To the Ends of the Earth (50 page)

“You are not needed to give the bride away. Mr East will do that.”

“Mr
East
? The
printer
?”

“Will you listen? Or do you propose to prolong this interview indefinitely?”

There were many replies I could have made to that remark but in choosing the best I missed the opportunity. He had closed his eyes and now went on speaking.

“The officers of the ship will be distributed round the world. Who knows where they will go? In any case, they are at risk. Certainly this old ship will carry them no
farther
. You and Oldmeadow will remain at Sydney Cove. Do you not understand, Mr Talbot? Modest as it may be, Miss Granham will inherit my fortune. But without unimpeachable witnesses and at a distance of eighteen thousand miles from our courts, corrupt as they are—”

“No, they are not! That is outrageous! British justice—”

His eyes had snapped open.

“I say they are! Oh, in respect of money you may rely on them, but they are corrupt in all else by privilege, by land tenure, by a viciously inadequate system of
representation
—”

All this had been uttered on a rising note. But as if the man knew how close to him was the angel of the agony he lowered his voice suddenly in a way which might have seemed comic to me only a few minutes before.

“I need not go into all that, Talbot. After all, I am
talking
to a representative of—well, there. To resume: you
and Oldmeadow will be guarantors of her inheritance by virtue of your position as witnesses of the marriage.”

“I shall be happy to serve the lady in any way I am able—” It came to me, as I said that, that it was true! “Yes indeed, sir. But I trust it may be many years before—”

The trace of hectic had appeared in his cheeks.

“Do not talk nonsense! I have not many days or
perhaps
hours left.”

“The banns—”

“They may be omitted in these circumstances. Let that be an end of the matter.”

We were silent for a while. Then he stirred restlessly. I had half-risen from my seat but he held up his hand.

“I have not finished. I do not care to ask for favours. But now—”

“You may, sir. For the lady’s sake.”

“Mr Summers told me that you claimed at least to believe in ‘fair play’. The phrase is juvenile—”

“The phrase is a good phrase, Mr Prettiman. What is ‘fair play’ in the slang of schoolboys is ‘justice’ among adults.”

“You believe in justice.”

There was another pause. I glanced at the shelf of books above his head. They were severe.

“I am an Englishman.”

“Miss Granham has reported favourably on your progress—”

“My what?”

“I do not know how civilized the
mores
of a colony may be but I suspect the worst. I fear civilization may be sadly to seek. I ask you to see that the lady is treated as she should be in a civilized society.”

“I would count her friendship a privilege, sir. I give you my word I will use every endeavour to protect her.”

He smiled wearily, for his strength was ebbing.

“There are many ways in which she does not need
protection
. But in some things a lady by the unfairness of Nature will always be at a disadvantage. I believe the colony may not yet have accustomed itself to the proper attitude to the female nature.”

“I do not know.”

“One other matter.”

I waited for some time but he was silent.

“Another matter, sir?”

He said nothing but seemed in some discomfort.

“May I not move you to a more comfortable position, sir? This mass of bedclothes round your waist—”

He was moving his head restlessly on the pillow.

“It is not a mass of bedclothing but a gross swelling of the lower abdomen and the upper part of the lower limbs.”

“Good God! Good God!”

“Must every other sentence commence with an
imprecation
? You cannot move me. To move my body even for the most necessary purposes is a torture which is wearing me out and down, down and away.”

He was silent again for a while. Then—

“This other matter. It is confidential. I have searched my conscience and believe that what I do is right. Come close.”

I took my staying hand off the bulkhead and hitched the canvas chair to the bunk. I leaned my head down to his. The odour of the bunk and his body was quite plainly unpleasant. Was this the awful beginnings of decay? I was not well informed in the matter.

“I have a paper for you.”

“Oh?”

“It is a paper signed by me. You see what a case I am in, helpless and dying. People will contest the will—there are always such, relatives so distant they have never before made themselves known. They might well bring a
case that the marriage was not—could not—be
consummated
, that it was void and consequently the lady entitled to nothing.”

There ensued a long pause.

“I do not follow what I am to do, Mr Prettiman.”

He seemed in much discomfort.

“I have written a plain declaration that I have had
carnal
knowledge of the lady during the voyage and before the marriage.”

“Good—”

“You were about to say, sir?”

“Nothing. Nothing.”

His voice was a shout.

“Do you think, boy, that a superstitious rite such as a wedding ceremony means anything to such people as I and she are?”

