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Authors: Patrick O'Brian

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BOOK: Master & Commander
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   'May I ask what you did? I know so little about naval matters.'

   'Oh, I simply got knocked on the head, once at the Nile and then again when the
Généreux
took the old
Leander
: rewards were obliged to be handed out, so I being the only surviving lieutenant, one came my way at last. It took its time, upon my word, but it was very welcome when it came, however slow and undeserved. What do you say to taking tea? And perhaps a piece of muffin? Or should you rather stay with the port?'

   'Tea would make me very happy,' said Stephen. 'But tell me,' he said, walking back to the fiddle and tucking it under his chin, 'do not your naval appointments entail great expense, going to London, uniforms, oaths, levees . . .?'

   'Oaths? Oh, you refer to the swearing-in. No. That applies only to lieutenants—you go to the Admiralty and they read you a piece about allegiance and supremacy and utterly renouncing the Pope; you feel very solemn and say "to this I swear" and the chap at the high desk says "and that will be half a guinea", which does rather take away from the effect, you know. But it is only commissioned officers—medical men are appointed by a warrant.
You
would not object to taking an oath, however,' he said, smiling; and then feeling that this remark was a little indelicate, a little personal, he went on, 'I was shipmates with a poor fellow once that objected to taking an oath, any oath, on principle. I never could like him—he was for ever touching his face. He was nervous, I believe, and it gave him countenance; but whenever you looked at him there he was with a finger at his mouth, or pressing his cheek, or pulling his chin awry. It is nothing, of course; but when you are penned up with it in the same wardroom it grows tedious, day after day all through a long commission. In the gun-room or the cockpit you can call out "Leave your face alone, for God's sake," but in the wardroom you must bear with it. However, he took to reading in his Bible, and he conceived this notion that he must not take an oath; and when there was that foolish court-martial on poor Bentham he was called as a witness and refused, flatly refused, to be sworn. He told Old Jarvie it was contrary to something in the Gospels. Now that might have washed with Gambier or Saumarez or someone given to tracts, but not with Old Jarvie, by God. He was broke, I am sorry to say: I never could like him—to tell you the truth, he smelt too—but he was a tolerably good seaman and there was no vice in him. That is what I mean when I say you would not object to an oath—
you
are not an enthusiast.'

   'No, certainly,' said Stephen. 'I am not an enthusiast. I was brought up by a philosopher, or perhaps I should say a
philosophe
; and some of his philosophy has stuck to me. He would have called an oath a childish thing—otiose if voluntary and rightly to be evaded or ignored if imposed. For few people today, even among your tarpaulins, are weak enough to believe in Earl Godwin's piece of bread.'

   There was a long pause while the tea was brought in. 'You take milk in your tea, Doctor?' asked Jack.

   'If you please,' said Stephen. He was obviously deep in thought: his eyes were fixed upon vacancy and his mouth was pursed in a silent whistle.

   'I wish . . .' said Jack.

   'It is always said to be weak, and impolitic, to show oneself at a disadvantage,' said Stephen, bearing him down. 'But you speak to me with such candour that I cannot prevent myself from doing the same. Your offer, your suggestion, tempts me exceedingly; for apart from those considerations that you so obligingly mention, and which I reciprocate most heartily, I am very much at a stand, here in Minorca. The patient I was to attend until the autumn has did. I had understood him to be a man of substance—he had a house in Merrion Square—but when Mr Florey and I looked through his effects before sealing them we found nothing whatever, neither money nor letters of credit. His servant decamped, which may explain it: but his friends do not answer my letters; the war has cut me off from my little patrimony in Spain; and when I told you, some time ago, that I had not eaten so well for a great while, I did not speak figuratively.'

   'Oh, what a very shocking thing!' cried Jack. 'I am heartily sorry for your embarrassment, and if the—the
res angusta
is pressing, I hope you will allow me . . .' His hand was in his breeches pocket, but Stephen Maturin said 'No, no, no,' a dozen times smiling and nodding. 'But you are very good.'

