The Nutmeg of Consolation (13 page)

'You may see them at once, for me, sir,' said Adams, gathering up his papers. 'I am away to the purser's steward. If he has anything of a headpiece, he and I can fill in all these gaps.'

Five minutes later the youths were brought in, pale with waiting and apprehension. Jack received them in a detached, non-committal manner: his present happiness did not cloud his judgment as far as the ship was concerned and his first impression was scarcely favourable: these might very well be the kind of midshipman that any captain would leave behind without any rigorous search.

He quickly learnt their service history - undistinguished - and their natural abilities - moderate. After some thought he said 'I know nothing about you. I know none of the captains you have served under: I have no note from them and the secretary's chit merely names you, without any recommendation. And of course there is an R against your names on the Clio's books: you are technically deserters. I cannot take you on my quarterdeck. But if you wish I will enter you on the books, rating you able.'

'Thank you, sir,' they said, very faintly.

'The notion of the lower deck don't please you?' said Jack. 'Very well. I am not short-handed and I shall not press you. Nor shall I take you up as deserters. You may go ashore in the next boat.'

We had much rather stay, sir, if you please,' they said.

'Very well,' said Jack. 'Of course life on the lower deck is hard and rough, as you know very well, but the Nutmeg has a decent set of people, and if you keep quiet, do your duty and do not top it the knob - above all do not top it the knob - you will have quite a good time what is more, you will come to understand the service through and through. Many a good man has started his career as a rating or has been turned before the mast when he was a midshipman and has ended by hoisting his flag. Killick; Killick, there. Pass the word for Mr Fielding . Mr Fielding, Oakes and Miller here will be entered on the ship's books, rated as able. They will belong to the starboard watch and be stationed in the foretop. Purser s steward will issue slops, beds, hammocks, under Mr Adams' supervision.

Aye aye, sir,' said Fielding.

Thank you very much, sir, said Oakes and Miller, their distress concealed, or rather attempted to be concealed, by a decent appearance of gratitude.

On Thursday Ahmed came into Stephen's cabin with a conscious expression and a prepared speech in his mouth; he knelt, struck his forehead on the deck, and begged leave to depart. He was languishing for his family and his village; it had always been understood that he should return to Java with the tuan; and now the ship was about to leave for an unknown world, a worse England. As a farewell present he had brought the tuan a trilobate betel box in which he might carry his coca-leaves, and a wig, a poor thing, but the best the island could produce.

Stephen expected this, particularly as Ahmed had been seen leading out a Sumatran beauty; having given him leave to go he added a small purse of johannes, those broad Portuguese gold pieces, and wrote him a handsome testimonial in case he should wish to be employed again. They parted on excellent terms, and Stephen wore the wig, adequately powdered, to the Governor's dinner.

The meal ran its pleasant course, and although Jack and Stephen were the only men invited, Mrs Raffles had asked no less than four Dutch ladies to keep them company, Dutch ladies moderately fluent in English who had contrived to keep their delicate complexions in the climate of Batavia, and whose bulk had not diminished either, nor their merriment. For the first time in his life Stephen found that he and Rubens were of one mind, particularly as their generous d�llet�and their diaphanous gowns showed expanses of that nacreous Rubens flesh that had so puzzled him before. The nacreous flesh did in fact exist: and it excited desire. The notion of being in bed with one of these cheerful exuberant creatures quite troubled him for a moment, and he regretted Mrs Raffles' signal, at which they all departed, while the men gathered at the end of the table.

'Aubrey,' said the Governor, 'I dare say Maturin has told you how he received my suggestion of detaching the Kestrel as far as the Passage when she comes in?'

'Yes, sir, he did,' said Jack, smiling.

'I am sure he was right; but he was speaking as a man primarily concerned with the political aspect, and I should like to hear the opinion of a sailor, a fighting captain.'

