‘You are altogether too good, dear Amos,’ said Stephen, gazing at the severed hand, clear in its spirits of wine, the middle fingers so hard-clenched against the palm that their nails had grown into the flesh. ‘You are too good entirely. I have never seen so perfect an example. I long to make a very exact dissection.’
But Jacob, taking no notice, turned him gently to the full sun and looked hard into his face. ‘Stephen, you have not made some cruel self-diagnosis, I trust?’
‘I have not,’ said Stephen, and in as few words as possible he explained the situation - his personal situation. Amos did not oppress him with any sympathy other than a deeply affectionate pressure on the shoulder, but suggested that they should walk out high on the Rock, where they could speak about their present undertaking in complete safety. that is to say, if you still feel concerned.’
‘I am wholly concerned, wholly committed,’ said Stephen. ‘If it were not so wicked, I could almost be grateful for this very evil man and his odious system.’
They walked out of the town, up and up to the ridge itself, where the cliffs fall down to Catalan Bay and where Stephen saw, with a muted satisfaction, that the peregrine eyrie was occupied again, the falcon standing on the outer edge, bating and calling. All the way along they walked, with the migrant birds passing overhead, sometimes very low, and on either side, Stephen mechanically noting the rarities (six pallid harriers, more than he had ever seen together), right out to the far end overlooking Europa Point, and back again; and all the time, with a much more conscious, concentrated mind, Stephen listened to all that Jacob, with his remarkable sources of information, had gathered about the Adriatic ports, the Muslim fraternities and the progress of their urgent request for money to pay their mercenaries. Jacob also spoke, and with equal authority, of the probable donor and of the pressure that might be brought to bear on the Dey of Algiers. ‘But where Africa is concerned,’ he said, ‘it seems to me that little or nothing should be attempted until we have had at least some success in the Adriatic.’
Stephen agreed, his eyes following a troop of black storks as they passed over the flagship; and quite suddenly he realized that the Royal Sovereign was no longer flying the courtmartial signal. Indeed, the captains’ barges were already dispersing.
On the way down they walked almost in silence. They had said all that could usefully be said at this point, though more intelligence was to be expected at Mahon - and Stephen very often glanced at the flagship’s main yardarm. In these waters the Commander-in-Chief was all-powerful: he could confirm a court’s sentence of death without the least reference to the King or the Admiralty. In naval courtsmartial sentence was pronounced at once: it was final, with no appeal: and Lord Keith was not one for delay.
By the time they reached the town there was no man hanging from the yardarm; but on the battlements this side of the Southport Gate there were several officers, including Jack Aubrey and some of the Pomone’s people, looking earnestly southward along the strand. Stephen joined them, saying, ‘Sir, may I introduce Dr Jacob, the assistant surgeon of whom I told you?’
‘Very happy, sir,’ said Jack, shaking Jacob’s hand. He would obviously have said more, but at this moment a strong murmur all along from the bastion increased immensely as two boats left the flagship, pulling for the shore and towing a bare grating, the soaked and wretched prisoners upon it. A few minutes later the grating was cast off: a small surf brought it in and the men scrambled in the shallows. There was some sparse cat-calling from the crowd, but not much; and half a dozen people helped them to dry land, dragging their belongings.
‘Dr Jacob, sir,’ said Jack, ‘I hope that you will be able to come aboard without delay. I am eager to be out of sight of this place.’ And privately to Stephen he said, ‘I repeated your “No penetration, no sodomy”, which floored one and all; though I must say that most of them were glad to be floored. I persuaded the others to find no more than gross indecency.’
‘And is being towed ashore on a grating the set penalty for gross indecency?’
‘No. We call it the use and custom of the sea: that is the way it has always been.’
For several years now Stephen Maturin had been perfectly aware that a life at sea, above all in a man-of-war, was not the waterborne picnic sometimes imagined by those living far inland; but he had never supposed that anything could be quite so arduous as this existence between the two, neither floating free nor firmly ashore, with what conveniences the land might provide.
The squadron, necessarily gathered together in a hurry and necessarily short-handed, had to be thoroughly reorganized, above all the unhappy Pomone: a ship always suffered from a trial for sodomy and although her people had not been in her for anything like an ordinary commission it was long enough for them to feel their position acutely - to resent the calls they heard ashore or the smiles and meaning silence when a group of them walked into a bar. After all, one of their officers had been dismissed from the service in the most ignominious fashion possible and towed ashore on a grating in the view
