This Thing Of Darkness (26 page)

FitzRoy roared with laughter. ‘Well, Mr Darwin, I have had one or two unusual meals in my time, but nothing to match that.’

‘Oh, we formed a club at Cambridge, the Glutton Club, with the sole intention of consuming strange flesh. We tried hawk, and bittern, and a stringy old brown owl, which tasted quite disgusting. All consumed with claret over a game of
vingt-et-un.
Anything we could shoot, really. I stuffed the skins myself and divided them between my own and Fox’s rooms. I was taught to stuff birds in Edinburgh by a blackamoor servant.’

‘My dear Mr Darwin, will you excuse me for a minute?’

FitzRoy stepped outside and stood in the corridor, his back against the wall, pondering his dilemma. Really, this was not the sort of person he had envisaged taking around the world. Phrenologically speaking, the man’s squashed nose spoke of insufficient energy and determination. But his sheer enthusiasm, his quick mind and his training in natural theology had combined to win over FitzRoy. Furthermore, the young man had made him laugh. He had not been able to laugh, not once, since Boat Memory’s death. The news of the loss of the
Thetis,
sunk with all hands off Cabo Frio, had compounded his misery. All those close friends drowned. Hamond, Purkis, de Courcy, even Captain Bingham; indecisive, fussy, well-meaning Captain Bingham, who had once nursed him through a potentially fatal bout of cholera. Only he, Murray and Sulivan had escaped, by virtue of transferring to the
Beagle
. All the others were dead. There but for the grace of God. And now God had sent this ridiculous young man to resurrect his spirits. FitzRoy made up his mind, turned, and went back into the room.

‘It seems you are in luck, Mr Darwin. I have just heard from my friend Mr Chester. He has sent a note to say that he is in office, and will not be able to travel.’

‘But - but this is wonderful news!’ stammered Darwin. ‘You - you are sure?’

‘Never more so. But I want you to be aware that there are certain conditions attached to your acceptance of my offer. The voyage may take at least two years. I make no guarantee that we will be able to visit every place stipulated on our route. Your accommodations, I must make clear, shall not be numerous. There shall be seventy souls or more aboard the
Beagle
, so the want of room on such a vessel shall be considerable. We must live poorly - as my companion, you will have no wine and the plainest of dinners. And most important of all: shall you bear being told that I want the cabin to myself? If not, probably we should wish each other at the devil.’
I am hoping that you will save me from the devil
, thought FitzRoy.
But if you cannot
—
if he comes for me once more — then nobody can see me in the midst of that struggle. Not you. Not anybody.

‘I understand completely, Captain FitzRoy. As long as I have the freedom to make whatever shore excursions I require - I have been reading Humboldt on the tropics, you see, and am eager to explore - then everything you describe shall be to my satisfaction. If you can suffer me, then I shall accept with the greatest delight.’

‘Excellent. You will be borne on the ship’s books for provisions. I have already fixed this matter with the Admiralty’

‘My dear FitzRoy, I insist that I pay a fair share of the expenses of your table. My father is a rich man, having made a considerable fortune from funds and consolidated annuities, and a most generous individual. I assure you that it will not present any problem for me to pay my share.’ A terrifying vision of Dr Darwin in his darkened study loomed into his son’s thoughts, but he resolved to face this obstacle at a later date.

‘My dear Darwin, as long as you are comfortable according to your own terms, we shall co-exist happily. I am sure we shall suit. Tell me, are you a Whig?’

‘All my life and proud of it, sir. My uncle is the Whig MP for Shropshire.’

‘Well, you are to room with a stalwart Tory, from a family positively riddled with Tory MPs. So I suggest that we give the subject of politics a wide berth.’

‘As my friends say, who can touch pitch and not become a Tory?’

FitzRoy laughed. ‘Your friends will also tell you that a sea captain is the greatest brute on the face of the Creation. I do not know how to help you in this, except by hoping that you will give me a fair trial.’

Darwin laughed too, and realized in that moment that he was intoxicated with the captain’s perfect manners, his understanding nature and his quiet authority.

‘By the bye, Mr Darwin, do you believe in phrenology?’

‘Of course.’

