‘It might be more healthy,’ said Stephen. ‘So we are to put in at Plymouth, I hear?’
‘That’s right, sir: to complete. You will have your two mates - and don’t I wish they may like it, when they see the dog-holes where we must stow them - and we must find the best part of our crew, three hundred hands or so. Lord, Doctor, how I hope we can get hold of some right seamen! The Captain can always fill half a frigate with good men come volunteerly( but they won’t amount to much in a ship of the line - no prize-money in a ship of the line on blockade. And of course we are to have three more lieutenants and maybe a chaplain: the Captain is against it, but Admiral Thornton likes to have chaplains aboard and we may have to carry half a dozen out for the fleet. He is rather a blue-light admiral, though a good fighting-man, and he thinks it encourages the hands to have a proper funeral, with the words said by a real parson. Then we must have midshipmen, and this time the Captain swears he will enter none but what are regularly bred to the sea, none but what can hand, reef and steer, work their tides and take double altitudes, and understand the mathematics; he is not going to take a floating nursery, says he. For although you may scarcely believe it, Doctor, a dozen good seamanlike reefers are very useful aboard, learning the raw hands their duty; we are sure to have a good many - raw hands I mean - and they must learn their duty pretty quick, with the French grown so bold and the Americans coming right up into the Channel.’
‘Are not the Frenchmen all shut up in Rochefort and Brest?’
‘Their ships of the line: but when it comes on to blow hard from the east and our squadrons have to run for Torbay, their frigates slip out and chew up our merchantmen something cruel. I dare say we shall have a convoy to see down to the Straits. And then there are the privateers too, very presumptuous reptiles in the Bay. Still, the receiving ships may give us some decent drafts: the Captain has good friends in Plymouth. I hope so indeed, because there is no man in the service to work them up into a smart crew like the Captain, and a smart crew will offset an unweatherly slab-sided old ship. She has the guns, after all, and I can just see him sending her smack into the French line, if only they come out of Toulon, smack into the middle, both broadsides roaring.’ The port, in addition to cochineal, contained a good deal of impure alcohol, and Pullings, a little elevated, cried ‘Both broadsides into the thick of ‘em - breaks the line - takes a first-rate - takes another - he is made a lord, and Tom Pullings a commander at last!’ He turned his glowing, radiant face to the opening door.
‘Well, sir, I am sure you shall be before long,’ said Preserved Killick. He was the Captain’s steward, a coarse, plain, ugly seaman, still quite unpolished in spite of his years of office, but a very old shipmate and therefore entitled to be familiar in an empty wardroom.
‘Preserved Killick,’ said Stephen, shaking his hand, ‘I am happy to see you. Drink this,’ - handing him his glass - ‘it will do you good.’
‘Thankee, sir,’ said Killick, tossing it off without a wink; and in an official voice, though without changing his uncouth, easy posture, he went on, ‘Captain’s compliments and whenever Dr M has the leisure and inclination for a little music, would welcome his company in the cabin. Which he is a-tuning of his old fiddle this minute, sir.’
CHAPTER TWO
At a broad table on the Worcester’s quarterdeck sat her first lieutenant, with the Captain’s clerk, the surgeon, the purser, the bosun, and her other standing officers on either side of him. Over to starboard stood a vague heap of men, most of them poorly clothed, most of them looking lost and miserable, all of them smelling of soap, the receiving-ship having scrubbed them until they shone; but a few seemed quite at home, and when Mr Pullings called out ‘Next’ one of these stepped up to the table and touched his knuckles to his forehead and stood there swaying gently, a middle-aged man in loose trousers and a torn blue jacket with metal buttons, a bright red handkerchief round his neck. He looked horribly dissipated and he had certainly been fighting the night before; Pullings gazed at him with great satisfaction and said, ‘Well, Phelps, are you come to add to our burden?’
‘That’s right, sir,’ said Phelps, and then very rapidly to the clerk, ‘Ebenezer Phelps, born at Dock in sixty-nine, dwelling at Gorham’s Rents, Dock, thirty-four years at sea, last ship Wheel ‘em Along, sheet-anchor man.’
