Post Captain (28 page)

Jack's mind was still on bolts, timbers, and the other powers that held his ship together. 'What do you say to Parker's shoulder?' he asked. 'He will not be fit for duty for a great while, I dare say? Should lay up ashore, no doubt, and take the waters?'

'Not at all,' said Stephen. 'He is coming along admirably- Dr Ramis's thin water gruel has answered admirably, and the low diet. Properly slung, he may come on deck tomorrow.'

'Oh,' said Jack. 'No sick ticket? No long leave? You do not feel that the waters might help his deafness, too?' He looked wistfully into Stephen's face, but without much hope: in what he conceived to be his duty as a medical man, Stephen Maturin would not budge for man, God or beast. In such matters he was beyond the reach of reason or even of friendship. They never discussed the officers with whom Stephen messed, but Jack's desire to be shot of his first lieutenant, his opinion of Mr Parker, was clear enough to anyone who knew him well: yet Stephen merely looked dogged, reached for the fiddle and ran up and down the scale. 'Where did you get this?' he asked.

'I picked it up in a pawnshop near the Sally-Port. It cost twelve and six.'

'You were not cheated, my dear. I like its tone extremely warm, mellow. You are a great judge of a fiddle, to be sure. Come, come, there is not a moment to lose; I make my rounds at seven bells. One, two, three,' he cried, tapping his foot, and the cabin was filled with the opening movement of Boccherini's Corelli sonata, a glorious texture of sound, the violin sending up brilliant jets through the 'cello's involutions, and they soared up and away from the grind of pumps, the tireless barking, the problems of command, up, the one answering the other, joining, separating, twining, rising into their native air.

A keen, pale, wintry morning in the Downs: the hands at breakfast, Jack walking up and down.

'The admiral is making our number, sir,' said the signal midshipman.

'Very well,' said Jack. 'Man the gig.' He had been expecting this since before dawn, when he reported his presence; the gig was already alongside and his best coat was lying spread out on his cot. He reappeared, wearing it, and went over the side to the twittering of the bosun's pipes.

The sea was as calm as a sea can well be; the tide was at the full, and the whole grey surface under the frozen sky had the air of waiting- not a ripple, scarcely a hint of living swell. Behind him, beyond the dwindling Polychrest, lay the town of Deal, and away beyond it, the North Fore-land. Ahead of him, the massive bulk of the Cumberland, 74, with the blue ensign at the mizen; then two cables' lengths away, the Melpomène, a lovely frigate, then two sloops and a cutter; and beyond them again, between the squadron and the Goodwin sands, the whole of the West Indies, Turkey, Guinea and India trade, a hundred and forty sail of merchantmen lying there in the road, a wood of masts, waiting for a wind and a convoy, every yard and spar distinct in this cold air - almost no colour, only line, but that line unbelievably sharp and clear.

However, Jack had been gazing at this scene ever since the pale disc of the sun had made it visible, and during the pull to the flagship his mind was taken up with other things: his expression was grave and contained as he went up the side, saluted the quarterdeck, greeted the Cumberland's captain, and was shown into the great cabin.

Admiral Harte was eating kippers and drinking tea, his secretary and a mass of papers on the other side of the table. He had aged shockingly since Jack had last seen him; his shallow eyes seemed to have moved even closer together and his look of falsity to have grown even more pronounced.

'So here you are at last,' he cried - with a smile, however, and reaching up an unctuous hand. 'You must have come dawdling up the Channel; I expected you three tides ago, upon my honour.' Admiral Harte's honour and Jack's dawdling were much on a par, and Jack only bowed. The remark was not intended to be answered, in any case - a mere automatic unpleasantness - and Harte went on, with an awkward assumption of familiarity and good fellowship. 'Sit down. What have you been doing with yourself? You look ten years older. The girls at the back of Portsmouth Point, I dare say. Do you want a cup of tea?'

Money was Harte's nearest approach to joy, his ruling passion: in the Mediterranean, where they had served together, Jack had been remarkably successful in the article of prizes; he had been given cruise after cruise, and he had put more than ten thousand pounds into his admiral's pocket. Captain Harte, as commandant of Port Mahon, hd come in for no share of this, of course, and his dislike for Jack had remained unaffected; but now the case was altered; now he stood to gain by Jack's exertions, and he meant to conciliate his good will.