My mouth was opened to speak, though I do not know what I should have said. For his anger was such that he had hurt himself all over again. He positively howled with pain, as if he were being punished for his blasphemy! I find the recollection amusing enough. For I did not believe in any of the superstitious rites myself and regarded them as
serving
to keep order. Christening, marrying and burying—they are the marks which distinguish men from beasts, that is all.

But the man was recovering.

“There is a green leather case in the upper drawer. Give it to me, if you please.”

I did so. He held it to his chest, took out a folded and sealed paper which he held up close to his eyes.

“Yes. This is it.”

“Why is the paper necessary? I could as easily stand before a court and swear that you had told me how
matters
stood between you and the lady.”

“I do not trust them—that is all.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to speak like a moralist! I felt like saying with all the force at the command of a member of the society which he despised—“You should have thought of that before!” Or—“The superstitious rites are then of some value, sir!” But I did not. This was all the odder, since I felt myself more and more out of sympathy with him and her—with her in particular. A lady, and one whom I had held in some esteem to behave so, like a drab! I did not know whether to laugh or what to do. She was provoking. It was very sad. Her—lapse made me sad and angry.

“I believe, Mr Prettiman, we have no more to say to each other. I presume I shall be told when the
superstitious
rite is to take place?”

He turned his head and looked at me in what seemed to be surprise.

“Of course!”

I put the green leather case back in the drawer and stood up.

“I agree to guard this paper and produce it in the
circumstances
which you envisage. I have no desire to read it.”

“Thank you.”

My bow was hampered. I had not got the door open when he spoke again.

“Mr Talbot.”

“Sir?”

“Miss Granham is unaware of the existence of this paper. I wish her to remain so for as long as possible.”

I bowed again and stumbled out of that fetid hutch.

I found myself standing by the entry to the waist and
staring
at the tattered garment which Mr Brocklebank had drawn round him. I could not tell how I came to be there. The wind was cold and searched me out even through my seaman’s clothing.

There was something particularly disgusting about this furtive, middle-aged sexual congress! He might well be fifty years old, and she—

“Filthy, beastly, lecherous!”

Apparently the old man did not hear but was deep in some contemplation which must have been melancholy, to judge from his expression. I began to reason with myself. Why should I care? I looked at the sealed note in my hand. That, at least, contemptible as I thought it to be, was a duty. I took it to my cabin, wrenched the door open and slammed it behind me. I thrust the document into my bottom drawer, then flung myself into my canvas chair with a force which, had I any of Mr Brocklebank’s substance, would have split it completely.

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

It was Charles Summers.

“Have you a moment to spare?”

“Of course. Will you sit here? On the bunk if you like. I am sorry Phillips has not yet put the clothes together. Everything is so dirty, so foul, so vile! Oh, I am so tired of this voyage! So much water! I wish I could walk on it. Oh, sorry, sorry! Well, what can I do for you?”

He sat down gingerly among the rumpled
bedclothes
.

“I have a proposal to make. Should you care to be a midshipman?”

“Are you serious?”

“Half, shall we say. Let me explain. With only two other lieutenants, Cumbershum and Benét, and one
warrant
officer capable of discharging the same duties as they do—I mean Mr Smiles, the sailing master—”

“I have never understood his position.”

“He is something of an—anomaly, would it be? He is the last of his kind, warranted by the Admiralty at a time when navigation was coming more and more into the hands of the King’s officers. But he is only the third. Mr Askew will stand a watch occasionally. Now if I take a watch myself we can divide the watch-keeping between five and so benefit everyone—”

“Except you! Good Heavens, you spend all your time going about the ship! When do you sleep? I am sure your ceaseless activity cannot be necessary.”

“You are wrong, you know. Is there not a saying among farmers that the best dung is the farmer’s foot? But to resume: if I stand the middle, which by now you must know is—”

“—midnight until four o’clock in the morning.”

“Just so. An officer of the watch has a doggy. Would you care to stand that watch with me as midshipman?”

“Should you leave me in charge?”

“You would do better than poor young Willis. Well. Do you agree?”

“Indeed I do. But you have added four hours to your duties! It is too much. For all that you have cheered me immensely!”

“Why do you need cheering? Is it our dangers?”

“Oh, that! No. I have—been told things. There is a young lady in whom I—It had seemed that she knew more of a criminal connection than she should and—Today
someone said something which has raised the matter in my mind with much pain—so. When do we start?”

“I will get the quartermaster to give you a shake at a quarter to twelve.”

“To stand a watch! Will you give me responsibilities?”

“I might put you in charge of the traverse board.”

