The Surgeon's Mate (14 page)

'I hope so, Bonden, I am sure,' said Jack, shaking his head at the recollection of that shocking wound. 'But the Doctor will be able to tell you better than I can. He may look in tomorrow, so let his room be priddied to the nines, in case he stays; and then just step round to Mr Kimber with my compliments, and I should be glad to see him early in the morning, before I set off.'

'Aye aye, sir,' said Bonden. 'The Doctor's room it is, and Mr Kimber to report immediately after breakfast.'

'Before you set off, my dear?' cried Sophie, the moment the door had closed behind him. 'But surely you do not have to go to the Admiralty at once? Surely the Admiral gave you leave?'

'Oh yes, he was most obliging - did everything that was proper - and he sent you his love. No: it is not the Admiralty I am worrying about, it is Louisa Broke. She must be told how her husband is as soon as possible, and if I travel up early tomorrow, I can take the Harwich Flyer there and back, and be home on Friday.'

'A letter, an express letter, would do just as well - you are so tired, dear Jack, and as thin as a rail -you must have some rest, and four and twenty hours in a stage-coach would quite knock you up, to say nothing of the ride to town - and anyhow as you told Bonden you cannot say anything about poor Brake's wound - an express letter, with every sort of good wish and comfort and Stephen's opinion - that would be far better in every way.'

'Sophie, Sophie,' he said, smiling at her: in her heart she was obliged to admit that in the service it was usual for men to travel great distances to comfort their shipmates' families, and that several times she had been most infinitely relieved by such kindness - only a few months ago the first lieutenant of the Java had come from Plymouth to assure her that she still possessed a husband; but even so she could not help rebelling against this sudden flying off. She muttered 'Louisa Broke' in a discontented, somewhat jealous tone, and several fresh reasons occurred to her: she did not utter them, however, for there was something in Jack's eye, the set of his head, that convinced her they would be useless, however sound; and presently their perfect happiness came back. They wandered into the garden to look at particularly valuable plants, above all those nearest the original cottage, those they had planted themselves. Neither had much genius in that line, nor indeed much taste, and the survivors (a small proportion) stood about in stark, unrelated clumps; but these flowers, such as they were, were peculiarly their own, and they loved them dearly. When she had to go in to attend to the children he went in with her, and she heard his strong, familiar step as he moved about the house. Presently he reached the music-room, and her piano, rarely used but fortunately retuned for the girls' lessons, gave out a great series of crashing chords, rising and rising with a splendid gaiety before they dropped to a deep, meditative thunder that merged quietly into a Hummel sonata that Jack often played and that she herself had learnt long ago. Then he took his fiddle, a fiddle far above his station, an Amati no less, bought from the spoils of the Indian Ocean, and played the same piece again, transposed for the violin. He did not play well; it was long since he had had a fiddle in his hands and in any case the fingers of his injured arm had not yet recovered all their nimbleness, but it would have been all one to Sophie if he had been Paganini - the house was alive again: it was fully inhabited. She had been right about Jack's immovable determination, however: he and Stephen stepped into their post-chaise immediately after dinner next day and bowled away as fast as four horses would draw them, lurching and rumbling over the side-road from Ashgrove Cottage.

'I should not really be travelling in this style,' observed Jack, when they reached the highway and conversation was possible again. 'The common coach is more my line; or even the waggon.'

'You refer to Kimber, I make no doubt?' said Stephen.

'Not exactly. Kimber did not choose to come: he was just leaving for Birmingham, he said. But he sent a gang of what he called new associates in our venture, and rum cullies they were, some of them. A couple of little attornies in dirty neck-cloths, who kept taking notes..." 'Tell me, brother, are things very bad?' 'Well, the only thing that is clear is that Kimber has exceeded my instructions a thousand times over, with enormous workings, deep-shaft mining, and all sorts of machinery; and the association, as they call it, has taken interests in other concerns, including a navigation canal.' 'The canal alone was wanting,' said Stephen to himself. 'Now, apart from perpetual motion and the philosopher's stone, the picture is complete.'

