'Allow me to pour you another glass of this port,' said Stephen. 'It is an innocent wine, neither sophisticated nor muddy, which is rare in these parts. Tell me, who is the Miss Herschel of whom you spoke with such warm approbation?'
'Ah, now, that is another case altogether: there is a woman who bears out all you say about heaps,' cried Jack. 'There is a woman you can talk to as one rational being to another. Ask her the measure of an arc whose cosine is nought, and instantly she replies pi upon two: it is all there, in her head. She is sister to the great Mr. Herschel.'
'The astronomer?'
'Just so. He honoured me with some most Judicious remarks on refraction when I addressed the Royal Society, and that is how I came to know her. She had already read my paper on the Jovian moons, was more than civil about it, and suggested a quicker way of working my heliocentric longitudes. I go to see her every time she comes down to Newman's observatory, which is pretty often, and we sit there either sweeping for comets all night or talking about instruments. She and her brother must have made some hundreds in their time. She understands telescopes from clew to earring, and it was she who showed me how to figure a speculum, and where to get my superfine Pomeranian sludge. And it is not mere theory: I have seen her walking round and round a post in Newman's stable yard for a good three hours without a break, putting the last touches to a six-inch mirror--it will never do to take your hand from the surface at that stage, you know--taking snuff from a saucer every hundred paces. An admirable woman; you would love her, Stephen. And she sings, too--hits the note plumb in the middle, as pure as the Carlotta.'
'If she is Mr. Herschel's sister, I presume she is a lady of a certain age?'
'Oh, yes, she must be sixty or so: she could never have come by such a knowledge of double stars in less. Sixty at least. Yet it is all one. Whenever I come home from a night with Miss Herschel there are wry looks, a tolerably frigid welcome.'
'Since it has physical effects, the sorrow and woe that is in marriage no doubt belongs to the province of the physician,' said Stephen. 'But I am as little acquainted with it as I am with gardening, or domestic economy.'
He was brought nearer acquainted the next morning, when he walked up to breakfast at the cottage. He was far too early, and the first sight that met his eye was the twins flinging their pap about and shrieking as they did so, while their grandmother, protected by a coarse canvas bib and apron, endeavoured to feed them with a spoon and little Cecilia wallowed in the bowl itself; he recoiled into the arms of the servant-girl carrying a basket of malodorous cloths, and worse might have happened if Sophie, suddenly appearing from above, had not whipped him away into the garden.
After a little general conversation from which it appeared that Jack had enjoyed his dinner, had come home singing, and was now grinding the coffee himself, she said, 'Oh, Stephen, how I wish you could help him to a ship. He is so unhappy here. He spends hours up on the hill, looking at the sea through his telescope, and it breaks my heart. Even if it were only for a short cruise -the winter is coming on, and the damp is so bad for his wound--any sort of ship at all, even if it were only a transport, like dear Mr. Pullings.'
'How I wish I could, my dear; but what is the voice of a ship's surgeon in the councils of the great said Stephen, with a veiled though piercing glance to see whether any of her husband's knowledge of his double character had been sacrificed to marital confidence. Her next words and her totally unconscious air reassured him: she said, 'We saw in the paper that you were called in when the Duke of Clarence was ill, and I thought that perhaps a word from you . . . ,
He said, 'Honey, the duke knows Jack very well, by reputation--we spoke of his action with the Cacafuego--but he also knows that recommending Jack for a command would be the worst service he could do him. His Highness is in bad odour with the Admiralty.'
'But surely they could not refuse the King's own son?'
'They are terrible men at the Admiralty, my dear.'
Before she could reply the church clock of Chilton Admiral told the hour, and on the third stroke Jack's hall of 'Coffee's up' followed by his manly form and some remarks about the wind having backed two points in the night- heavy rain for sure--broke up their conference.
Breakfast was spread in the parlour, and they walked into a fine smell of coffee, toast and wood-smoke: the ham stood on the table, flanked by Jack's own radishes, each the size of a moderate pippin, and a solitary egg. 'There is the great advantage of living in the country,' he said. 'You get your vegetables really fresh. And that is our own egg, Stephen! Do help yourself. Sophie's crab-apple jelly is by your side. Damn that chimney; it will not draw when the air is anything south of west. Stephen, let me pass you an egg.
Mrs Williams brought Cecilia in, so starched that she held her arms from her sides, like an imperfectly- articulated doll. She came and stood by Stephen's chair, and while the others were busily wondering why there was no news from the rectory, where the birth of a child had been hourly expected these many days past, she told him loud and clear that they never had coffee except on birthdays and when there had been a victory, and that her uncle Aubrey usually drank small beer, whereas her ' aunt and grandmama drank milk: if he liked, she would butter his toast for him. She had buttered a good deal of his coat too before Mrs Williams, with a delighted shriek, plucked her away, remarking that there never was such a forward child for her years; Cecilia, her mother, could never have buttered a piece of toast so prettily at that age.
Jack's attention was elsewhere; his ear was cocked; his cup was poised; several times he looked at his watch. 'The post!' exclaimed Mrs Williams at the thundering double knock on the door, and Jack made a visible effort to sit still in his chair until the servant appeared, saying' A letter and a book, sir, if you please, and a shilling to pay.'
Jack felt in his pocket, frowned, and called across the table, 'Have you a shilling in change, Stephen? Here's nothing small.'
Stephen too plunged his hand into his breeches and came up with a mixed bag of currency, English, French and Spanish. 'The gentleman has three gold pieces,' said Cecilia, 'and a large quantity of silver.' But Stephen was deaf: he picked out twelve pence and handed them over, saying' Never mind me, I beg.'
'Well, if you will all forgive me . 'said Jack, breaking the seal. Mrs Williams craned her neck to make out all she could from her indifferent point of vantage, but before she could move to a better, her curiosity was satisfied. 'Oh,' said Jack, throwing the letter down, 'it is only that fellow Bromley. I always knew he was a rake; now I know he is a scrub into the bargain. However, here is the Naval Chronicle. That is always worth reading. My dear, Stephen's cup is empty.' He turned first to the appointments and promotions. 'Goate is made post at last; I am heartily glad of it.' Considerations upon the merits and demerits of Captain Goate and other acquaintances, also made post. Then, after a calculating pause, Jack said, 'You know, Stephen, our losses last year were not as heavy as I made out last night. Listen: Jupiter, 50, wrecked in Vigo Bay; Leda, 38, wrecked off Milford Haven; Crescent, 36, wrecked off Jutland; Flora, 32, wrecked off Holland; Meleager, 36, wrecked on Barebush Cay; Astraea, 32,
