they knew nothing and upon whom (he being a bachelor) they, as ladies, could not call.
‘Pray, Admiral,’ said Mrs Williams, as soon as the Berlin wool had been faintly praised, peered at with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, and privately condemned as useless
- nothing like a match, in quality, colour or price. ‘Pray, Admiral, tell us about this Captain Aubrey, who they say has taken Melbury Lodge.’
‘Aubrey? Oh, yes,’ said the Admiral, running his dry tongue over his dry lips, like a parrot, ‘I know all about him. I have not met him, but I talked about him to people at the club and in the Admiralty, and when I came home I looked him up in the Navy List. He is a young fellow, only a master and commander, you know -’
‘Do you mean he is pretending to be a captain?’ cried Mrs Williams, perfectly willing to believe it.
‘No, no,’ said Admiral Haddock impatiently. ‘We always call commanders Captain So-?and-?So in the Navy. Real captains, full captains, we call post-?captains - we say a man is made post when he is appointed to a sixth-?rate or better, an eight-?and-?twenty, say, or a thirty-?two-?gun frigate. A post-?ship, my dear Madam.’
‘Oh, indeed,’ said Mrs Williams, nodding her head and looking wise.
‘Only a commander: but he did most uncommon well in the Mediterranean. Lord Keith gave him cruise after cruise in that little old quarter-?decked brig we took from the Spaniards in ninety-?five, and he played Old Harry with the shipping up and down the coast. There were times when he well-?nigh filled the Lazaretto Reach in Mahon with his prizes - Lucky Jack Aubrey, they called him. He must have cleared a pretty penny - a most elegant penny indeed. And he it was who took the Cacafuego! The very man,’ said the Admiral with some triumph, gazing round the circle of blank faces. After a moment’s pause of unbroken stupidity on their part he shook his head, saying, ‘You never even heard of the engagement, I collect?’
No, they had not. They were sorry to say that they had not heard of the Cacafuego - was it the same as the Battle of St Vincent? Perhaps it had happened when they were so busy with the strawberries. They had put up two hundred pots.
‘Well, the Cacafuego was a Spanish xebec-?frigate of two and thirty guns, and he went for her in this little fourteen-?gun sloop, fought her to a standstill, and carried her into Minorca. Such an action! The service rang with it. And if it had not been for some legal quirk about her papers, she being lent to the Barcelona merchants and not commanded by her regular captain, which meant that technically she was not for the moment a king’s ship but a privateer, he would have been made post and given command of her. Perhaps knighted too. But as it was - there being wheels within wheels, as I will explain at another time, for it is not really suitable for young ladies - she was not bought into the service; and so far he has not been given his step. What is more, I do not think he ever will be. He is a vile ranting dog of a Tory, to be sure - or at least his father is but even so, it was shameful. He may not be quite the thing, but I intend to take particular notice of him - shall call tomorrow - to mark my sense of the action: and of the injustice.’
‘So he is not quite the thing, sir?’ asked Cecilia.
‘Why no, my dear, he is not. Not at all the thing, they tell me. Dashing he may be! indeed, he is; but disciplined - pah! That is the trouble with so many of your young fellows, and it will never do in the service- will never do for St Vincent. Many complaints about his lack of discipline - independence - disobeying orders. No future in the service for that kind of officer, above all with St Vincent at the Admiralty. And then I fear he may not attend to the fifth commandment quite as he should.’ The girls’ faces took on an inward look as they privately ran over the Decalogue: in order of intelligence a little frown appeared on each as its owner reached the part about Sunday travelling, and then cleared as they carried on to the commandment the Admiral had certainly intended. ‘There was a great deal of talk about Mrs - about a superior officer’s wife, and they say that was at the bottom of the matter. A sad rake, I fear; and undisciplined, which is far worse. You may say what you please about old Jarvie, but he will not brook undisciplined conduct. And he does not love a Tory, either.’
‘Is Old Jarvie a naval word for the Evil One, sir?’ asked Cecilia.
The admiral rubbed his hands. ‘He is Earl St Vincent, my dear, the First Lord of the Admiralty.’
At the mention of authority Mrs Williams looked grave and respectful; and after a reverent pause she said, ‘I believe you mentioned Captain Aubrey’s father, Admiral?’
‘Yes. He is that General Aubrey who made such a din by flogging the Whig candidate at Hinton.’
‘How very disgraceful. But surely, to flog a member of parliament he must be a man of considerable estate?’
‘Only moderate, ma’am. A moderate little place the other side of Woolhampton; and much encumbered, they tell me. My cousin Hanmer knows him well.’
‘And is Captain Aubrey the only son?’
‘Yes, ma’am. Though by the bye he has a new mother-?in-?law: the general married a girl from the village some months ago. She is said to be a fine sprightly young woman.’
‘Good heavens, how wicked!’ said Mrs Williams. ‘But I presume there is no danger? I presume the general is of a certain age?’
‘Not at all, ma’am,’ said the admiral. ‘He cannot be much more than sixty-?five. Were I in Captain Aubrey’s shoes, I should be most uneasy.’
Mrs Williams brightened. ‘Poor young man,’ she said placidly. ‘I quite feel for him, I protest.’
The butler carried away the tea-?tray, mended- the fire and began to light the candles. ‘How the evenings are drawing in,’ said Mrs Williams. ‘Never mind the sconces by the door. Pull the curtains by the cord, John. Touching the cloth wears it so, and it is bad for the rings. And now, Admiral, what have you to tell us of the other gentleman at Melbury Lodge, Captain Aubrey’s particular friend?’
‘Oh, him,’ said Admiral Haddock. ‘I do not know much about him. He was Captain Aubrey’s surgeon in this sloop. And I believe I heard he was someone’s natural son. His name is Maturin.’
‘If you please, sir,’ said Frances, ‘what is a natural son?’
‘Why. . . ’said the admiral, looking from side to side.
‘Are sons more natural than daughters, pray?’
‘Hush, my dear,’ said Mrs Williams.
