for the offshore squadron, from which Stephen could easily reach the Bellona.
The offer could not be refused, but they parted reluctantly, like lovers, unwilling, forced and constrained, regretting the fair breeze that carried the boat out, out and away.
Philip and Stephen could not speak freely until the boat reached the aviso, but there Philip commanded a private, roughly triangular space with just room for two, and here, while they regaled on fresh bread and cheese, Philip said, ‘I do not like to sound holier than thou nor to speak disrespectfully of my elders, but I must say that poor Jack’s mother-in-law
does come it pretty high. George – he is my nephew, you know, though I can’t make either him or the girls call me uncle – has just started going to that mouldy little school between Folly and Plush run by our parson’s brother. Well, the first day he went there the other boys asked him what his father was. “My father is a sea-officer,” said George: then, drawing himself up, he went on, “and an adulterer.” “How do you know?” they asked. “My grand-mama told me and the girls,” said George. I laughed at first
– you know how George swells when he is proud – but then I thought it was a miserable God-damned thing to tell children: don’t you agree, sir?’
‘Mrs Williams is no blood-relation of yours, I believe?’
‘No, sir. My grandfather, the General, married again after Jack’s mother died: she was called Stanhope. And I come from the second marriage; so when Jack married Sophie Williams, that didn’t make her mother any relation of mine.’
‘Then in that case I will tell you that in my considered opinion she is a perfectly odious woman.’
As though struck down by a judgment the moment he had finished these words, he pitched forward out of his chair on to what little deck was free. Philip plucked him up and raced on to the deck which had been left in charge of an even younger midshipman who in the pride of his heart had committed the vessel to a manoeuvre that, the guys being untimely cast off, resulted in a truly monumental gybe. The
aviso did not quite overturn, but the tangle of parted cordage, the sprung boom and the horrid condition of the bowsprit and its gammoning kept the captain (a master’s mate), Philip and his companions – happily there were some prime seamen among them – busy most of the rest of the day and of the fine moonlit night.
The aviso was at least presentable when she raised the topsails of the offshore squadron a little after breakfast – a much enlarged offshore squadron, with at least three more ships of the line as well as frigates, sloops and gun-brigs -and Philip, though pale and drawn, could have passed a not very rigorous muster when he went aboard the Queen Charlotte with Stephen. His last words, in a whisper rendered hoarse by extreme fatigue, were ‘You won’t tell Jack, sir, I beg.’
On seeing Dr Maturin the officer of the watch sent word to the first lieutenant, who asked Stephen to come and see Sherman, the flagship’s surgeon, in his cabin
‘Dr Maturin, sir, how good of you to come,’ said Mr Sherman. ‘My assistants and I are deeply concerned about the Admiral, who has often mentioned you, hoping for your return to the squadron, and I should be very much obliged for your opinion He is now so weak that I do not think he
could stand going home aboard a small vessel in the gales we are certain to have at this season of the year, and he absolutely refuses to detach a capital ship’
‘I should be happy to see him,’ said Stephen.
‘Dr Maturm, how happy I am to see you,’ said Lord Stranraer, half rising in his cot. ‘Many is the day I have hoped you might return to the squadron.’
Stephen looked at him with a keen, wholly objective eye, and saw a hag-ridden old man, sick, and like so many patients, dreading the immediate future; a dropsical tendency in
spite of some degree of physical collapse; a very, very rapid and irregular pulse, as Sherman had said – though it was clear that the Admiral had no opinion of what Sherman had said and probably an exaggerated notion of Maturin’s powers.
‘Pray take off your shirt, my lord,’ he said, and helped him to do so. To Mr Sherman, ‘Be so good as to ask the officer of the watch to stop any running about on deck: let there be no thumps.’ A relative silence ensued and Stephen set about an intensive auscultation of Stranraer’s chest, tapping like a woodpecker, watched by Sherman with barely concealed astonishment. Straightening up at last and covering the Admiral with the bedclothes he said, ‘This is grave, of course, as you know very well: but I think it looks, and feels, worse than in fact it is. I shall consult with Mr Sherman and his colleagues, and look over the ship’s dispensary; and I believe we shall agree upon a course of physic, of natural forms of physic, that will give you relief.’
