Patrick O'Brian

The Hundred Days

An Excerpt

It was a wonderfully beautiful day, with a slight and varying but reasonably favourable breeze at last: the sun blazed on the various kinds of broom in flower, upon the Rock, upon the cistuses and giant heath, while an uninterrupted stream of migrant birds, honey-buzzards, black kites, all the European vultures, storks both black and white, bee-eaters, hoopoes and countless hirundines flowed across the sky amidst a general indifference; for all eyes were fixed upon the middle distance, where the squadron had come about on the starboard tack. Among the earlier of the watchers, both carrying well-worn telescopes, were two elderly naval lieutenants who could no longer bear the English climate and who found that their £127 15s 0d a year went much farther here. 'The breeze is veering again,' said the first. 'It will be abaft the beam directly.'

'They will be in on this leg, sure.'

'In at last, after all these weary days, poor souls. Briseis kept them hanging about in Funchal until they almost grounded on their own beef-bones. She was always overmasted; and even now I cannot congratulate her on that botched-together bowsprit. Marsham has always over-steeved his bowsprits.'

'Nor on her new foretopmast: their bosun must have died.'

'Now they have steadies, and the line is as clear as can be. Briseis . . . Surprise—she must have been called back into service—Pomone, wearing Commodore Jack Aubrey's broad pennant—that must have put poor Wrangle's nose out of joint. Dover . . . Ganymede. Dover . . . Ganymede. Dover was fitted as a troopship and now she is in changing herself back into a frigate as fast as ever she can. What a shambles!'

The breeze came aft and the whole squadron flashed out studding sails, broad wings set in a thoroughly seamanlike manner: a glorious sight. Yet now the current was against them and in spite of their fine spread of canvas they made but little headway. They were all of them sailing large, of course, all of them getting the last ounce of thrust from the dying breeze with all the skill learnt in more than twenty years of war; a noble spectacle, but one that after a while called for no particular comment, and presently the old lieutenant, John Arrowsmith, two months senior to his friend Thomas Edwards, said, 'When I was young I always used to turn to the births and marriages in the Times as soon as I had done with the promotions and dispatches; but now I turn to the deaths.'

'So do I,' said Edwards.

'. . . and with this last batch that came with the packet I found several names I knew. The first was Admiral Stranraer, Admiral Lord Stranraer, Captain Koop that was.'

'Oh, indeed? I sailed with him in the old Defender, a West Indies commission where he taught us the spit and polish of those parts. Gloves at all times, whatever the weather; Hessian boots with tassels, on the quarterdeck; up lower yards and cross topgallant yards in under five minutes or watch out for squalls; no reply allowed to any rebuke. If it were not that he is dead, I could tell you many a tale about him in Kingston.'

'Indeed, he was not a well-liked man at all, at all. They say his surgeon and another medico killed him with a black draught or something of that kind: but slowly, you understand me now, like the husband of one of those arsenic wives eager to be a widow but not choosing to swing for it.'

'From my acquaintance with his lordship, what you say does not surprise me in the least. On reflection, I believe I should offer each or either of the physical gentlemen a glass of brandy, were the occasions to offer. Do you see Surprise start her stuns'l sheet not to outrun her station?'

'Aye. She was always a wonderfully swift sailer; and now they have done her proud, as trim as a royal yacht. Webster saw her in young Seppings' yard where they were fitting her out regardless, diagonal bracing and everything you can think of—fitting her out for a hydrographical voyage. A lovely little craft.'

For some time they discussed the ship's perfections; their practised hands holding her steady in their telescopes; but then, the line being perfectly re-established, a cable's length apart, Arrowsmith clapped his glass to and said, 'Another death was of quite a different kind of man: Governor Wood of Sierra Leone. He was a fine fellow, very popular in the service, and he kept a noble table—invited whole wardrooms when the King's ships came in; and youngsters too.'

'I remember him very well. John Kneller and I and nearly all our messmates dined with him after some cruel weather off the River Plate and weeks of damned short commons—a sprung butt had drowned the bread-room. Lord, how we ate, and laughed, and sang! So he is dead. Well, God rest him, say I. Though when everything is said and done, we must all come to it; which may be some comfort to those that go before. A very handsome wife, as I recall, but on the learned side, which made her neighbours shy.'

'The breeze is strengthening out there. Dover has let fly her foretop-gallant sheets.'

The gust—the series of gusts—disturbed the picture-book regularity for a while, but it was restored after a remarkably short interval (all hands knew that they were being watched not only by an uncommonly exigent commodore and the even more formidable Commander-in-Chief Lord Keith, but also by an increasingly numerous band of highly-informed, highly-critical observers on shore) and presently the two lieutenants' conversation resumed.

'And then there was another what you might call naval death, a good deal earlier than the others but only now reported. Did you ever meet Dr. Maturin?'

'I don't know that I did, but I have often heard of him. A very clever doctor, they say—called in to treat Prince William—always sails with Jack Aubrey.'

'That's the man. Well, he has a wife. They live with the Aubreys at his big place in Dorset—but of course you know it, being a Dorset man.'

'Yes. Woolcombe; or Woolhampton as some say. It is rather far for us and we do not visit, but I have been to one or two of the Blackstone's meets there and we used to see Mrs Aubrey and Mrs Maturin at the Dorchester assembly. Mrs Maturin breeds Arabs: a very good horsewoman and an uncommon fine whip.'

'Well, yes . . . so they said. But do you know a place called Maiden Oscott?'

'Only too well, with its damned awkward bridge.'

'The report gives no details, but it seemed she pitched over—the whole shooting-match, coach, horses and all, pitched over right down into the river, and only the groom was brought out alive.'

'Oh, my God!' cried Edwards: and after a pause, 'My wife disliked her; but she was a very beautiful woman. Some people said she was a demi-rep . . . she had some astonishing jewels . . . there was some talk of a Colonel Cholmondeley . . . and it is said the marriage was not a happy one. But she is dead, God rest her. I say no more. Yet I doubt I ever see her like again.'

They both reflected, gazing out over the brilliant sea with half-closed eyes as the squadron drew inshore and the watching crowd increased; and Edwards said, 'When you come to think of it, on looking about our ship-mates and relations, can you think of any marriage that could be called a happy one, after the first flush? There is something to be said for a bachelor's existence, you know: turn in whenever you like, read in bed . . .'

'Offhand I cannot think of many—poor Wood in Sierra Leone for example: they entertained without a pause, so as not to have to sit down at table alone. It is said that Wood—but he is dead. No, I cannot think of many without some discord or contention; but unless it is very obvious, who can tell just where the balance lies? After all, as a philosopher said, "Though matrimony has its pains, celibacy can have no pleasure".'

'I know nothing about philosophy, but I have met some philosophers—we often used to go to Cambridge to see my brother the don—and a miserable set of . . .' He checked the word at the sight of his friend's daughters—the elder charming, though rather shabby—pushing through the crowd towards them, and went on in a disapproving tone, '. . . though you always were a bookish fellow, even in Britannia's cockpit.'