‘And before that Circe and Venerable,’ said Pullings. ‘And a damned bad character from both. Rate him able. Phelps, you had better take a caulk below, before the Captain sees you. Next.’
A powerful bosun’s mate led up a pale knock-kneed man in breeches and part of what was once a coachman’s greatcoat: his name was William Old.
‘What was your trade, Old?’ asked Pullings kindly.
‘I don’t like to boast,’ said Old, gathering confidence, ‘but I was a trifler.’ There was a momentary hush; the clerk looked up from his book with a frown; the bosun’s mate whispered ‘Mind your luff, mate,’ in a hoarse growl, and Old added, ‘Not a sadware man, sir, nor a hollow-ware man, but a trifler, a journeyman trifler. But the whole pewter trade, sadware and all, is gone to the dogs, and -’
‘Have you ever been to sea?’ asked Pullings.
‘I once went to Margate, sir.’
‘Rate him landman, if he passes the Doctor,” said Pullings. ‘He may be some use as armourer’s crew. Next.’
‘Oh sir,’ cried the journeyman trifler, about to be led off by the bosun’s mate, ‘Oh sir, if you please: may I have my bounty now, your honour? My wife is waiting there on the quay, with the children.’
‘Explain to him about the ticket, Jobling,’ said Pullings to the bosun’s mate. ‘Next.’
Now it was the turn of the pressed men, several right seamen among them, some taken far out in the offing from homeward-bound merchant ships by Mowett in the barge, others captured ashore by the gang. The first of them, a man called Yeats, looked more like a prosperous gardener, which indeed he was, as he explained to the lieutenant: a nurseryman. He had half an acre under glass- his business going well - would be ruined if he were pressed - his wife did not understand the trade, and she was expecting. His extreme distress was evident; so was his sincerity.
‘What is that anchor doing on your hand?’ asked Pullings, pointing to the mark, tattooed blue and red. ‘You have been to sea: do not deny it.’
Yes, he had been to sea when he was a boy, five months in Hermione, sick almost all the time, and when she was paid off here in Hamoaze he had walked inland as far as ever he could and had never come near the shore again until Thursday, when the press-gang took him as he was crossing the bridge to visit an important customer at Saltash. His business would be ruined if he did not go home.
‘Well, I am sorry for it, Yeats,’ said Pullings. ‘But the law is the law: any man that has used the sea may be pressed.’ In cases like this some officers would make observations about the necessity for manning the fleet, about serving - preserving - the country, even about patriotism, for the general edification of the ship’s company: others would turn harsh or gruff. Pullings only said ‘Go along with the Doctor,’ shaking his head. Yeats cast a desperate look at the seated men, clasped his hands, and went along without another word, too disheartened to speak.
Behind the canvas screen Stephen told him to take off his clothes, poked him in the belly and groin, and said, ‘You lift heavy weights in your trade.’
‘Oh no, sir,’ said Yeats in a low spiritless voice, ‘we only carry ?’
‘Do not presume to contradict me,’ said Stephen sharply. ‘You answer questions when they are asked and not before, do you hear?’
‘Beg pardon, sir,’ said Yeats, closing his eyes.
‘You lift heavy weights. Here are the signs of an incipient hernia. I am afraid we shall have to refuse you. It is not serious yet, but you are to drink very little ale or wine, and no strong waters at all; you are to forswear tobacco, that nasty vice, and are to be let blood three times a year.’
In the great after-cabin, the Captain’s drawing-roo
m, music-room, refuge and delight, Jack paced to and fro, dictating to a knowing old confidential clerk, lent by his friend the Commissioner: ‘Captain Aubrey presents his best compliments to Lord Alton and very much regrets that the Worcester is not a suitable ship for a young gentleman the age of his lordship’s son; she carries no schoolmaster, and the nature of her present duties precludes - precludes my acting as a goddam dry-nurse: use that excellent expression you thought of for the others, Mr Simpson, if you please. But if the boy were put to a good mathematical school when he is twelve and taught the rudiments of trigonometry, navigation, English and French grammar for a year or so, Captain Aubrey would be happy to attend to his lordship’s wishes in the event of his being appointed to some more eligible command.’
