This Thing Of Darkness (33 page)

‘Now go about the business of learning to be a sailor.’

FitzRoy was glad, a moment or two later, that he had put an end to the two boys’ larking, when a well-appointed scarlet carriage with livery servants made its way down the approach road towards the
Beagle.
When it drew to a halt, no less a person than Captain Francis Beaufort, His Majesty’s hydrographer, climbed down.
Any more visitors
, thought FitzRoy,
and I shall have to employ a footman to collect calling cards on a salver.
He hissed at Wickham and the sailors present to look lively, but he need not have worried. The carriage was sufficiently distinguished that the entire crew had stood to attention even before it had disgorged its occupant. Beaufort limped up the accommodation-ladder, disregarding offers of assistance, and nodded a greeting.

‘FitzRoy.’

‘This is a most unexpected honour, sir.’

‘No need to flatter yourself unduly, FitzRoy, my presence in Plymouth is on Admiralty business. But while I am here I have good reason to pay you a visit.’

His practised eye took in the new trysails between the masts, the brass cannon, the gleaming whaleboats and the hand-painted figure of Neptune on the ship’s wheel, with the motto ‘England expects that every man will do his duty’ circled elegantly around it.

‘My, you have dug deep into your capital,’ he observed. ‘The rail is lower than in an everyday coffin brig, am I right?’

‘You are, sir. The deck is raised but not the bulwarks, so as to make her less deep-waisted. It also means that more air will be trapped inside her hull to resist a capsize if she goes over on her beam-ends.’

‘You are a marvel, FitzRoy. Although I fear you will bankrupt yourself at this rate - we don’t wish to see your name printed in the London Gazette, I’m sure. Shall we speak in your cabin?’

They repaired to the cubby-hole that would be FitzRoy’s home for the next couple of years.

‘So, it seems you have interest enough to get the Beagle sent on whatever track you like.’

‘My uncle, Lord Londonderry, was kind enough to be interested about me.’ FitzRoy though it best to avoid mentioning His Majesty.

‘Well, I for one am glad of it. Let us sincerely hope that you have not made enemies in the process. Now, to business. How many chronometers, ultimately, were you able to withdraw from stores?’

‘Eleven. I have procured a further eleven myself.’

‘Excellent. So the
Beagle
will be better equipped to calculate longitude than any previous vessel to sail from these shores. I want you, FitzRoy, to run a chronometric line around the world. To fix accurately the known points on the surface of the globe
in relation to each other
. Isolated observations are all very well but no one has ever made a complete chain of measurements around the globe before.’

‘That’s wonderful, sir, but that is to be in addition to the South American survey?’

‘Nothing has changed on that account. Use the southern winters to survey the Patagonian coast between Buenos Ayres and Port Desire. Complete the survey of Tierra del Fuego during the summers. And you will be required to provide a full survey of the Falkland Islands as well.’

‘The Falklands as well?’

‘It is not strictly necessary for the Admiralty’s navigational needs, but Buenos Ayres is making noises about inheriting the Spanish claim to the islands. Your presence may act as a deterrent. All ships in the area have been ordered to make a stop there.’

‘All of this is to be completed with the one vessel, sir, in two years?’

‘You will be wasting your time, FitzRoy, if you pursue the infinite number of bays, openings and roads of Tierra del Fuego. Yet I cannot stress sufficiently that no good harbour should be omitted.’

‘There will be no time to waste on elaborate maps, Commander. Plain, distinct roughs with explanatory notes shall suffice. After all, you can hardly fail to improve upon the Spanish charts, which are the product merely of a running view of the shore.’

‘And if it is discovered that I have omitted a navigable harbour?’

‘Then — not to put too fine a point on it - the blame will attach to you. Remember that you are the one who has pursued this commission. There are those who will not be unhappy to see you fail. I suggest that your best course is not to omit one.’

‘I also desire you to pursue another enquiry for me, in the Pacific. A modern and very plausible theory has arisen regarding coral: that reefs do not ascend from the sea bed, but are raised from the summits of extinct volcanoes. I want you to exert every means that ingenuity can devise of discovering at what depth the coral formation begins.’