'Oh Papa,' cried the elder girl. 'which is the Surprise?'

'The second in the line, my dear.'

The leading ships were now close enough for people to be seen—blue coats and red on the quarterdeck, white-trousered seamen taking in topsails and courses together with jib and staysails—but scarcely to be distinguished. The young lady gently took her father's telescope and trained it on the Surprise. 'Is that the famous Captain Aubrey?' she asked. 'Why, he is short, fat and red-faced. I am disappointed.'

'No, booby,' said her father. 'The Commodore is where a Commodore ought to be, aboard the pennant-ship, of course: Pomone. Come, child, don't you see the broad pennant, hey?'

'Oh yes, sir, I see it,' she replied, training her glass on Pomone's quarterdeck. 'Pray who is the very tall fair-haired man wearing a rear-admiral's uniform and holding his hat under his arm?'

'Why, Lizzie, that is your famous Jack Aubrey. Commodores dress like rear-admirals, you know: and they receive a flag-officer's return to their salute, as you will hear in about ten seconds.'

'Oh, isn't he beautiful? Molly Butler had a coloured engraving of him in action with the Turks—of his boarding the Torgud sword in hand, and all the great girls at school . . .'

What all the great girls said or thought was lost in the Pomone's exactly-spaced seventeen-gun salute to the Commander-in-Chief; and the echo of the last report and the drift of powder-smoke had not disappeared before the towering flagship began her fifteen-gun reply. When that too was done, Mr Arrowsmith said, 'Now in another ten seconds you will see the signal break out Commodore repair aboard flag. His barge is already lowering down.'

'Who is that little man beside him, in a black coat and drab breeches?'

'Oh, that will be his surgeon, Dr Maturin: they always sail together. He can whip off an arm or leg quicker than any man in the service; and it is a joy to see him carve a saddle of mutton.'

'Oh fie, Papa!' cried the girl: her younger sister gave a coarse great laugh.

Aboard Pomone the proper ceremony for the occasion was well under way, and as Jack walked out of the great cabin, stuffing a fresh handkerchief into his pocket and pursued by Killick with a clothes-brush, flicking specks of dust from the back of his gold-laced coat, he found his officers present on the quarterdeck, together with most of the midshipmen, all either wearing gloves or concealing their hands behind their backs.

The side-boys offered him the sumptuous man-ropes, and following the reefer on duty he ran down into his barge. All the bargemen knew him perfectly well—they had been shipmates in many a commission, and two of them, Joe Plaice and Davies, had served in his first command, the Sophie; but neither they nor Bonden, his coxswain, gave the least sign of recognition as he settled in the stern-sheets, shifting his sword to give the midshipman more room. They sat there in their formal bargeman's rig—broad-brimmed white sennit hat with ribbons, white shirts, black silk Barcelona handkerchiefs tied round their necks, snowy duck trousers—looking solemn: they were part of a ceremony, and levity, winking, whispering, smiling, had no place in it. Bonden shoved off, said 'Give way', and with exact timing, rowing dry with long grave strokes, they pulled the barge across to the starboard accommodation-ladder of the flagship, where an even more impressive ceremony took place. Jack, having been piped aboard, saluted the quarterdeck, shook hands with the ship's captain and the master of the fleet, while the Royal Marines—scarlet perfection under a brilliant sun—presented arms with a rhythmic clash and stamp.

A master's mate led the Pomone's youngster away, and Captain Buchan, who commanded the Royal Sovereign, ushered Jack Aubrey below to the Admiral's splendid quarters: but rather than the very large, grim and hoary Commander-in-Chief, there rose a diaphanous cloud of blue tulle from the locker against the screen-bulkhead—tulle that enveloped a particularly tall and elegant woman, very good-looking but even more remarkable for her fine carriage and amiable expression. 'Well, dearest Jack,' she said, they having kissed, 'how very happy I am to see you wearing a broad pennant. It was a damned near-run thing that you were not out of reach, half-way to Tierra del Fuego in a mere hydrographical tub, a hired vessel. But how we ever came to miss you on Common Hard I shall never understand—never, though I have gone over it again and again. True, Keith was in a great taking about the naval estimates, and I was turning some obscure lines of Ennius in my head without being able to make any sense of them frontwards or backwards; but even so . . .'

'Nor shall I ever understand how I came to be such an oaf as to walk in here, ask you how you did, and sit down by your side without the slightest word of congratulations on being a viscountess: yet it had been in my head all the way across. Give you joy with all my heart, dear Queenie,' he said, kissing her again; and they sat there very companionably on the broad cushioned locker. Jack was taller than Queenie and far more than twice as heavy; and having been in the wars for a great while and much battered, he now looked older. He was in fact seven years her junior, and there had been a time when he was a very little boy whose ears she boxed for impertinence, uncleanliness and greed, and whose frequent nightmares she would soothe by taking him into her bed.

'By the way,' said Jack, 'does the Admiral prefer to be addressed as Lord Viscount Keith like Nelson in his time or just as plain Lord K?'

'Oh, just plain Lord, I think. The other thing is formal court usage, to be sure, and I know that dear Nelson loved it; but I think it has died out among ordinary people. Anyway he does not give a hoot for such things, you know. He values his flag extremely, of course, and I dare say he would like the Garter; but the Keiths of Elphinstone go back to the night of time—they are earl marischals of Scotland, and would not call Moses cousin.'

They sat smiling at one another. An odd pair: handsome creatures both, but they might have been of the same sex or neither. Nor was it a brother and sister connection, with all the possibilities of jealousy and competition so often found therein, but a steady uncomplicated friendship and a pleasure in one another's company. Certainly, when Jack was scarcely breeched and Queenie took care of him after his mother's death, she had been somewhat authoritarian, insisting on due modesty and decent eating; but that was long ago, and for a great while now they had been perfectly well together.

A cloud passed over her face, and putting her hand on Jack's knee she said, 'I was so happy to see you—to have recovered you from Cape Horn at the very last moment—that I overlooked more important things. Tell me, how is poor dear Maturin?'

'He looks older, and bent; but he bears up wonderfully, and it has not done away with his love of music. He eats nothing, though, and when he came back to Funchal, having attended to everything at Woolcombe, I lifted him out of the boat with one hand.'

'She was an extraordinarily handsome woman and she has prodigious style: I admired her exceedingly. But she was not a wife for him; nor a mother for that dear little girl. How is she? She was not in the coach, I collect?'

'No. The only other one on the box was Chalmondeley; my mother-in-law and her companion inside, and Harry Willet, the groom, up behind—happily Padeen did not go that day. And Brigid does not seem very gravely upset, from what I understand. She is very deeply attached to Sophie, you know, and to Mrs Oakes.'