‘Lord Alton has a good deal of interest with Government you know sir,’ observed the clerk, an acquaintance of many years standing.
‘I am sure he has,’ said Jack, ‘and I am sure he will soon find a more biddable captain. Now much the same to Mr Jameson: but in this case his boy is too old. He may be very good at Latin and Greek, but he does not know the difference between a logarithm and a log; besides, very few young fellows take well to the sea at fifteen. What next? Tell me, do you know anything about this nephew of Admiral Brown’s?’
‘Well, sir, he seemed a heavy young gentleman to me: his last captain turned him on shore, and I am told he failed to pass for lieutenant at Somerset House.’
‘Ay, I dare say. I saw him make a sad cock of putting the yawl about when he was in Colossus: he was drunk at the time. But I believe I must take him. His uncle was very good to me when I was a boy. We will try to sharpen his wits: then he may pass at Gibraltar, and perhaps the Admiral will make him for his uncle’s sake - they were shipmates in the time of the Spanish Armament, I recall,’ said Jack, gazing out of the stern-window and seeing the Hamoaze of more than twenty years ago, just as crowded with men-of-war even then, and himself a bran-new lieutenant, shedding happiness all round him like the rising sun, taking the two officers in question ashore in the gig. ‘I will write that letter myself,’ he said. ‘As for young Savage and Maitland, they may certainly come. But now there is this very delicate confidential semi-official letter to Admiral Bowyer about the remaining lieutenants: Mr Collins and Mr Whiting I know nothing of, except that they are very young, near the bottom of the list; but Mr Somers I will not have if I can possibly avoid it.’
‘The Honourable Mr Somers,’ said Simpson in a significant tone.
‘No doubt, but he is an idle fellow and no seaman at all - too rich for his own good or the comfort of the mess he is in - cannot hold his wine and has not the mother-wit to leave it alone. Imagine him taking the middle watch in dirty weather on a lee-shore - imagine sending him away with the boats on a cutting-out expedition - that would be sporting with men’s lives indeed. I have no notion of people making the service a mere convenience for themselves, as if it were a public establishment for loungers. No. We must phrase it with great care, pointing out most respectfully that we will be damned if we receive him on board rather than one of the two other gentlemen we have put in for, Thorneycroft and Patterson: they are both on shore, as I know very well.’
‘Mr Widgery of the Yard to see you, sir,’ said Killick.
‘Oh yes,’ said Jack, ‘that will be about my topmasts. Mr Simpson, you may think it as well to advise with the Commissioner about this letter; and perhaps you would let me see your draft this evening. There is not a moment to lose: the hound may report aboard any day, and then it will be much harder to get rid of him. And please tell Mrs Fanshaw, with all proper expressions, that I should be very happy to dine with her and the Commissioner on Sunday. You will take a glass with Mr Widgery before you go?’
‘You are very kind, sir. But before I forget it, Captain Fanshaw begs you will enter his sister’s grandchild on the books, before the muster is made up. Name of Henry Meadows, rising eight, a likely lad.’
‘Of course,’ said Jack. ‘What rating? Captain’s servant looks as well as any. Killick, show Mr Widgery in, and bring the madeira.’
The evening gun boomed out over Hamoaze, Catwater and the Sound; lights began to twinkle from Plymouth, from Dock, and from the floating town of men-of-war, each one a village in itself. Those from the Worcester’s great cabin showed brighter than most, because her captain still had a great deal of paper-work to do, and he had lit his patent Argand lamp: statements from the receiving-ships lay on his table, together with indents for carpenter’s, gunner’s and bosun’s stores, huge rolls from the Victualling Yard, and the first outline of a watch-list, the result of some hours of close consultation between him and his first lieutenant ; but superimposed upon these neat heaps lay seme sheets of music in manuscript, his violin beside them; and it was these that he was studying when Stephen walked in.
‘There you are, Stephen,’ said Jack. ‘Killick, Killick there. The toasted cheese, d’ye hear me? Stephen, I am happy to see you.’
‘Sure, you look quite happy, too. Have you had a good day?’
