pope renders it very well
Get place and wealth, if possible, with grace; If not, by any means get wealth and place.
and you would never wish that upon your good open-faced little fat boy as ancestral wisdom, sure. But this brings me to my conversation with Sir Joseph Blame. I conceived that you would not take it amiss if I were to talk to him about you?’
‘Never in life, never in life, upon my word. I have the greatest possible respect and esteem for Sir Joseph. He has been very much my friend – I owe my reinstatement largely to him.
Of course you could talk to Sir Joseph Blame.’
‘I talked to him about your prospects of a flag. He told me that they were not what he and your other friends could
wish. He said that your repeated and vehement criticism of the ministry in Parliament, together with your frequent abstentions had done you much harm in Government’s opinion; and reports of negligence on the Brest station together with abandoning manoeuvres to indulge in very highly profitable chasing had done the same in that of the Admiralty. He explained the capital importance of Lord Stranraer’s friends and dependants in the Commons. .
Stephen recapitulated Blame’s analysis and went on, ‘Sir Joseph felt that your friends might be well advised to urge you to retire as a post-captain rather than expose yourself to the affront of being passed over at a forthcoming flag-promotion. He is, as you say, very much your friend and he did throw out some confused remarks about the possibility of a commissionership or even some civilian employment, conceivably to do with hydrography…’
A silence fell: a silence of voices. The steady heave of the sea carried on, barely perceptible unless one paid attention, and the countless sounds of masts, yards, rigging and the current round the rudder: but then an impact, curiously prolonged.
‘That would be a whale, scraping his side,’ observed Jack. Stephen nodded, and went on.
‘I then raised another point. As you know, I was in France; and there I met some of the men I had known in South America when we were concerned with Peruvian independence: but these gentlemen were from Valparaiso, in Chile. They are as ambitious of independence from Spain as were the Peruvians, and in my opinion they are more reliable; and the Chileans are much more concerned with the naval side of the matter than the Peruvians. Sir Joseph put all this to the proper authorities and in their guarded way they express themselves as willing to give unacknowledged, unofficial support and comfort to the movement.’
‘You are very much in favour of independence,’ said Jack. ‘I have often noticed it.’
‘You too might think more highly of the state, had you been dependent.’
‘I am sure I should. I beg pardon. Please go on.’
‘What I have to say now is very much up in the air, quite hypothetical. But there is a possibility that this war may come to an end quite soon. It is likely to be followed by a period of confusion, possibly a change of ministry, certainly a vast paying-off of ships and very widespread unemployment in the Navy.’
‘Alas, it is but too true.’
‘Now, suppose that during this period you were withdrawn from the list and from the competition, being employed in Chilean waters, ostensibly and no doubt actually surveying, distinguishing yourself in various ways, behaving much as you did aboard the Surprise not so long since, in a temporary, nominally retired condition, reinstatement being promised, together with the probability of a blue flag in due course – a rear-admiral’s flag, how would that suit you? Sir Joseph and Lord Melville think that from the service point of view it could be arranged.’
‘Lord, Stephen: it is a most prodigious attractive prospect.’ He considered for some minutes. ‘. . . to be out of the hurly-burly for a while. . .’ he muttered; and then, ‘You did say Stranraer’s influence was the strongest thing against me, and that if he died his influence would no longer be there – would not pass to Griffiths?’ Stephen nodded. ‘They say he is very poorly indeed. Is he likely to live, do you think?’
‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph,’ cried Stephen, starting up. ‘Do you ask me to discuss a patient, sir? Be damned to your impertinence. You will be desiring me to give him a quietus next.’
‘Oh pray do not be angry, Stephen – I did not mean to ask you as a medico – I only threw it out like that – talking in my sleep, as it were – sit down again, I beg – it was a most scrub-like thing to say even silently, and I do apologize without the least reserve. Yours is a beautiful idea: I like it of all things, and am infinitely obliged to you and Sir Joseph. Pray let me fill your glass.’