market with a halter round her neck, when we were last in England?'
'Oh,' said Jack, laughing, 'she went off again with her first husband within a few days of our sailing -it appears they make quite a practice of it, going from market to market along the coast - and when Sophie's mother searched her box she found all poor Killick's property, as well as a couple of our silver plates. I should never have allowed the rummaging if I had been at home, but I am just as pleased now: I value those plates.'
'Mrs Williams is now exercising her ministry in Ulster, I believe.'
'Yes, thank God: she is looking after Frances while she has her baby. It would have been the very devil if she had been here while Sophie was cutting down the establishment.'
'I am afraid it has deprived her of a very real enjoyment,' said Stephen, remembering Mrs Williams' delight in economy, her triumphant saving of a candle-end, and her profound pound-foolishness.
Jack began, 'Mrs Williams,' in a strong voice, thought better of whatever he had been going to say, coughed, felt in the pocket of the chaise for a parcel wrapped in a napkin, and said, 'Have one of these. Sophie made them, and I had to promise they should all be ate. She will never be happy until I am as fat as the Durham ox.'
They finished the sandwiches a little after Guildford, when dusk was falling; and Jack, having shaken the napkin out of the window, folded it up and said, 'I believe I shall take a caulk.' He composed himself in his corner; his chin dropped on to his chest; and as quickly, as definitively, as the setting of the tropical sun, he went to sleep. It was a gift common to most seamen, the result of many, many years of keeping watch; and Stephen, an insomniac, watched him enviously. The hedges sped by, growing dimmer; cottages, haystacks, villages; the Porstmouth coach, its lights already blazing and the guard tooting away on his horn; Jack slept on. He slept even through the next change of horses, and it was only when they were crossing Putney Heath that he sat up and said 'What is a garnishee?'
'A garnishee?' said Stephen, and considered for a while. 'Sure, it is a legal term; but what it signifies I cannot tell. I know nothing of the law, except that whenever a plain man comes into contact with it, he is likely to suffer extremely in his purse and spirit, however sound his cause: so I do conjure you, my dear, to take the very best advice you can, and at once. This is no time for half-measures, no time for your provincial lawyers. You must fee the finest talent in London; you must armour yourself with the highly-trained intelligence of an eminent counsellor, accustomed to meeting these scoundrels on their own devious ground, another Grotius, a second Pufendorf.'
'Yes, but where am I to find my second Pufendorf?'
'Where indeed? But at least I know a discreet intelligent person in town, a gentleman perfectly conversant with the reputation of those most in view, perfectly qualified to point out the shrewdest legal talent. Will I ask him?'
'That would be very kind, Stephen, if it don't put you out.'
It did not put Stephen out by so much as a yard: his whole purpose in going to London was to carry the spoils of Boston to his chief, Sir Joseph Blaine, the discreet intelligent person to whom he had referred. These spoils, these papers, he carried with him, wrapped in sailcloth; and since he had once left secret documents in a hackney-coach, he now took a chair, where he was obliged to hold the packet on his knee: it had cost him pains enough.
The chairmen carried him through the drizzle and the sparse, umbrella'd streets, past several transparencies of the victory, already much the worse for wear, though their guttering lights still showed a recognizable pair of ships, labelled Shannon and Chesapeake in enormous letters, together with as much in the way of wit or verse as space or invention would allow. They stopped at a discreet small house behind Shepherd Market; the leader thundered on the door, and there was Sir Joseph himself, holding a candle. 'My dear Maturin,' he cried, looking attentively at the packet as he brought Stephen into the hall, 'this is a delightful surprise. Welcome home at last!'
They walked upstairs to the library, a thoroughly comfortable bachelor's room - Turkey carpet, very easy chairs, a great many handsomely-bound books, mostly on entomology, some unusually accomplished erotic pictures and bronzes, a fire winking in the brass fender, a green-shaded lamp. 'I must beg your pardon for asking to come here, sir,' said Stephen, 'but I have been away so long that I no longer know how things stand at the Admiralty: I collected that there had been changes, so I thought it better there should be no possibility of misunderstanding or delay.'
'Not at all, not at all. Nothing could give me more pleasure. I ordered a fire as soon as ever your message came through; you always were a chilly mortal - pray pull your chair a little closer. No, I do assure you, I take it most friendly; and as you say, there have been changes at the Admiralty. Poor Warren is no longer with us - but that you knew before the Leopard sailed. Oh, what a stroke that was, Maturin! My congratulations did reach you at last, I believe?'
'In Java itself: you were too kind, too kind entirely.'
'There for once we must disagree: it was the completest thing in my experience - a model of its kind. And then Admiral Sievewright has gone, together with some others; but then again there are half a dozen new faces, very able young men, some of them; and we have a new second secretary, Mr Wray, from the Treasury. Or more precisely an acting second secretary, though I have little doubt he will be confirmed unless poor Barrow makes a most unexpected recovery. He is a man with a wonderful grasp of detail and a very great deal of energy. I wish I had half as much. He works harder than any of us, and yet he finds time to lead a very active social life: I never go anywhere without I see him. Perhaps you have met Mr Wray, Mr Edmund Wray?'
Stephen had met Mr Wray, but on a somewhat unfortunate occasion, when Jack Aubrey had accused the gentleman, in only very slightly veiled terms, of cheating at cards: Wray had not seen fit to ask for the usual explanation - perhaps he considered the veil sufficiently obscure - and with Jack's long absence the affair had blown over. But this scarcely seemed the time to elaborate on the acquaintance, particularly as Stephen was aware that Sir Joseph had not the slightest interest in the matter; his bright, knowing eye was fixed upon the sailcloth parcel.
'These I acquired in Boston,' said Stephen, unwrapping it at last. 'On the first sheet you will find a succinct account of the manner in which they came into my possession, and on the next a summary of their contents. Most are only of local significance, and Major Beck in Halifax has already dealt with them; but I flatter myself that some are of wider, more general importance.'
Sir Joseph put on his spectacles and sat at the library table, the lamp by his side. 'My God,' he cried, after a moment, 'these are Johnson's private papers.'
'Just so,' said Stephen. He got up and stood with his back to the fire, his coat-tails hitched forward, so that his meagre hams should grow really warm, and he contemplated Sir Joseph, intent on his reading in that silent room, wholly concentrated in that disk of light, tearing the heart out of the matter with an almost shocking eagerness. There was not a sound but the turning of sheets, and an occasional low exclamation: 'Ah, the dog ...the cunning