'I do not believe I know Mrs Oakes.'

'A sea-officer's widow who lives with us, a learned lady—not as learned as you, Queenie, I am sure—but she teaches the children Latin and French. They are none of them clever enough for Greek.'

A pause. 'If he does not eat, he will certainly grow weak and pine away,' said Lady Keith. 'We have a famous cook aboard Royal Sovereign—he came back to England with the Bourbons. Would an invitation be acceptable, do you think? Just us and the Physician of the Fleet and a few very old friends. I have a crux in this passage of Ennius I should like to show him. And of course he must have a conference with Keith's secretary and the political adviser very soon . . . Oh, and Jack, there is something I must tell you, just between ourselves. Another Mediterranean command would be too much for him, so we are only here until Pellew comes out; though we shall stay in the Governor's cottage a little while to enjoy the spring. Do you get along well with Pellew, Jackie?'

'I have a great admiration for him,' said Jack—and indeed Admiral Sir Edward Pellew had been a remarkably dashing and successful frigate-captain—'but not quite the veneration I have for Lord Keith.'

'My dear Aubrey,' cried the Admiral, walking in from the coach, 'there you are! How glad I am to see you.'

'And I to see you, my Lord Viscount, if I may so express myself. My heartiest congratulations.'

'Thankee, thankee, Aubrey,' said the Admiral, more pleasant than quite suited his wife. 'But I must say that I deserve to be degraded for having put in that foolish proviso in your orders about waiting for Briseis. I should have said . . . but never mind what I should have said. The fact is that at that time I merely wanted your squadron to guard the passage of the Straits: now, at the moment, the situation is much more complex. Six hundred thousand people cheered Napoleon when he entered Paris—Ney has joined him—a hundred and fifty thousand King's troops, well-equipped, drilled and officered, have done the same—he has countless seasoned men who were prisoners of war in England and Russia and all over Europe at his devotion, flooding to the colours—the Emperor's colours. There is the Devil to pay and no tar hot. Is Dr Maturin with you?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Is he up to talking about all this with my secretary and the politicos?'

'I believe so, my lord. Although he shuns ordinary company he is dead set on the war and seizes upon any means whatsoever of informing himself—newspapers, correspondence and so on—and I have known him talk for three hours on end with a French officer—royalist of course—whose brig was in company with us during a flat calm off Bugio.'

'He would sooner not dine aboard Royal Sovereign, I gather.'

'I believe not, sir. But he will discuss the international situation and the means of bringing Napoleon down with the utmost vigour. That is what keeps him alive, it seems to me.'

'I am glad he has so great a resource at such a dreadful time, poor dear man. I have a great regard for him: as you will remember, I proposed he should be Physician of the Fleet at one time. Aye, aye, so I did. Well, I shall not pain him with an invitation he might find difficult to refuse. But if, in the course of duty, you could require him to report aboard just after the evening gun, when I hope for an overland packet by courier, he may learn still more about the international situation. A damned complex situation, upon my word. As I said, when first I sent for you I thought your squadron would be enough, at a pinch, to guard the passage of the Straits—at a pinch, for you see how pitifully little we have here. But now, now, you will have to cut yourself in three to do half the things I want you to do. Heugh, heugh, a damned complex situation as the Doctor will learn when he comes here: he will be finely amazed. I will give you the broadest view just for now . . .'

Lady Keith gathered up her belongings and said, 'My dear, I will leave you to it. But do not tire yourself: you have a meeting with Gonzalez this evening. I will send Geordie with a dish of tea directly.'

The broadest view, stripped of the Admiral's great authority and of his distinctive northern accent, generally pleasing to an English ear though sometimes impenetrably obscure, was very roughly this: Wellington, with ninety-three thousand British and Dutch troops, and Blücher, with a hundred and sixteen thousand Prussians, were in the Low Countries, waiting until Schwarzenberg, with two hundred and ten thousand Austrians, and Barclay de Tolly, slowly advancing with a hundred and fifty thousand Russians, should reach the Rhine, when in principle the Allies were to invade France. For his part Napoleon had about three hundred and sixty thousand men: they were made up of five corps along the northern frontier, the Imperial Guard in Paris, and some thirty thousand more stationed on the southeast frontier and in the Vendee.

Both men made their additions: both made their allowances for unity of command, the great value of a common language, and the stimulus of fighting on one's own soil under the orders of a man who had battered Prussians, Austrians and Russians again and again, fighting with extraordinary tactical skill against odds far greater than these.

Jack could not with propriety ask about the zeal or even the good faith of the Austrians and Prussians at this juncture, still less about the efficiency of their mobilization and equipment; but the Admiral's worn, anxious face told him a great deal. 'Still,' said Lord Keith, 'this is all the soldiers' business: we have our own concern to deal with. How I wish Geordie would come along with that tea—why, Geordie, put the tray down here, ye thrawn, ill-feckit gaberlunzie.' A pause. 'How I value a cup of tea,' he said. 'May I pour you another?'

'Thank you, sir,' said Jack, shaking his head. 'I have done admirably well already.'

The Admiral reflected, carefully put more hot water to the teapot, and went on, 'In the first place there is the difficulty about the French Navy, their attitude varies from port to port, ship to ship. They are of course extremely susceptible and any untoward incident—so easily brought about—might have disastrous results. But far worse is this building of French men-of-war in the obscure Adriatic ports: obscure, but filled with prime timber and capital shipwrights—country you know very well. This continued building, more or less disguised, is a great evil; and all the greater as Bonapartist officers and men are said to be standing by to take them over.'

'But payment, sir? Even a corvette costs a very great deal of money, and there is talk of frigates, even of two or three heavy frigates.'

'Aye. There is something very odd about it all. Our intelligence people see a Muslim influence, possibly Turkish, possibly the Barbary states, or even of all of them combined. At this very moment there is much greater activity in Algiers, Tunis and down the Moroccan coast, fomented by Napoleonic renegadoes with native craft and vessels up to the size of a sloop of war: it is almost impossible to deal with it, our naval strength being so reduced and so tied up. Already it is most harmful to Allied trade, particularly to ours, and it is likely to grow worse.'

The Admiral stirred his tea, contemplated, and said, 'If Napoleon Bonaparte with his three hundred thousand very well trained men and his usual brilliant cavalry and artillery, can knock out say the Russians or part of the Austrians, the French navy may sweep us out of the Mediterranean again, above all as the Maltese and the Moroccans are so ungrateful as to hate us and as there is a real possibility of a French alliance with Tunis, Algeria and the other piratical states, to say nothing of the Emperor of Morocco and even the Sultan himself. For you know, Aubrey, do you not, that Bonaparte turned Turk? During the Egyptian campaign I think it was; but Turk in any case.'

