Book 20 - Blue At The Mizzen

by Patrick O'Brian

  'No, indeed,' said Jack, 'and as I have said, I am sure you will convey all suitable expressions of my gratitude to the Supreme Director. But for the moment I am primarily concerned with my men. As you are aware, they have not been paid. The very considerable mass of treasure seized at Valdivia has not been shared out. And the people of the prize-court here say that no decision on the Esmeralda's value can possibly be reached this year. No: let me finish speaking if you please,' he said, holding up his hand; and Carrera obviously thought his cold fury as impressive as did Stephen. 'Since I reached this country,' Jack went on, 'I have been referred from ministry to secretariat, from high-placed men to influential friends and back again: and my people, in the height of victory, have not sixpence in their pockets for a pot of beer. And I tell you, sir, this will not do. You, a man of great standing in the republic, are going to Santiago: I desire you to tell Mr O'Higgins and your other colleagues, that this will not do. I must have money: and only a great deal of money will satisfy my officers and men. They must have what they have earned and what they have won; and they must have it by the end of the month. Do you understand me, sir?'

  'I understand you, sir,' said Carrera, 'and you will allow me to say that I very much regret the present state of affairs. I must set out for Santiago early tomorrow morning, and there I shall lay the matter before those who make decisions. But before I go I shall do myself the honour of sending a letter to your ship, to your most distinguished ship.'

  'You are very good, sir,' said Jack, standing up with the help of his stick, 'and it only remains for me to thank you most heartily for this truly splendid feast—I particularly valued the Christmas pudding—' he added with a look of fury, 'and for your comprehension. Finally, may I beg you to tell your colleagues that the end of the month is my fortunate or unfortunate day, as they shall decide.' With this he held out his hand and said farewell.

  'By God, you did that in style, brother,' said Stephen, when they were in the coach.

  'I could not dislike the man, although he is a politician,' said Jack. 'And I believe he loves the service. He has a nephew aboard Gladiator, who speaks perfect English, and thinks of himself as at least half a sailor already; and he is not far wrong.'

  It was the early-rising half that was entrusted with the letter, and it was delivered aboard Surprise before Jack's vile morning draught, which Killick brought with eager punctuality at four bells and which had to be swallowed before he might open the envelope.

  'Go and see whether the Doctor is about,' said Jack, 'and if he is, ask him to look in, when he has a moment.'

  'Which he is in the fish-market, turning over some old-fashioned lobsters. No. I tell a lie. That is him, falling down the companion-way and cursing in foreign.'

  Stephen, dusted down and tweaked into good order, his wig restored, was led into the cabin.

  'Good morning, Stephen. Would you cast an eye at this?'

  'Bless you,' said Stephen. 'I might: Don Miguel kisses your hands, thanks you for honouring his frugal repast, and has the happiness of enclosing two papers, the one being addressed to the chief cashier and requiring him to deliver five thousand pieces of eight to any inferior officer whom you may choose to send, the other to the official in charge of naval stores charging him to send over everything of that kind you may require. He begs your pardon a thousand times for so brief a scribble, but his horse, a desperately impatient animal, is at the door, only just held by two straining grooms.'

  'By God, that is very handsome of him,' cried Jack. 'As soon as we have had breakfast, let us call upon the dear cashier with a couple of powerful holders, and then confer with the master, purser, bosun, gunner and anyone who is concerned with stores to find just what we need: I know the cupboard is most uncommon bare.' He went on about its barrenness at considerable length, a length matched by his own exhilaration; but when for a moment he paused, Stephen said, 'Will I tell you something?'

  'By all means. It will probably be even more interesting than the number of swabs we need.'

  'Listen. I was walking along the dock-side where they are repairing the big Chilean frigate.'

  'O'Higgins.'

  'No, sir, if you will forgive me: they are changing it to San Martín.'

  'Are they, by God? That is a damned unlucky thing to do to a ship. And it may be unlucky for us, too. Clearly the tide is changing. O'Higgins was our friend. What little I saw of San Martín I did not care for, and I doubt he really loved me. But there is little we can do about it, apart from knocking the place down about their ears with their own powder and shot; and that I hesitate to do, having several friends in the town. No. I think we must carry on with our survey: and if they turn awkward, if they shuffle or back-water, why, damn them all, I shall ask you to write me a handsome letter of resignation, pray for a steady west wind, and sail home. But first, until the month is out, I must fulfil my promise and take the young men, the pick of the young men, surveying the Chonos Archipelago: and before that we must fill the ship with stores.'

