take a little something? Soup? A ham sandwich? A piece of cake?’
‘I believe not, thank you. If you will be so good as to have those birds, stones, eggs, handed into the boat, and to carry the two small boxes yourself, perhaps we may shove off. How is the ship? Where is it?’
‘Four or five leagues south by east, sir: perhaps you saw our topgallants yesterday evening?’
‘Not I. Is she damaged - people hurt?’
‘Pretty well battered, sir. All aboard, Bonden? Easy, sir, easy now: Plumb, bundle up that shirt for a pillow. Bonden, what are you at?’
‘I’m coming it the umbrella, sir. I thought as maybe you wouldn’t mind taking the tiller.’
‘Shove off,’ cried Babbington. ‘Give way.’ The barge shot from the rock, swung round, hoisted jib and mainsail and sped away to the south-?cast. ‘Well, sir,’ he said, settling to the tiller with the compass before him, ‘I’m afraid she was rather knocked about, and we lost some people: old Tiddiman was swept out of the heads and three of the boys went adrift before we could get them inboard. We were so busy looking at the sky in the west that we never had a hint of the white squall.’
‘White? Sure it was as black as an open grave.’
‘That was the second. The first was a white squall from due south, a few minutes before yours: it often happens near the line, they say, but not so God-?damn hard. Anyhow, it hit us without a word of warning - the Captain was below at the time, in the sail-?room - hit us tops’l high - almost nothing on the surface and laid us on our beam-?ends. Every sail blown clean out of its bolt-?rope before we could touch the sheets or halliards; not a scrap of canvas left.’
‘Even the pendant went,’ said Bonden.
‘Yes, even the pendant went: amazing. And main and mizen topmasts and foretopgallant, all over to leeward, and there we were on our beam-?ends, all ports open and three
guns breaking loose. Then there was the Captain on deck with an axe in his hand, singing out and clearing all away, and she righted. But we had hardly got her head round before the black squall hit us - Lord!’
‘We got a scrap of canvas on to the foretopmast,’ said Bonden, ‘and scudded, there being these guns adrift on deck and the Captain wishful they should not burst through the side.’
‘I was at the weather-?earing,’ said Plumb, stern-?oar, ‘and it took me half a glass to pass it; and it blew so hard it whipped my pig-?tail close to the boom-?iron, took a double turn in it, and Dick Turnbull had to cut me loose. That was a cruel hard moment, sir.’ He turned his head to show the loss - fifteen years of careful plaiting, combing, encouraging with best Macassar oil, reduced to a bristly stump three inches long.
‘But at least,’ said Babbington, ‘we did fill our water-?casks. Then we rigged a jury mizen and maintopmast; and we’ve been beating up ever since.’
An infinity of details - Babbington’s low anxious inquiries after Nicolls - the surprisingly ready, philosophical acceptance of his death - more details of yards sprung, bowsprit struck by lightning, great exertions day and night - and Stephen slept, the piece of cake in his hand.
‘There she lays,’ said Bonden’s voice through his dispersing dream. ‘They’ve sent up a foretopgallant. Captain will be main glad to see you, sir. Said you could never last on that - rock; on deck all day and night - hands ’bout ship every glass. God love us,’ he said with a chuckle, remembering the ferocious compulsion, the pitiless driving of men three parts dead with fatigue, ‘he was quite upset.’
He had indeed been quite upset, but the news from the mast-?head that the returning barge carried an animate surgeon reassured the greater part of his mind: he was still in strong anxiety for Nicolls, however, and the two emotions showed on his face as he leant over the rail - gravity, and yet a flush of pleasure and a smile that would be spreading. Stephen came nimbly up the side, almost like a seaman. ‘No, no, I am perfectly well,’ he said, ‘but I am deeply concerned to tell you, that Mr Nicolls and the boat vanished entirely. I searched the rocks that evening, the next day and the next: no trace at all.’
‘I am most heartily sorry for it,’ said Jack, shaking his head and looking down. ‘He was a very good officer.’ After a moment he said, ‘Come, you must go below and to bed. M’Alister shall physic you. Mr M’Alister, pray take Dr Maturin below -,
‘Let me carry you, sir,’ said Pullings.
‘I will give you a hand,’ said Hervey.
The whole quarterdeck and the greater part of the ship’s company were gazing at the resuscitated Doctor, his older shipmates with plain delight, the others with heavy wonder: Pullings went so far as to push between the captain and the surgeon and to seize him by the arm. ‘I have not the least wish to go below,’ said Stephen sharply, twitching himself away. ‘A pot of coffee is all that I require.’ He moved a little way aft, caught sight of Mr Stanhope, and cried, ‘Your Excellency, I must beg your pardon for not having kept my engagement with you on Sunday.’
‘Allow me to congratulate you upon your preservation,’ said Mr Stanhope, advancing and shaking hands; he spoke with more than his ordinary formality, for Stephen was mother-?naked; and although Mr Stanhope had seen naked men before, he had never seen one with eyes so reddened by the salt and the intolerable sun that they shone like cherries, nor one so wizened, so wrinkled in his loose blackened skin, so encrusted and cadaverous.
‘I wish you joy of your rescue, Doctor,’ said Mr Atkins, the only man aboard who was not pleased to see the barge return: Stephen was attached to the mission in an artfully vague capacity, and the envoy’s instructions required him to seek Dr Maturin’s advice; Mr Atkins’s advice or indeed presence was nowhere mentioned and he was consumed with jealousy. ‘May I fetch you a towel or some other garment?’- with a look at Stephen’s scrofulous shrunken belly.
‘You are very officious, sir; but this is the garment in which I shall appear before God; I find it answers pretty well. It may be termed my birthday suit.’
‘That has choked the bugger off,’ said Pullings to Babbington, just above his breath, out of a motionless face. ‘That is one in his bleeding eye.’
In the morning he appeared, eager and sharp-?set at the breakfast-?table, on the first stroke of the bell. ‘Are you sure you should not stay abed?’ cried Jack.
