Read Aub-Mat 08 - The Ionian Mission Page 11


  They ran through the earlier, more routine cases with remarkable speed: and the sentences to death or to being flogged round the fleet with two, three and even four hundred lashes (which amounted to much the same thing, on occasion) plunged Jack’s heart in gloom. Then, it appearing that the clerk accused of comforting the King’s enemies, a most unusual case and no doubt the reason for this most unusual sitting, had killed himself, the court proceeded to some of these nasty wardroom quarrels. In a way Jack was relieved: he knew nothing of the clerk’s case, but it might well have proved as monstrous as the one he had heard in Bombay, when a surgeon, an able, respected, but free-thinking man, was hanged for saying that he approved certain aspects of the revolution in France; and he wished to hear no more of the ghastly solemnity with which the judge-advocate told a wretched-culprit that he was to be put to death - the more so since he knew that the Commander-in-Chief, a man as hard to others as he was to himself, would probably confirm every sentence.

  The disgruntled officers followed one another in a most disagreeable public washing of very dirty linen. Fellowes, the captain of the Thunderer, appeared no less than three times, either as accused or accuser, a big, angry-looking man with a red face and black hair; Charlton of the Superb and Marriot of the Defender twice each. The court dealt with these cases tenderly: often, when the proceedings were resumed after the members’ deliberation, the judge-advocate would say ‘The court having maturely and deliberately considered the evidence finds these charges partly proved: the sentence of this court is that you be reproved for petulance and admonished to be more circumspect and not to offend in a like manner for the future; and you are accordingly hereby reproved and so admonished.’ But one young man was dismissed his ship and one, who had been provoked into giving Fellowes a very rash answer, was broke - dismissed the service.

  They were both from the Thunderer, and the conclusive evidence, the interpretation of the lieutenant’s attitude and unwise gesture, came from Harte, who spoke with evident ill-will. They turned to yet another case, a plain drunken murder on the lower deck this time, and as Jack listened sadly to the familiar evidence he saw Martin watching with a tense, shocked expression on his white face. ‘If he wanted to see the dirty side of the Navy, he could not have come to a better place,’ he reflected, as a seaman bearing witness rambled on: ‘Which I heard the deceased abusing of the prisoner in a most dreadful manner; he first called him a Dutch galliot-built bugger, damned him, and asked how he came to be in the ship, or who brought him into her; then he damned the person whoever did bring him. I could not afterwards make out what the deceased said, as he was in a horrid passion, but Joseph Bates, yeoman of the sheets, bade him kiss his arse - he was no seaman...”

  While the earlier cases were being heard Stephen was with Dr Harrington, the Physician of the Fleet, an old and esteemed acquaintance, a learned man with very sound ideas on hygiene and preventive medicine but unhappily somewhat too gentle and timid for full effectiveness at sea. They talked of the squadron’s remarkably good state of health: no scurvy, Sicily and its orange-groves being near at hand; little venereal disease, the ships being so rarely in port and the Admiral forbidding all but the most unexceptionable women aboard and very few even of them; no casualties from action, of course, and surprisingly few of the maladies usual to seamen, except in Thunderer, Superb, and Defender. ‘I put it down largely to the use of wind-sails to bring at least some fresh air below,’ said Harrington, ‘to the continual serving-out of antiscorbutics, and to the provision of wholesome wine instead of their pernicious rum; although it must be admitted that happiness, comparative happiness, is a most important factor. In this ship, where there is often dancing on the forecastle, and stage-plays, and an excellent band, we have almost no sickness: in the three ships I have mentioned, where the diet, the wind-sails and the antiscorbutics are exactly the same, the surgeons have their hands full.’

  ‘Indeed, the effect of the mind on the body is extraordinarily great,’ observed Stephen. ‘I have noticed it again and again; and we have innumerable authorities, from Hippocrates to Dr Cheyne. I wish we could prescribe happiness.’

  ‘I wish that we could prescribe common sense,’ said Harrington. ‘That might be at least a first step towards it. But there is so strong a resistance to change in the official mind, with so stubborn and dogged a clinging to tradition, however evil, in the seamen, that sometimes I grow discouraged. Yet I must admit that the Admiral, though a difficult patient himself, supports me in all the reforms I try to introduce.’

