They said nothing as they walked along the road. Stephen reflected upon Sophie's confinement: he had not been present, but he understood from his colleagues that it had been unusually difficult and prolonged—a bad presentation—yet there had been no essential lesion. He also reflected upon Jack's life at Ashgrove Cottage; and standing before the fire in the Crown, a fine great, posting-inn on the main Portsmouth road, he said, 'Were we to speak generally, we might say that upon the whole sailors, after many years of their unnatural, cloistered life, tend to regard the land as Fiddler's Green, a perpetual holiday; and that their expectations cannot be attempted to be fulfilled. What the ordinary landsman accepts as the common lot, the daily round of domestic ills, children, responsibilities, the ordinary seaman is apt to look upon as a disappointment of his hopes, an altogether exceptional trial, and an invasion of his liberty.'
'I catch your drift, old Stephen,' said Jack with a smile, 'and there is a great deal in what you say. But not every ordinary seaman has Mrs Williams to live with him. I am not complaining, mark you. She is not a bad sort of a woman at all; she does her best according to her own lights, and she is truly devoted to the children. The trouble is that I had somehow got the wrong notion of marriage. I had thought there was more friendship and confidence and unreserve in it than the case allows. I am not criticizing Sophie in the least degree, you understand—'
'Certainly not.'
'—but in the nature of things . . . The fault is entirely on my side, I am sure. When you are in command, you get so sick of the loneliness, of playing the great man and so on, that you long to break out of it; but in the nature of things it don't seem possible.' He relapsed into silence.
After a while Stephen said, 'So if you were ordered to sea, brother, I collect you would not rage and curse, as being snatched away from domestic felicity—the felicity, I mean, of a parent guiding his daughters' first interesting steps?'
'I should kiss the messenger,' Jack.
'This I had supposed for some time now,' murmured Stephen.
'For one thing, I should be on full pay,' continued Jack, 'and for another, there would be a chance of prize-money, and I might be able to give them portions.' At the word prize-money the old piratical look gleamed in his bright blue eye and he straightened to his full height. 'And indeed I have some hopes of a ship. I pepper the Admiralty with letters, of course, and some days ago I wrote to Bromley: there is a frigate fitting out in the Dockyard, the old Diane, doubled and braced with Snodgrass's diagonals. I even pester Old Jarvie from time to time, though he don't love me. Oh, I have half a dozen irons in the fire—I suppose you have not been up to anything, Stephen? Not another Surprise, with an envoy for the East Indies?'
'How come you to ask such a simple question, Jack? Hush: do not gape, but look privily towards the stair. There is a most strikingly handsome woman.'
Jack glanced round, and there in fact was a most strikingly handsome woman, young, spry, a lady very much alive, wearing a green riding-habit; she was aware of being looked at, and she moved with even more grace than nature had provided.
He turned heavily back to the fire. 'I have no use for your women,' he said. 'Handsome or otherwise.'
'I never expected you to utter so weak a remark,' said Stephen. 'To lump all women together in one undiscriminated heap is as unphilosophical as to say . . . '
'Gentlemen,' said the host of the Crown, 'your dinner is on the table, if you please to walk in.'
It was a good dinner, but even the soused hog's face did not restore Captain Aubrey's philosophy, nor give his expression the old degree of cheerfulness that Stephen had known outlast privation, defeat, imprisonment and even the loss of his ship.
After the first remove, which had been entirely taken up with memories of earlier commissions and former shipmates, they spoke of Mrs Williams's affairs. That lady, having lost her man of business by death, had been unfortunate in her choice of a new one, a gentleman with a scheme of investment that must infallibly yield seventeen and a half per cent. Her capital had been engulfed and with it her estate, though up until the present she still retained the house whose rent paid the interest on the mortgage. 'I cannot blame her,' said Jack. 'I dare say I should have done the same myself: even ten per cent would have been wonderfully tempting. But I wish she had not lost Sophie's dowry too. She did not choose to transfer it until the Michaelmas dividends were due, and in decency we could hardly press her, so it all went, being in her name. I mind the money, of course, but even more than that I mind its making Sophie unhappy. She feels she is a burden, which is the greatest nonsense. But what can I say? I might as well talk to the cathead.'
'Allow me to pour you another glass of this port,' said Stephen. 'It is an innocent wine, neither sophisticated nor muddy, which is rare in these parts. Tell me, who is the Miss Herschel of whom you spoke with such warm approbation?'
'Ah, now, that is another case altogether: there is a woman who bears out all you say about heaps,' cried Jack. 'There is a woman you can talk to as one rational being to another. Ask her the measure of an arc whose cosine is nought, and instantly she replies pi upon two: it is all there, in her head. She is sister to the great Mr. Herschel.'
