Sir Thomas reflected that Maria had kept her dread secret to herself, until after the wedding of Edmund and Mary, so as not to alloy the happiness of that occasion. Sir Thomas’ anger at Henry Crawford in no way comprehended his new daughter-in-law Mary. She was sweet, virtuous, and loving and not to be compared with Crawford, who no doubt was making his niece Fanny’s life miserable. Crawford of course, was not to be found—he was thought to be at Brighton, then at the races at Newmarket. Accusation or reparation was futile now that he was a married man and public disgrace would fall only upon Maria should her secret become known.
Sir Thomas’ implacable anger, without that immediate object before him, was diffused and general; it comprehended Henry Crawford, Maria, himself—for his failings as a father— and, after a few days of consideration, Mrs. Norris as well. She had been supposed to be Maria’s particular chaperone when in London—how imperfectly had she discharged her duties! Yet he could not relieve his feelings by questioning her minutely about Maria’s comings and goings, nor by condemning his sister-in-law to her face, for he wished to keep Maria’s disgrace a secret even from Mrs. Norris, if not particularly from Mrs. Norris, for the woman could not guard her tongue at any time.
Sir Thomas had a sudden inspiration; to offer, in such terms as left his sister-in-law without the power of refusal, to send her for that long-desired visit to see her ‘dear sister Price’ in Portsmouth. An industrious, managing woman such as herself might be a positive benefit to the Prices, but even if it were not so, even if she proved to be as great a plague to the Prices as she had been to the Bertrams, he cared not. He heartily wished her gone, and so she was gone, very soon after he had formed the idea, sent by post chaise to take up her abode with her sister and family. He ensured that her stay would be a long one by informing her that, to his very great regret, he must begin charging rent for the White house, but should she find a respectable tenant, she could keep half the proceeds for so long as she lived elsewhere! The speed and alacrity with which Mrs. Norris found and installed her tenant and packed her trunks for Portsmouth proved an object lesson in how swiftly persons will act, when a way to appeal to their self-interest may be found.
Sir Thomas thereby obtained a not inconsiderable benefit to himself and his household, and if he had known of the degree of rejoicing in the servants’ hall when the news reached their ears, he would have been enlightened as to how cordially the woman had been detested by his faithful servitors. Christopher Jackson laughed and offered to build a bonfire in the lower meadow, and the housekeeper looked the other way when a ration of wine was poured out for both the upper and lower tables and “May God keep Mrs. Norris” was proposed, and no one needed to add the old tag, “far away from us,” for everyone understood.
Thus this blackest of all black clouds proved to have a silver lining.
* * * * * *
William Gibson dropped a heavy armful of wet branches and roots wrestled from the mangrove swamps into the cutter and straightened his aching back, while sucking in a lungful of the muggy, heavy air. Rivers of sweat streamed into his eyes. Shore duty was one of the few manual tasks he could perform without getting tangled up in ropes, or striking his head on a low beam; in other words, without dangerously injuring himself or others. He had not shown himself unwilling to work, but the combination of his height, poor eyesight, and inability to adapt to the heat had held him back from acquiring the requisite skills of an able seaman. Nevertheless, his fellow sailors had grown fond of him, working together to protect him from the worst errors, and laughing at him for the rest. He gave himself no airs, he asked for no special treatment.
Captain Columbine swiftly sized up the earnest young scribbler and appointed him as the ship’s schoolmaster, in charge of teaching geometry and geography to the midshipman and cabin boys, for the previous schoolmaster had been a worthless drunk who had died of putrid fever. Captain Columbine also called on Gibson’s talents as a clerk, and soon Gibson had enough honest work wielding a pen or drumming the rudiments of antipodal points into young minds to excuse him from most other duties.
No one escaped shore party duty, however, and as Gibson and his mess mates rowed back to the Solebay with fuel and full water barrels, he tried to take what pleasure he could in the blueness of the sky and the green glimmer of the waves. They were leaving behind the sandy beaches that were so white they hurt his eyes, and the innumerable hordes of tiny biting insects which descended in a cloud on the mariners as they collected fresh water at the riverbank. Away from the shore, one could almost persuade oneself that the sea breezes brought some infinitesimal relief from the smothering heat. Gibson’s habit was to think back to his days as a young child, in his old bedroom at his uncle’s rectory on a January morning, performing his ablutions with ice water, his feet and hands numb, his teeth chattering aloud– and he would gladly have exchanged places with himself, if only for a few moments.
The Solebay was still anchored at the Isle of Gorée whilst Captain Columbine was in conference with Major Maxwell, commander of the British garrison. The topic of the meeting was the cause of much muttered speculation among the crew. The sailors who were already on board the Solebay before Lieutenant Price and William Gibson had joined them were bitter over