  ‘A difficult patient?’

  ‘I should scarcely go too far if I were to say an impossible patient. Disobedient, masterful, doses himself. I have ordered him home I do not know how many times: I might as well have spoken to the ship’s figurehead. I regret it extremely. But he tells me that he has consulted you before, you must know what kind of a patient he is.’

  ‘What is his present state?’

  Harrington made a hopeless gesture. ‘When I have said that there is a tabes of the inferior members and a generalized severe and progressive lowering of the whole constitution I have said all I can usefully say.’ He nevertheless went on to give a more detailed picture of decline: great loss of physical strength in spite of adequate digestive and eliminatory functions, a wasting of the legs, little or no exercise, occasional seasickness - disturbing after so many years at sea and dangerous in such a reduced condition -lack of sleep, extreme irascibility.’

  ‘Is there any imbecility of will?’

  ‘Heavens, no! His mind is as sharp and clear as ever it was. But his task is beyond the powers of a man his age - it is beyond the powers of a man of any age, that is not in perfect health. Can you imagine dealing not only with the management of a large and often troublesome fleet, but with all the affairs of the Mediterranean as well?-Particularly of the eastern Mediterranean, with its devious, shifting politics? He is at it fourteen and fifteen hours a day, hardly finding time to eat, still less to digest. And all this is required of a man whose education has been that of a sailor, no more: it is required of him for years on end. I wonder the strain has not killed him before this. My prescriptions, my bark and steel, may do some good; but short of going home there is only one thing that will set him squarely on his feet again.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘Why, an action with the French, a victorious fleet-action with the French. You spoke of the effect of mind upon matter just now: I am convinced that if the French were to come out of Toulon, and if they could be brought to action, Sir John would throw off his weakness; he would eat again, he would take exercise, he would be happy, vigorous, and young. I remember the change in Lord Howe after the First of June. He was about seventy and old for his age, sitting in an elbow-chair on the old Charlotte’s quarterdeck at the beginning of the battle, mortally tired from want of sleep: by the end he was in the prime of life, following every move, giving the clear exact orders that won the victory. And so he continued, for years and years. Black Dick, we used to call him . . .’ Dr Harrington looked at his watch. ‘However,’ he said, ‘you will be seeing our patient in a little while, and perhaps you will put your finger on some peccant organ that I have missed. But before that I should like to show you a very odd case; a case, or rather a cadaver, that puzzles me.’

  He led the way below, and there in a small triangular room lit by a scuttle, lay the case in question, a young man arched backwards so that only his head and heels touched the deck, his face set in so agonized a grin that his mouth reached almost to his ears. He was still in irons, and the ship being on an even keel the broad leg-shackles kept him in position.

  ‘He was the Maltese clerk,’ said Harrington, ‘a linguist employed by the Admiral’s secretary for Arabic documents and so on. There was some question of his having made a wrong use of them. I do not know the details, but they would have come out at the court-martial had he lived to stand his trial. What do you make of it?’

  ‘I should have said tetanus without hes
itation,’ said Stephen, feeling the corpse. ‘Here is the most characteristic opisthotonos you could possibly wish, the trismus, the risus sardonicus, the early rigor. Unless indeed he could have taken a wild overdose of St Ignatius’ beans, or a decoction of their principle.’

  ‘Just so,’ said Harrington. ‘But how could he have come at the draught with his hands in irons? It puzzles me.’

  ‘Pass the word for Dr Maturin - pass the word for Dr Maturin.’ The cry ran along the decks from the Admiral’s cabin and reached them as they stood gazing at the corpse.

  Stephen had seen a good deal of the Admiral in earlier years, when Sir John was a member of the Board of Admiralty, a junior lord who had to do with Intelligence. He knew the reason for Stephen’s presence in the Mediterranean and he said, ‘I understand your possible rendezvous on the French coast is not for the immediate future, and that you wish to go to Barcelona before that. Now as far as Barcelona is concerned, there is no difficulty: any one of the victuallers can set you down and bring you back to Mahon when you wish. But the French coast is clearly a matter for a man-of-war, and as I am very short of sloops and avisoes, I have it in contemplation to make the return of one of the ships of the line to Mahon coincide with your visit. Perhaps the Thunderer is most in need.’

