Master & Commander (14 page)

   'Castlereagh hanging at the one masthead and. Fitzgibbon at the other,' thought Stephen, but with only the weariest gleam of spirit.

   '. . . and it's stayed for'ard to the bowsprit again: you can just see a corner of the foretopmast stays'l if you crane over this way.'

   His voice reached Stephen as a pleasant background against which he tried to arrange his thoughts. Then Stephen was aware of an expectant pause: the words 'foretopmast' and 'crane over' had preceded it.

   'Just so,' he said. 'And how long might that topmast be?'

   'Thirty-one feet, sir, the same as this one here. Now, just above the foretop you see the collar of the maintopmast stay, which supports this topmast just above us. Then come the topmast trestletrees and crosstrees, where the other lookout is stationed; and then the topgallantmast. It is swayed up and held the same way as the topmast, only naturally its shrouds are slighter; and it is stayed for'ard to the jib-boom—do you see, the spar that runs out beyond the bowsprit' The bowsprit's topmast, as it were. It is twenty-three feet six inches long The topgallantmast, I mean, not the jib-boom That is twenty-four'

   'It is a pleasure to hear a man who thoroughly understands his profession. You are very exact, sir.'

   'Oh, I hope the captains will say the same, sir,' cried Mowett. 'When next we put into Gibraltar I am to go for my lieutenant's examination again. Three senior captains sit upon you; and last time a very devilish captain asked me how many fathoms I should need for the main crowfoot, and how long the euphroe was. I could tell him now: it is fifty fathoms of three-quarter-inch line, though you would never credit it, and the euphroe is fourteen inches. I believe I could tell him anything that can even be attempted to be measured, except perhaps for the new mainyard, and I shall measure that with my tape before dinner. Should you like to hear some dimensions, sir?'

   'I should like it of all things.'

   'Well, sir, the
Sophie's
keel is fifty-nine feet long; her gun-deck seventy-eight foot three inches; and she is ten foot ten inches deep. Her bowsprit is thirty-four foot, and I have told you all the other masts except for the main, which is fifty-six. Her maintopsail yard—the one just above us, sir—is thirty-one foot six inches; the maintopgallant, the one above that, twenty-three foot six; and the royal, up at the top, fifteen foot nine. And the stuns'l booms—but I ought to explain the yards first, sir, ought I not?'

   'Perhaps you ought.'

   'They are very simple, indeed.'

   'I am happy to learn it.'

   'On the bowsprit, now, there's a yard across, with the spritsail furled upon it. That's the spritsail yard, naturally. Then, coming to the foremast, the bottom one is the foreyard and the big square sail set upon it is the fore course; the foretopsail yard crosses above it; then the foretopgallant and the little royal with its sail furled. It is the same with the mainmast, only the mainyard just below us has no sail bent—if it had it would be called the
square
mainsail, because with this rig you have two mainsails, the square course set on the yard and the boom mainsail there behind us, a fore-and-aft sail set on a gaff above and a boom below. The boom is forty-two feet nine inches long, sir, and ten and a half inches through.'

   'Ten and a half inches, indeed?' How absurd it had been to affect not to know James Dillon—and a very childish reaction—the most usual and dangerous of them all.

   'Now to finish with the square sails, there are the stuns'ls, sir. We only set them when the wind is well abaft the beam, and they stand outside the leeches—the edges of the square sails—stretched by booms that run out along the yard through boom-irons. You can see them as clear as can be—'

   'What is that?'

   'The bosun piping hands to make sail. They will be setting the royals. Come over here, sir, if you please, or the topmen will trample you down.'

   Stephen was scarcely out of the way before a swarm of young men and boys darted over the edge of the top and raced on grunting up the topmast shrouds.

   'Now, sir, when the order comes you will see them let the sail fall, and then the men on deck will haul home the lee sheet first, because the wind blows it over that way and it comes home easy. Then the weather sheet: and as soon as the men are off the yard they will hoist away at the halliards and up shell go. Here are the sheets, leading through by the block with a patch of white on it: and these are the halliards.'

   A few moments later the royals were drawing, the
Sophie
heeled another strake and the hum of the breeze hi her rigging rose by half a tone: the men came down less hurriedly than they had mounted; and the
Sophie's
bell sounded five times.