'I heard of it, sir, of course; but no one has ever asserted that he recoiled from swine's flesh or a bottle of wine. I put it down to one of those foolish things a man says when he wishes to be elected to Parliament, such as "give me your votes, and I undertake to do away with the National Debt in eighteen months." I do not believe he is any more a Mussulman than I am. You have to be circumcised to be a Turk.'

'For my own part I have no knowledge of the gentleman's soul, or heart, or private parts: all I am sure of is that the statement was made, and that at this juncture it may be of capital importance. But we are prating away like a couple of old women . . .' He was interrupted by his secretary, who said, 'I beg pardon, my lord, but the courier is just come aboard with his budget.'

Jack had started to his feet, and now he said, 'May I wait upon you later, sir, when you are less engaged?'

'Is there anything urgent, Mr Campbell?' asked Lord Keith, with a temporizing wave.

'Tedious and toilsome, rather than immediate, apart from one enclosure that I have already sent on.'

'Very good, very good. Thank you, Mr Campbell. Sit down, Aubrey. I will just run through the heads of these, then attend to your statements of the squadron's condition, and give you some notion of what I should like you to do.' A pause, during which the Admiral's long-practiced hand ran through the dockets, already marked with Campbell's secret mark of importance: none rated above c3, and putting them down he said, 'Well, Aubrey, in the first place you must allot a force adequate for the protection of the Constantinople trade. Convoys have been re-introduced, you know—one is due within the week—and the Algerians in particular have grown very bold, though some vessels are also to be expected from Tripoli, Tunis and the rest, while other corsairs push up from Sallee and pass the Straits in the dark of the moon. Then you must prevent any unauthorized outward or inward movement to the best of your ability. But your most important task by far is to look into those Adriatic ports you know so well. Even the small places are capable of building a frigate, and we have reports of actual ships of the line on the stocks in four places whose names Campbell will give you. If any of the two-deckers have openly declared for Napoleon you must not venture upon an action but send to me without the loss of a moment. Where frigates, corvettes or sloops are concerned, particularly if they are unfinished, you must endeavour to stop the building and obtain their disarmament, all of which requires the utmost degree of tact: I am so glad you have Maturin with you. An incident would, as I have said, be disastrous: though of course if there is a clearly-expressed intent of joining Bonaparte, you must burn, sink or destroy as usual.'

'Aye-aye, sir,' said Jack, and then, 'My Lord, I believe you spoke of a courier. If he is not already gone, may I beg for my tender Ringle to be sent out immediately? William Reade, master's mate, handles her very well indeed—an uncommon fast and weatherly Chesapeake clipper—and I shall have the utmost need for such a craft.'

'William Reade, the young gentleman that lost an arm with you in the East Indies?' asked the Admiral, scribbling a note. 'Certainly. Should you like to send him a message—things to be brought out? Or Maturin? Well, I think that is the essential: you will of course receive detailed orders and some estimate of what you can expect from Malta when you are in Mahon.' The Admiral stood up. 'I hope you will dine with us tomorrow?' Jack bowed, said, 'Very happy,' and Keith went on, 'I do not wish to be importunate, but if you feel you could convey some sense of feeling—our concern—our sympathy—to Maturin, pray do so. In any case, I look forward to learning his views on the situation this evening, when he will have been closeted with Campbell and the two gentlemen who came down from Whitehall. Do not ask him to come aboard the flag: they will go to see him in Pomone.'

A little before the evening gun Preserved Killick, Captain Aubrey's steward, an ill-faced, ill-tempered, meagre, atrabilious, shrewish man who kept his officer's uniform, equipment and silver in a state of exact, old-maidish order come wind or high water, and who did the same for Aubrey's close friend and companion, Dr Stephen Maturin, or even more so, since in the Doctor's case Killick added a fretful nursemaid quality to his service, as though Maturin were "not quite exactly" a fully intelligent being, approached Stephen's cabin. It is true that in the community of mariners the "not quite exactly" opinion was widely held; for although Stephen could now tell the difference between starboard and larboard, it still called for some reflection: and it marked the limit of his powers. This general view, however, in no way affected their deep respect for him as a medical man: his work with a trephine or a saw, sometimes carried out on open deck for the sake of the light, excited universal admiration, and it was said that if he chose, and if the tide were still making, he could save you although you were already three parts dead and mouldy. Furthermore, a small half of one of his boluses would blow the backside off a bullock. The placebo effect of this reputation had indeed preserved many a sadly shattered sailor, and he was much caressed aboard. A little before the evening gun, therefore, Preserved Killick walked into Stephen's cabin and found him sitting there in his drawers, a jug of now cold water and an unused razor in front of him, together with a clean shirt, neckcloth, new-brushed black coat, new-curled wig, clean breeches, silk stockings and a respectable handkerchief, and he reading the close-written coded message from Sir Joseph Blaine, the chief of naval intelligence that had just arrived by courier.

'Oh sir,' cried Killick: but even as he exclaimed he choked the inborn shrew, lowering the 'sir' to the gentlest tones of remonstrance.

'One moment, Killick,' said Stephen, resolving a particularly intractable group: he wrote it in the margin, covered it close, and said, 'I am yours.'

Apart from the words 'Which the gentlemen have been waiting ten minutes—called twice for wine, and was you quite well?' Killick dressed him silently, efficiently, and led him to the captain's cabin, where the Admiral's secretary and the two gentlemen from Whitehall rose to greet him. One of them, Mr William Kent, was a familiar figure, his high office sometimes required him to resolve difficulties between the various departments of government and the services so that confidential work might be carried on in official silence: the other, Mr Dee, he knew only from having seen him at a few restricted conferences at which he spoke rarely or not at all, though he was treated with deference as an authority on eastern matters, particularly those concerned with finance—he was connected with some of the great banking houses in the City. Sir Joseph's coded message had only said 'You will of course remember his book on Persian literature.'

Stephen did indeed remember it: he had had his own battered second-hand copy rebound—a first edition—and he recalled that the binder put the date of publication at the bottom of the spine: 1764.

As they all sat down again, Stephen, with his back to the light, looked at Mr Dee with discreet curiosity, as at one whose work had enriched his youth: Mr Dee's face, alas, showed little but discontent and weariness. He did not see fit to open the conversation, so after a hesitant glance or so William Kent it was who addressed himself to Stephen, saying, 'Well, sir, since you have been windbound for so long—quite out of touch—perhaps it would not be improper to give a brief sketch of the present situation?'

Stephen bowed, and leant towards him. Kent's summary was essentially the same as Lord Keith's; but Stephen, being unaffected by considerations of rank, tact, ignorance or particular respect, had no hesitation in asking questions, and he learned that the Netherlanders were by no means happy about the presence of Wellington's and Blucher's armies; that the various rulers, commanders, and war offices were indeed at odds upon a very wide variety of subjects; that secrecy about plans. Orders and appointed meetings scarcely existed in the Austrian army, with its many nationalities, rivalries and languages; and that as opposed to the effervescent sense of returning glory in France, there was a total lack of enthusiasm in many of the Allied regiments, and something worse, not far from mutiny, among the Russians, particularly the units from the wreck of divided Poland. Barclay de Tolly was doing all that a good soldier could do with his ill-equipped and discontented forces, but he could not make them move fast and they were already sixteen days behind the agreed timetable. They had an immense distance still to travel, and the rearguard had not yet even left its distant barracks. There was also mutual distrust, a fear of betrayal on the part of other members of the coalition or on that of some one or another of the many subject nations that made up the eastern powers.

