Post Captain (22 page)

The Polychrest was a theorizing Landsman's vessel, she had been built by a gang of rogues and jobbers; she was to serve under a man he had cuckolded and who would be happy to see him ruined; Cannings's offer would never come again. Lord Melville was no fool, and he was aware of most of these things; he waited for Jack's reply with his head cocked and a considering eye, tapping his fingers on the desk; this was shabby treatment; the Polychrest had already been refused; and in spite of his effort with the rating, he would find it hard to justify himself with Lady Keith - even his own conscience, well seared by years and years of office, gave an uneasy twitch.

'If you please, my lord: I should be most grateful.'

'Very good. Then let us make it so. No - no thanks, I beg,' he said, holding up his hand and looking Jack in the eye. 'This is no plum: I wish it were. But you have a broadside weight of metal greater than many a frigate. Given the opportunity, I am sure you will distinguish yourself, and the Board will be happy to make you post as soon as there is fresh occasion. Now as to officers and followers, I shall be glad to fall in with your wishes as far as possible. Your first lieutenant is already appointed: Mr Parker, recommended by the Duke of Clarence.'

'I should be happy to have my surgeon and Thomas Pullings, my lord, master's mate in the Sophie: he passed for lieutenant in '01.'

'You wish him to be made?'

'If you please, my lord.' It was a good deal to ask, and he might have to sacrifice the rest of his patronage; but as he felt the balance of this interview, he could risk it.

'Very well. What else?'

'If I might have two of the midshipmen, my lord?'

'Two? Yes... I think so. You mentioned your surgeon. Who was he?'

'Dr Maturin, my lord.'

'Dr Maturin?' said Lord Melville, looking up.

'Yes, my lord: you may have seen him at Lady Keith's. He is my particular friend.'

'Aye,' said Lord Melville, looking down. 'I mind him. Weel, Sir Evan will send you your orders by the messenger today. Or should you rather wait while they are writing out?'

A few hundred yards from the Admiralty, in St James's Park, Dr Maturin and Miss Williams paced the gravel by the ornamental pond. 'It never ceases to amaze me,' said

Stephen, 'when I see these ducks. Cots - any man can swallow cots, those deeply vulgar birds, and even the half-domesticated mallard. But the high-bred pintail, the scaup, the goldeneye! I have crept on my belly in the freezing bog to catch a glimpse of them a furlong off, only to see them lift and away before I had them in my glass; and yet here they are in the heart of a roaring modern city, swimming about as cool as you please, eating bread! Not taken, not pinioned, but straight in from the high northern latitudes! I am amazed.'

Sophia looked earnestly at the birds and said that she too found it truly astonishing. 'Poor coots,' she added, 'they always seem so cross. So that is the Admiralty?'

'Yes. And I dare say Jack knows his fate by now. He will be behind one of those tall windows on the left.'

'It is a noble building,' said Sophia. 'Perhaps we might see it a little closer to? To see it in its true proportions. Diana said he was looking quite thin, and not at all well. Diminished, was what she said.'

'He has aged, maybe,' said Stephen. 'But he still eats for six; and although I should no longer call him grossly obese, he is far too fat. I wish I could say the same for you, my dear.' Sophia had indeed grown thinner; it suited her in that it took away that last hint of childishness and brought out the hidden strength of her features; but at the same time her removed, mysterious, sleepy look had disappeared, and now she was a young woman wide awake- an adult. 'If you had seen him last night at Lady Keith's, you would not have worried. To be sure, he lost the rest of his ear in the Indiaman - but that was nothing.

'His ear!' cried Sophia, turning white and coming to a dead halt in the middle of the Parade.

'You are standing in a puddle, my dear. Let me lead you to dry land. Yes, his ear, his right ear, or what there was left of it. But it was nothing. I sewed it on again; and as I say, if you had seen him last night, you would have been easy in your mind.'

'What a good friend you are to him, Dr Maturin. His other friends are so grateful to you.'

'I sew his ears on from time to time, sure.'

'What a providence it is that he has you by: I am afraid he sometimes hazards himself very thoughtlessly.'

'He does, too.'

'Yet I do not think I could have borne to see him. I was very unkind to him when last we met.' Her eyes filled with tears. 'It is dreadful to be unkind: one keeps remembering it.' Stephen looked at her with deep affection: she was a lovely creature, unhappy, with a line across that broad forehead; but he said nothing.