   'Tell me,' said Stephen, preparing to follow them, 'what is a brig?'

   'This is a brig, sir; though we
call
her a sloop.'

   'Thank you. And what is a—there is that howling again.'

   ' 'Tis only the bosun, sir: the square mainsail must be ready, and he desires the men to bend it to the yard.

O'er the ship the gallant bosun flies

Like a hoarse mastiff through the storm he cries.

Prompt to direct th'unskilfuI still appears,

The expert he praises, and the timid cheers.'

'He seems very free with that cane: I wonder they don't knock him down. So you are a poet, sir?' asked Stephen, smiling: he was beginning to feel that he could cope with the situation.

   Mowett laughed cheerfully, and said, 'It would be easier this side, sir, with her heeling so. I will just get round a little below you. They say it is a wonderful plan not to look down, sir. Easy now. Easy does it. Handsomely wins the day. There you are, sir, all a-tanto.'

   'By God,' said Stephen, dusting his hands. 'I am glad to be down.' He looked up at the top, and down again. 'I should not have thought myself so timid,' he reflected inwardly; and aloud he said, 'Now shall we look downstairs?'

'Perhaps we may find a cook among this new draft,' said Jack. 'That reminds me—I hope I may have the pleasure of your company to dinner?'

   'I should be very happy, sir,' said James Dillon with a bow. They were sitting at the cabin table with the clerk at their side and the
Sophie's
muster-book, complete-book, description-book and various dockets spread out before them.

   'Take care of that pot, Mr Richards,' said Jack, as the
Sophie
gave a skittish lee-lurch in the freshening breeze. 'You had better cork it up and hold the ink-horn in your hand. Mr Ricketts, let us see these men.'

   They were a lacklustre band, compared with the regular Sophies. But then the Sophies were at home; the Sophies were all dressed in the elder Mr Ricketts' slops, which gave them a tolerably uniform appearance; and they had been tolerably well fed for the last few years—their food had at least been adequate in bulk. The newcomers, with three exceptions, were quota-men from the inland counties, mostly furnished by the beadle; there were seven ardent spirits from Westmeath who had been taken up in Liverpool for causing an affray, and so little did they know of the world (they had come over for the harvest, no more) that when they were offered the choice between the dampest cells of the common gaol and the Navy, they chose the latter, as the dryer place; and there was a bee-master with a huge lamentable face and a great spade beard whose bees had all died; an out-of-work thatcher; some unmarried fathers; two starving tailors; a quiet lunatic. The most ragged had been given clothes by the receiving-ships, but the others were still in their own worn corduroy or ancient second-hand coats—one countryman still had his smock-frock on. The exceptions were three middle-aged seamen, one a Dane called Christian Pram, the second mate of a Levanter, and the two others Greek sponge fishers whose names were thought to be Apollo and Turbid, pressed in circumstances that remained obscure.

   'Capital, capital,' said Jack, rubbing his hands. 'I think we can rate Pram quartermaster right away—we are one quartermaster shy—and the brothers Sponge able as soon as they can understand a little English. As for the rest, all landmen. Now, Mr Richards, as soon as you have finished those descriptions, go along to Mr Marshall and tell him I should like to see him.'

   'I think we shall watch almost exactly fifty men, sir, said James, looking up from his calculation.

   'Eight fo'c'sle men, eight foretop—Mr Marshall, come and sit down and let us have the benefit of your lights. We must work out this watch-bill and quarter the men before dinner: there's not a minute to be lost.'

'And this, sir, is where we live,' said Mowett, advancing his lantern into the midshipmen's berth. 'Pray mind the beam.! must beg your indulgence for the smell: it is probably young Babbington here.'

   'Oh, it is not,' cried Babbington, springing up from his book. 'You are
cruel
, Mowett,' he whispered, with seething indignation.

   'It is a pretty luxurious berth, sir, as these things go,' said Mowett. 'There is some light from the grating, as you see, and a little air gets down when the hatch-covers are off. I remember in the after-cockpit of the old
Namur
the candles used to go out for want of anything in that line, and we had nothing as odorous as young Babbington.'

   'I can well imagine it,' said Stephen, sitting down and peering about him in the shadows.