Mr Dee coughed, and leaning forward he spoke for the first time, reminding Kent of an ancient Persian war in which a more numerous army made up of different nations had behaved in much the same way, being utterly shattered by the united Persian force on the banks of the Tigris: his account went on and on but as his voice was weak Stephen could not follow at all well—he was ill-placed for listening—and gradually he sank deeper and deeper into his own reflections, all necessarily of a kind as painful as could well be imagined. From time to time he was half aware that Mr Campbell was trying to lead them back to the matter in hand by mentioning Carebago, Spalato, Ragusa and other ports on the Adriatic shore—if once the French were out they would represent a great danger—few sea officers reliable, if any . . .

He had some success, and in time Stephen was conscious that all three had in fact returned to naval matters; but much of his mind was still far down in the recent past when the voice of Kent pierced through with remarkable clarity. '. . . a very important point is that eventually one or another of these ships might protect or even carry the treasure.'

'The treasure, sir?'

He saw the three faces turned towards him and at almost the same moment he saw their expressions of surprise, even displeasure, turn to the grave, unobtrusive consideration that now surrounded him—that must in decency surround him, like a pall, ever since his loss became public knowledge. It could not be otherwise: his presence was necessarily a constraint: levity, even good-fellowship, certainly mirth, were as much out of place as reproof or unkindness.

Kent cleared his throat, and the Admiral's secretary, excusing himself, withdrew. 'Yes, sir, the treasure,' said Kent; and after a slight pause, 'Mr Dee and I were discussing a scheme planned by Dumanoir and his friends—a scheme to drive a Muslim wedge between the suspicious, slow-moving Austrian forces and the lingering Russians, preventing their junction and thus disrupting the planned meeting of the Allies on the Rhine.' Another pause. 'You will recall that Bonaparte professed himself a Muslim at the time of the Egyptian campaign?'

'I remember it, sure. But am I mistaken when I say that it was of no consequence at all, apart from damaging his reputation still farther? No Mahometan I ever met or heard of was much elated. The Grand Mufti took no notice whatsoever.'

'Very true,' said Dee, his old voice stronger now. 'But Islam is a world as varied as our own miserable congeries of hostile sects, and some of the more remote did in fact hail the news of his conversion with delight. Among these were people as widely separated as the Azgar, on the edge of the desert, and certain heretical Shiite fraternities in European Turkey, particularly Albania, Monastir, and a region close to the northern frontier, whose interpretation of the Sunna, read without the usual glosses, points to Napoleon as the Hidden Imam, the Mahdi. The most extreme are the descendants and followers of the Sheikh-al-Jabal.'

'The Old Man of the Mountain himself? Then they are the true, the only genuine Assassins? I long to see one,' said Stephen, with a certain animation.

'They are indeed; and although they are by no means so prominent as they were in the time of the Crusades, they are still a very dangerous body, even though the fedais, the experts, the actual killers, amount to only a few score. The rest of the mercenaries, though willing and eager to massacre unbelievers, are not moved by so pure a religious fervour that they will venture their skins free, gratis and for nothing. The three related fraternities throughout European Turkey all agree: the men are there, and as soon as they see two months' pay laid out before them, they will move. But not otherwise.'

'Is the sum very great?'

'Enormous: in the present state of affairs, when gold is at such a very shocking, unheard of premium, and credit is virtually dead. Far beyond anything the French can put down immediately: for, do you see, this sudden incursion must be very well-manned, with former Turkish auxiliaries, bashi-bazouks, tribal warriors, bandits and the like, all members of the Muslim fraternities or provided by them—a very formidable body indeed if it is to succeed in its aim—if it is to wreck the Allied plans and to give Napoleon the chance of engaging the weakest of the opposing armies and destroying it, as he has done before.'

'Certainly,' said Stephen. 'But am I right in supposing that the Assassins' role is something more subtle than the wild impetuous assault of the bashi-bazouks?'

'Yes: and a truly devoted band of fedais might do Napoleon's cause an incomparable service by removing Schwarzenberg or Barclay de Tolly or an imperial prince or indeed any of the thinking heads. Yet even so there would have to be the massive intervention, preferably by night, and some truly bloody fighting for the full effect of panic, mutual distrust and delay.'

'Where is the money to come from?'

'The Turk reluctantly shakes his head,' said Mr Dee. 'The Barbary states will provide volunteers and one tenth of the total when they see the rest. Morocco wavers. Their real hope is the Shiite ruler of Azgar, in whom they put all their trust. It is reported on very good authority that the gold has been promised and that messengers are to be sent—perhaps have been sent—to arrange the transport, probably from Algiers.'

'I speak as a man wholly ignorant of money-matters,' said Stephen. 'Yet, I had always supposed that even moderately flourishing states like Turkey, Tunis, Tripoli and the like, or the bankers of Cairo and a dozen other cities could at any time raise a million or so without difficulty. Am I perhaps mistaken?'

'Wholly mistaken, my dear sir, if you will forgive me: wholly mistaken where the present juncture is concerned. You must understand that several of my cousins are bankers in the City—one of them is associated with Nathan Rothschild—and that I act as their consultant where eastern affairs are concerned. So I think I may confidently assert that at this point no bank in those parts could without long notice raise so much—let alone advance a single maravedi on such security. While as for the governments . . .' Leaning forward and speaking in a much clearer, younger voice, his eyes full of life, he launched into an account of the economic basis of each Muslim country from the Persian Gulf to the Atlantic, its income and liabilities, its banking practice and forms of credit: he gave the impression of immense competence and authority—the old man's quavering prolixity of earlier on disappeared entirely, and when he ended '. . . their only hope is Ibn Hazm of Azgar,' Stephen cried, 'I am sure of it, sir: would you have the great kindness to tell us something of the place and its ruler? For I blush to say that I know nothing of either.'