'Well, sir, from the purely tactical view I should much regret having the sloop in company. Her presence might well mean that there would be no engagement at all. The Corn�e, seeing us hull-down, in poor light, might easily over-estimate the Kestrel's strength - she is after all ship-rigged - and sheer off, never to be seen again. But above all the sloop is not due for several days and even then she would surely have to refit and water and take in stores; and every day means the loss of 150 or zoo miles of casting with the present breeze. As for the rest, the political or what I might even call the spiritual side, I thoroughly agree with Maturin: the more the French navy can be persuaded that they are always to be beat, the less likely they are ever to win. So with your permission, sir, I mean to slip my moorings within five minutes of taking leave of Mrs Raffles, and once I have sunk the land, to stand eastwards under all the sail she can carry.'

'My dear,' said the Governor in the drawing-room, 'we must not keep Captain Aubrey for more than the ritual cup of coffee. He is fairly pawing the ground - he is all eagerness to stand eastwards and persuade the French that they are always to be beat.'

'Before he goes,' said Mrs Raffles, 'he must tell me what he has done with those poor unfortunate young men. It quite used to make my heart bleed when I saw them hanging about the Chinese market, looking so wan and shabby and sad: it would have grieved their mothers past expression.'

'I took them aboard, ma'am, but not on my quarterdeck: before the mast.'

'Among the common sailors? Oh Captain Aubrey, how barbarous! They are gentlemen's sons.'

'So was I, ma'am, when I was turned before the mast. It was rough and hard and in the graveyard watch when no one could see me I wept like a girl. But it did me a power of good: and I do assure you, ma'am, that upon the whole your common sailor is a very decent sort of man. My messmates on the lower deck were as kind as could be, except for one. Gross of course, on occasion; but I have known midshipmen's berths, aye and wardrooms, grosser by far.'

'It would I am sure be indiscreet to ask why you were turned before the mast,' said the Dutch lady most at home in English.

'Well, ma'am,' said Jack with an engaging leer, 'it was partly because of my devotion to the sex, but even more because I stole the captain's tripe.'

'Sex?' cried the Dutch ladies. 'Tripe?' They whispered among themselves, blushed, looked very grave, and fell silent. In the silence Jack said to Mrs Raffles, 'To return to your

unfortunate young men. They seem to me to have the makings of seamen, but I mean to try them out on the lower deck for a few weeks. If my impression is right, I shall bring them aft, which will fall in well with my notion of promoting a valuable young foremast-jack. He would come aft with them, feeling neither lost nor a stranger in the midshipmen's berth. I have seen to it that they are in the same watch; and they are messmates.'

The Nutmeg of Consolation received her Captain without ceremony, instantly hoisted in his gig, slipped her moorings, and as her little band (a tromba marina, two fiddles, an oboe, two Jew's harps and of course the drum) played Loath to Depart she made her way out through the shipping with the last of the tide and a fair but very faint breeze. Although the Nutmegs had been kept very, very busy they had still found time to make friends ashore, and a little group of young women, J avanese, Sumatran, Maduran, Dutch and mingled, waved until handkerchiefs could no longer be seen and the ship was little more than a whiteness in the haze towards Cape Krawang.

She was still there on Friday; Saturday and Sunday, for the monsoon, which had been blowing so true and steady all the time they were in Batavia, now gave way to breezes so contrary she was never able to weather that wretched headland. Jack tried everything a sailor could try: anchoring with three cables end to end to stem the flood and take advantage of the ebb; going to sea in search of a favourable wind among the Thousand Islands; beating up tack upon tack, with the Nutmeg running as fast through the sea as the utmost attention and consummate seamanship could drive her, but with no gain, because the entire body of water upon which she skimmed with such breathless care was moving westwards at an equal or even greater pace. Sometimes, when it fell calm, he tried sweeping, for the Nutmeg, though much bigger than most vessels that resorted to these massive great oars, was not too proud to win a mile or two towards the cape at the cost of sore and somewhat ignominious labour. And sometimes he towed, with all the ship's boats pulling their hearts out ahead. But most of the time the air was in motion of some kind and he sailed: this gained him no casting, but he did learn a great deal about his ship. She was neither brisk nor lively with the wind much abaft the beam, but on a bowline she was as fast and weatherly as a man could desire, almost as fast and weatherly as the Surprise, and without her tendency to gripe and steer wild if an expert hand were not at the wheel During the frequent and oh so unwelcome calms he and the master changed her trim until they hit upon the improbable lay that suited her best -the haif-strake by the stern they had begun with - and then the Nutmeg steered herself.