'... and it is an odd thing,' continued Jack, 'on the one hand they say the losses and the debts are enormous - one fellow showed me a sum that was roughly twice what I possess, though he admitted it was only an estimate - and on the other they urge me to press on. Dig just a little deeper, they say, and turn a dead loss into a princely fortune. But in either case they want fresh money, or fresh security; and I saw one of the attorney coves looking round the room pricing the furniture. You would have admired me, Stephen: I was as cool as a judge, and I let them talk. They were importunate to know my holdings in Government stock - asked me straight out, God damn their impertinence - and the nature of my marriage settlements, and what was Sophie's fortune, and what was my father's estate. That was coming it a little high - they must have thought they had a fine pigeon to pluck, a fellow that had no notion of business and that could be persuaded or frightened into any kind of ruinous foolishness. But I cut them short, said I did not mean to put down another penny, and wished them good day. Lord, Stephen, there are advantages in growing older. Ten years ago, even five years ago, they would have ended in the horse-pond, and I should have had a suit for assault and battery on my hands, as well as all the rest.'

'How did they respond to this?'

'They made a good deal of noise, some hectoring, some conciliating - carrot and stick, rope's end and soft soap. They did not expect a gentleman to withdraw from his undertakings - it was useless to attempt to do so in any case, as they had a lien upon my property - in my absence the association had been obliged to take up money at an exorbitant rate of interest - they had every right to pledge my credit - Kimber had delegated his full powers to them - ready money would have been far cheaper than discounting bills, but unfortunately Mrs Aubrey had not seen fit to produce it - they meant no criticism: ladies could not be expected to understand business - the only way to proceed was to push on, to satisfy the more pressing creditors, to raise fresh capital, and push on. Now that I was back everything would be easy: they could find fresh capital on the security of my name alone - my signature, a mere formality. If I declined they would most reluctantly be compelled to take measures to safeguard their own interests.' A pause. 'God knows how I shall come out of it,' he said. 'It looks precious like a lee-shore to me.'

They changed horses at Petersfield, and as the chaise ran clear of the town Jack said, 'Lord, Stephen, I am so glad Sophie clapped down when she did. The moment she found Kimber was playing fast and loose she wrote and told him to stop, and from that moment on she refused to sign anything or to give him any money. And when things grew worse, she laid up the carriage, sold off the horses, and told the servants to look about for new places, all but Dray and Worlidge, who have only one sound leg between them. There is still a good deal in the stocks and at Hoare's, if only I can contrive to hang on to it. I believe she has a better head for business than you or I. She was against it from the start, you know - against that fellow Kimber and his whole goddam scheme.'

Stephen might have observed that he too had been against the whole goddam scheme from the start - that it had seemed to him a typical snare laid for Jack ashore, or at least for the richer kind of officer - but he did not, and Jack went on, 'A good woman is a - there is something in the Bible I don't quite recall, but it hits the nail on the head, as you might put it.'

'I am sure you are right,' said Stephen. 'Tell me, what happened to Killick's wife, the one he bought in the market with a halter round her neck, when we were last in England?'

'Oh,' said Jack, laughing, 'she went off again with her first husband within a few days of our sailing -it appears they make quite a practice of it, going from market to market along the coast - and when Sophie's mother searched her box she found all poor Killick's property, as well as a couple of our silver plates. I should never have allowed the rummaging if I had been at home, but I am just as pleased now: I value those plates.'

'Mrs Williams is now exercising her ministry in Ulster, I believe.'

'Yes, thank God: she is looking after Frances while she has her baby. It would have been the very devil if she had been here while Sophie was cutting down the establishment.'

'I am afraid it has deprived her of a very real enjoyment,' said Stephen, remembering Mrs Williams' delight in economy, her triumphant saving of a candle-end, and her profound pound-foolishness.

Jack began, 'Mrs Williams,' in a strong voice, thought better of whatever he had been going to say, coughed, felt in the pocket of the chaise for a parcel wrapped in a napkin, and said, 'Have one of these. Sophie made them, and I had to promise they should all be ate. She will never be happy until I am as fat as the Durham ox.'

They finished the sandwiches a little after Guildford, when dusk was falling; and Jack, having shaken the napkin out of the window, folded it up and said, 'I believe I shall take a caulk.' He composed himself in his corner; his chin dropped on to his chest; and as quickly, as definitively, as the setting of the tropical sun, he went to sleep. It was a gift common to most seamen, the result of many, many years of keeping watch; and Stephen, an insomniac, watched him enviously. The hedges sped by, growing dimmer; cottages, haystacks, villages; the Porstmouth coach, its lights already blazing and the guard tooting away on his horn; Jack slept on. He slept even through the next change of horses, and it was only when they were crossing Putney Heath that he sat up and said 'What is a garnishee?'