'The astronomer?'
'Just so. He honoured me with some most judicious remarks on refraction when I addressed the Royal Society, and that is how I came to know her. She had already read my paper on the Jovian moons, was more than civil about it, and suggested a quicker way of working my heliocentric longitudes. I go to see her every time she comes down to Newman's observatory, which is pretty often, and we sit there either sweeping for comets all night or talking about instruments. She and her brother must have made some hundreds in their time. She understands telescopes from clew to earring, and it was she who showed me how to figure a speculum, and where to get my superfine Pomeranian sludge. And it is not mere theory: I have seen her walking round and round a post in Newman's stable yard for a good three hours without a break, putting the last touches to a six-inch mirror—it will never do to take your hand from the surface at that stage, you know—taking snuff from a saucer every hundred paces. An admirable woman; you would love her, Stephen. And she sings, too—hits the note plumb in the middle, as pure as the Carlotta.'
'If she is Mr. Herschel's sister, I presume she is a lady of a certain age?'
'Oh, yes, she must be sixty or so: she could never have come by such a knowledge of double stars in less. Sixty at least. Yet it is all one. Whenever I come home from a night with Miss Herschel there are wry looks, a tolerably frigid welcome.'
'Since it has physical effects, the sorrow and woe that is in marriage no doubt belongs to the province of the physician,' said Stephen. 'But I am as little acquainted with it as I am with gardening, or domestic economy.'
He was brought nearer acquainted the next morning, when he walked up to breakfast at the cottage. He was far too early, and the first sight that met his eye was the twins flinging their pap about and shrieking as they did so, while their grandmother, protected by a coarse canvas bib and apron, endeavoured to feed them with a spoon and little Cecilia wallowed in the bowl itself; he recoiled into the arms of the servant-girl carrying a basket of malodorous cloths, and worse might have happened if Sophie, suddenly appearing from above, had not whipped him away into the garden.
After a little general conversation from which it appeared that Jack had enjoyed his dinner, had come home singing, and was now grinding the coffee himself, she said, 'Oh, Stephen, how I wish you could help him to a ship. He is so unhappy here. He spends hours up on the hill, looking at the sea through his telescope, and it breaks my heart. Even if it were only for a short cruise—the winter is coming on, and the damp is so bad for his wound—any sort of ship at all, even if it were only a transport, like dear Mr. Pullings.'
'How I wish I could, my dear; but what is the voice of a ship's surgeon in the councils of the great? said Stephen, with a veiled though piercing glance to see whether any of her husband's knowledge of his
double character had been sacrificed to marital confidence. Her next words and her totally unconscious air reassured him: she said, 'We saw in the paper that you were called in when the Duke of Clarence was ill, and I thought that perhaps a word from you . . .'
He said, 'Honey, the duke knows Jack very well, by reputation—we spoke of his action with the Cacafuego—but he also knows that recommending Jack for a command would be the worst service he could do him. His Highness is in bad odour with the Admiralty.'
'But surely they could not refuse the King's own son?'
'They are terrible men at the Admiralty, my dear.'
Before she could reply the church clock of Chilton Admiral told the hour, and on the third stroke Jack's hall of 'Coffee's up' followed by his manly form and some remarks about the wind having backed two points in the night—heavy rain for sure—broke up their conference.
Breakfast was spread in the parlour, and they walked into a fine smell of coffee, toast and wood-smoke: the ham stood on the table, flanked by Jack's own radishes, each the size of a moderate pippin, and a solitary egg. 'There is the great advantage of living in the country,' he said. 'You get your vegetables really fresh. And that is our own egg, Stephen! Do help yourself. Sophie's crab-apple jelly is by your side. Damn that chimney; it will not draw when the air is anything south of west. Stephen, let me pass you an egg.'
Mrs Williams brought Cecilia in, so starched that she held her arms from her sides, like an imperfectly-articulated doll. She came and stood by Stephen's chair, and while the others were busily wondering why there was no news from the rectory, where the birth of a child had been hourly expected these many days past, she told him loud and clear that they never had coffee except on birthdays and when there had been a victory, and that her uncle Aubrey usually drank small beer, whereas her aunt and grandmama drank milk: if he liked, she would butter his toast for him. She had buttered a good deal of his coat too before Mrs Williams, with a delighted shriek, plucked her away, remarking that there never was such a forward child for her years; Cecilia, her mother, could never have buttered a piece of toast so prettily at that age.