  At four bells in the forenoon watch the next day, a very pretty day with Jack's beloved westerly breeze rippling the harbour, Surprise's gunner, in answer to a nod from Somers, fired the foremost larboard gun. All those who had been poised to act, waiting for this signal, instantly cast off moorings, raced aloft, and watching Surprise with the closest attention, followed her movements with such exemplary success that the whole squadron of four ship-sloops and one frigate moved steadily across the harbour in an exactly straight, exactly spaced line, and, amid the cheers and applause of the multitude, into the open sea, where, again following the example of Surprise, they all steered south-west by south, to allow for the heave of the moderately powerful swell and making tide.

  According to local custom, the sloops had two captains, a first and a second; and Jack had them on the quarter-deck by turn, each daylight watch—or to be more exact, from four bells in the morning watch until the end of the first dog—to show them how things were done in the Royal Navy. Three or four of them were quite fluent in English, particularly young José Fernandez, Carrera's nephew, a natural-born merman if ever there was one; but even so the monoglots imposed a dreadful burden on Dr Maturin, who, though he knew a few nautical terms, such as starboard and larboard, in English, had no notion of how to say 'Come up the tackle-fall' in Spanish or any other language.

  'How I wish we had Jacob,' said Jack, one day off Talcahuano.

  'It was entirely with your own consent that we left him in Valparaiso for the possible transmission of a particular message,' said Stephen.

  'You are entirely right: I beg your pardon, brother: it was just for the relief of bewailing my lot. An ignoble relief, I admit.'

  'Captain, dear, a glass of wine with you.'

  In his youth Jack Aubrey had served under two taut captains, remarkably taut even for those rigorous days, and when he said exercising he meant it to a degree that left the poor young men pale, wan, and almost dropping as they stood; but after a few days their young frames, having slept like the dead and eaten like hyenas, gained strength: above all as his own young midshipmen and younger officers raced them from one dizzy eminence to another. And although they had already been through some fairly serious naval training, Dr Maturin had to treat many a blistered hand and rope-burnt thigh. Yet in all this there was none of the harsh driving so usual at sea: and as far as cheerfulness and good nature were compatible with reefing a foretopsail in a very fresh breeze, the days were upon the whole cheerful and good-natured. The only occasions upon which Jack was less than kind were those upon which the young Chileans showed a really grave ignorance of navigation, of determining the ship's course and position by the principles of geometry and nautical astronomy: here he found Daniel and Hanson of the greatest use, and although a lunar observation was harder to understand than a sheet-bend, most of the young men were convinced of the subject's importance, and several learnt to take the sun's altitude at noon. They were invited, usually in pairs, to dine in the cabin or the gun-room
; and although language sometimes presented a certain amount of difficulty, voracious appetites made up for it.

  'What a pleasant set of young fellows they are, to be sure,' said Jack Aubrey as he and Stephen walked on a strand by the mouth of the river Llico, 'and many of them have a real sense of the wind and the sea. At least half a dozen will make real sailors—Lord, what a change after those miserable, untrustworthy politicians.'

  'Sure, you are in the right of it. But tell me, Jack, what are they doing to the poor Surprise, all awry there on the face of the ocean?'

  'Why, since it is so still and we so prettily embayed till the turn of the tide, Harding thought of showing the rest of the boys, those who did not pull us ashore, what half-breaming is like. Do you see, they have heaved her down as far as they decently can and they are scraping the weed from what bottom they can reach . . .'

  His explanation went on, but presently he noticed that Stephen was looking very fixedly at a bird, by now quite remote. 'I do beg pardon, Jack,' he said, 'but I am almost certain that was a snipe. Do you see it yet?'

  'Certainly not. And should give it no countenance if I did. A snipe in Chile, for all love. I should as soon expect a beaver in the Royal Exchange.'

  'And yet that dear boy José, whose uncle is a great shot, told me that the snipe—becasina, Gallinago gallinago—the same bird as ours—was the very first of breeding birds that come down here on migration. Bless you: here I had been, cursing the day and kicking the ground itself because we were making this voyage, as we have made so many a voyage, in that dismal gap when the winter migrants have departed and those of the spring have not yet arrived. I am filled with hope.'

  Filled he may have been; but days, even weeks later, he was sitting on the grey pebbles of an island, one of the innumerable cold grey Chonos islands, sullenly training his glass not on any wildly exotic migrant but the commonplace resident blackish (but white-footed) oyster-catcher wading about in search of its living. Farther along there was another, a lacklustre female; and neither betrayed the slightest interest in the other: clearly this was not their breeding season, whatever the snipe might think. Not the season of sudden joys, although it was indeed the thirtieth day of the month and tomorrow must decide Jack's fate one way or another, neither leading to any evident happiness.