'To be sure, it is small, and it has almost no history: but it is happily placed at the junction of three caravan routes, where one of the very few springs in that vast area rises pure and cool from the rock, watering a remarkable grove of date-palms. It is defended by its position, by the shrines of three universally-acknowledged Muslim saints, by the aridity of the surrounding country, and by the sagacity of a long-continued series of rulers. By immemorial custom the little state is run on lines not wholly unlike those I have observed in a well-run man-of-war: every man has his place and his duty; the day is divided by the blast of a ram's horn, signifying assembly, prayers, meals, diversion, and the rest, while except in Ramadan there is daily exercise with cannon or small-arms. Furthermore, you must know that the customary dues and tolls levied on all caravans are paid, and always have been paid, in the form of very small ingots of pure gold. These are publicly weighed and publicly divided according to established shares, often being cut or reduced to powder and weighed again with extraordinary precision to the required amount. Clearly the ruler gets most, and in the course of several generations this must amount to a very great deal, in spite of the family's proverbial charity. Where it is kept there is no telling—curiosity in Azgar would be sadly out of place—but since the Sheikh spends most of his time in the wilderness with the famous herds of Azgar camels he may have banks of an impregnable security in any one of the innumerable caverns that are to be found where the limestone rises above the sand. At all events he possesses the means and the zeal to carry out this operation.'

'In economies of this kind, would letters of credit, drafts on a banking-house of the like have any existence, sir?'

'They are not unknown, as between merchants in high credit who have dealt with one another for many years: but in the present case the gold itself would have to travel to the coast and then take ship—no great matter, with a well-armed troop of Azgar camels and the swift Algerine xebecs or galleys. But with the pace at which the Russians are moving there is no furious hurry, although from our latest information the fraternities' messenger may be on their way to Azgar by now; and in the intervening time, well before Barclay de Tolly and Schwarzenberg can meet, it is to be hoped that the Royal Navy will have made it impossible for any disaffected French man-of-war to help the gold over the water, or for any vessel from the African shore to enter an Adriatic port.'

Mr Dee paused: the colour that had risen into his face while he was speaking faded. He was old and remote once more, and seeing Kent glance at him with evident concern he said, 'Pray go on, Mr Kent.'

'Very well, sir,' said William Kent. 'Dr Maturin, when we were speaking of this matter with Sir Joseph and his colleagues, it was suggested that with your knowledge of these parts and of the at least nominally Turkish officials governing them—of many important private and ecclesiastical persons—that you might bring pressure to bear—in a word, that you might cause this conspiracy to fail. The Ministry attaches great importance to the matter and you could draw on the Treasury for very large sums indeed if for example arbitrary arrests and the like were called for.' He looked earnestly into Stephen's face, coughed and went on, 'One of those present said that you might decline, for personal reasons and on the grounds that your Turkish and Arabic did not meet your very high standards . . .'

'Arabic?'

'Yes, sir: it might be necessary to intervene in Africa—in Algiers or one of the other ports for example, or conceivably in Azgar itself. Others observed that your command of languages had already allowed you to deal admirably with Turks, Albanians and Montenegrins before: but Sir Joseph, though agreeing most emphatically, was of opinion that a lieutenant capable of writing both these languages might take a great deal of the strain off your shoulders. He said that Mr Dee—'a bow to the old gentleman who nodded'—and he were acquainted with just such a person, whose discretion could be guaranteed, whose parts and conversation were usually thought acceptable, and whose presence might induce you to agree—a physical gentleman.'

'There is indeed a great deal to be said for a literary as well as a merely colloquial knowledge of both those languages: and of Hebrew,' said Stephen. 'Would it be possible to see him, at all?'

'He is in Gibraltar at this moment, Doctor,' said Kent. Then, 'I believe I gathered from Sir Joseph that you might possibly be acquainted with him already.'

'May I ask, sir,' said Mr Dee, reviving, 'whether you have any strong feeling against Jews?'

'I have not, sir,' replied Stephen.

'I am glad of that,' said Mr Dee, 'for the gentleman, the physical gentleman in question, is a Jew, a Spanish Jew. That is to say he was brought up as an orthodox Sephardi, which gave him not only the curious Spanish the Sephardim speak in Africa and the Turkish dominions, but Hebrew too and Arabic, together with an equally fluent Turkish. But with age and the influence of the Enlightenment—he studies in Paris before the Revolution—his principles grew more . . . liberal, as one might say. Very much more so, indeed: he quarrelled with the synagogue, and this had a disastrous effect on his practice, which, from the paying point of view, was entirely among its members. He was reduced to sad straits; but in earlier days, and out of mere kindness, he often used his linguistic skill to help one of our friends; and some time ago it was suggested that this assistance should be put on a more formal basis. Since then he has carried out several missions for us, usually as a merchant in precious stones, of which he has a considerable knowledge; and with his wide acquaintance, relations, medical skill and so on he has given very great satisfaction. We have of course repeatedly tested his—his discretion—in the usual way.'

'Tell me, sir, is the gentleman married?'

'I believe not,' said Kent. 'But if it is tomorrow's unhappy affair that prompts your question, I can assure you he is perfectly orthodox in those respects. For a while he resided in Algiers on our behalf, and the reporting agent mentioned two mistresses, one white, one black. But apart from these ladies he had many connexions in Algiers, his musical abilities making him particularly welcome among the Europeans of the better sort: and these connexions may prove of the utmost value if Algiers is the chosen port, which seems . . .'

'Very true,' said Mr Dee. 'But I must insist that the Adriatic harbours and dockyards come first: a great show of force, the elimination of potential enemies and the presence of the Royal Navy will necessarily have a great effect upon the fraternities—so great an effect that their conspiracy may well prove abortive. All our efforts should be directed towards that end. I am too old and infirm to take an active part: but my cousins have a banking-house in Ancona, just across the water, and from there I can correspond with my Turkish friends in the Ottoman provinces and co-ordinate our operations. I can also communicate with London by the bankers' couriers.'

During the time of this conference, Jack had been very much occupied with the rest of his squadron: on the way down from Madeira he had had all the captains to dinner, he had been aboard them repeatedly, and he had a fair notion of their abilities; but it was still not clear how he should divide the ships for their separate duties. As far as the Adriatic was concerned, he would certainly shift his pennant into the Surprise, with her wonderful sailing qualities, her old, trained, thoroughly reliable ship's company, capable of such a deadly rate of fire: but for his consort he could not decide between Pomone and Dover. The difference in broadside weight of metal was very great: no less than a hundred and forty-four pounds. But the thirty-gun Pomone was the unhappy ship whose captain was laid up in Funchal with a badly broken leg, unlikely to recover, and whose second lieutenant was confined to his cabin to await trial for an offence under the twenty-ninth Article of War, which dealt with 'unnatural and detestable sin'—a ship to which Lord Keith had appointed a young man, very recently made post, the only qualified officer at hand. Whatever the outcome of tomorrow's ugly trial, the Pomone's people would be very upset—new officers, new ways . . . mockery.

'Larboard, sir?' asked Bonden in an undertone.

Jack nodded. The gig hooked on and he ran up the frigate's side, still lost in thought. He has seen the flagship's barge carrying the civilians away long before and he expected to find Stephen in the cabin. 'Where is the Doctor?' he cried.

'Which he is in the other doctor's cabin,' said Killick, appearing as if by magic, 'discoursing of physical matters and drinking rare old East India sherry. Dr Glover called for another bottle a quarter of an hour ago.'