  ‘If her need is not particularly urgent, sir,” said Stephen, ‘I should infinitely prefer it if the Worcester might be sent. Indeed, from my point of view that would be the ideal solution. Taking me and those I may bring with me off that coast is likely to be a delicate business, and Captain Aubrey is used to expeditions of this kind: we have nearly always sailed together. He is also a very discreet man, which is a point of great importance for any future undertaking of a similar character.’ The pug had been staring at Stephen from the time he came in, sniffing in his direction: now she walked across the deck, bowing and wagging what tail she possessed. She made a heavy spring into his lap, and sat there wheezing, gazing into his face and smelling strong.

  ‘I know he is a fine seaman, and no one can possibly question his courage,’ said the Admiral, with something like a smile lighting his grey face, ‘but I do not believe that I have heard him called discreet before.’

  ‘Perhaps I should have added the qualification at sea. Captain Aubrey is very discreet at sea.’

  ‘Very well,’ said the Admiral, ‘I shall see what can be done.’ He put on his spectacles, made a note, held it at arm’s length, and placed it on one of the many heaps of exactly-squared documents. Then, wiping his spectacles, he said, ‘Tabby likes you, I see: she is a rare judge of character. I am very glad that you are come out, Maturin; I am sadly at a loss for intelligence, although Mr Allen, my secretary, has gathered a certain amount of local talent, and we had Sir Joseph’s colleague, Mr Waterhouse, until the French caught him on shore and shot him. That was a shocking loss.’

  ‘Did he know that I was coming out?’

  ‘He knew that a gentleman was coming, no more. But if he had known that the gentleman was Dr Maturin, I do not think you need fear any disclosure: Waterhouse was the most secret man I have ever known, though he seemed so open - volte sciolto, pensieri stretti indeed. Allen and I learnt a great deal from him. But even so, we are often far to seek, and the French have some very clever fellows in Constantinople and Egypt; and even in Malta, I am afraid. Allen had a Maltese clerk who must have been selling them copies of our papers for months before we caught him. They will be trying him today,’ he said, glancing upwards to the captain’s great cabin, where the court-martial sat, ‘and I must admit I am most uneasy about the outcome. We cannot ask a gathering of English sea-officers to accept the raison d’Etat; yet we cannot hang him without their sentence: on the other hand we cannot produce the documents - there is far too much loose talking already - nor can we gag the fellow to prevent him from giving evidence that will reveal too much. How I hope Allen will handle the matter cleverly; he came along surprisingly under Mr Waterhouse’s tuition.’

  ‘I am sure he did,’ said Stephen. ‘I understand Mr Allen is an able, determined man.’

  ‘He is both, thank God: and he does his very best against the interlopers who make a difficult situation even worse.’

  ‘You allude to the gentlemen of the Foreign Office, I collect?’

  ‘Yes. And to those from Lord Weymouth’s service. The army gives me a certain amount of trouble too, with strange unauthorized alliances and promises, but that is only in Sicily and Italy, whereas the consuls and the people in the consulates are to be found everywhere, each with his own little plot and his local allies, trying to put in a ruler of his own, particularly in the smaller Barbary States ... bless me, you would think that we were pursuing half a dozen different policies at once, with no central direction or authority. They order these things better in France.’

  Stephen mastered a strong desire to contradict and said, ‘Now, sir, by no means the least important reason for my being aboard this ship is to consult with Dr Harrington about your health. I have heard his views: now I must examine you.’

  ‘Another time,’ said the Admiral. ‘I go along well enough for the moment: anno Domini and too much paper-work is the only trouble - I have not half an hour to call my own. But Mungo’s Cordial keeps me in reasonable trim. I understand my own constitution.’