‘Finally, are you familiar with Alexander Dalrymple’s proposed numerical scale for the recording of weather conditions? Well, I have long considered that wind and weather should be logged on some intelligible scale, right across the Service. Terms such as “fresh” and “moderate” are ambiguous. I have devised two scales, based upon Dalrymple’s, which I should like you to pilot for me. There is a letter code for meteorological observations, and a numerical code for wind strength. Here.’

Beaufort passed a sheaf of papers across the table.

‘It ranges from nought - dead calm - to twelve, that which no canvas could withstand. Hurricane strength. Although I doubt very much that you would be in a position to report anything back to me, were you to encounter force twelve winds. Let us hope, God willing, that the eventuality shall not arise.’

FitzRoy thought back to the storm at Maldonado Bay, which had nearly cost them all their lives. Would that have counted as a twelve on Beaufort’s new scale?

‘It will not incommode us, sir.’

‘Oh, one more thing, FitzRoy. Do you have a surgeon on the Beagle?’

‘There is Bynoe, sir, the assistant surgeon. He has acted as surgeon before. He is young, sir, but a regular trump.’

‘Well, I am afraid he will have to remain assistant surgeon for the duration of the voyage. A surgeon named Robert McCormick shall be joining you. He was in the Arctic with Parry, but was invalided home. I should warn you that he has been invalided home from overseas a further three times.’

FitzRoy’s heart sank. ‘Invalided home’, both men knew, was a euphemism for ‘sacked’. McCormick’s previous captains had clearly found him intolerable.

‘I have met him, and he seems a sound, good fellow at the bottom. Perhaps a trifle brusque - he would have made a fine Army man.’

FitzRoy smiled.

‘He studied natural philosophy at Edinburgh, so he is well qualified to carry out the job of ship’s naturalist.’

‘I already have a naturalist aboard, sir.’

‘Ah, yes, young Mr Darwin. Well, I am afraid that Mr McCormick must take precedence - it is his right, as surgeon. But I am sure that they can rub along together. Perhaps they can be encouraged to concentrate on different areas. Natural philosophy is a wide discipline, is it not?’

‘It is indeed, sir.’

‘I’m sorry, FitzRoy, but it is the price you pay for their lordships’ consent to your commission. You are not the only man in the Service with influence in high places.’

‘And if Mr McCormick were to be invalided home once again, sir?’

‘I should not advise it.’

It was a rueful FitzRoy that followed the hydrographer’s limping progress up the companionway and out into the glare of the maindeck. As their eyes adjusted to the light, they found themselves standing behind Midshipman King, who was crouched mid-instruction with his new charges.

‘Remember to show willing by tailing on to any ropes that are being pulled. Ropes are always coiled out of the way - the way the sun goes round. Right toe, left toe, out in front of you - see? Now, if you’re sent up to loose the sails, be sure to take hold of the shrouds and not the ratlines. When the sails are loosed and set, you will hear the orders given for backing and filling them. It is to keep control of the ship’s course. The orders will sound like Greek at first, I expect.’

‘Not to me they won’t,’ said Musters.

Beaufort smiled indulgently, and turned to FitzRoy. ‘That’s the age at which I started. You, too, I expect.’

‘Near enough, sir.’

Hearing the officers’ voices behind them, the three boys jumped to their feet and saluted smartly.

‘You two younkers — what are your names?’

‘Volunteer First Class Musters, sir!’

‘Volunteer First Class Hellyer, sir!’

‘How old are you?’

‘Eleven, sir!’

‘Twelve, sir!’

‘Is this to be your first voyage?’

‘Yes sir!’

‘Excellent, excellent,’ chuckled Beaufort. ‘Take good care of these two in the south, Commander, for lads like these are the future of the service.’

‘I intend to, sir.’

‘Here — not strictly naval procedure, but I think we might stretch a point, seeing as this is your first trip.’ Beaufort reached into his pocket and extracted a handful of loose change. ‘Hold out your hands.’

He pressed a shiny half-sovereign into each of the two boys’ palms.

‘That’s not fair,’ grumbled King, as Beaufort hobbled off the ship.

