the unrestricted use of the great naval base.
While his barge was lowering down, Jack lingered on the quarterdeck, watching the other ships as they too furled in a body and squared their yards. It was toilsome, but it did look trim; and, he hoped, would to some extent redeem the slowness of his passage.
‘Now, sir,’ said Killick at his side, ‘all is laid along, together with your presentation sword. But, sir,’ - lowering his voice - ‘the Doctor can’t go ashore in that there rig. Which it would bring discredit on the barky.’
Stephen was in fact wearing an old black frock-coat in which he had obviously been either operating or dissecting without an apron; and although late last night Killick had privately taken his shirt and neck-cloth from beside his cot, the Doctor had obviously found where they were stowed.
Some years before this, the Sick and Hurt Board had ordained a special uniform for surgeons, a blue cloth coat with blue cloth lapels, cuffs and embroidered collar, three buttons on cuffs and pockets, white lining, white cloth waistcoat and breeches: the garments existed, they having been made by the naval tailor who had always looked after Jack, but Stephen had doggedly resisted hints that he should wear them, even when the gunroom gave a ceremonial dinner to welcome Mr Candish, their new purser.
Now, however, Jack’s argument that for the sake of the Adriatic cruise and all that it entailed they must both look like grave, responsible beings, after their call on the Spaniard, when they waited upon Admiral Fanshawe, his secretary and his political adviser, good relations being of the first importance - an argument that was expressed with great earnestness - overcame Stephen’s reluctance, and they both went over the side soberly magnificent.
‘Lord,’ said Jack, pausing for breath at’the top of the Pigtail Steps, ‘I must get back to my way of running up to the masthead at least once every morning. I am growing old, unsound in wind and limb.’
‘You are growing obese: or rather you have grown obese. You eat far too much. I particularly noticed the shameless way you indulged in the soused pig’s face at our feast to welcome Mr Candish.’
‘I did so deliberately, to encourage him. He is somewhat bashful, though he is a very fine fellow. I am delighted to have him: though how Mr Smith ever came to propose him, I cannot tell.’
‘When the convoy’s captains came aboard there was a certain lack of candles, as you may recall.’
‘Well, what of it?’
‘And perhaps Mr Smith may have heard one of our sailors call out “if only we had a real purser, there would not be all this Bedlam running about and shouting every single time we want a bloody dip”. And one of the Indiamen’s officers asked “What, ain’t you got a real purser?”
‘Well, whatever you may say I am very glad to have him. And if only I had a master’s mate of the same competence I should be gladder still. Poor Wantage. He was one of the most promising young men I have ever had - a born navigator - had the Requisite Tables by rote, so that he could give you your position without looking at them. And he had a very good feeling for Surprise’s likes and dislikes. How I regret him. And all because of that vile wench.’
In the peace of 1814, the Surprise, setting out on what was ostensibly an expedition to survey the coasts of Chile, had sailed with a very moderate ship’s company - no ordinary midshipmen and no youngsters at all. On her first leg she had carried Sophie Aubrey and her children and Diana Maturin and her daughter as far as Madeira for a holiday, the plan being that the women and children should return to England in the packet when the Surprise carried on to South America. But during this stay, young Wantage, exploring the mountains, had met a shepherdess. Then, Napoleon having escaped from Elba, the frigate was at once ordered to Gibraltar. Parties were sent out for stragglers, guns were fired, the Blue Peter flew to the very last minute before she sailed, all her people aboard except for Wantage; and it was generally believed that the shepherd, coming back untimely to the mountain hut, had killed him.
‘He was indeed a most amiable young man,’ said Stephen. ‘But I believe that the great house with two sentinels before it is where Don Jose lives.’
It was, and Don Jose was at home. He received them very kindly: Stephen and he went through the graceful Spanish ceremony of compliments presented and returned, Jack bowing from time to time, and Don Jose accompanied them to the outer door itself.
They were equally well received by Admiral Fanshawe and his secretary. Jack introduced Stephen: the Admiral said, ‘How do you do, sir? I remember you well after that horrible affair off Algeciras, when you were so good to my brother William.’
Stephen asked after his former patient. ‘Very well, I thank you, Doctor,’ said the Admiral. ‘He can get along quite well without crutches now, and he has had a saddle made that allows him to take leaps that would astonish you.’
Very soon after this the secretary said, ‘I