   'How many of you live here?'

   'Only three now, sir: we are two midshipmen short. The youngsters sling their hammocks by the breadroom, and they used to mess with the gunner until he took so poorly. Now they come here and eat our food and destroy our books with their great greasy thumbs.'

   'You are studying trigonometry, sir?' said Stephen, whose eyes, accustomed to the darkness, could now distinguish an inky triangle.

   'Yes, sir, if you please,' said Babbington. 'And I believe I have nearly found out the answer.' (And should have, if that great ox had not come barging in, he added, privately.)

  
'In canvassed berth, profoundly deep in thought,

  
His busy mind with sines and tangents fraught,

  
A Mid reclines! In calculation lost,

  
His efforts still by some intruder crost,'
said Mowett.

   'Upon my word and honour, sir, I am rather proud of that.'

   'And well you may be,' said Stephen, his eyes dwelling on the little ships drawn all round the triangle. 'And pray, what in sea-language is meant by a ship?'

   'She must have three square-rigged masts, sir,' they told him kindly, 'and a bowsprit; and the masts must be in three—lower, top and topgallant—for we never call a polacre a ship.'

   'Don't you, though?' said Stephen.

   'Oh no, sir,' they cried earnestly, 'nor a cat. Nor a xebec; for although you may
think
xebecs have a bowsprit, it is really only a sorts of woolded boomkin.'

   'I shall take particular notice of that,' said Stephen. 'I suppose you grow used to living here,' he observed, rising cautiously to his feet. 'At first it must seem a little confined.'

   'Oh, sir,' said Mowett,
'think not meanly of this humble seat,

  
Whence spring the guardians of the British fleet!

  
Revere the sacred spot, however low,

  
Which formed to martial acts an Hawke! An Howe!'

   'Pay no attention to him, sir,' cried Babbington, anxiously. 'He means no disrespect, I do assure you, sir. It is only his disgusting way.'

   'Tush, tush,' said Stephen. 'Let us see the rest of the—of the vessel, the conveyance.'

   They went for'ard and passed another marine sentry; and groping his way along the dim space between two gratings, Stephen stumbled over something soft that clanked and called out angrily, 'Can't you see where you're a-coming to, you grass-combing bugger?'

   'Now then, Wilson, you stow your gob,' cried Mowett. 'That's one of the men in the bilboes—lying in irons,' he explained. 'Never mind him, sir.'

   'What is he lying in irons for?'

   'For being rude, sir,' said Mowett, with a certain primness.

   'Come, now, here's a fair-sized room, although it is so low. For the inferior officers, I take it?'

   'No, sir. This is where the hands mess and sleep.'

   'And the rest of them downstairs again, I presume.'

   'There is no downstairs from here, sir. Below us is the hold, with only a bit of a platform as an orlop.'

   'How many men are there?'

   'Counting the marines, seventy-seven, sir.'

   'Then they cannot all sleep here: it is physically impossible.'

   'With respect, sir, they do. Each man has fourteen inches to sling his hammock, and they sling 'em fore and aft: now, the midship beam is twenty-five foot ten, which gives twenty-two places—you can see the numbers written up here.'

   'A man cannot lie in fourteen inches.'

   'No, sir, not very comfortably. But he can in eight and twenty; for, do you see, in a two-watch ship at any one time about half the men are on deck for their watch, which leaves all their places free.'

   'Even in twenty-eight inches, two foot four, a man must be touching his neighbour.'

   'Why, sir, it is tolerably close, to be sure; but it gets them all in out of the weather. We have four ranges, as you see: from the bulkhead to this beam; and so to this one; then to the beam with the lantern hanging in front of it; and the last between that and the for'ard bulkhead, by the galley. The carpenter and the bosun have their cabins up there. The first range and part of the next is for the marines; then come the seamen, three and a half ranges of them. So with an average of twenty hammocks to a row, we get them all in, in spite of the mast.'

   'But it must be a continuous carpet of bodies, when even half the men are lying there.'

   'Why, so it is, sir.'

   'Where are the windows?'

   'We have nothing like what you would call windows,' said Mowett, shaking his head. 'There are the hatches and gratings overhead, but of course they are mostly covered up when it blows.'