'Such a sweet young gentleman,' observed Lucy through the hatch.
'If I have told him once,' said Mrs Broad, 'I have told him ten times. No joint, no, nor no fowl, will bear such treatment. I will call him again.'
'Let me go up, Aunt Broad,' cried Lucy, darting from behind the bar.
Jack walked into the snug, seized a piece of bread and ate it. A few moments later Stephen came in, followed by the sweet young gentleman, a slim officer in a mauve coat with silver lace; he had surprisingly golden hair, bright blue eyes, large and set wide-apart, and a complexion that any girl might have envied. His air was modest, but by no means unmanly: Lucy gazed steadily at him with her mouth open, standing ready to pull out his chair, while Stephen said, 'Allow me to present Monsieur Jagiello, of the Swedish service: Captain Aubrey, of the Royal Navy.'
Jagiello bowed, blushed, and said that he was deeply honoured, most sensible of the occasion.
The meal began. Jack set the young man at his right hand and entertained him with small but civil talk, to which Jagiello responded in fluent, almost perfect English, with only the occasional confusion of v and w or j and y that made the native agreeably aware of his superiority. Stephen said nothing except during a silent pause: Jagiello was carving a fowl; Lucy and Deborah could be heard quarrelling about who should bring the next dish in; and in a quick aside Jack told him 'that they had their marching orders'. 'So I understand,' he replied. 'Monsieur Jagiello accompanies us.'
'I am heartily glad of it,' said Jack, who had taken a liking to the young man. 'I hope, sir, you are a good sailor?'
Before Jagiello could answer an Admiralty messenger came in, brought by both Deborah and Lucy, and delivered his official packet into Jack's own hands; the messenger had to find his own way out, however, since both girls stayed to stare at Jagiello in a very simple, moon-struck fashion, until Mrs Broad's voice called them about their business. Even then they kept coming in and out on one pretext or another - more salt, more gravy, a little mustard, would the gentlemen like more bread? -but at the end of dinner they had a far more valid excuse, since Jack always liked to do foreigners honour in his own country, and his favourite way of doing so was to fill them with as much port wine as ever they could hold, so that while they waited for the King's Messenger the bottles came in, pint after pint, a most surprising number.
Jagiello held it very well, but in time his beautiful complexion became pinker, his blue eyes brighter still, and he himself grew musical: he had spoken of English popular songs with an appreciation not far from enthusiasm, and now, after a proper reluctance, he obliged the company with The Lady and Death in a pure, true-pitched tenor. Chevy Chase followed, and All in the Downs, with Jack's deep voice making the glasses rattle, while Stephen's harsh and disagreeable croak convulsed the maidens clinging to one another just outside the door.
To this nest of singing-birds there entered a thin silent disapproving gentleman in a sad-coloured coat with stuff-covered buttons and starched white neckcloth who seemed to have dined on cold vinegar. He put out their gaiety at once, and they followed him into the coach looking as though they had been detected in a peculiarly shameful fault: Stephen, darting back for a forgotten handkerchief, observed Lucy setting her lips to the edge of the sweet young gentleman's empty glass.
The sweet young gentleman's rosy flush faded in the open air; for some time he looked but palely and it was touch and go whether the lurching and jerking of the coach might not overcome him; but once they were clear of Blackheath he revived and looked about, quite ready for conversation. He met with no encouragement, however: the King's Messenger had taken out a book, and screwing himself round in his corner so that the page caught the light he screened himself from his companions; Dr Maturin was deep in a brown study, staring at his toes; and Captain Aubrey was asleep, snoring in a strong, commanding bass. From time to time the Messenger made awkward jerking motions, trying to kick the Captain awake without seeming to do so on purpose; but without success. Otherwise there was no animation in the coach at all.
The tide flowed up the Thames, the coach ran down towards its mouth. The tide slackened in the Pool, and all the close-packed shipping there rode high; the ebb began, and imperceptibly the masts sank lower, while foul black mud appeared on either side, yet down at the Nore the tide still had the best part of an hour to run when Jack's boat pulled a zigzag course among the men-of-war towards the Ariel in the twilight: for the last mile over the water it had been apparent that her commander was entertaining: light streamed from her stern-windows, and the sound of a party, a musical party, streamed out with it, while ladies were to be seen dancing on the little quarterdeck, a sight that evidently drew all eyes aboard, since the boat was not hailed until it was within spitting distance, and Captain Aubrey's reception as he came up the side was a sadly bungled affair. He had not told the boat to lie off to give them time for the proper ceremony, partly because he was in a tearing hurry - he had lost valuable minutes snatching up the bare necessities in Chatham - and partly because to one whose head was still aching from the Grapes's port this slackness seemed inexcusable.
'I had not expected you until the morning, sir,' cried the unhappy Captain Draper. 'The Admiral spoke of the morning tide.'
'I am sorry for that, Captain Draper,' said Jack, 'but it is the present tide that I intend to take. Pray let the hands be called aft.'
The wail and twitter of the bosun's pipes, the order 'Off hats', and Jack stepped to the mainmast; while Draper held a lantern for him he read in a strong, hieratic voice 'By the Commissioners for executing the office of Lord High Admiral of Great Britain and Ireland etc. and of all His Majesty's plantations etc. To John Aubrey, esquire, hereby appointed captain of His Majesty's ship the Ariel. By virtue of the power and authority to us given, we do hereby constitute and appoint you captain of His Majesty's ship the Ariel, willing and requiring you forthwith to go on board and take upon you the charge and command of captain in her accordingly, strictly charging and commanding all the officers and company of the said ship to behave themselves, jointly and severally, in their respective employments with all due respect and obedience unto you their said captain and you likewise to observe and execute the General Printed Instructions and such orders and directions as you shall from time to time receive from us or any other of your superior officers, for His Majesty's service. Hereof nor you nor any of you may fail as you will answer the contrary at your peril. And for so doing this shall be your warrant ...'
He had read himself in: the moment he finished the Ariel changed from a sloop to a post-ship, with J. Aubrey as her captain, whose lawful order it was death to disobey.
'I am truly sorry to bundle you and your guests over the side,' he said to poor Draper; and then in a very much louder voice, 'All hands to unmoor ship.'
'All hands to unmoor ship,' roared the bosun and his mates, sounding their calls, although the order had been heard from stem to stern and even as far as the Indomitable, two cable's lengths to windward.
'There is Jack Aubrey getting under way,' observed the Indomitable's first lieutenant to her master. 'I will lay you a bottle of port we see some fireworks before he clears the Mouse.'
