rendered nugatory, utterly destroyed!’
‘Why did you feed them with madder?’
‘Because Duhamel tells us that the red is fixed and concentrated in their bones. I wished to find the rate of penetration, and to know whether it reached the marrow. I shall know in time, however: M’Alister and I will dissect all suitable subjects, for the effect will be passed to those that ate them, of course; and I tell you soberly, Jack, that if you persist in this dogged, self-?defeating hurry, hurry, hurry, clap on more sails, not a moment to be lost, then most of the people will pass through our hands, including, no doubt, that black thief whose very bones will blush for shame.’ He uttered these words in a high shriek at the entrance to the sick-?bay, to make himself heard above the armourer’s forge, where they were fashioning a new iron-?horse, to replace that carried away in the squall.
Jack looked at the crowded berth; he breathed the fetid air that no wind-?sail would carry away; he stood by while Stephen and M’Alister undid bandages and showed him the effects of scurvy upon old wounds; he did not give an inch even when they led him to their chief witness, the five-?year-?old amputated stump. But when they showed him a box of teeth and sent for their walking cases to see how easily even molars came out and to make him palpate their rotting gums he said he was satisfied and hurried aft.
‘Killick,’ he said, ‘I shall not be having any dinner today. Pass the word for Mr Babbington.’ Here at least was something pleasant to take the charnel-?house smell away. ‘Ah, Mr Babbington, there you are: sit down. I dare say you know why I have sent for you?’
‘No, sir,’ said Babbington instantly. It was worth denying everything as long as he could.
‘I low is your servitude coming along, eh? You must be close on your time.’
‘Five years, nine months and three days, sir.’ After six years on ships’ books a midshipman might pass for lieutenant, might change from a reefer, a nonentity discharged or disrated at pleasure, to a godlike commissioned officer; and Babbington knew the date to the very hour.
‘Yes. Well, I am going to give you an order as acting-?lieutenant in poor Nicolls’s place. By the time we reach the Admiral you will have your time and you can sit your board; and I dare say the Admiralty will confirm the appointment. They will never fail you on seamanship, I am very sure, but it might be wise to beg Mr Hervey to give you a hand with your double altitudes.’
‘Oh thank you, thank you, sir,’ cried Babbington, suffused with joy. It was not wholly unexpected (he had bought one of Nicolls’s coats on the off-?chance), but it had been far from certain. Braithwaite, the other senior midshipman (who had bought two coats, two waistcoats, two pair of breeches) had as good a claim to the step; and some sharp words had passed between Babbington and his captain at Madeira (’This ship is not a floating brothel, sir’), sharper still about relieving the watch in time. It was an exquisite moment, and the kind words with which Jack finished - ’shaping well - responsible, officerlike - should feel as easy with Babbington keeping a watch as any officer on the ship’ - brought tears to Babbington’s eyes. Yet in the midst of his joy his heart smote him, and pausing at the door after the usual acknowledgements he turned and said, in a faltering voice, ‘You are so very kind to me, sir- always have been - that it seems a blackguardly thing.
You might not have done it, if . . . but I did not exactly lie, however.’
‘Eh?’ cried Jack, astonished. In time it appeared that Babbington had eaten of the Doctor’s rats; and that he was sorry now. ‘Why, no, Babbington,’ said Jack. ‘No. That was an infernal shabby thing to do; mean and very like a scrub. The Doctor has been a good friend to you - none better. Who patched up your arm, when they all swore it must come off? Who put you into his cot and sat by you all night, holding the wound? Who - ‘ Babbington could not bear it; he burst into tears. Though an acting-?lieutenant he wiped his eyes on his sleeve, and through his sobs he gave Jack to understand that unknown hands had wafted these prime millers into the larboard midshipmen’s berth; that although he had had no hand in their cutting-?out - indeed, would have prevented it, having the greatest love for the Doctor, so much so that he had fought Braithwaite over a chest for calling the Doctor ‘a Dutch-?built quizz’ - yet, the rats being already dead, and dressed with onion-?sauce, and he so hungry after rattling down the shrouds, he had thought it a pity to let the others scoff the lot. Had lived with a troubled conscience ever since: had in fact expected a summons to the cabin.
‘You would have been living with a troubled stomach if you had known what was in ‘em; the Doctor had -’
‘I tell you what it is, Jack,’ said Stephen, walking quickly in. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon.’
‘No, stay, Doctor. Stay, if you please,’ cried Jack.
Babbington looked wretchedly from one to the other, licked his lips and said, ‘I ate your rat, sir. I am very sorry, and I ask your pardon.’
‘Did you so?’ said Stephen mildly. ‘Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Listen, Jack, will you look at my list, now?’
‘He only ate it when it was dead,’ said Jack.
‘It would have been a strangely hasty, agitated meal, had he ate it before,’ said Stephen, looking attentively at his list. ‘Tell me, sir, did you happen to keep any of the bones?’
‘No, sir. I am very sorry, but we usually crunch ‘em up, like larks. Some of the chaps said they looked uncommon dark, however.’
‘Poor fellows, poor fellows,’ said Stephen in a low, inward voice.
‘Do you wish me to take notice of this theft, Dr Maturin?’ asked Jack.
‘No, my dear, none at all. Nature will take care of that, I am afraid.’
He wandered back to the sick-?bay, and there, when he had carried out some dressings, he asked M’Alister how many lived in the larboard midshipmen’s berth. On being told six he wrote out a prescription and desired M’Alister to make it up into six boluses.
On deck Stephen was conscious of being closely, furtively watched; and after dinner, at a time when he was judged to be in a benevolent frame of mind, he was not surprised to receive a deputation from the young gentlemen, all washed and wearing coats in spite of the heat. They, too, were very sorry they had eaten his rats; they, too, begged his pardon; and they should never do so again.
‘Young gentlemen,’ he said, ‘I have been expecting you. Mr Callow, be so good as to take this note, with my best compliments to the Captain.’ He wrote ‘Can the services of the young gentlemen and the clerk be dispensed with for a day?’, folded it and handed it over. In the interval he gazed at Meadows and Scott, first-?class volunteers aged twelve and fourteen; the captain’s clerk, a hairy sixteen with his wrists far beyond the sleeves of his last