   'I am heartily sorry for your embarrassment, Doctor,' repeated jack, 'and I am almost ashamed to profit by it. But my
Sophie
must have a medical man—apart from anything else, you have no notion of what a hypochondriac your seaman is: they love to be physicked, and a ship's company without someone to look after them, even the rawest half-grown surgeon's mate, is not a happy ship's company—and then again it is the direct answer to your immediate difficulties. The pay is contemptible for a learned man—five pounds a month—and I am ashamed to mention it; but there is the chance of prize-money, and I believe there are certain perquisites, such as Queen Anne's Gift, and something for every man with the pox. It is stopped out of their pay.'

   'Oh, as for money, I am not greatly concerned with that. If the immortal Linnaeus could traverse five thousand miles of Lapland, living upon twenty-five pounds, surely I can . . . But is the thing in itself really feasible? Surely there must be an official appointment? Uniform? Instruments? Drugs, medical necessities?'

   'Now that you come to ask me these fine points, it is surprising how little I know,' said Jack, smiling. 'But Lord love you, Doctor, we must not let trifles stand in the way. A warrant from the Navy Office you must have, that I am sure of; but I know the admiral will give you an acting order the minute I ask him—delighted to do so. As for uniform, there is nothing particular for surgeons, though a blue coat is usual. Instruments and so on—there you have me. I believe Apothecaries' Hall sends a chest aboard: Florey will know, or any of the surgeons But at all events come aboard directly Come as soon as you like—come tomorrow, say, and we will dine together. Even the acting order will take some little time, so make this voyage as my guest It will not be comfortable—no elbow-room in a brig, you know but it will introduce you to naval life; and if you have a saucy landlord, it will dish him instantly Let me fill your cup. And I am sure you will like it, for it is amazingly philosophical.'

   'Certainly,' said Stephen. 'For a philosopher, a student of human nature, what could be better? The subjects of his inquiry shut up together, unable to escape his gaze, their passions heightened by the dangers of war, the hazards of their calling, their isolation from women and their curious, but uniform, diet. And by the glow of patriotic fervour, no doubt.'—with a bow to Jack—'It is true that for some time past I have taken more interest in the cryptogams than in my fellow-men; but even so, a ship must be a most instructive theatre for an inquiring mind.'

   'Prodigiously instructive, I do assure you, Doctor,' said Jack. 'How happy you make me: to have Dillon as the
Sophie's
lieutenant and a Dublin physician as her surgeon—by the way, you are countrymen, of course. Perhaps you know Mr Dillon?'

   'There are so many Dillons,' said Stephen, with a chill settling about his heart. 'What is his Christian name?'

   'James,' said Jack, looking at the note.

   'No,' said Stephen deliberately. 'I do not remember to have met any James Dillon.'

'Mr Marshall,' said Jack, 'pass the word for the carpenter, if you please. I have a guest coming aboard: we must do our best to make him comfortable. He is a physician, a great man in the philosophical line.'

   'An astronomer, sir?' asked the master eagerly.

   'Rather more of a botanist, I take it,' said Jack. 'But I have great hopes that if we make him comfortable he may stay with us as the
Sophie's
surgeon. Think what a famous thing that would be for the ship's company!'

   'Indeed it would, sir. They were right upset when Mr Jackson went off to the
Pallas
, and to replace him with a physician would be a great stroke. There's one aboard the flagship and one at Gibraltar, but not another in the whole fleet, not that I know of. They charge a guinea a visit, by land; or so I have heard tell.'

   'Even more, Mr Marshall, even more. Is that water aboard?'

   'All aboard and stowed, sir, except for the last two casks.'

   'There you are, Mr Lamb. I want you to have a look at the bulkhead of my sleeping-cabin and see what you can do to make it a little more roomy for a friend: you may be able to shift it for'ard a good six inches. Yes, Mr Babbington, what is it?'

   'If you please, sir, the
Burford
is signalling over the headland.'

   'Very good. Now let the purser, the gunner and the bosun know I want to see them.'

   From that moment on the captain of the
Sophie
was plunged deep into her accounts—her muster-book, slop-book, tickets, sick-book, complete-book, gunner's, bosun's and carpenter's expenses, supplies and returns, general account of provisions received and returned, and quarterly account of same, together with certificates of the quantity of spirits, wine, cocoa and tea issued, to say nothing of the log, Letter and order books—and what with having dined extremely well and not being good with figures at any time, he very soon lost his footing. Most of his dealings were with Ricketts, the purser; and as Jack grew irritable in his confusion it seemed to him that he detected a certain smoothness in the way the purser presented his interminable sums and balances. There were papers here, quittances, acknowledgements and receipts that he was being asked to sign; and he knew very well that he did not understand them all.