In fact at this moment they were discoursing of impotence. Their conversation had begun when, having dismissed the Sick and Hurt Board as a parcel of incompetent Ascitans, for only to dance round an inflated wineskin, Dr Glover asked Stephen whether he had heard of the death of Governor Wood of Sierra Leone.

'I have, alas,' said Stephen. 'A most hospitable man: he and his wife entertained us nobly when we were there in Bellona. I am about to write . . . the most difficult kind of letter in the world, however highly you esteem the person to whom it is addressed, and however much you sympathize. I grieve for her extremely.'

Dr Glover did not reply for some time: then, having finished his glass, he looked sideway at his old friend and said, 'I was in Freetown the best part of a year, and they were both my patients. I can tell you as one medico to another that in this case formal expressions of regret would be perfectly adequate: more indeed might be offensive. It was not anything much of a marriage, you know. Indeed legally I believe it was no marriage at all. The Governor was impotent. I took the ordinary measures, and some out of the ordinary: but nothing answered. How the connexion came about in the first place or what they made of it I do not know: but they slept in separate rooms and I had the strong impression that it was but a sad cohabitation—guilt and resentment just under the surface. He of course was a busy man, and very fortunately she has her anatomical studies—a most uncommonly gifted lady. No. Condolence by all means; but tempered, tempered . . . Besides, one very usual and genuine source of grief is wholly lacking: she is well-off in her own right. I know the family in Lancashire.'

'So much the better. Now reverting to this question of impotence: was it physical?'

'Not evidently so.'

'Was the patient an opium-eater?'

'Certainly not. I once had occasion to administer a very moderate dose, and he was astonished by the effects. No, no: it was all in the head—and what innumerable strange surprising fancies the head of a physically normal, active, intelligent man can hold, quite apart from anxiety, that most . . . what is it?'

'Commodore's compliments, sir,' said a midshipman, 'and when Dr Maturin is at liberty, should be happy to see him. But I am to add that there is no hurry at all.'

'Another glass before you go . . . or rather let me call for another bottle, since there is no hurry.'

'You are too kind,' said Stephen, shaking his head; and to the boy, 'Pray tell the Commodore that I shall wait upon him directly.'

'Why, Stephen, there you are,' cried Jack. 'I do beg pardon for interrupting you. Bur since I am sure you have heard of poor Governor Wood's death, I thought you would like to know that there is a Guineaman sailing this evening, in case you chose to send . . . Then again, the Admiral has a courier setting off for England within the hour: I have asked for William Reade to bring Ringle, and since she will need a day or two's readying, he could ride over to Woolhampton, taking messages and bringing things back.'

'I had indeed heard of Captain Wood's death, God rest his soul, and I have been composing a letter to his widow in my mind—perhaps I may be able to dash something off by this evening, though I am a slow, dry and barren creature with a pen. As for William Reade, if he will buy a fine bold hoop in Portsmouth and give it to Brigid with my love, together with this crown piece, I should be infinitely obliged to him. And if he would bring back my narwhal horn, or rather tusk—the tusk you so very kindly gave me a great while since—I should be most uncommon grateful. I was contemplating on it in the night, for I am told that in Mahon we are likely to meet that eminent engineer, metallurgist and natural philosopher James Wright, and I hope that he will be able to tell me—do you see the horn in your eye, at all clearly?'

'Fairly well.'

'To tell me whether those whorls, or perhaps I should say those torsades or undulations, and those spirals running from the base almost to the very tip add strength or possibly elasticity to the whole improbable structure.'

'Beg pardon, sir,' said Killick, 'but your number one scraper ain't fit to be seen aboard the flag.' He held up a gold-laced hat, very fine, but strangely dented. 'Which you trod on it last Thursday and put it back in its case without a word: but there is still just time to have it reblocked at Broad's.'

'Make it so, Killick,' said Jack. 'Ask Mr Willis for a boat.' And to Stephen, 'I shall add your requests in my letter to Reade: hoop and a crown for Brigid, with your love, and the narwhal horn.'

'Love to dear Sophie too, of course, and the kindest of wishes to Clarissa Oakes. The horn is in a bow-case, hanging in one of the cupboards in the gunroom. Brother, I am afraid you are low in your spirits.'

'I do so hate a court-martial, above all one of this kind. Will you attend?'

'I will not. In any case I have an appointment ashore.' They gazed out of the great broad sweep of stern-lights at the tawny Rock itself, soaring away as unlikely and as impressive as ever. 'Jack,' he went on, with a significant expression familiar to them both, 'it is not impossible that I may bring an assistant-surgeon back with me. If I am not mistaken entirely, it would not be fit that the gentleman should mess with the midshipmen and mates, so if he cannot be admitted to the gunroom, perhaps I might be indulged in his company as a guest?'

'Of course you may,' said Jack. 'But if he is a gentleman of a certain age and standing, as I suppose, I am sure the gunroom would stretch a point, particularly as you are almost never there: he could take your place.'

'As far as standing goes, he is as much of a physician as myself—a doctor of medicine. We studied in Paris together for a while: he was some years junior to me, but already highly considered as an anatomist. That would certainly be the best arrangement; for although he is a tolerable musician; and you might very well consider inviting him on occasion . . . that would certainly be the best arrangement.'

Feeling Stephen's embarrassment, Jack cried, 'Oh, I have not told you: tomorrow is going to be a day of hellish turmoil. I am shifting my pennant into Surprise and there are going to be some important changes: apart from anything else the squadron is promised two new drafts to bring us up to something like establishment.'

The hellish din began before eight bells in the middle watch, when, in the complete darkness, the people who were to remove into other ships began packing their chests and manhandling them along the narrow, crowded passages and up the steep, steep ladders to strategic corners from which they could be hurried on deck as soon as the boasts came alongside. These corners were often occupied, which led to disagreement, very noisy disagreement sometimes, and then to renewed thumping as the defeated chest was humped away. At eight bells, or four in the morning, that part of the starboard watch which had managed to stay asleep was roused with the usual shattering din and mustered on deck: then a little later the idlers were called and for the next two hours they and the starboard watch cleaned the decks with water, sand, holystones great and small, and swabs. Barely were the spotless decks quite dry before the hammocks were piped up, and in the midst of the frantic hurry boats from Dover, Rainbow, Ganymede and Briseis approached: unhappily, the officer of the watch, Mr Clegg, was some way below the deck, stilling a quarrel about chests dangerously near the sacred cabin, and the master's mate, misunderstanding his cry, allowed the boats to come alongside. The seamen swarmed aboard with their belongings, and it called for all the authority of a tall, furious, night-shirted Captain Aubrey to restore anything like order.

'I am very sorry for the pandemonium, Stephen,' he said as at last they sat down to their breakfast, brought by a now silent, timid Killick. 'All this mad rushing up and down, bellowing like Gadarene swine . . .'

