beam.
‘I am sorry to have to ask for this interview, sir,’ said Stephen. ‘But it is probable there will be a mutiny tomorrow night, when the ship is in with the French coast. The intention is to carry her into Saint-?Valery.’
Jack nodded. This confirmed his reading of the situation - the Sophies’ downcast, wretched looks, the men’s demeanour, the twenty-?four-?pound shot that had left their racks to trundle about the deck in the middle watch. His ship was falling to pieces under his feet, his crew were falling away from their duty and their allegiance. ‘Can you tell me who are the ringleaders?’
‘I cannot. No, sir: you may call me many things, but not an informer. I have said enough, more than enough.’
No. Many surgeons, with a foot in each world, were more than half in sympathy with mutineers: there had been that man at the Nore, and the unfortunate Davidson they hanged for it at Bombay. And even Killick, his own servant, even Bonden - and they must have known something of what was brewing - would not inform on their shipmates, although they were very close to him.
‘Thank you for having come to see me,’ he said stiffly.
When the door had closed behind Stephen he sat down with his head in his hands and let himself go to total unhappiness - to something near despair - so many things together, and now this cold evil look: he reproached himself most bitterly for not having seized this chance for an apology. ‘If only I could have got it out; but he spoke so quick, and he was so very cold. Though indeed, I should have looked the same if any man had given me the lie; it is not to be borne. What in God’s name possessed me? So trivial, so beside the point - as gross as a schoolboy calling names - unmanly. However, he shall make a hole
in me whenever he chooses. And then again, what should I have the air of, suddenly growing abject now that I know he is such a deadly old file?’ Yet throughout this period of indulgence some other part of his brain was dealing with the immediate problem, and almost without a transition he said, ‘By God, I wish I had Macdonald.’ This had nothing to do with a desire for comfort or council - he knew that Macdonald disapproved of him - but for efficiency. Macdonald was an officerlike man; this puppy Smithers was not. Still, he might not be wholly inept.
He rang his bell, and said, ‘Pass the word for Mr Smithers.’
‘Sit down, Mr Smithers. Tell me over the names of your Marines, if you please. Very good: and there is your sergeant, of course. Now listen to what I say. Think of each of these men separately, with great attention, and tell me whether or no each is to be relied upon.’
‘Why, of course they are, sir,’ cried Smithers.
‘No, no. Think, man, think,’ said Jack, trying to force some responsibility from that pink smirk. ‘Think, and reply when you have really thought. This is of the very first consequence.’
His look was exceedingly penetrating and savage; it had effect. Smithers lost countenance and began to swear. He did evidently put his mind into painful motion; his lips could be seen moving, telling over the muster; and after some time he came up with the answer, ‘Perfectly reliable, sir. Except for a man called - well, he has the same name as me; but no sort of connection, of course - a Papist from Ireland.’
‘You will answer for that? You are dead certain of what you say? I say dead certain?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Smithers, staring, terribly upset.
‘Thank you, Mr Smithers. You are to mention this conversation to no one. That is a direct, absolute order. And you are to display no uneasiness. Pray desire Mr Goodridge to come here at once.’
‘Mr Goodridge,’ he said, standing at his chart-?table, ‘be so good as to give me our position.’
‘Exact, sir, or within a league or two?’ asked the master, with his head on one side and his left eye closed.
‘Exact.’
‘I must bring the log-?board, sir.’ Jack nodded. The master returned, took up scale and compasses, and pricked the chart. ‘There, sir.’
‘I see. We are under courses and topsails?’
‘Yes, sir. We agreed to run down easy for Sunday’s tide, if you remember, so as not to hang about in the offing, we being so recognizable.’
‘I believe, I believe,’ said Jack, studying the chart and the board, ‘I believe that we may catch this evening’s tide. What do you say, Master?’
‘If the wind holds, sir, so we may, by cracking on regardless. I should not care to answer for the wind, though. The glass is rising.’
‘Not mine,’ said Jack, looking at his barometer. ‘I should like to see Mr Parker, if you please: and in the meantime it would be as well to get the stuns’ls, royals and skylines into the tops.
‘Mr Parker, we have a mutiny on our hands. I intend to take the Polychrest into action at the earliest possible moment, by way of dealing with the situation. We shall crowd sail to reach Chaulieu tonight. But before making sail I shall speak to the men. Let the gunner load the two aftermost guns with grape. The officers are to assemble on the quarterdeck at six bells - in ten minutes - with their side-?arms. The Marines will fall in with their muskets on the fo’c’sle. No hurry or concern will be shown before that time. When all hands are called the guns will be traversed for’ard, with an oldster standing by each one. When I have spoken to the hands and we make sail, no man is to be struck or started until further orders.’
‘May I offer an observation, sir?’
‘Thank you, Mr Parker, no. Those are my orders.’
‘Very good, sir.’
He had no confidence in Parker’s judgment. If he had asked the advice of any man aboard it would have been Goodridge. But this was his responsibility as captain of the ship and his alone. In any case, he felt that he knew more about mutinous hands than anyone on the quarterdeck of the Polychrest: as a disrated midshipman he had served before the mast in a discontented ship on the Cape station - he knew it from the other side. He had a great
