The Corvette

discouraged lest its use be undertaken for the wrong motives.'

'Well a man does not stop taking a little wine in case he becomes roaring drunk and commits some felonious act, does he?'

'Perhaps he should, Mr Mount,' said Singleton icily, raising a glass of water to his lips.

'I don't understand you, Mr Singleton,' said Hill at last. 'I can see you may argue that if Cain had never slain Abel the world might have been a better place but given that it is not paradise, do you advocate that we simply lie down and invite our enemies to trample over us?'

'To turn the other cheek and beat our swords into ploughshares?' added Mount incredulously.

'Why not?' asked Singleton with impressive simplicity. There was a stunned silence while they assimilated the preposterous nature of this suggestion. Then the table erupted as the officers leaned forward with their own reasons for the impossibility of such a course of action. The candle flames guttered under the discharge of air from several mouths. In the ensuing babel Drinkwater heard such expressions as 'march unchecked on London… dishonour our women… destroy our institutions… rape… loot… national honour…'

He allowed the reaction to continue for some seconds before banging sharply on the table.

'Gentlemen, please!' They subsided into silence. 'Gentlemen, you must have some regard for Mr Singleton's cloth. Preposterous as his ideas sound to you, your own conversations have disturbed him these past weeks. He doubtless finds equally odd your own assertions that you will 'thrash Johnny Crapaud', 'cut the throats of every damned frog' you encounter not to mention 'flog any man that transgresses the Articles of War or the common usages of the service'. Yet you appear devout enough when Divine Service is read, an act which Mr Singleton may regard as something close to hypocrisy… eh?' He looked round at them, his eyes twinkling as he encountered mystification or downright astonishment.

'Now, if you ignore abstract considerations and deal with the pragmatic you will see that we have all chosen professions which require zeal. In Mr Singleton's case religious zeal and in your case, gentlemen, the professional zeal of strict adherence to duty. Zeal is not something that admits of much prevarication or equivocation and since argument and debate might be said to be synonyms for quibbling, your two positions are quite irreconcilable. And if two opposing propositions are irreconcilable I would suggest the arguing of them a fatuous waste of time.'

Drinkwater finished his speech with his eyes on Singleton. The man appeared disappointed, as though expecting unreserved support from Drinkwater. He felt slightly guilty towards Singleton, as though owing him some explanation.

'I believe in providence, Mr Singleton, which you might interpret as God's will. To me it incorporates all the forces that you theologists claim as evoked by 'God' whilst satisfactorily explaining those you do not. It is a creed much favoured by sea-officers.'

'Then you do not believe in God, Captain Drinkwater,' pronounced Singleton dolefully, 'and the power of your intellect prevents you from spiritual conversion.'

Drinkwater inclined his head. 'Perhaps.'

'Then I find that a matter of the profoundest sadness, sir,' Singleton replied quietly. The silence in the cabin was touching; even Walmsley and Glencross had ceased to wriggle, though their condition was more attributable to the brandy they had consumed than interest in polemics.

'So do I, Mr Singleton, so do I. But the moment when a man has to say whether God, as you theologists conceive him, exists or not is a profound one, not to be taken lightly. We cannot conceive of any form of existence that does not entail physical entity, witness your own archangels. Indeed even a devout man may imagine eternal life as some sort of transmigration of our corporeal selves during which all disabilities, uglinesses, warts and ill- disposed temperaments disappear. This is surely understandable, though not much above the primitive, something which our eskimo friend would comprehend.

'Now I ask you, as rational beings living in an age of scientific discovery and more particularly being seamen observing the varied phenomena of atmosphereology can you convince me of the whereabouts of these masses of corporeal souls? Of course not…'

'You deny the Resurrection, sir!'

Drinkwater shrugged. 'I have seen too much of death and too little of resurrection to place much faith in it applying to common seamen like ourselves.'

'But you are without faith!' Singleton cried.

'Not at all, sir!' Drinkwater refilled his glass. 'Belief in atheism surrenders everything too much to hazard. I cannot believe that. I see only purpose in all things, a purpose that is made evident by science and manifests itself in the divine working of providence. As for the corporeal self why Quilhampton, Hill and I hold together like a trio of doubled frigates. If the enemy gets a further shot at our carcases there will likely be little left to refurbish for the life hereafter.'

The facetious jest raised a little laughter round the table and revealed that all three midshipmen were asleep.

'I agree with the Captain,' said Germaney suddenly. 'I recollect something Herrick wrote. Er,' he thought for a moment and then sat up and quoted: ''Putrefaction is the end, of all that nature doth intend.' There is great truth in that remark, great truth…'

Drinkwater looked sharply at his first lieutenant. Germaney's silence had seemed as uncharacteristic as his sobriety and now this sudden quotation seemed to be significant. It appeared that Singleton considered it so, for he seemed disinclined to pursue the discussion and Drinkwater himself fell silent. Mount rose and thanked him for his hospitality and the hint was taken up by the others. As the chairs scraped back the midshipmen awoke and guiltily made their apologies. Drinkwater waved them indulgently aside.

As he watched them leave the cabin he called Singleton back. 'A moment, Mr Singleton, if you please.'

Drinkwater blew out the candles that had illuminated the table. The cabin was thrown into penumbral gloom from the midnight daylight of the Arctic summer.

'You must not think that I wish to ridicule your calling. In my convalescence I met a priest of your persuasion possessed of the most enormous spiritual arrogance. I found it most distasteful. It is not that I disbelieve, it is simply that I cannot believe as you do. After the birth of my children I had the curious natural feeling that I had outlived my usefulness. My liberal ideals were in conflict with this, but I could not deny the emotion. It seemed that all thereafter was merely vanity.'

Singleton coughed awkwardly. 'Sir, I…'

'Do not trouble yourself on my account, Mr Singleton, I beg you. I hear that Leek is a faithful convert and protests not only the existence of God but can vouch for his very appearance.'

'Leek was very close to death by drowning, sir, perhaps a little of the great mystery was unfolded to him.' Singleton was deadly serious.

'But the intervention of science prevented it: your knowledge, Mr Singleton.'

'Now you do ridicule me.'

Drinkwater laughed. 'Not at all. Perhaps we are, as you said earlier, too well-informed for our own good, as it says in the Bible, 'unless ye be as little children…''

'That is perhaps the wisest thing you have said, sir,' Singleton at last smiled back.

'Touché. And good night to you.'

'Good night, sir.'

Drinkwater went on deck. Mr Rispin had the watch and pointed out the closer drift ice and identified the whalers in sight. There was scarcely a breath of wind and Melusine lay upon a sea that only moved slightly from the ground swell. Rispin's unconfident, fussy manner irritated Drinkwater until he reflected that he had been particularly lugubrious this evening and dominated the conversation. Well, damn it, it was a captain's privilege to talk nonsense.

Lieutenant Germaney sat in his hutch of a cabin contemplating the bundle of scented paper tied with a blue ribbon. After a while he opened the lantern and removed the candle tray. He began to burn the letters, a little pile of ash mounting up and spilling onto the deck.

When he had completed his task he turned to his cot and lifted the lid of the walnut case that lay upon it. Taking out one of the pair of pistols it contained, he checked its priming. Turning again to the candle he carefully replaced the tray inside the lantern and closed it, returning the thing to its hook in the deck-head.

Reseating himself he lifted the pistol, placed its muzzle in his mouth. For a moment he sat quite still then, with the cold steel barrel knocking his teeth he said, 'Putrefaction!'