Jack's attention was elsewhere; his ear was cocked; his cup was poised; several times he looked at his watch. 'The post!' exclaimed Mrs Williams at the thundering double knock on the door, and Jack made a visible effort to sit still in his chair until the servant appeared, saying 'A letter and a book, sir, if you please, and a shilling to pay.'
Jack felt in his pocket, frowned, and called across the table, 'Have you a shilling in change, Stephen? Here's nothing small.'
Stephen too plunged his hand into his breeches and came up with a mixed bag of currency, English, French and Spanish. 'The gentleman has three gold pieces,' said Cecilia, 'and a large quantity of silver.' But Stephen was deaf: he picked out twelve pence and handed them over, saying, 'Never mind me, I beg.'
'Well, if you will all forgive me . . .' said Jack, breaking the seal. Mrs Williams craned her neck to make out all she could from her indifferent point of vantage, but before she could move to a better, her curiosity was satisfied. 'Oh,' said Jack, throwing the letter down, 'it is only that fellow Bromley. I always knew he was a rake; now I know he is a scrub into the bargain. However, here is the Naval Chronicle. That is always worth reading. My dear, Stephen's cup is empty.' He turned first to the appointments and promotions. 'Goate is made post at last; I am heartily glad of it.' Considerations upon the merits and demerits of Captain Goate and other acquaintances, also made post. Then, after a calculating pause, Jack said, 'You know, Stephen, our losses last year were not as heavy as I made out last night. Listen: Jupiter, 50, wrecked in Vigo Bay; Leda, 38, wrecked off Milford Haven; Crescent, 36, wrecked off Jutland; Flora, 32, wrecked off Holland; Meleager, 36, wrecked on Barebush Cay; Astraea, 32, wrecked off Anagado. Only five frigates, you see. And as for the post-ships, only Banterer, 22, wrecked in the St Lawrence; Laurel, 22, taken by the Cannonière, 50—you remember the Cannonière, Stephen? I pointed her out to you once, when we were looking into Brest. An ancient old ship, built somewhere about 1710, but an amazing fine sailer; she can still give most of our heavy frigates top gallants on a bowline. Stephen, what's amiss?'
Stephen was gazing through the acrid smoke at Cecilia, who, bored with the conversation, had opened the clock's door with her greasy hands to get at the pendulum, a heavy jar of quicksilver.
'Oh, let the poor little treasure be,' said Mrs Williams, looking at her granddaughter with the fondest admiration.
'Madam,' said Stephen, his heart in pain for the exquisite mechanism, 'she will do herself a mischief. That quicksilver is most delicately poised; furthermore it is poison.'
'Cecilia,' said Jack, 'cut along now. Run away and play.'
Contention, tears, Mrs Williams's nimble protective tongue, and Sophie led her niece from the room. Mrs Williams was not at all pleased, but in the silence the sound of the passing-bell came clear from the church; it instantly diverted her mind, and she cried, 'That must be for poor Mrs Thwaites. She was due last week, and they sent for the man-midwife last night. There, Captain Aubrey.' These last words were delivered with an inimical jerk of her head, a retaliation, as it were, for his list of male wreckage and death, an assertion of women's sacrifice.
Sophie returned with the news that a horseman was approaching the cottage. 'It is news of poor Mrs Thwaites, no doubt,' said Mrs Williams, looking hard at Jack again. But she was mistaken. It was a boy from the Crown, with a letter for Jack: he was to wait for an answer.
' "Lady Clonfert presents her compliments to Captain and Mrs Aubrey, and would be most grateful for a passage to the Cape. She promises to take up no room and to give no trouble whatsoever; and flatters herself that Mrs Aubrey will, as a fellow-sailor's wife, understand and support this sadly informal and hurried application. She also proposes, if perfectly convenient to Mrs Aubrey, to do herself the honour of waiting upon her in the forenoon," ' read Captain Aubrey aloud, with a very high degree of astonishment, adding, 'Certainly she may have a lift to the Cape, whenever I happen to be going there, ha, ha.'
'Jack,' said Stephen, 'a word with you, if you please.'
They walked out into the garden, pursued by Mrs Williams's angry voice—'A most improper application—no compliments to me—and disgracefully ill wrote; she has spelt promises with one m—I have no patience with these attempts at thrusting oneself into a strange house.'
At the end of the wan row of carrots Stephen said, 'I must beg your pardon for having evaded your question last night. I have in fact been up to something, as you put it. But first I must speak very briefly of the position in the Indian Ocean. Some months ago four new French frigates slipped out of the Channel ports, ostensibly for Martinique—that was the general rumour on shore, and that was the destination stated in the orders delivered to their respective captains: but no doubt these captains also carried sealed orders, to be opened somewhere south of Finisterre. At all events the frigates never reached the Antilles. Nothing was heard of them until they reached Mauritius, where they upset the balance of power in those waters entirely. The news of their presence reached England a very short while ago. They have already taken two Indiamen, and clearly they threaten to take many more. Government is extremely concerned.'