The breakfast itself was adequate, with quantities of fresh eggs, sausages, bacon, a noble pork pie, rolls and toast, cream for their coffee; but there was little to be said for it as a freshly indulgence, since every other bite was interrupted by a message from one ship or another, often delivered by midshipmen, washed, brushed and extremely nervous, presenting their captain's compliments and might he be favoured with a few, just a few, really able seamen, with heavy carronades instead of nine-pounder guns, or any of the countless variety of stores that the Commodore's good word with the dockyard officials might provide. Even more irritating was Killick's unceasing concern with the splendid uniform in which Jack was to appear at the court-martial—his intolerable twitching of the napkin that guarded breeches and lower waistcoat, his muttered warnings about egg-yolk, butter, anchovy paste, marmalade.

At last the mate of the watch came, with the first lieutenant's duty and compliments, to announce that Royal Sovereign had thrown out her signal for the court-martial. A last cup of coffee and they both went on deck: over the smooth water of the bay captain's barges could already be seen converging on the flagship. Jack's was waiting for him and after a momentary hesitation he nodded to Stephen, stepping forward to the gangway stanchions as the bosun and his mates piped their captain over the side and all his officers saluted.

'Sir. If you please, sir,' said a boy's voice for the second time, now with a certain impatience, and turning from the rail Stephen saw a familiar face, young Witherby, formerly of the Bellona. The shifting of officers and rating since Jack's appointment to the Pomone had never been clear to Stephen. He knew that Surprise's coxswain and the bargemen had followed their captain, but what this boy was doing here he could not tell. Indeed, there were many, many things that remained obscure unless he made a determined effort of collecting his mind and concentrating upon the present. 'Mr Witherby,' he said, 'What may I do for you?'

'Why, sir,' said the boy, 'I understood you were for the shore, and I have the jolly-boat under the stern, if you please to walk this way.'

Witherby landed him at the Ragged Staff steps, and once he was through the Southport Gate he found the familiar surroundings a comfort: the move into the unknown Pomone, though wholly unimportant in itself, had for once been strangely disturbing. He made his way steadily along to Thompson's comfortable, unpretentious hotel, glancing right and left at shops and buildings he had known these many years. Many red-coats, many sea-officers, but nothing to touch the hive-like multitudes of Gibraltar in full war-time.

He turned in at Thompson's door. 'Dr Jacob, if you please,' he said. 'He is expecting me.'

'Yes, sir. Should you like him to come down?'

'Oh no. Tell me the number of his room and I will go up.'

'Very good, sir. Pablito, show the gentleman to the third floor back.'

Pablito tapped; the door opened, and a well-known voice said, 'Dr Maturin, I presume?'

The door closed. Pablito's feet echoed on the stairs. Dr Jacob seized Stephen, kissed him on both cheeks and led him into a cool, shaded room where a jug of horchata stood on a low table and smoke from the hookah hung from the ceiling down to eye level.

'I am so exceedingly happy that it is you,' said Jacob, guiding him to a sofa. 'I was so nearly sure of it from Sir Joseph's calculated indiscretions that I brought you an example of the palmar aponeurosis and the contractions which so interested you and Dupuytren.' He slipped into his bedroom and came out carrying a jar: but realizing that his gift could not be fully appreciated in the half-light he thrust open the balcony doors and led Stephen out into the brilliant sun.

'You are altogether too good, dear Amos,' said Stephen, gazing at the severed hand, clear in its spirits of wine, the middle fingers so hard-clenched against the palm that their nails had grown into the flesh. 'You are too good entirely. I have never seen so perfect an example. I long to make a very exact dissection.'

But Jacob, taking no notice, turned him gently to the full sun and looked hard into his face. 'Stephen, you have not made some cruel self-diagnosis, I trust?'

'I have not,' said Stephen, and in as few words as possible he explained the situation—his personal situation. Amos did not oppress him with any sympathy other than a deeply affectionate pressure on the shoulder, but suggested that they should walk out high on the Rock, where they could speak about their present undertaking in complete safety. '. . . that is to say, if you still feel concerned.'

'I am wholly concerned, wholly committed,' said Stephen. 'If it were not so wicked, I could almost be grateful for this very evil man and his odious system.'

They walked out of town, up and up to the ridge itself, where the cliffs fall down to Catalan Bay and where Stephen saw, with muted satisfaction, that the peregrine eyrie was occupied again, the falcon standing on the outer edge, bating and calling. All the way along they walked, with the migrant birds passing overhead, sometimes very low, and on either side, Stephen mechanically noting the rarities (six pallid harriers, more than he had ever seen together), right out to the far end overlooking Europa Point, and back again; and all the time, with a much more conscious, concentrated mind, Stephen listened to all that Jacob, with his remarkable sources of information, had gathered about the Adriatic urgent request for money to pay their mercenaries. Jacob also spoke, and with equal authority, of the probable donor and of the pressure that might be brought to bear on the Dey of Algiers. 'But where Africa is concerned,' he said, 'it seems to me that little or nothing should be attempted until we have had at least some success in the Adriatic.'

Stephen agreed, his eyes following a troop of black storks as they passed over the flagship; and quite suddenly he realized that the Royal Sovereign was no longer flying the court-martial signal. Indeed, the captains' barges were already dispersing.

On the way down they walked almost in silence. They had said all that could usefully be said at this point, though more intelligence was to be expected at Mahon—and Stephen very often glanced at the flagship's main yardarm. In these waters Commander-in-Chief was all-powerful: he could confirm a court's sentence of death without the least reference to the King or the Admiralty. In naval courts-martial sentence was pronounced at once: it was final, with no appeal: and Lord Keith was not one for delay.

By the time they reached the town there was no man hanging from the yardarm; but on the battlements this side of the Southport Gate there were several officers, including Jack Aubrey and some of the Pomone's people, looking earnestly southward along the strand. Stephen joined them, saying 'Sir, may I introduce Dr Jacob, the assistant-surgeon of whom I told you?'

'Very happy, sir,' said Jack, shaking Jacob's hand. He would obviously have said more, but at this moment a strong murmur all along from the bastion increased immensely as two boats left the flagship, pulling for the shore and towing a bare grating, the soaked and wretched prisoners upon it. A few minutes later the grating was cast off: a small surf brought it in and the men scrambled in the shallows. There was some sparse cat-calling from the crowd, but not much; and half a dozen people helped them to dry land, dragging their belongings.

'Dr Jacob,' sir,' said Jack, 'I hope that you will be able to come aboard without delay. I am eager to be out of sight of this place.' And privately to Stephen he said, 'I repeated your "No penetration, no sodomy", which floored one and all; though I must say that most of them were glad to be floored. I persuaded the others to find no more than gross indecency.'

'And is being towed ashore on a grating the set penalty for gross indecency?'

'No. We call it the use and custom of the sea: that is the way it has always been.'