Clocks all over Westminster began to tell the hour, and Sophie cried, 'Oh, we are shockingly late. I promised Mama - she will be so anxious. Come, let us run.'

He gave her his arm and they hurried across the park, Stephen guiding her, for her eyes were dim with tears and every three steps she glanced over her shoulder to look at the windows of the Admiralty.

These windows, for the most part, belonged to the official apartments of the Lords Commissioners; those which sheltered Jack were on the far side of the building, so placed that he could see the courtyard. He was, in fact, in the waiting-room, where he had spent many an anxious, weary hour in the course of his career, and where he had now been waiting since his interview long enough to count a hundred and twenty-three men and two women walk in or out of the archway. A good many other officers shared the room with him, the company changing as the day wore on; but none of them were waiting, as he was waiting, with their appointment and their orders crackling in their bosoms - his was as strange a case of waiting as the porters had ever seen, and it excited their curiosity.

His was an absurd position. In one pocket he had this beautiful document requesting and requiring him to repair on board His Majesty's sloop Polychrest, and in the other a flaccid purse with a clipped groat in it and no more, all the rest having gone in customary presents. The Polychrest meant safety, or so he believed, and the Portsmouth mail left at eleven o'clock that night; but he would have to get from Whitehall to Lombard Street without being taken; he would have to traverse London, a conspicuous uniformed figure. In any case he must communicate with Stephen, who expected him at the cottage. Yet he dared not leave the Admiralty: if he were taken at this stage he would hang himself out of mere fury, and he had already had a most unpleasant fright when he was crossing the hall from the Secretary's office and a porter told him that 'a little cove in black and a scrub wig had been asking for him by name.'

'Send him about his business, will you? Is Tom here?'

'Oh, no, sir. Tom's not on duty till Sunday night. a shifty little cove in black, sir.'

For the last forty minutes he had seen this slight black vaguely legal figure crossing and recrossing the passage into Whitehall, peering into coaches as they stopped and even mounting on the step: once he had seen him talking with two burly great fellows, Irish chairmen or bailiff's men dressed as chairmen - a common disguise for bums.

Jack was not in good odour with the porters that day; he had not produced a shower of gold, not as who should say a shower; but they had a smell of the truth and they naturally took his part against the civil power. When one came in with fresh coals he quietly observed, 'Your little chap with the cauliflower car is still hanging about outside the arch, sir.'

'Cauliflower ear' - had he heard that before how happy he would have been! He darted to the window, and after some minutes of peering he said, 'Be a good fellow and desire him to step into the hall. I will see him at once.'

Mr Scriven, the literary man, came across the courtyard; he was looking old and tired; his ear was hideously swollen. 'Sir,' he said in a voice that quavered with anxiety, 'Dr Maturin bids me tell you that all was well in Seething Lane, and he hopes you will join him at the Grapes, by the Savoy, if you are not bespoke. I am to fetch a coach into the court. I have been trying to do my errand, sir... I hope...'

'Excellent. Capital. Make it so, Mr -. Bring it into the yard and I am with you.'

At the mention of the Savoy, that blessed haven, the porter's suspicions were confirmed; a benevolent grin spread across his face and he hurried Out with Mr Scriven to find a coach, bring it in through the arch (an irregular proceeding) and manoeuvre it so close to the steps that Jack could step in unseen.

'Perhaps it would be wise to sit on the floor, on this cloak, sir,' said Mr Scriven. 'It has been baked,' he added, sensing a certain reluctance. 'And Dr Maturin was good enough to shave me all over, to parboil me in the copper, and to new-clothe me from head to foot.'

'I am sorry I gave your ear such a knock,' said Jack from the depths of the straw. 'Does it hurt a great deal?'

'You are very good, sir. I do not feel it now. Dr Maturin was so kind as to dress it with an ointment from the oriental apothecary's at the corner of Bruton Street, and it is almost insensible. Now, sir, you can sit up, if you choose: we are in the duchy.'

'What duchy?'

'The duchy of Lancaster, sir. From Cecil Street to the other side of Exeter Change it is part of the duchy, neither London nor Westminster, and the law is different - writs not the same as London writs: why, even the chapel is a royal peculiar.'

'Peculiar, is she?' said Jack with real satisfaction. 'A damned agreeable peculiarity, too. I wish there were more of 'em. What is your name, sir?'

'Scriven, sir, at your service. Adam Scriven.'

