never seen anything more beautiful, she said - the Lively had left the Amethyst standing: red faces on her quarterdeck - and then there had been some charming dead calms, the whole day long - they had often talked of Stephen - how they had missed him! - and she had been so kind to that youngster Randall, who wept when poor Cassandra died - Randall senior loved her to distraction; so did the whole gun-?room - they had dined twice with the officers - Cecilia seemed very well with Dredge, of the Marines - Jack was grateful to him for drawing her off - certainly Sophie had drunk her porter, and a glass of bosun’s grog - had eaten splendidly: Jack loved a girl that tucked in hearty - and as for the future, they were full of hope, but. . . could do with very little. . . no horses. .cottage. . . potatoes. ‘Stephen,’ he said, ‘you are asleep.’
‘I am not,’ said Stephen. ‘You just mentioned the last syllable of recorded time with evident approval. But I am weary, I confess. I travelled all night, and yesterday was something of a trial. I will turn in, if I may. Where must I sleep?’
‘There’s a question,’ said Jack. ‘Where should you berth, in fact? Of course you shall sleep in my cot; but officially where should you be? That would puzzle Solomon. What seniority did they give you?’
‘I have no idea. I did not read the document; apart from the phrase. We, reposing especial trust and confidence in S.M., which pleased me.’
‘Well, I suppose you are junior to me; so you shall have the leeward side of the cabin and I the windward, and every time we go about, we shall change sides, ha, ha, ha. Ain’t I a rattle? But seriously, I suppose you should be read in to the ship’s company - an amazing situation.’
‘If there is any doubt, pray do no such thing. It would be far better for me to remain unobserved. And Jack, in all this that has passed between us, all that you may have guessed, I rely wholly upon your discretion, eh? There are moments when my life might turn upon it.’
He had every reason to rely upon Jack, who could keep close counsel; but not all captains were so discreet, and when the Medusa came tearing out of Plymouth with a dark gentleman aboard, known to speak Spanish - a gentleman who remained closeted with the captains of the Lively, the Amphion and the Medusa, and Dr Maturin while they were lying to off the Dodman, waiting for the Indefatigable to join - the general opinion of the ship was that they were bound for Cadiz, that Spain had come in or was just about to come in; and this gave a great deal of simple pleasure, for hitherto Spanish merchantmen had been immune from capture. In a sea swept almost clear of prizes, they ploughed steadily along past cruisers, through blockading squadrons, laughing and kissing their hands, their holds so full of wealth that a foremast jack might make five years’ pay in one pleasant Saturday afternoon.
At last the Indefatigable hove in sight, a heavy forty-?gun frigate, making heavy weather of it too, close-?hauled on the westerly gale with green seas keeping her beak-?head clean and the signal flying Form in line astern: make all suitable sail.
Now, as the four frigates, in a perfect line, each two cables from the next, stretched away to the south-? southwest, came a tedious, frustrating time for the Livelies: the topmen were rarely on deck, but it was not to make sail. In order to keep rigidly to her station in the Amphion’s wake, the Lively was perpetually reefing, dewing up, hauling down jibe, staysails, spanker, starting sheets. And when the sealed orders were opened - when, after the captains’ last conference aboard the Indefatigable, it became certain knowledge that they were to intercept a Spanish squadron from the River Plate to Cadiz, this impatience grew to such a height that they welcomed the dirty look of Sunday evening. A vast unformed blackness filled the south and western sky, an enormous swell was running, so great that men who had scarcely set foot on shore for years were sick; the wind boxed the compass, blowing now hot, now cold, and the sun went down in an ill-?looking bank of livid purple with green lights showing through. Cape Finisterre was not far under their lee, and they doubled their preventer-?stays and rolling-?tackle, roused up storm canvas, secured the boats on the booms, double-?breeched their guns, struck the topgallants down on deck, and made all snug.
At two bells in the middle watch the wind, which had been blowing fitfully from the south-?west, backed suddenly into the north, hurling itself against the mountainous swell with tripled force - thunder just overhead, lightning, and such a deluge of rain that a storm-?lantern on the forecastle could not be seen from the quarterdeck. The maintopimast staysail blew out of its boltrope, vanishing ghostly to leeward in pale strips of cloth Jack sent more hands to the wheel, rigged relieving-?tackles, and came into the cabin, where Stephen lay swinging in his cot, to tell him that it was coming on to blow.
‘How you do exaggerate, brother,’ said Stephen. ‘And how you drip! The best part of a quart of water has run off your person in this short space of time - see how it sweeps to and fro, defying gravity.’
‘I love a good blow,’ said Jack, ‘and this is one of your genuine charmers; for, do you see, it must hold the Spaniards back, and the dear knows we are very short of time. Was they to slip into Cadiz before us, what flats we should look.’
‘Jack, do you see that piece of string hanging down? Would you have the goodness to tie it to the hook over there, to reattach it? It came undone. Thank you. I pull upon it to moderate the motion of the cot, which exacerbates all my symptoms.’
‘Are you unwell? Queasy? Sick?’
‘No, no. Not at all. What a foolish suggestion. No. This may be the onset of a very serious malady. I was bitten by a tame bat a little while ago. and I have reasons to doubt its sanity: it was a horseshoe bat, a female. It seems to me that I detect a likeness between my symptoms and the Ludolphus’ description of his disease.’
‘Should you like a glass of grog?’ asked Jack. ‘Or a ham sandwich, with luscious white fat?’ he added, with a grin.
‘No, no, no,’ cried Stephen. ‘Nothing of the kind. I tell you, this is a serious matter, calling for . . . there it goes again. Oh, this is a vile ship: the Sophie never behaved so - wild, unmeaning lurches. Would it be too much to ask you to turn down the lamp and to go away? Surely this is a situation that requires all your vigilance? Surely this is no time to stand idly smirking?’
‘Are you sure there is nothing I can fetch you? A basin?’
‘No, no, no.’ Stephen’s face assumed a pinched, mean expression: his beard showed black against the nacreous green. ‘Does this sort of tempest last long?’
‘Oh, three or four days, no more,’ said Jack, staggering with the lee-?lurch. ‘I will send Killick with a basin.’
‘Jesus, Mary, Joseph,’ said Stephen. ‘There she goes again.’ In the trough of the enormous waves the frigate lay becalmed, but as she rose, so the gale took her and laid her down, down and down, in a never-?ending roll, while her forefoot heaved up until her bowsprit pointed at the racing clouds. ‘Three days of this,’ he thought. ‘No human frame can withstand it.’