Jack was rowed back again, still over this silent water, but with something less of gravity in his look. He could not understand Harte's drift; it made him uneasy, and the lukewarm tea was disagreeable in his stomach; but he had met with no open hostility, and his immediate future was clear - the Polychrest was not to go with this convoy, but was to spend some time in the Downs, seeing to the manning of the squadron and the harassing of the invasion flotilla over the way.

Aboard the Polychrest his officers stood waiting for him; the hammocks were up, as neat as art could make them, the decks were clean, the ropes flemished, the Marines geometrically exact as they presented arms and all the officers saluted; yet something was out of tune. The odd flush on Parker's face, the lowering obstinacy on Stephen's, the concern on Pullings', Goodridge's and Macdonald's, gave him a notion of what was afoot; and this notion was confirmed five minutes later, when the first lieutenant came into his cabin and said, 'I am very much concerned to have to report a serious breach of discipline, sir.'

A little after breakfast, while Jack was aboard the admiral, Stephen had come on deck: the first thing he had seen there was a man running aft with a bosun's mate beating him from behind - not an uncommon sight in a man-of-war. But this man had a heavy iron marline-spike between his teeth, held tight with spunyarn, and as he screamed, blood ran from either side of his mouth. He came to a dead halt at the break of the quarterdeck, and Stephen, taking a lancet from his waistcoat pocket, stepped up to him, cut the spunyarn, took the spike and threw it into the sea.

'I remonstrated with him - I told him that the punishment was inflicted upon my orders - and he attacked me with an extreme ferocity.'

'Physically?'

'No, sir. Verbally. He cast out reflections upon my courage and my fitness to command. I should have taken decided measures, but I knew that you were shortly to return, and I understood he was your friend. I hinted that he should withdraw to his cabin: he did not see fit to comply, but stayed pacing the quarterdeck, on the starboard side, although it was represented to him that with the captain out of the ship, this was my prerogative.'

'My friendship for Dr Maturin is neither here nor there, Mr Parker: I am surprised that you should have mentioned it. You must understand that he is an Irish gentleman of great eminence in his profession, that he knows very little, almost nothing, of the service, and that he is extremely impatient of being practised upon - being made game of. He does not always know when we are earnest and when we are not. I dare say there has been some misunderstanding in this case. I remember him to have flown out very savagely at the master of the Sophie over what he conceived to be a misplaced joke about a trysailmast.'

'A master is not a lieutenant.'

'Now, sir, do you instruct me upon rank? Do you pretend to tell me something that is clear to a newly-joined midshipman?' Jack did not raise his voice, but he was pale with anger, not only at Parker's stupid impertinence but even more at the whole situation, and at what must come. 'Let me tell you, sir, that your methods of discipline do not please me, I had wished to avoid this: I had supposed that when I observed to you that your punishment of Isaac Barrow was perfectly illegal, that you would have taken the hint. And there were other occasions. Let us understand one another. I am not a preachee-flogee captain: I will have a taut ship, by flogging if need be, but I will have no unnecessary brutality. What is the name of the man you gagged?'

'I am sorry to say I do not recall his name for the moment, sir. A landsman, sir - a waister in the larboard watch.'

'It is usual in the service for an efficient first lieutenant to know the names of the men. You will oblige me by finding it directly.'

'William Edwards, sir,' said Parker, some moments later.

'William Edwards. Just so. A scavenger from Rutland: took the bounty. Had never seen the sea or a ship or an officer in his life - no notion of discipline. He answered, I suppose?'

'Yes, sir. Said, "I came as fast as I could, and who are you, any gait?" on being rebuked for slackness.'

'Why was he being started?'

'He left his post without leave, to go to the head.'

'There must be some discrimination, Mr Parker. When he has been aboard long enough to know his duty, to know the officers and for the officers to know him - and I repeat that it is an officer's duty to know his men - then he may be gagged for answering. If indeed he should do so, a most unlikely event in a ship even half well run. And the same applies to most of the crew; it is useless and detrimental to the good of the service to beat them until they know what is required of them. You, an experienced officer, clearly misunderstood Edwards: you thought he intended gross disrespect. It is exceedingly possible that Dr Maturin, with no experience whatsoever, misunderstood you. Be so good as to show me your defaulters list. This will not do, Mr Parker. Glave, Brown, Stindall, Burnet, all newly-joined landsmen: and so it runs, a list long enough for a first-rate, an ill-conducted first-rate. We shall deal with this later. Pass the word for Dr Maturin.'