'You are an honest fellow, Mr Scriven. Here we are: this is the Grapes. Can you pay the man? Capital.'

'Stephen,' he cried, 'how happy I am to see you. We have a chance yet - we breathe! We hope! I have a ship, and if only I can get to Portsmouth, and if she floats, we shall make our fortunes. Here are my orders: there are yours. Ha, ha, ha. What luck did you have? I hope you did not hear bad news. You look pretty hipped.'

'No, no,' said Stephen, smiling in spite of himself. 'I have negotiated the bill on Mendoza. At only twelve and a half per cent discount, which surprised me; but then the bill was backed. Here are eight-five guineas,' sliding a leather bag across the table.

'Thank you, thank you, Stephen,' cried Jack, shaking him by the hand. 'What a charming sound - they ring out like freedom, ha, ha. I am as hungry as a man can well be, without perishing of mere want - nothing since breakfast.' He began to halloo for the woman of the house, who told him he might have a nice pair of ducks or a nice piece of cold sturgeon with cucumber, fresh that morning in Billingsgate.

'Let us start with the sturgeon, and if you put the ducks down to the fire this very minute, they will be ready by the time we have done. What are you drinking, Stephen?'

'Gin and water, cold.'

'What a God-forsaken melancholy tope. Let us call for champagne it is not every day we get a ship, and such a ship I will tell you all about it 'He gave Stephen a detailed account of his interview, drawing the Polychrest's curious shape in watered gin 'She is a vile job, of course, and how she survived Old Jarvie's reforms I cannot conceive. When I looked at her sheer-plan, and when I thought of Canning's frigate, building under his eye according to the draught of the Bellone - why, it made me feel very strange, for a moment. But I have scarcely had time to tell you of the handsome offer he made me. Forgive me for a moment while I write him a note to say I regret extremely that official business makes it impossible, and so on: turn it in the most obliging way I can manage, very civil and friendly, and get it into the penny post tonight; for really, it was the handsomest, most flattering offer. I took to Canning amazingly; I hope to see him again. You would like him, Stephen. Full of life, intelligent, gets the point at once, interested in everything - civil, too, delicate and modest; perfectly gentlemanlike; you would swear he was an Englishman. You must meet.'

'That is a recommendation, to be sure; but I am already acquainted with Mr Canning.'

'You know him?'

'We met at Bruton Street today.' In a flash Jack understood why the sound of Bruton Street had run so unpleasantly just now. 'I called on Diana Villiers after walking with Sophie in the park.'

A look of intense pain came over Jack's face. 'How was Sophie?' he asked, looking down.

'She was not looking well. Thinner, unhappy. But she has grown up: I think her more beautiful now than when we knew her in Sussex.'

Jack leant over the back of his chair, saying nothing. A clatter of plates and dishes, a busy waving of table-cloth and napkins, and the sturgeon and the champagne came in. They ate, with a few generalities about sturgeon - a fish-royal - the first time Jack had eaten it - a rather insipid, disappointing fish - and then he said, 'How was Diana?'

'Her spirits appeared sometimes elated and sometimes oppressed; but she was in splendid looks; and she too was full of life.' He might have added, 'And of wanton unkindness.'

Jack said, 'I had no notion you would call at Bruton Street.' Stephen made no reply other than a bend of his head. 'Were there many other people?'

'Three soldiers, an Indian judge, and Mr Canning.'

'Yes. She told me she knew him. Here come the ducks. They look famous, do they not?' he cried with a show of spirit. 'Pray carve them, Stephen. You do it so cleverly. Shall we send some down to Scriven? What do you make of him, by the bye?'

'He is a man, like another. I feel a certain sympathy for him.'

'Do you mean to keep him?'

'I might, too. Will I help you to some stuffing?'

'As much as ever you like. When shall we eat sage and onions again? When he has eaten his duck, do you think Scriven could cut along and take our places on the mail, while we are packing at Hampstead? He might still get insides.'

'It would be safer for you to go post, Jack. The papers have an account of Lady Keith's reception, and your name is in the Chronicle, if not the rest: your creditors must have taken notice of it. Their agents in Portsmouth are perfectly capable of meeting the coach. Mr Scriven is thoroughly acquainted with their ingenious devilish malignity: he tells me they are as watchful and eager as thief-takers. You must drive straight to the yard in a post-chaise and go aboard. I will attend to your dunnage and send it down by the waggon.'