'A garnishee?' said Stephen, and considered for a while. 'Sure, it is a legal term; but what it signifies I cannot tell. I know nothing of the law, except that whenever a plain man comes into contact with it, he is likely to suffer extremely in his purse and spirit, however sound his cause: so I do conjure you, my dear, to take the very best advice you can, and at once. This is no time for half-measures, no time for your provincial lawyers. You must fee the finest talent in London; you must armour yourself with the highly-trained intelligence of an eminent counsellor, accustomed to meeting these scoundrels on their own devious ground, another Grotius, a second Pufendorf.'

'Yes, but where am I to find my second Pufendorf?'

'Where indeed? But at least I know a discreet intelligent person in town, a gentleman perfectly conversant with the reputation of those most in view, perfectly qualified to point out the shrewdest legal talent. Will I ask him?'

'That would be very kind, Stephen, if it don't put you out.'

It did not put Stephen out by so much as a yard: his whole purpose in going to London was to carry the spoils of Boston to his chief, Sir Joseph Blaine, the discreet intelligent person to whom he had referred. These spoils, these papers, he carried with him, wrapped in sailcloth; and since he had once left secret documents in a hackney-coach, he now took a chair, where he was obliged to hold the packet on his knee: it had cost him pains enough.

The chairmen carried him through the drizzle and the sparse, umbrella'd streets, past several transparencies of the victory, already much the worse for wear, though their guttering lights still showed a recognizable pair of ships, labelled Shannon and Chesapeake in enormous letters, together with as much in the way of wit or verse as space or invention would allow. They stopped at a discreet small house behind Shepherd Market; the leader thundered on the door, and there was Sir Joseph himself, holding a candle. 'My dear Maturin,' he cried, looking attentively at the packet as he brought Stephen into the hall, 'this is a delightful surprise. Welcome home at last!'

They walked upstairs to the library, a thoroughly comfortable bachelor's room - Turkey carpet, very easy chairs, a great many handsomely-bound books, mostly on entomology, some unusually accomplished erotic pictures and bronzes, a fire winking in the brass fender, a green-shaded lamp. 'I must beg your pardon for asking to come here, sir,' said Stephen, 'but I have been away so long that I no longer know how things stand at the Admiralty: I collected that there had been changes, so I thought it better there should be no possibility of misunderstanding or delay.'

'Not at all, not at all. Nothing could give me more pleasure. I ordered a fire as soon as ever your message came through; you always were a chilly mortal - pray pull your chair a little closer. No, I do assure you, I take it most friendly; and as you say, there have been changes at the Admiralty. Poor Warren is no longer with us - but that you knew before the Leopard sailed. Oh, what a stroke that was, Maturin! My congratulations did reach you at last, I believe?'

'In Java itself: you were too kind, too kind entirely.'

'There for once we must disagree: it was the completest thing in my experience - a model of its kind. And then Admiral Sievewright has gone, together with some others; but then again there are half a dozen new faces, very able young men, some of them; and we have a new second secretary, Mr Wray, from the Treasury. Or more precisely an acting second secretary, though I have little doubt he will be confirmed unless poor Barrow makes a most unexpected recovery. He is a man with a wonderful grasp of detail and a very great deal of energy. I wish I had half as much. He works harder than any of us, and yet he finds time to lead a very active social life: I never go anywhere without I see him. Perhaps you have met Mr Wray, Mr Edmund Wray?'

Stephen had met Mr Wray, but on a somewhat unfortunate occasion, when Jack Aubrey had accused the gentleman, in only very slightly veiled terms, of cheating at cards: Wray had not seen fit to ask for the usual explanation - perhaps he considered the veil sufficiently obscure - and with Jack's long absence the affair had blown over. But this scarcely seemed the time to elaborate on the acquaintance, particularly as Stephen was aware that Sir Joseph had not the slightest interest in the matter; his bright, knowing eye was fixed upon the sailcloth parcel.