   'Mr Ricketts,' he said, at the end of a long, easy explanation that conveyed nothing to him at all, 'here in the muster-book, at number 178, is Charles Stephen Ricketts.'

   'Yes, sir. My son, sir.'

   'Just so. I see that he appeared on November 30th, 1797. From
Tonnant
, late
Princess Royal
. There is no age by his name.'

   'Ah, let me see: Charlie must have been rising twelve by then, sir.'

   'He was rated Able Seaman.'

   'Yes, sir. Ha, ha!'

   It was a perfectly ordinary little everyday fraud; but it was illegal. Jack did not smile. He went on, 'AB to September 20th, 1798, then rated Clerk. And then on November 10th, 1799, he was rated Midshipman.'

   'Yes, sir,' said the purser: not only was there that little awkwardness of the eleven-year-old able seaman, but Mr Ricketts' quick ear caught the slight emphasis on the word
rated
and its slightly unusual repetition. The message it conveyed was this: 'I may seem a poor man of business; but if you try any purser's tricks with me, I am athwart your hawse and I can rake you from stem to stern. What is more, one captain's rating can be disrated by another, and if you trouble my sleep, by God, I shall turn your boy before the mast and flog the tender pink skin off his back every day for the rest of the commission.' Jack's head was aching his eyes were slightly rimmed with red from the port, and there was—so clear a hint of latent ferocity in them that the purser took the message very seriously. 'Yes, sir,' he said again. 'Yes. Now here is the list of dockyard tallies: would you like me to explain the different headings in detail, sir?'

   'If you please, Mr Ricketts.'

   This was Jack's first direct, fully responsible acquaintance with book-keeping, and he did not much relish it. Even a small vessel (and the
Sophi
e barely exceeded a hundred and fifty tons) needs a wonderful amount of stores: casks of beef, pork and butter all numbered and signed for, puncheons, butts and half-pieces of rum, hard-tack by the ton from Old Weevil, dried soup with the broad arrow upon it, quite apart from the gunner's powder (mealed, corned and best patent), sponges, worms, matches, priming-irons, wads and shot—bar, chain, case, langrage, grape or plain round—and the countless objects needed (and so
very
often embezzled) by the bosun—the blocks, the long-tackle, single, double, parrel, quarter-coak, double-coak, flat-side, double thin-coak, single thin-coak, single strap-bound and sister blocks alone made up a whole Lent litany. Here jack was far more at home, for the difference between a single double-scored and a single-shoulder block was as clear to him as that between night and day, or right and wrong—far clearer, on occasion. But by now his mind, used to grappling with concrete physical problems, was thoroughly tired: he looked wistfully over the dog-eared, tatty books piled up on the curving rim of the lockers out through the cabin windows at the brilliant air and the dancing sea. He passed his hand over his forehead and said, 'We will deal with the rest another time, Mr Ricketts. What a God-damned great heap of paper it is, to be sure: I see that a clerk is a very necessary member of the ship's company. That reminds me, I have appointed a young man—he will be coming aboard today. I am sure you will ease him into his duties, Mr Ricketts. He seems willing and competent, and he is nephew to Mr Williams, the prize-agent. I think it is to the
Sophie's
advantage that we should be well with the prize-agent, Mr Ricketts?'

   'Indeed it is, sir,' said the purser, with deep conviction.

   'Now I must go across to the dockyard with the bosun before the evening gun,' said Jack, escaping into the open air. As he set foot upon deck so young Richards came up the larboard side, accompanied by a Negro, well over six feet tall. 'Here is the young man I was telling you about, Mr Ricketts. And this is the seaman you have brought me, Mr Richards? A fine stout fellow he looks, too. What is his name?'

   'Alfred King, if you please, sir.'

   'Can you hand, reef and steer, King?'

   The Negro nodded his round head; there was a fine flash of white across his face and he grunted aloud. Jack frowned, for this was no way to address a captain on his own quarter-deck. 'Come, sir,' he said sharply, 'haven't you got a civil tongue in your head?'

   Looking suddenly grey and apprehensive the Negro shook his head. 'If you please, sir,' said the clerk, 'he has no tongue. The Moors cut it out.'

BOOK: Master & Commander
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