  ‘Please to take off your coat and breeches,’ said Stephen impatiently. ‘Personal inclination is neither here nor there: the health of the Commander-in-Chief is of great concern to the entire fleet, to the entire nation. Nor is it to be left in unqualified hands. Let us hear no more of Mungo’s Cordial.’

  No single peccant organ did he find in his long and careful examination, but rather a general malfunction of the entire being, harassed beyond its power of endurance. ‘When I have consulted with Dr Harrington,’ he said at last, ‘I shall bring some physic over, and I will see it drunk. But I must tell you, sir, the French are the cure for disease.’

  ‘You are in the right of it, Doctor,’ cried the Admiral. ‘I am sure you are in the right of it.’

  ‘Is there any probability of their coming out in the next two or three months? I say two or three months advisedly, sir.’

  ‘I believe there is. But what haunts me is the thought that they may slip out without our knowing. What the gentlemen in London cannot be made to understand is that the blockade of a port like Toulon is a very chancy thing. The French have but to carry their telescopes up to the heights behind the town when the wind blows hard in the north - when we are blown off our station - to see how we bear and so avoid us. With a northerly breeze the air is almost always clear, and they can see for fifty miles up there. I know that two of their ships slipped out last month, and there may be more. If their fleet escaped me it would break my heart; much more than that, it might turn the scale of the war. And time is against me: the squadron is fast wearing out. Every time the mistral blows we lose some spars, our precious masts are sprung and our ships strain even more, while the French sit tight in port, building as fast as ever they can. If the French don’t beat us, the weather will.’ As he put on his clothes he nodded to the deck above and said, ‘They are taking a devilish long time about it.’

  He sat at his desk again, collecting his thoughts. ‘I will deal with these while we wait for Mr Allen,’ he said, breaking the seal of a letter. He stared at it, said ‘I must get stronger spectacles. Read me this, will you, Maturin? If it is what I hope for, I must begin preparing my answer at once.’

  ‘It is from Mohammed Ali, Pasha of Egypt,’ said Stephen, taking the letter and helping the pug on to his knee again. ‘It was dated from Cairo on the second of this month, and it runs, “To the excellent among the chiefs of the Christian Powers, the Moderator of the Princes of the religion of Jesus, the Possessor of sage counsel and luminous and abundant talent, the Expounder of the truth, the Model of courtesy and politeness, our true and real friend, Thornton, Admiral of the English fleet. May his end be happy, and his course marked with brilliant and great events. After many compli
ments to your Excellency, we inform you, most illustrious friend, that we have received your kind letters translated into Arabic, and have read them, and understand your advice (as beautifully expressed as it is wise) respecting the management and defence of our ports. Your assurance that you preserve a regard for an old and sincere friend, and your sage counsels, have given us infinite content and joy. You shall ever have proofs of our abundant friendship and of our respectful attention; and we implore God to give effect thereto, and to preserve you ever in respect and esteem.” ‘

  ‘Civil,’ said the Admiral. ‘But he evades the issue, of course: not a word about the real point of my communication.’

  ‘I see that he speaks of letters in Arabic.’

  ‘Yes. In principle the Navy writes to foreigners in English; but where I want things done quick I send them unofficial copies in a language they can understand whenever I can. Even without that wretched Maltese we have clerks for Arabic and Greek: French we can manage for ourselves, and that answers for most other purposes; but we are very much at a loss for Turkish. I should giye a great deal for a really reliable Turkish translator. Now this one, if you will be so good.’

  ‘From the Pasha of Barka. He gives no date, but begins, “Thanks to God alone! To the Admiral of the English fleet, peace be to you, etc. We are told of the amicable way in which you treat our people, and we are informed of the truth of it, and that you deal friendly with the Moors. We shall serve you in any thing that may be possible with the greatest pleasure. Before this time another Pasha had the command; but now he is dead, and I have the command; and everything that you may be in want of will be attended to, please God. The Consul of your nation residing here treats us in a very bad way, and we wish that he may behave and speak with us in a better manner, and we will act accordingly, as we always did. It is customary, when a new Pasha is appointed, to send some person to congratulate him. Mohammed, Pasha of Barka.” ‘