‘He must have uncommon strength of will - uncommon strength of constitution.’
‘He has, he has,’ said Sir Joseph, and they walked up and down again for a while. ‘He is going back to his seat. See, he climbs in quite nimbly; the waters have done him the world of good - I recommended them. He will be going up to Landsdowne Crescent in a few minutes. Perhaps we might walk slowly up through the town - I am childishly eager to speak to him.
‘Strong, yes, certainly he is strong,’ he said, threading through the crowd. ‘Let us cross into the sun. What a magnificent day; I could almost do without my great-?coat.’ He bowed towards the other side, kissing his hand. ‘Your servant, ma’am. That was an acquaintance of Lady Keith’s - large properties in Kent and Sussex.’
‘Indeed? I should have taken her for a cook.’
‘Yes. A very fine estate, however. As I was saying, strong; but not without his weaknesses. He was blaming his particular friend for romantic notions the other day -the friend who is to marry the daughter of that woman we saw just now - and if I had not been so shocked by his condition, I should have been tempted to laugh. He is himself a perfect Quixote: an enthusiastic supporter of the Revolution until ‘93; a United Irishman until the rising, Lord Edward’s adviser - his cousin, by the way -,
‘is he a Fitzgerald?’
‘The wrong side of the blanket. And now Catalan independence. Or perhaps I should say, Catalan independence from the beginning, simultaneously with the others. But always heart and soul, blood and purse in some cause from which he can derive no conceivable personal benefit.’
‘Is he romantic in the common sense?’
‘No. So chaste indeed that at one time we were uneasy:
Old Subtlety was particularly disturbed. There was one liaison, however, and that set our minds at rest. A young woman of very good family: it ended unhappy, of course.’
in Pulteney Street they were stopped by two groups of acquaintances, and by one gentleman so highly-?placed that there was no cutting him short; it was therefore some time before they reached Landsdowne Crescent, and when they asked for Dr Maturin they learnt that he had company. However, after a moment they were asked to walk up, and they found him in bed, with a young lady sitting beside him. She rose and curtseyed - an unmarried young lady. Their lips tightened; their chins retreated into the starched white neckcloths: this young person was far, far too beautiful to be described as company, alone in a gentleman’s bedroom.
‘My dear, allow me to name Sir Joseph Blame and Mr Waring: Miss Williams,’ said Stephen.
They bowed again, filled with a new respect for Dr. Maturin, and of a different kind; for as she turned and faced the light they saw that she was a perfectly lovely girl, dewy, fresh, a nonpareil. Sophie did not sit down; she said she must leave them - indeed she must, alas; she was to attend her mother to the Pump Room and the clock had already struck - but if they would forgive her she must first . . . She rummaged in her covered basket, brought out a bottle, a silver tablespoon wrapped in tissue paper, and a box of gilded pills. She filled the spoon, guided it with fixed attention towards Stephen’s mouth, poured the glaucous liquid in, fed him two pills and with a firm benevolence watched them until they had gone down.
‘Well, sir,’ said Sir Joseph, when the door had closed, ‘I congratulate you upon your physician. A more beautiful young lady I do not remember to have seen, and I am old enough to have seen the Duchess of Hamilton and Lady Coventry before they were married. I should consent to have my old cramps redoubled, to be dosed by such a hand; and I, too, should swallow it like a lamb.’ He smirked. Mr Waring also smirked.
‘Be so good as to state your pleasure, gentlemen,’ said Stephen sharply.
‘But seriously, upon my honour,’ said Sir Joseph, ‘and with the greatest possible respect for Miss - I do not believe I have ever had so much pleasure in the sight of a young lady - such grace, such freshness, such colour!’
‘Ha,’ cried Stephen, ‘you should see her when she is in looks - you should see her when Jack Aubrey is by.’
‘Ah, so that is the young lady in question? That is the gallant captain’s betrothed? Yes. How foolish of me.
I should have caught the name.’ This explains everything.
A pause. ‘Tell me, my dear Doctor, is it true that you are somewhat recovered?’
‘Very much so, I thank you. I walked a mile without fatigue yesterday; I dined with an old shipmate; and this afternoon I intend dissecting an aged male pauper with Dr. Trotter. In a week I shall be back in town.’
‘And a hot climate, you feel, would recover you entirely? You can stand great heat?’
‘I am a salamander.’
They gazed at the salamander, pitifully small and distorted in that great bed; he still looked more fit for a hearse than a chaise, let alone a sea-?voyage; but they bowed to superior knowledge, and Sir Joseph said, ‘Then in that case, I shall have no scruple in taking my revenge; and I believe I shall surprise you as much as you surprised me in London. There’s many a true word spoken in jest.’
A variety of other wise saws sprang to Stephen’s indignant mind - words and feathers are carried off by the wind; as is the wedding, so is the cake; do not speak Arabic in the house of the Moor; pleasures pass but sorrows stay; love, grief and money cannot be concealed - but he uttered no more than a sniff, and Sir Joseph continued in his prosy voice, ‘There is a custom in the department, that when the chief retires, he has certain traditional privileges; just as an admiral, on hauling down his flag, may make certain promotions. Now there is a frigate fitting out at Plymouth to take our envoy, Mr Stanhope, to Kampong. The command has been half-?promised to three different gentlemen and there is the usual - in short, I may have the disposal of it. It appears to me that if you were to go, with Captain Aubrey, this would rehabilitate you in your purely scientific character; do not you agree, Waring?’
‘Yes,’ said Waring.
‘It will, I trust and pray, restore your health; and it will remove your friend from the dangers you have mentioned. There is everything to be said for it. But there is this grave disadvantage: as you are aware, everything, everything decided by our colleagues in the other departments of the Admiralty or the Navy Office is either carried out with endless deliberation if indeed it ever reaches maturity, or in a furious hurry. Mr Stanhope went aboard at Deptford a great while ago, with his suite, and waited there a fortnight, giving farewell dinners;