‘Well, then, I must confess that when you first came into this office, I deduced that the shape of your forehead, and of your nose, might make us ill-suited as companions for a long sea voyage. I must now admit, sir, that your nose spoke falsely.’

And the pair leaned back in their chairs and rocked with laughter.

 

‘Hang me if I shall give sixty guineas for pistols!’

Darwin could hardly believe his eyes.

FitzRoy, having scheduled no further interviews for the rest of the day, and being in such an enthusiastic state regarding the learned discussions he was to have with his new-found friend that he wished to commence them straight away, had dragged Darwin with him on a spending spree that very afternoon. Normally the West End would have been deserted at this time of year, but the coronation procession of William IV was due in three days’ time: the pavements were bedecked with flags, gas illuminations, crowns, anchors and little decorative WRs, and the streets were packed with gigs, phaetons and carriages of every shape and size. FitzRoy’s own gig had positively crawled past Regent Street’s shiny colonnades, before eventually depositing the pair on the steps of Collier’s gunshop at number forty-five the Strand. It was, as FitzRoy pointed out, the most expensive gunshop in London, but indubitably the best.

‘Mr Collier may be an American but, by Jove, he knows his stuff,’ he exclaimed, raising a Brunswick rifle to the light from the window. ‘See? The bullet has a raised band on it. It engages with spiral grooves inside the barrel, which imparts spin.’

‘My dear Captain FitzRoy — ’

‘Call me FitzRoy, please.’

‘My dear FitzRoy, these rifles are two hundred guineas apiece.’

‘I’m all for economy, Darwin, except on one point. The point where one’s life, or the life of a fellow crew member, is jeopardized. Besides, I suspect the silver filigree work does not come cheap.’

Once again, the image of an oversized purple parent -swam into Darwin’s mind.

‘Well, I suppose I might give sixty guineas for the pistols,’ he conceded, trying hard to convince himself that this would be regarded as a safety measure back at the Mount. ‘They are good strong weapons, double-barrelled with top-spring bayonets. They should keep the natives quiet. I dare say we shall have plenty of fighting with those damned cannibals, what? It would be something to shoot the King of the Cannibal Islands!’

Notwithstanding Darwin’s enthusiasm for intellectual enquiry, there was a youthful quality to his manner that reminded FitzRoy irresistibly of Midshipman King. ‘Actually, Darwin, I shall introduce to you some cannibal friends of mine. That is to say, they are ex-cannibals, of course. They really are quite charming - at least, two of them are. They are presently staying at Walthamstow, and we shall be returning them to their homeland in Tierra del Fuego. I am sure they will be delighted to make your acquaintance. If you like,’ he added mischievously, ‘I shall invite them to dine with us. I can assure you that their manners are immaculate. Although you can bring your new pistols if you are worried.’

 

Three days later, Darwin and FitzRoy bought jellies at Dutton’s, gave a guinea each for front-row seats to see the coronation procession, and allowed themselves to be childishly swept away by patriotic fervour. Their places were located right opposite the mansion of the Duke of Northumberland, which lit up as dusk fell like the palace of an eastern potentate.

‘I was in London for the illumination to launch the Reform Bill, and this is much grander,’ marvelled Darwin.

‘A comment, perhaps, on his lordship’s successful resistance to reform.’

‘Well, he has certainly compensated for it this time. The little gas-jets in the windows are almost painfully brilliant.’

‘Were not the Life Guards magnificent this afternoon?’ exclaimed FitzRoy. ‘And prodigious tall. They do say that each of those fellows is over six feet.’

Darwin grinned. ‘Then there is hope for me finding yet another profession! I say, when the crowd spilled into the roadway I thought that the captain on the black horse would kill a score at least. One would suppose men were made of sponge, to see them shrink away so.’

‘I have never seen so many human beings in one place. Even now it is like a raceground.’

The crowds gathered for the evening’s fireworks were, if anything, thicker than those that had lined the route during the day.

‘One wonders what the poor of London must make of so much gilt and show. I mean, I’m none of your radicals, but with all the riots and hangings and transportations of late, I cannot imagine their humour will be much improved by such a display. Even you as a Tory, FitzRoy, must concede the point. To subsist on bread and coffee, and then to have to witness a bejewelled buffoon like that fellow accompanying the King’s regalia - who was it again?’