“Really, I have not felt so excited since I left home! ‘Mr Speaker. To those of us who have actually stood the middle in one of His Majesty’s ships of the line—’”

“Suppose when on watch you commit some awful error? ‘Mr Speaker. To those of us who have actually been mastheaded in one of His Majesty’s ships of the line—’”

“I can see you are an awful tyrant when roused.”

“Indeed.”

“By the way, how is Coombs getting on with the
charcoal
?”

“They have enough. Captain Anderson is only waiting for the sea to moderate a little more and he will give the order for the shoe to be mended.”

“I must see this foremast with its shoe.”

“Now you will go wandering where you should not. Do you want a direct order?”

“That would tempt me. But do you expect the weather to moderate even further?”

“Yes. Now. During the day I recommend that you get at least four hours’ sleep to make up for what you are going to lose during the night. In fact, I believe I shall make that an order.”

“Aye aye, sir!”

He nodded, and went away. I sat for a while and was ridiculously excited. The prospect was like that of
childhood
, when the idea of
staying up all night
has a
mysterious
attraction about it—the experiencing of how one day actually changes into another. There was something—
adult about it! There was an invitation to the world of men who are doing this strange thing not as a dare or
discovery
but because it is their duty. They are masters of the dark hours. It has about it something of the attraction of a secret society! Indeed, my main problem at the time seemed to be how to find occupation for myself between then and midnight. I ate a meal and heard from Bates all about the short commons to which we should soon be reduced. I smiled icily at Miss Granham in the lobby but she did not appear to notice. I “got my head down” since I was now a probationary seaman, as it were, with a
prescriptive
right to the language of the sea, and passed as much as two hours asleep of the four which Charles had stipulated. I settled down to write letters. I tried to
compose
one to Miss Chumley, the very sight of whom had turned my world and my future upside down, but could not say what I meant. For I could not say in so many words, “Are you corrupted?” Every time that lovely and innocent image came before the eyes of my heart, they refused to see what loathsome conjunction I tried to put before them. Besides, what was the use? There was no guarantee that the letter would ever be delivered. I abandoned the attempt, therefore, thought of writing verses instead, thought of Mr Benét’s verses, thought of Glaucus and Diomede, looked through my books, found the spine of
Meditations among the Tombs
was cracked and wondered how it had happened. I read the
Iliad
until my eyes were heavy. Stretched out in my bunk, I fell asleep again, and woke only when a voice spoke in my ear and the quartermaster shook me. The lamp was low and I turned it down to the veriest bud—then went out.

The ship was a ghost, a spirit of silver and ivory. Before me the pool of the waist was full of light to be waded through. I went out, and as I turned to go up the ladders the waxing moon blazed in my face. The sails were unbearable,
their whiteness seeming to invade the very apple of the eyes. I climbed up and was overtaken by men trotting aft to stand at the wheel or as messengers with the officers of the watch. Charles came up the ladder and took over formally from Mr Cumbershum. The ship’s bell rang eight times.

“Mr Midshipman Talbot reporting for duty, sir.”

“It is good to have you here, Edmund. We might read by this light, don’t you think?”

“Easily. All the lanterns are out.”

“The central lantern is out, the quarter lanterns turned down as far as possible. We must conserve oil, as we must conserve so many things.”

I did not know what to say to this, for, as the illegal possessor and nominal purchaser of an oil lamp which at that moment was burning in my cabin, I felt the subject to be a delicate one.

“Where are we?”

“You mean our position? I wish I could tell you! We know our latitude if that is any comfort. It is all Columbus ever knew.”

“The longitude?”

“The chronometers—I beg you will keep this to
yourself
—can no longer be trusted. After this length of time the accumulation of their rates is ridiculous. Besides, water has been clean over them.”

“Did you not bring them up one deck?”

I thought Charles seemed a trifle uncomfortable at the memory.

“I—we—it might have been the thing to do. But it might have made matters worse. As far as the longitude is concerned we must consider it to be what you might call ‘assisted dead reckoning’.”

“With the accent on the ‘dead’!”

He thrust out a hand and grasped the rail—then snatched his hand away as if the wood had been hot.

“I should not have done that! In a grown man it is a vile superstition!”

“My dear fellow, you are too scrupulous. If touching wood is any comfort, why not touch wood, say I!”

“Well, there it is. Navigation is still an inexact art, though it may be improved. I cannot think how, though.”

“Could not the Admiralty co-opt Mr Benét? Or
examine
the works of Dean Swift a little more closely?”

“I do not know what Dean Swift has to do with
navigation
. As for Mr Benét, you are only too right. He believes he can find our longitude without relying on our three damp chronometers!”

