He found them sitting in the cold dark cabin by the light of a purser’s dip: Mr White, Atkins, a young attach? called Berkeley, on chairs with their feet in the water that swilled fore and aft with a dismal sound, all wearing greatcoats with the collars turned up; Mr Stanhope half lying on the couch; servants lurking in the shadows. Apparently they had not been fed; and their spirit-?stoves would not work. They were all quite silent.
Mr Stanhope was extremely obliged to Dr Maturin for coming so quick; he did not wish to give the least trouble, but should be grateful if he might be told whether this was the end? Water was coming in through the sides; and a seaman had given his valet to understand that this was the gravest sign of all. One of the young gentlemen had confirmed this to Mr Atkins, adding, that being pooped was more likely than actual foundering, or breaking in two; though neither possibility was to be overlooked. What did being pooped imply? Could they be of any use?
Stephen said that as far as his understanding went, the real danger lay in a following wave striking the back of the ship such a buffet as to twirl it sideways to the wind, when it would lie down, receive the next wave broadside-?on, and so be overwhelmed; hence the necessity for speed, for flying before the wind with all sail that could be set, and for steering with due attention, to outrun and to avoid these blows. Yet they were to consider, that as the ship was exposed to the full force of the blast when it was on the top of the monstrous wave, so it was sheltered in the hollow some fifty feet below, where nevertheless the forward speed must be maintained, to enable the ship to be guided in the desired direction and to diminish the relative velocity of the ensuing wave; and that this necessarily called for a nice adjustment of the various sails and ropes in all their complexity. But as far as he could tell, all these things were being done with conscientious diligence; and for his part, under such a commander, with such a crew and such a vessel, he felt no rational apprehension whatsoever. ‘Captain Aubrey has repeatedly stated in my hearing,that the Surprise is the very finest frigate of her tonnage in the Royal Navy.’ The water coming in was inconvenient and even disconcerting, but it was a usual phenomenon in such circumstances, particularly in aged vessels; it was what the mariners termed ‘the working of the ship’. And he cautioned them against too literal a belief in the words of the sailors: ‘They take an obscure delight in practising upon us landlubbers.’
Once he was relieved of the sensation of imminent death, Mr Stanhope relapsed into the appalling dry seasickness that had struck him in the night. As Stephen and the chaplain helped him into his cot he said, with an attempt at a smile, ‘So grateful - not quite suited for sea-?travel - never undertake sea-?voyage again - if there is no way home by land, shall stay in Kampong for ever.’
But the others grew indignant, shrill and vocal. Mr White thought it scandalous that government should have sent them in so small a boat, and one that leaked. Did Dr Maturin realise that it was very cold at sea? Far colder than on land. Mr Atkins said that the officers he had questioned replied in an off-?hand manner or not at all; and that surely the Captain should have waited upon His Excellency with an explanation before this. Last night’s supper had been disgracefully underdone: he should like to see the Captain.
‘You will find him on the quarterdeck,’ said Stephen. ‘I am sure he will be happy to listen to your complaints.’
In the silence that followed this Mr Berkeley said in a lugubrious tone, ‘and all our chamber-?pots are broken’.
Stephen made his way forward to the sick-?bay, through the soaking, smelly berth-?deck where the watch below were sleeping, fully-?clothed, sleeping in spite of the tremendous pitch and the roar, for all hands had been called three times that night. He found the usual accidents, the bangs and bruises of a furious storm; one man had been flung against the fluke of an anchor, another had pitched head-?first down the fore-?hatch as it was being battened down, another had contrived to impale himself on his own marlinspike; but nothing that went beyond the surgeons’ powers. What worried them was their worst pneumonia, an elderly seaman named Woods; it had been touch and go with him before the storm, and now the prodigious shaking, the absence of rest, had turned the scale. Stephen listened to his breathing, felt his pulse, exchanged a few low words with M’Alister, and finished his round in silence.
On deck he found the scene changed once more. The wind had increased and it had backed three points; the nature of the sea had changed. Now, instead of the regular procession of vast rollers, there was a confusion of waves running across, bursting seas that filled the valleys with leaping spray: the underlying pattern was still the same, but now the crests were a quarter of a mile apart and even higher than before, though at times this was less evident because of the turmoil between. There were no albatrosses anywhere in sight. Yet still the frigate ran on at this racing speed under the precious scrap of canvas forward, rising nobly to the gigantic waves, shouldering the cross-?seas aside: the launch had been carried away in spite of the bosun’s treble gripes, but there seemed to be no other damage. She was beginning to roll now, as well as pitch; and on each plunge her head and the lee side of her forecastle vanished under white water.
All the officers were on deck, wedged into odd corners. Mr Bowes, unrecognisable in tarpaulins, caught Stephen as a weather-?lurch knocked him off his balance and guided him along the life-?line to the Captain, still standing there by his stanchion. He waited while Jack told Callow to go below and read the barometer, and then said, ‘Woods, of the afterguard, is sinking fast; if you wish to see him before he dies, you must come soon.’
Jack reflected, automatically calling out his orders to the men at the wheel. Dared he leave the deck at this stage? Callow came crawling aft. ‘Rising, sir,’ he shouted.
‘It’s risen two lines and a half. And Mr Hervey desires mc to say, the relieving tackles are hooked on.’
Jack nodded. ‘That means a stronger blow,’ he said, glancing at the foretopsail, mould-?eaten in the tropics:
but they had done all they could to strengthen it, and so far the storm-?canvas held. ‘I’ll come now, while I can.’ He cast himself off, called the master and Pullings to take his place, and blundered heavily below. In the cabin he drank off a glass of wine and flexed his arms. ‘I am sorry to hear what you tell me about poor old Woods,’ he said, still in the same hoarse roar; then, moderating his voice, ‘Is there no hope?’ Stephen shook his head. ‘I say, Stephen, I hope Mr Stanhope and his people are not too tumbled about -not too upset.’
‘No. I told them the Surprise was a capital ship, and that all was well.’
‘So it is, too, as long as the foretopsail holds. She is the bravest ship that ever swam. And if the glass is right, this will blow out in a couple of days. Come, let us go along?’
‘Do not be too distressed: it is horrible to see and hear, but he feels nothing. It is a very easy death.’ Horrible it was. Woods was a leaden blue, and the animal sound of his laboured breath sounded louder, close to, than the all-?pervading din. He might have recognised Jack; he might not. His open mouth and half-?closed eyes showed little change. Jack did his duty, said the words expected of a captain - it touched him to the quick - spent a few moments with the other men, and hurried back to his stanchion.
A quarter of an hour, yet what a change! When he went below the frigate had no more than a ten-?degree roll: now her larboard cathead touched green water. And still they came sweeping up from the black westwards, the gigantic streaming seas, taller than ever - impossibly tall - and their foam filled her waist five feet deep, while the