‘The Duke of Grafton.’

‘The Duke of Grafton. It must put them in mind to pain. Do you not concede the point?’ Darwin, a rosy flush seeping across his face, looked every inch the eager student.

‘On this occasion, my dear Darwin, I shall concede the point,’ replied FitzRoy with extreme gravity. ‘But not as a Tory.’

‘Indeed, sir? Then how so?’

‘I shall concede the point from personal acquaintance. The Duke of Grafton is my uncle.’

Darwin’s face, frozen in horror, was a perfect picture. FitzRoy’s features, by contrast, showed no expression. The young man endeavoured to stammer an apology.

’M-my dear FitzRoy, I must beg - no, I must crave your forgiveness. I have behaved like an absolute blackguard. My conduct has been inexcusable - quite inexcusable. I offer you my most sincere, heartfelt apologies. I really do not know what ’

FitzRoy could keep a straight face no longer. He threw back his head and roared with helpless laughter, revelling in the sensation of enjoying himself for the first time in months.

 

Captain Francis Beaufort, the distinguished hydrographer of His Majesty’s Navy, hobbled painfully across the turkey-carpet to his chair. His femur had been shattered just below the hip by a musket-ball, fired at him by pirates in the Eastern Mediterranean in 1812; a catastrophic event undoubtedly, but one that had initiated perhaps the most distinguished naval career ever to unfold from behind a desk. Wiry and energetic of mind, if not body, Beaufort gave no hint of his invalidity when seated behind a solid block of mahogany, at the heart of his empire. As a fellow ‘scientific’ sailor, FitzRoy regarded him with the deepest respect.

‘I must extend the most profound thanks to you, sir, for finding me such a suitable companion. Mr Darwin is young, extremely so at times, but any rough edges will be well and truly polished after two years at sea. I am in a thoroughly good cue at the prospect of his company.’

‘You may not thank me when you hear what I have to say.’ Beaufort’s normally gentle Irish tones sounded unexpectedly gruff and awkward.

‘If it is the chronometers, sir, then the Admiralty board have already written to me to explain their reasoning in limiting me to five instruments. I shall ensure that the other four are returned to stores immediately. Meanwhile I have taken the liberty, sir, of purchasing a further six chronometers at my own expense, for a total outlay of three hundred pounds. I feel that for absolute accuracy of observation, one cannot have enough — ’

Abruptly, Beaufort waved FitzRoy to silence. His tone was unhappy. ‘You’re not going.’

‘I beg your pardon, sir?’

‘I said, you’re not going. For reasons of economy, their lordships have decided that the previous survey undertaken by yourself and Captain King will be “entirely sufficient in compiling first-rate navigational charts of Tierra del Fuego and the surrounding waters”.’

Stunned, FitzRoy fought to clear his head. He felt, suddenly, as if he were drowning. ‘With all due respect, sir, that is wholly untrue. Their lordships appear to be unconscious of the fact that the previous survey barely scratched the surface.’

‘You have no need of convincing me, FitzRoy. I have already argued your case, without success. Their lordships’ decision is final. Their intention is to prosecute no further surveys of the South American coast.’

‘But - but there must be other avenues. I have relatives. Lord Londonderry. The Duke of Grafton.’

‘That is a dangerous course to pursue, FitzRoy, and I would strongly advise against it. Your journey might indeed go forward on this occasion, but you will make dangerous enemies of those who are overruled. They will bide their time, mark my words. And the Tories are no longer in power.’

‘Indeed not, sir. But I have given my word to the three Fuegians that they will be returned to their homeland before long. I cannot go back on that.’

‘Your word, FitzRoy? Your standing will hardly be diminished if you are unable to fulfil your obligations to three natives. They can simply remain here - I am sure they will find an existence wholly preferable to their former lives. They can enter domestic service or somesuch - I gather their grasp of English is reasonably advanced.’

‘Sir, I have given my word as a gentleman that they shall be educated as gentlemen - and gentlewoman - and returned to the country of their birth.’

‘Well, I am sorry, FitzRoy, but short of taking them back at your own expense, that is not a pledge you will be able to fulfil.’