The Admiral took his hand and with a look of affectionate regard on a face not accustomed to show affection, thanked him for his care.
‘Clearly,’ said Stephen, when he and the surgeons were in the captain’s cabin and drinking the captain’s madeira, ‘the trouble lies essentially with the heart – there is a not inconsiderable hydropericardium – and of course with the mind, as is almost invariably the case where anything but wounds or infections are concerned. First we must reduce this frantic pulse and recall the heart to its duty. What does he take at present?’
Sherman mentioned a low diet and a few harmless substances and went on, ‘But I am sorry to say that we do not enjoy the patient’s full confidence, and I have reason to believe that most of our draughts end in the close-stool. It is difficult to discipline an admiral who is also a peer. May I ask you about the oedema that you speak of? It is not at all apparent, or at least not to me.’
‘Auscultation shows it clearly enough, once I had grown accustomed to his parttcular bodily sounds. It is a very valuable diagnostic tool, little known in England, I believe.’
‘I have never seen it done.’
‘A friend of mine in France called Corvisart has made great progress with the immediate percussion that I was using – post-mortems have provided a most gratifying con196
firmation of many of his diagnoses. And another French friend with whom I studied, Laennec, is carrying the method still further.’
‘I heard him lecture in Paris during the peace,’ said one of the assistant surgeons, speaking for the first time. ‘But since he used the continental pronunciation I could not follow his Latin very well.’
‘For the pulse I should advise digitalis purpurea,’ said Stephen. ‘Does your chest contain either the tincture or the infusion ?’
‘Neither,’ replied Sherman. ‘After two most unfortunate experiences I declined the use of digitalis altogether as too dangerous by far. My predecessor however left a sealed jar of the dried leaves.’
‘They will answer very well. In the Admiral’s case I should exhibit one grain and a quarter, inclosed in a wafer; and if you think fit I will administer it myself, together with twenty-five minims of laudanum. You will not find the pulse diminish sensibly before Thursday
evening, but the laudanum will quickly produce a better frame of mind, a readier compliance with medical direction or perhaps in the case of an admiral I should say advice. If the first dose of powdered leaves is well tolerated – if there is no severe vomiting or seeing everything blue (which I do not expect at all) it may be repeated, together with the laudanum, at two-day intervals and if it is at all possible I should like to be informed of his progress. Now, if you agree, I will ask the young gentlemen to put up the doses so that I may administer them directly, for I have patients of my own waiting for me aboard the Bellona.’
‘Sir,’ said the other assistant-surgeon with an evident satisfaction that the powerful drug was now to be used and he a witness to its effects, ‘I have read Dr Withering on digitalis, and I shall take great pleasure in powdering the leaves exactly to his direction.’
The flagship’s cutter came upon the Bellona off the Black Rocks, lying to with her foretopsail to the mast and her driver just drawing while her captain made a final check of a wreck’s depth and bearings. His grim mathematical face broke into a smile; as soon as the boats were in hail he called, ‘Welcome home, Doctor. You will be just in time for dinner.’
And when they were aboard, with Stephen’s sea-chest and small baggage below and proper greetings made – ‘Which you look prime, sir,’ said Killick, looking really quite agreeable, ‘almost as if you had been to the Lord Mayor’s show,’ while Bonden told him that his head was quite healed, ‘could be hit with a top-maul and never a word’ and himself lively as a parcel of grigs (and this with no hint of that somewhat slurred familiarity that had grieved Stephen earlier, with its suspicion of mental damage) – Jack told him that Captain Fanshawe was coming to dinner, so that he, Stephen, was in great luck, since he could have his share of the last shoulder of mutton in the ship, probably in the whole inshore squadron. ‘I am so glad you are here to carve it,’ he went on, sitting down and pouring them some sherry. ‘There is no worse joint to tackle in public. But tell me, Stephen, how do you do? And how is Diana, if you have seen her again? You look extremely fine, by the way.’ They had both changed for the ceremony.