the broad north-west passage if this leading wind holds as I expect, and proceed to Malta. But would this interfere with your plans?’
‘Not in the least: and if you wish I will carry your proposal over to the Cerbere.’
‘That would be very kind of you, Stephen. Should you like me to write it down?’
‘If you please.’
Jack scratched for a while, and passing the list he said, ‘You will see that I have underlined blank every time: but in his agitation the poor man might not think to draw all his guns before the first exchange. You will put him in mind of it, if you please...but tactfully, tactfully, if you know what I mean.’
‘What would be a proper time for this visit?’ asked Stephen without the least sign of having heard but reflecting upon his friend’s large, clear, somewhat round and feminine hand, his instant reaction in time of nautical crisis, and his not uncommon ineptitudes.
‘As soon as you have put on your good uniform and Killick has found your best wig. A boat and a bosun’s chair will be ready.’
The captain and the officers of Cerbere were an intelligent set, and since captains usually collect men of a like mind, they were all thoroughly dissatisfied with the present state of affairs. They longed to be out of this ambiguous posture, and it was with a general satisfaction that they saw the light of a boat pulling, man-of-war fashion, from the narrow mouth of the Porte di Spalato. They all of them studied it with their night-glasses and when its obvious intention was to come aboard them, the officer of the watch ordered a bosun’s chair to be rigged: they had already experienced Dr Jacob’s almost fatal attempt at coming up the side.
They hailed the boat as a matter of form, and they were somewhat shocked when the reply ‘a message from the English commodore’, though in French, was not in Jacob’s French. However, they lowered the chair and Stephen came aboard with what grace could be managed with such a vehicle but at least dry, clean and orderly.
He returned the first lieutenant’s salute, said that he should like to speak to the captain, and was shown into the great cabin.
Captain Delalande received him with a grave courtesy and listened to what he had to say in silence: when Stephen had finished he said, ‘Be so good as to tell the Commodore, with my compliments, that I agree to all his proposals, and that I shall reply to his and his consort’s blank broadsides with an equal number, equally blank, that I shall follow him through the Canale di Spalato, and then proceed to Malta.’ He coughed, unbent a little, and proposed coffee.
When they had drunk two cups and eaten two Dalmatian almond biscuits, the tension had so far diminished that Stephen asked whether the captain had ever known the firing of a salute or the like to be accompanied by the involuntary discharge of a ball, the drawing of the cannon having been overlooked.
‘No, sir,’ said Delalande, ‘I have not. When we fire a salute or anything of that nature, we like the gun to make as much noise as possible. And to this end we withdraw the ball - in itself precious enough, I assure you, and much regarded by the Ministry - and replace it with more wads and sometimes a disk or two of wood as well.’
Stephen thanked him and took his leave, escorted by a lieutenant; and not only on the quarterdeck but also in the waist of the ship among the hands he noticed approving, even friendly looks. It was not only in the Royal Navy, he concluded, that secrecy was the rarest commodity aboard a ship.
‘My dear William,’ he said, safely on the tender’s deck, ‘I dare say the moon will be up presently?’
‘In about half an hour, sir,’ said Reade.
‘Then if it can be spared, would you be so very kind as to lend me your little boat and a reliable, grave, sober man to carry Dr Jacob and me ashore in let us say twenty minutes?’
‘Of course I will, sir: should be very happy.’
‘Jack,’ he said, walking into the cabin where the Commodore and his clerk were busy with book after book of accounts, ‘I do beg your pardon for this untimely...’
‘Tomorrow morning, Mr Adams.’
‘...but I have first to tell you that Captain Delalande wholly accepts your proposals: he will expect you at first light tomorrow.’
‘Oh, I am so...’
‘On the other hand the Brotherhood’s messengers have already left for Algiers. Now I must write a minute for Malta and then go to a conference ashore. Until tomorrow, brother.’