Yet even with a perfect trim she could not fly in the face of nature and sail against both wind and tide, and at breakfast on Sunday Jack said, I have very rarely acted on principle, and on the few occasions when I have done so, it has always ended unhappy There was a girl that said Upon your word of honour now, Mr Aubrey, do you think Caroline handsomer than me?" and on the principle that honour was sacred I said well yes, perhaps, a little, which angered her amazingly and quite broke off our commerce, do you see? And now, out of mere principle again, I stayed until Thursday for the Gover nors dinner - I am not blaming you, Stephen, not for a moment: though it is true that you can never be brought to understand that time and tide wait for no man - but when I think of all that double-reef topsail south-wester wasted, a wind that might have carried us as far as 112�East, why then I say be damned to principle.'

'Is there any more marmalade?' asked Stephen.

Jack passed it and went on, 'But religion is another thing, if you understand me. I mean to rig church this morning, and I wonder whether it would be improper to pray for a fair wind.'

'It is certainly allowable to pray for rain, and I know that it is quite often done. But as to wind... might not that have a most offensive resemblance to your present heathen practices? Might it not look like a mere reinforcement of your scratching backstays and whistling till you are black in the face? Or even, God forbid, to Popery? Martin would tell us the Anglican usage. We Papists would of course beg for the intercession of our patron or some perhaps more appropriate saint: I shall certainly do so in my private devotions. Yet even without Martin, I believe you would be safe in forming, if not in uttering, a vehement wish.'

'How I wish Martin were here: or rather that we were there, east of the Passage. How are they doing? How have they done? Will they be true to their time? Lord, how I wonder.'

'Who is this Martin they are talking about in the cabin?' asked Killick's new mate, a man-of-war's man from Wapping, left behind with six others from the Thunderer to recover from Batavia fever. He alone had survived; and as he had not only his proper discharge, smart-ticket and a commendation from his captain but had also sailed with Jack and Killick at various times in the last twenty years he had been taken on board at once. It was not that he was a particularly well-trained or genteel servant - indeed he was if anything even rougher than Killick - nor that he was an uncommonly expert seaman, being rated able only by courtesy; but he was a cheerful obliging fellow; and above all he was an old shipmate.

'You ain't heard of Mr Martin?' asked Killick, stopping short in his polishing of a silver plate.

'No, mate: never a word,' said the mate, whose name was William Grimshaw.

'Never heard of the Reverend Mr Martin?'

'Not even of the Reverend Mr Martin.'

'Which he had only one eye,' said Killick; and then, reflecting, 'No. Of course it was after your time. He was chaplain of Surprise in the South Sea, being a great friend of the Doctor's. They went collecting wild beasts and butterflies on the Spanish Main - serpents, shrunken heads, dried babies - curiosities, you might say - which they put up in spirits of wine.'

'I saw a lamb with five legs, once,' said William Grimshaw.

'Then when the Captain had his misfortune and took to privateering, Reverend Martin came along too, having had a misfortune likewise. Something to do with his bishop's wife, they said.'

'Bishops don't have wives, mate,' said Grimshaw.

'Well, his miss, his sweetheart, then. But he came along as surgeon's mate, not as parson, no parsons being wanted in a letter of marque.'

'Nor in a man-of-war neither.'

'And there he is as surgeon of Surprise at this wery moment, cutting up his shipmates - a fearless hand with a knife by now, having stuffed so many crocodiles and baboons and the like -and waiting for us, God willing, off of some islands beyond this Passage, a quiet, good-natured gent, not too proud to write a letter for a man or a petition for the ship's company: and your petitioners will always pray. They went west about and we went east about, to meet on the far side of the world, do you see; and the skipper wishes the Reverend was here this minute to ask whether it is lawful to pray for a wind, or would it be Popery.'

'Poor unfortunate buggers,' said Grimshaw, dismissing the questions of prayer.

'How do you make that out?' asked Killick, narrowing his eyes.

'Because why, if you sail steady westwards and you come to the line where the date changes, say if you cross it of a Monday, why, tomorrow is Monday too - and you have lost a day's pay.'