This was a Jack Aubrey he had never seen before larger than life, hard, cold, and strong with a hundred years of tradition behind him, utterly convinced that he was right. 'Good morning, Dr Maturin,' he said. 'There has been a misunderstanding between you and Mr Parker. You were not aware that gagging is a customary punishment in the Navy. No doubt you looked upon it as a piece of rough horseplay.'

'I looked upon it as a piece of extreme brutality. Edwards's teeth are in a state of advanced decay - he has been under my hands - and this iron bar had crushed two molars. I removed the bar at once, and..

'You removed it on medical grounds. You were not aware that it was a customary punishment, awarded by an officer - you knew nothing of the reason for the punishment?'

'No, sir.'

'You did wrong, sir: you acted inconsiderately. And in your agitation, in the heat of the moment, you spoke hastily to Mr Parker. You must express your sense of regret that this misunderstanding should have arisen.'

'Mr Parker,' said Stephen, 'I regret that there has been this misunderstanding. I regret the remarks that passed between us; and if you wish I will repeat my apology on the quarterdeck, before those who heard them.'

Parker reddened, looked stiff and awkward; his right hand, the usual instrument for acknowledging such declarations, was immobilized in his sling. He bowed and said something about 'being entirely satisfied - more than enough - for his part he too regretted any disobliging expression that might have escaped him.'

There was a pause. 'I will not detain you, gentlemen,' said Jack coldly. 'Mr Parker, let the starboard watch be exercised at the great guns and the larboard at reefing topsails. Mr Pullings will take the small-arms men. What is that infernal row. Hallows,' - to the Marine sentry outside the door - 'what is that din?'

'Beg pardon, your Honour,' said the soldier, 'it's the captain's steward and the gun-room steward fighting over the use of the coffee-pot.'

'God damn their eyes,' cried Jack. 'I'll tan their hides- I'll give them a bloody shirt - I'll stop their capers. Old seamen, too: rot them. Mr Parker, let us establish a little order in this sloop.'

'Jack, Jack,' said Stephen, when the lamp was lit, 'I fear I am a sad embarrassment to you. I think I shall pack my chest and go ashore.'

'No, soul, never say that,' said Jack wearily. 'This explanation with Parker had to come: I had hoped to avoid it, but he did not catch my drift; and really I am just as glad to have had it out.'

'Still and all, I think I will go ashore.'

'And desert your patients?'

'Sea-surgeons are ten a penny.'

'And your friends?'

'Why, upon my word, Jack, I think you would be better without me. I am not suited for a sea-life. You know far better than I, that discord among the officers is of no use to your ship; and I do not care to be a witness of this kind of brutality, or any party to it.'

'Ours is a hard service, I admit. But you will find as much brutality by land.'

'I am not a party to it by land.'

'Yet you did not so much mind the flogging in the Sophie?'

'No. The world in general, and even more your briny world, accepts flogging. It is this perpetual arbitrary harassing, bullying, hitting, brow-beating, starting - these capricious torments, spreadeagling, gagging - this general atmosphere of oppression. I should have told you earlier. But it is a delicate subject, between you and me.'

'I know. It is the devil... At the beginning of a commission a raw, ugly crew (and we have some precious hard bargains, you know) - has to be driven hard, and startled into prompt obedience; but this had gone too far. Parker and the bosun are not bad fellows - I did not give them a strong enough lead at the beginning - I was remiss. It will not be the same in the future.'

'You must forgive me, my dear. Those men are dropsical with authority, permanently deranged, I must go.'

'I say you shall not,' said Jack, with a smile.

'I say I shall.'

'Do you know, my dear Stephen, that you may not come and go as you please?' said Jack, leaning back in his chair and gazing at Stephen with placid triumph. 'Do not you know that you are under martial law? That if you was to stir without my leave, I should be obliged to put an R against your name, have you taken up, brought back in irons and most severely punished? What do you say to a flogging through the feet, ha? You have no notion of the powers of a captain of a man-of-war. He is dropsical with authority, if you like.'