‘Tolerable, I thank you, tolerable. I must say the Commissioner has done us proud for once: we have something not far from our complement of hands, and he has promised to turn over half the Skates when she pays off tomorrow.’
‘The little small ship that came in after us, with a shark’s tail nailed to its prow? With all your eager hopeful greed for men you can hardly expect many out of a mere floating band-box.’
‘To be exact, brother, she is a brig; and although her ship’s company may not amount to a very great many, they have served a four-year commission together in the West Indies under young Hall, a very fine seaman; they have seen a mort of action, and I dare say every man-jack can be rated able. We are most uncommon lucky to be able to snap ‘em up, I do give you my word.”
‘Perhaps the Skates may esteem themselves less fortunate, turned over without seeing their friends after four years away.’
‘It is hard,’ said Jack. ‘Very hard. But then war is a very cruel hard business.’ He shook his head, but brightening again he said, ‘And the Yard has done the handsome thing about my stump topgallants and separate royals - quite agreed with me about their lessening the strain, and will let me have them in the morning, out of the old Invincible.’
‘Wittles,’ said Killick. ‘Which I have put ‘em in the dining-cabin. Not an inch of room on this here table,’ - looking angrily at the papers.
‘Indeed,’ said Jack as they ate their supper, ‘I do not remember an easier, more satisfactory manning. We have a good third of our people seamen, able and ordinary confounded, not counting the Skates; and many of the others look stout, promising material.’
‘There were many sad brutish grobians among those I examined,’ said Stephen, who was feeling disagreeable and contradictory: he loathed the whole business of impressment.
‘Oh, of course there are always some odd fish among the quota-men sent by the magistrates; but this time we have very few downright thieves: only one parricide, that was found incapable of pleading and sent to the Navy; and after all he will scarcely carry on his capers here -he will scarcely find another father aboard. And much the same applied to the poachers. Upon the whole, I am very pleased: what with the old leaven and the new, as it says in the Bible, I do not doubt but we shall have a tolerable brisk crew by the time we reach the flag. And to encourage ‘em I have laid in a fine stock of private powder, the stock of a fireworks-maker lately deceased, a most prodigious bargain. It was the clerk of cheque that gave me wind of it- he means to marry the widow, and although it is a little mixed with red orpiment and so on the ordnance-master swears it is sound. The only thing between me and perfect felicity,’ said Jack, thrusting the cloud of legal troubles still farther back into the recesses of his mind, ‘is the threat of these parsons and the absence of the other lieutenants: manning always means a prodigious amount of work, and far too much of it falls on poor Pullings. We must have more lieutenants at once. Pullings is quite worn out, and
the next few days will be rough going indeed.’
‘So he is too: and grown strangely snappish from want of repose. He rounded on me with inconceivable ferocity for turning a small paltry handful of men away: his appetite for hands is unmeasured, insatiable, inhuman. I must give him a comfortable dose tonight. Seventy-five drops of the tincture of laudanum, and tomorrow he will be the complaisant amiable obliging Thomas Pullings we have always known: otherwise it must be the blue pill for him. Blue pill and black draught.’
‘With any luck the others should appear tomorrow, and that will take some of the load off his shoulders: and the Commissioner has a plan for sending the parsons in a merchantman. Your mates came aboard this afternoon, I collect: I hope you are pleased with them?’
‘I have no doubt that they are as competent as their certificates state them to be, as competent as we have any right to expect in surgeons.’ Stephen was a physician, and surgeons (though worthy souls often enough, taken individually) had not yet lived down their long, long association with barbers. ‘But even if the one had been Podalirius and the other Machaon I should still have preferred to be alone.’
‘Are they not quite the thing?’ asked Jack. ‘I will try to arrange a transfer if you do not like them.’
‘You are very good; but it is not that I have taken any disgust either to the young man or to the old. It is only that I dislike the whole notion of subordination. The corporal lurks in almost every bosom, and each man tends to use authority when he has it, thus destroying his natural relationship with his fellows, a disastrous state of affairs for both sides. Do away with subordination and you do away with tyranny: without subordination we should have no Neros, no Tamerlanes, no Buonapartes.
Aub-Mat 08 - The Ionian Mission Page 4