‘I had hoped to be posted to a frigate, sir, or some other desirable ship,’ said Robert McCormick, his dark moustache bristling. ‘I am, frankly, wearied and tired out with all the buffeting about one has to endure in a small craft. Ofttimes I’ve had to put up with uncomfortable little vessels on unhealthy stations. But I intend to make my name as a naturalist, sir, which is why I have decided to accept the surgeon’s commission on the Beagle.’

‘I am much obliged to you, Mr McCormick,’ said FitzRoy, drily.

‘Don’t mention it, sir,’ said McCormick, entirely missing the sarcasm.

There was a woodenness about the man, thought FitzRoy, an immobility to his bovine features, which was entirely offset by his waxed military moustache. McCormick’s moustache quivered animatedly when he spoke, and shuddered in time to his every emphatic declaration. It was as if the moustache spoke for him, in some queer disembodied fashion. The contrast with Matthews’s sparse growth struck FitzRoy as faintly ludicrous.

‘Captain Beaufort tells me you have voyaged to the Arctic with Parry in the Hecla.’

‘I did, sir, for my sins, and a more damn-fool expedition was never mounted on the surface of God’s earth. Parry’s plan was to get to the Pole in wheeled boats pulled by trained reindeer. Of course the damned things were too heavy, and the reindeer couldn’t shift ’em. Parry was a fool,’ he said scornfully

FitzRoy wondered what terms his new surgeon would find to describe him behind his back.

‘The axles were buried under a foot of snow. So there we all stood in raccoon-skin caps, hooded jackets, blue breeches and white canvas gaiters, straining like idiots to shift ’em even an inch. We must have looked like a party of elves!’ McCormick suddenly roared with laughter at the memory.

He
has a sense of humour at least,
thought FitzRoy ‘So, tell me, Mr McCormick, how have you occupied your time more recently?’

‘Well, I have been without a ship since ten months. I’ve been having a monstrous good time in London, though - boxing, rat-hunting, fives and four-in-hand driving. I’ve been lodging at my father’s place - the old man has lots of tin. But all good things must come to an end, what? Oh, I say, sir, what’s that?’

The two men were strolling through the lofty white rectangles of the Royal Dockyard, towards quay number two, where the
Beagle
and the
Active
were moored.

‘What’s what?’

‘On your deck, sir. Looks like a gang of Hottentots.’

‘They are Fuegians, Mr McCormick. They have been educated in England at Admiralty expense, and are being returned to their home country to establish a mission.’

‘Extraordinary. Wish I’d known — there’s a feller of my acquaintance runs the Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly. We could have made a pretty penny exhibiting your savages to the general public.’

‘In fact, Mr McCormick, they are very far from the savage state. Three better-mannered and more agreeable souls it would be difficult to find.’

‘Wonders will never cease.’

They went aboard, McCormick’s brisk, stiff military bearing at variance with FitzRoy’s lithe informality. Introductions were made to those officers present on deck, before FitzRoy decided to show the new surgeon the library. They found Stebbing within, entering book titles in a catalogue.

‘I say, sir, there must be over three hundred volumes here,’ enthused McCormick.

‘There are in excess of four hundred.’

‘I must say, though, sir, I’m surprised to see Lamarck here. Should we really be giving house-room to a transmutationist? Beasts evolving into men? Typical of a Frenchman to espouse the most atrocious revolutionary principles and the most dangerous Godless doctrines.’

‘I hold no more with transmutationism than you do, Mr McCormick, but is it not preferable to understand the arguments of one’s enemy than to dismiss them out of hand?’

‘Well,’ snorted McCormick, ‘if there is a halfway house between man and beast, then it’s your Frenchy, and no mistake. Personally, I’d chuck the whole beastly nonsense overboard. Ah, I see you have a copy of Lyell. Another damned fool.’

‘Mr Lyell is one of our foremost geologists. He has expressed an interest in the results of our expedition.’

‘Has he, by Jove? Lyell’s the fellow who devised all that gammon about the world’s geology being the result of internal heat. Well, I studied under Jameson at Edinburgh - a genius, sir — and he has proved conclusively that both granite and basalt are formed by crystallization from a watery soup. The earth’s core is an underground sea — that’s where the flood came from.’