“We are lost then!”

“No, no. We are somewhere in an area about ten miles broad and fifty miles long.”

“I call that being lost!”

“Well, you would. You are just like me when I was first a midshipman and felt my foot was on the rung of
however
short a ladder—for to be a lieutenant at that time seemed to me a notable achievement—”

“So it is, so it is.”

“My seamanship was learnt already, for there was little about the management of a ship I did not know. I am not boasting.”

“It is what Mr Gibbs told me the other day. ‘A son of a gun, every hair a rope yarn, every tooth a marline spike, every finger a fishhook and his blood Stockholm tar!’”

Charles laughed aloud.

“Hardly that! But I knew nothing of the theoretical and computational aspect of navigation. One morning the first lieutenant appeared with his own sextant. Mr Bellows, he was. We were in Plymouth Sound—this was before they built the breakwater, so we had a clear horizon to the south. Mr Bellows showed me how to handle the
instrument
. When he had done he said, ‘Now, Mr Summers.
Oblige me by using this sextant to find out where we are by the time of local midday.’ ‘Why, Mr Bellows,’ said I, thinking he was having a game with me, ‘we are in Plymouth Sound.’ ‘Prove it,’ he said. ‘There’s this
sextant
, chronometers in the hold and Mr Smith will be kind enough to lend you his pocket watch.’ ‘But, Mr Bellows, sir,’ I said, ‘we’re at anchor!’ ‘You heard me,’ he said and went away.”

“You are remembering word for word!”

“Indeed it is written on my heart. You cannot think with what careful hands I held that precious instrument—no, Edmund, you cannot! It was not just a sextant. It was—I do not know how to say what I mean.”

“Believe me, I understand you.”

“I wonder. I am sure you try. But I took the height of the sun—oh, dozens of times, I think, both sides of
midday
. I am not a
tremulous
character, Edmund—”

“No indeed!”

“I believe I am rather stolid, in fact. But as the
measurements
increased then decreased, I really found it difficult to stop myself—crying, trembling, my teeth chattering or myself laughing out loud with whatever it was—No, you cannot possibly understand.”

“You had found your vocation.”

“There I was, picture me, taking the sun’s height again and again and young Smith noting down the time of each shot by his pocket watch—seconds first, then minutes, then the hour: and after that, the angle—seconds, minutes, degrees. Then I—Why labour it? I searched through Norie’s
Epitome of Navigation
. I revere that book next to the Bible, I believe.”

“I am all at sea in every way.”

“So I worked out our position, and yes, it was in Plymouth Sound! I laid it off on the chart—crossed lines, each about a tenth of an inch long and a circle drawn
through them by means of the finest pencil in the ship. When Mr Bellows came aboard again I jumped out of the sailing master’s cabin, stood to attention and saluted. ‘If you please, Mr Bellows, I have worked out our position by means of the sextant, the chronometers and Norie.’ ‘Let me see,’ said he, ducking into the cabin where the chart was spread out on the table. ‘Lord, Mr Summers, have you a microscope? This is hardly visible to the naked eye. Spectacles will have to do, I suppose.’ He put on his spectacles and had another look. ‘That will be our
quarterdeck
,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised if you haven’t nailed this cabin. Was you on the roof when you took the sight?’ ‘No, sir,’ I said.

“Then he felt through his pockets and fished out a stub of pencil as thick as his thumb. He held it more like a
dagger
than anything. He scrawled a huge circle round my ‘position’. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I think we can say we aren’t up on Dartmoor nor more than five miles outside the Eddystone Rocks, but where we are inside that circle the Lord Himself only knows.’”

“He was unkind.”

Charles laughed.

“Oh no. It was a lesson I did not like but I came to value it. I have passed the lesson on to young Tommy Taylor who stands in need of it and imagines we know latitude to the width of a plank, though otherwise he is your true ‘Son of a Gun’ and will do better than any of us in the service.”

“The lesson stressed the necessity for caution, I suppose.”

“Just so. And I have seldom found circumstances in the service where caution did not enable me to detect the correct line of duty.”

“That is why you do not want the foremast restored to use?”

“But I do want it restored! And if the wind fell away little by little to a flat calm—”

“Why little by little?”

“A sudden fall leaves a wild sea with no means of
managing
a ship in it. That would be no time for tampering with the shoring and staying of the mast.”

“This moonlight—one could bath in it—swim in it. Was there ever anything as beautiful? Nature is trying to seduce us into Belief in every possible way, into every possible philosophical anodyne.”

“I do not know the word.”

“When am I to learn celestial navigation?”