Something of this speech reached the ships of the inshore squadron, but without much force. The end of the war had been foretold so very often, and as Killick (who stood behind Jack’s chair) had found Lord Stranraer’s manner of speaking difficult to follow, all that the lower deck gathered at first was
that there was to be a new king of France called Châtillon, or something like that, probably related to Wellington. And in any case all public and private attention was taken up by the store-ship, crammed with food, drinks, slops, spars, cordage, sailcloth, everything they had been lacking for so long: and even more, there was an abundant post. In the dog watches very little of the ship’s ordinary work was done, and once the precious stores were stowed, little groups formed round the more literate, and while his friends stood at a discreet distance, a man would listen while his letter was read out.
For once no cruel tidings reached the Bellona, which for a ship’s company of more than six hundred men and boys, nearly all with close and mortal relatives, and a long absence of mail, was very far from common.
The mild domestic news from Woolcombe was charmingly uneventful, though Sophie’s bantam had brought off a clutch of minute chicks. Diana and Clarissa were settling into their wing, furnishing the dining-room with walnut objects of the last age, which they found at auctions, sometimes travelling up to fifty miles for a handsome piece. And it was rumoured that Captain Griffiths meant to sell and move to London.
Yet in spite of this deep and abiding contentment Jack was low in his spirits. ‘Do you think the Admiral’s account was reasonably sound?’ he asked.
‘It certainly coincides with what I have heard,’ said Stephen.
‘A sad booby I must have looked, prating away to you about the French navy and my fear of a long war, with them building away at a great pace.’
‘I thought it perfectly reasonable from a naval point of view; and you could not tell that on land Buonaparte had completely lost his wits: it was almost unbelievable how he threw away his chances, and countless lives, in these last few months.’
Jack shook his head; and after a while he said, ‘I do not mean to say a single syllable against William Fanshawe, but upon my word I think the Admiral might have mentioned
Bellona. He will not do so in his dispatch, either. Yet our people worked like demons – all hands watch upon watch -to get her up there in time, and it would have been a bloody disaster if she had not arrived . . . From a purely selfish point of view, I am so glad you told me about your scheme for Chile. There is to be no distinction for me, this side of the ocean. I do not mean to top it the tragedy queen, Stephen, and I should not say this to anyone else, but I feel the yellow rising about my gills. Come in,’ he cried.
Harding came in, bringing the sun with him. ‘Forgive me for bursting upon you like this, sir, but I have had such a pleasing letter – my wife has just inherited a little estate in Dorset from a distant cousin: it lies between Plush and Folly. I am to be squire of Plush!’
‘Give you joy with all my heart,’ said Jack, shaking his hand. ‘We shall be neighbours – my son is at school there, Mr Randall’s school. How happy my wife and I will be. But I am afraid that I must warn you that Plush often leads to Folly.’
‘Why, yes, sir…’ began Harding, somewhat staggered:
but then he caught the nature of Captain Aubrey’s witticism (perhaps the best thing Jack had ever said) which depended on a knowledge of the fact that when grog was served out the ordinary members of each mess of seamen received slightly less than the regular measure: by ancient custom, the amount of grog left, which was called plush, belonged to the cook of the mess; and unless he had a good head for rum, this often led him to commit a foolish action.
Jack’s gravity had not lasted quite as long as Harding’s, and his whole-hearted mirth continued for some moments after Harding had recovered himself: but he received the wardroom’s invitation with a decent complaisance.
‘That is certainly the best thing I have ever heard, in the naval line,’ said Harding, ‘and I shall write it down – how Eleanor will roar. But my errand is really to beg for the honour of your company to dinner in the wardroom tomorrow. We have been shocking remiss these many, many weeks, but now that the store-ship has found out where we lie at last, we hope to make up at least some of our leeway.’
When he was speaking to Stephen about the Admiral Jack had not made a good many of the unkind reflections that had naturally occurred to him: he had not, to take a very small example, said that Lord Stranraer’s claret was meagre in quantity and execrable in quality (his lordship had no taste whatsoever for wine – never drank it for pleasure himself -was convinced that others judged only by label and price and that if they saw neither they would never know the
difference) because he had seen the Admiral’s evident esteem for Stephen and he did not know whether the liking might be returned.
In any event, the wardroom’s dinner to their Captain could not possibly have led to such a reproach, uttered or suppressed. Dr Maturin was of course a wardroom officer: he usually looked after the wine, and for occasions such as this, when the claret brought out by the store-ship in casks had neither been bottled nor given a moment of rest after a violent tossing about, he had provided a fine old very full bodied Priorato.
It went down extremely well, but it was of course considerably stronger than most Bordeaux, and the conversation up and down the table was somewhat louder, more general and less restrained than usual. The table itself was a fine sight, with a dozen officers sitting there, mostly blue and gold, with the Marines’ scarlet coats setting them off pleasantly, and their servants standing behind their chairs: but the general mood was one of anxious uncertainty, repressed out of consideration for their guest, but evident enough for one who had been so long at sea. He looked down the table, considering the many faces he knew: and in a momentary silence he heard a hand on deck call out ‘Mark of the forebrace down, sir,’ and the officer of the watch reply ‘Belay, oh.’
‘Belay, oh,’ said Jack to the table in general. ‘From all I see in the papers Queen Charlotte brought us, and from what I heard aboard the flag, it seems to me that all of us will have to belay very soon. Tie up, belay and pay off.’ A pause while he finished his glass of wine. ‘War of course is a bad thing,’ he went on. ‘But it is our way of life – has been these twenty years and more – and for most of us it is our only hope of a ship, let alone of promotion: and I well remember how my heart sank in the year two, the year of the peace of Amiens. But let me offer this reflection by way of comfort: in the year two my spirits were so low that if I could have afforded a piece of rope I should have hanged myself. Well, as everyone knows that peace did not last, and in the year four I was made post, jobbing captain of Lively, and a lively time we had of it too. I throw this out, because if one peace with an untrustworthy enemy can be broke, another peace with the same fellow can be broke too; and our country will certainly need defending, above all by sea. So’ – filling his glass again – ‘let us drink to the paying-off, and may it be a peaceful, orderly and cheerful occasion, followed by a short, I repeat very short run ashore.’
Chapter Ten
The paying-off was over and that was the best thing that could be said about it. Even before Napoleon’s abdication the ships of the blockading squadron had been sent home in ones and twos, the Bellona being almost the last; and during all this time those of the crew who had been pressed from merchantmen had grown more and more discontented.
Throughout the war, or rather wars, the merchant service had been short of hands and wages were correspondingly high; and now here were these ugly, unscrupulous dogs in Grampus, Dryad and Achates going into port to pick up the gold and silver before anyone else, although they had not been on the blockade half as long as the Bellona, had not had a quarter of the hard lying and short commons. There were also some who wanted to see