'I am sure of it,' cried Jack. Mauritius and La Réunion lay right in the path of the eastern trade, and although the Company's ships were usually well enough armed to deal with the privateers and pirates that swarmed in those seas, while the Royal Navy, by stretching its resources to the utmost, could just contain the French men-of-war, the sudden arrival of four frigates would be catastrophic: furthermore, the Frenchmen had excellent deepwater harbours in Port-Louis and Port South-East and St Paul's, sheltered from the frequent hurricanes and full of marine stores, whereas the Navy's nearest base was the Cape, more than two thousand miles to the south.
Stephen was silent for a moment. 'Do you know the Boadicea?' he asked abruptly.
'Boadicea, thirty-eight? Yes, of course. A weather
ly ship, though slow: fitting foreign for the Leeward Islands station. Charles Loveless has her.'
'Well, listen now: this vessel, this frigate, is to be diverted to the Cape. And Captain Loveless, as you say, was to take her there to form part of a squadron made up of what the Admiral could spare: a force intended not only to counteract the French frigates but to take their bases away from them. In short, to capture La Réunion and Mauritius, to install a governor, and to possess them as colonies, valuable not only in themselves but as posts along this most interesting route.'
'A capital notion,' said Jack. 'It has always seemed absurd to me, that islands should not be English—unnatural.' he spoke a little at haphazard, because he had noted—oh, with what keen attention—Stephen's 'Captain Loveless was to take her.' Might this possibly be an acting command?
Stephen frowned. 'I was to accompany this force, together with the proposed governor,' he went on. 'And I was in a position to offer a certain amount of advice; that is to say, I was consulted on various points. It did not appear to me that Captain Loveless was fitted for the political side of the task, either mentally or physically; but he has great interest at the Admiralty. However, his malady increased upon him, and in spite of my colleague's efforts and of my own he is now on shore with an obstinate tenesmus that will keep him there. In London I caused it to be suggested that Captain Aubrey would be admirably suited for the vacant command—' Jack gripped his elbow with a force that made him catch his breath, but he continued '—that it was probable he would accept it in spite of his domestic situation and of the very short notice, and that I should be seeing him myself directly. Alternative names were advanced; some very frivolous objections to do with seniority and the flying of some kind of flag, some trumpery mark of distinction, were raised, for it seemed desirable that the person, or the ship, in question should be so ornamented . . .' With a prodigious effort Jack swallowed the words 'A broad pennant, a commodore's broad pennant, for God's sake!' and Stephen continued, 'and most unhappily several people had to be consulted.' He bent to pick a stalk of grass and put it into his mouth; for some time he shook his head, and the farther end of the grass magnified its motion, showing anger, disapprobation, or a most decided negative. Jack's heart, raised by the mere mention of a broad pennant, the sailor's sweetest dream short of the admiral's flag itself, sank into the dark, everyday world of half-pay. 'Most unhappily, I say,' went on Stephen, 'for although I carried my point, it is evident that at least one of those consulted has been talking. The rumour has already spread about the town. Lady Clonfert's appearance is clear proof of that; her husband is on the Cape station, captain of the Otter. Oh, oh, it is always the same thing—gabble, gabble, gabble, blab, blab, blab, like a parcel of geese on a common, or a pack of old women . . . ' his voice soared shrill in indignation, and Jack was aware that he was giving instances of loose talk, of intelligence conveyed to the enemy by spreading gossip; but Jack's glowing mind was filled with a picture of the Boadicea, her simpering figurehead with its vast bosom spreading over the frigate's fine seaworthy bows—a trifle slow, perhaps, and he had seen her miss stays; but a careful stowing of her hold to bring her by the stern might make a world of difference, and cross-cat harpins; Charles Loveless had no notion of cross cat-harpins, still less of Bentinck shrouds. He found Stephen's eye fixed angrily upon him, bent his head with an expression of the gravest attention, and heard the words, 'As though the French were deaf, dumb, blind, incompetent! That is why I am most unwillingly obliged to give you this short summary. In any other event I should infinitely have preferred the news to reach you through the proper channels, without the least explanation—your provisional orders are at the port-admiral's office this minute—for not only does this require speaking openly of what should not be mentioned at all, but I am extremely averse to appearing in the role of fairy godmother, a purely fortuitous fairy godmother in this case. It can inflict an apparent, though fallacious, burden of obligation, and cause great damage to a relationship.'