‘Sir?’
‘Close to speak pennant.’
‘William,’ said Jack in conversational tone, some minutes later, looking down at the young man who stood there, smiling up, his steel hook gleaming in the foremast ratlines. ‘William, you have been in and out of Laraish pretty often, I believe?’
‘Oh, a score of times at least, sir. There was a young person - that is to say, quite frequently, sir.’
‘And are we near enough for you to recognize the shore-line?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then be so good as to look into the harbour, and if you see more than two or three corsairs - big xebec-rigged corsairs and galleys - stand half a mile offshore and send up three blue lights, if less, then red lights and rejoin without the loss of a moment.’
‘Aye-aye, sir. More than three, stand off half a mile: three blue lights. Less, then red lights and rejoin without the loss of a moment.’
‘Make it so, Mr Reade. Mr Whewell: Reduce sail in conformity with pennant.’ And directing his voice upwards, ‘Look afore, there!’
Eight bells: all round Surprise the sentinels called ‘All’s well’ and prepared to go below, but without much conviction, they knowing the general situation and their captain’s tone of voice. How right they were. As soon as the muffled thunder of the watch below hurrying up on deck had died away, Jack said, loud and clear, to Somers, the relieving officer, ‘Mr Somers, we may pipe to breakfast at two bells or earlier, and then clear. It is not worth going below. Look out afore, there.’
He swung over the rail to the larboard ratlines and ran up to the maintop. ‘Good morning, Wilson,’ he said to the lookout, and stood gazing away eastward, gazing, gazing.
Two bells, and almost at once three red lights appeared, spreading like crimson flowers one after another, fading and drifting away fast downwind. Before the second had reached its full Jack called down, ‘Pipe to breakfast.’
On the quarterdeck he gave orders to increase sail, to steer south by south-south-west, and to prepare for action: these of course were signals, but by word of mouth he sent to tell the cook to use a bucket of slush to get the galley stove right hot right quick.
‘Stephen,’ he said, walking into the cabin, ‘I am afraid we must disturb you. William has just let us know that Laraish has no corsairs: since the wind has been dropping this last watch and more, the likelihood is that the Indiamen will very soon leave their shelter under the lee of the Sugar Loaf, sailing for home, and that the corsairs mean to cut them off. So we are pelting down to stop their capers - we shall be setting close-reefed topgallants presently - and quite soon we shall have to turn you out to clear for action. But at least there is this consolation: we shall have an uncovenanted pot of coffee. It is always far better for the people to have something in their belly before a fight, even if it is only hot burgoo; and since the fires are lit, we may as well profit by the situation.’
‘It is our obvious duty,’ said Stephen, with a pale smile. In the earlier crises of his life he had often, indeed generally, taken refuge in laudanum, or more recently in coca leaves: on this occasion he had entirely forsworn them, together with tobacco and anything but the merest token of wine to avoid singularity; yet he had always despised the stylite or even hair-shirt kind of asceticism and he was still drinking the last of the pot with something not far from relish - Jack had left him ten minutes earlier - when the thundering drum beat to quarters.
He swallowed the remaining grouts and hurried down to the orlop, where he found Poll and Harris, the ship’s butcher: seamen had already lashed chests together to form two operating tables and Poll was making fast the covers of number eight sailcloth with a practised hand - she had already laid out a selection of saws, catlings, clamps, tourniquets, leather-covered chains, dressings, splints; while Harris had lined up buckets, swabs, and the usual boxes for limbs.
To them, after a long pause, entered Dr Jacob, led by an irascible boy - not a ship’s boy, but a nominal captain’s servant, entered as a first-class volunteer and looked after by the gunner until he should be rated midshipman and join their berth - one of those useless little creatures who had been wished on Jack Aubrey in Gibraltar by former ship-mates, men he could not refuse, though the original hydrographical Surprise had carried no learners, only thoroughly trained midshipmen capable of passing their examination for lieutenant in a year or two.
‘There, sir,’ said the first-class volunteer, ‘it was as simple as I told you the first time. First left, second left, down the ladder and second on your right. Your right.’
‘Thank you, thank you,’ said Jacob; and to Stephen, ‘Oh sir, I do beg you to forgive me. I am no great seaman, as you know, and this great dark wandering labyrinth confounded me - darkness visible. At one time I found myself by the seat of ease in the head, spray dashing upon me from the rising wave.’