  Beyond the hen oyster-catcher a brig came into view, rounding one of the countless rocky eminences that Captain Aubrey and his pupils had surveyed that morning with infinite care—they were now surveying another a little way to the south out of Stephen's sight but within that of the brig, which now increased its already headlong speed with yet more canvas. A green brig familiar to Stephen, used as a yacht by a wealthy and amiable Chilean gem-merchant, one of Jacob's friends, who lived in Valparaiso.

  He fixed it with his telescope, and there indeed was Jacob looking at him through another and making signs—untimely mirth? Whatever the signs were they were very soon lost as the brig rounded yet another great sea-worn cliff in the direction of Surprise, and Stephen's attention was at once seized by a very noble sight—two black-necked swans flying steadily south, quite low over the water, so low that he could hear the rhythmic beating of their wings.

  'I cannot just sit here, watching pale-footed oyster-catchers,' said Maturin aloud. 'But what other course is open to me?'

  No other course, during the passage—always north to south—of three skuas and that revolting carrion-eater the crested caracara. Hung about Stephen's neck and wrapped in waxed-silk bags, one inside the other—the replacement of a small and very beautiful repeating watch chimed two quarters and would have chimed a third had he not caught sight of the frigate's jolly-boat pulling fast into the contrary wind. He leapt up and waved and hooted, terrifying the oyster-catchers but making quite sure that he was not marooned.

  He came up the ship's side with his usual elegance, and he was greeted by Dr Jacob, on whose brow a knowing eye could read A CODED SIGNAL HAS COME THROUGH. Stephen was led below to one of the really discreet parts of the ship and in a low voice Jacob said, 'Jaime brought it just after the government messenger had arrived from Santiago,' and although Jacob had not decoded anything like the whole there was an important section that he perhaps mistakenly thought should be transmitted to the person concerned at once. From the jerk of his head and upward look Stephen grasped that he was speaking of Jack: and this became yet more certain when Jacob spoke of his delight when the brig overtook and passed the heavy sloop-of-war that had set out from Valparaiso before he could find the owner of the brig.

  'You have the original and your transcript?' asked Stephen.

  'The original, but only a little of the transcript: let me show you how far I went before deciding to come out.'

  Stephen held the rough draft to the gunport and said, 'Certainly you were quite right, dear Amos. We must tell him at once.'

  'No. He is your particular friend. Here is my copy of the D2 key: there are some difficult combinations that I did not trouble with, but the essence is quite plain and we can worry them out later.'

  Stephen nodded, shook his hand warmly, thrust the papers into a pocket and walked quickly out. Almost running into the clerk he said, 'Mr Adams, pray do me a service. I should like a private word with the Captain: I shall be in the cabin.' Adams stared at so very extraordinary a request, but he saw that Stephen was in earnest, said, 'Very good, sir,' and hurried on deck.

  Stephen was gazing out of the middle stern window when the Captain came in, looking surprised and a little concerned.

  'Jack,' said Stephen, 'a signal has just come in. It has not all been decoded, but the opening is addressed to you by name and ship and if you choose I will read you what has been made out and try to decode the rest as I go—it has been crumpled in the journey and I may miss some words. But here is the essence: Immediately upon receipt of the present order you will proceed to the River Plate, there joining the South African squadron: you will go aboard HMS Implacable, hoisting your flag, blue at the mizzen and take command of the blue squadron.'

  Jack sat down, bowing his face in his hands: he was almost unmanned, but after a moment he did say, 'Read that again, will you, Stephen?'

  Stephen did so, and Jack said, 'By God, Stephen, I am so glad it was you brought me this news. Sophie will be so happy. By God, I never thought my flag would come.'

  'And there are some other things. Very hearty congratulations from the Duke of Clarence for the Callao action, a personal message to Horatio Hanson and a request that you should send him home as soon as possible to sit for his lieutenant's examination. And there are great quantities of political considerations from Sir Joseph that have yet to be decoded . . . May I too congratulate you, Admiral dear?' He embraced Jack, who took it quite naturally, in something of a daze: but then he said, 'It is all very glorious, brother, and I am glad they are pleased with us. But I am tied by the leg, you know. I am engaged, committed, to the Chilean government.'

  At this point the Chilean government, in the person of Carrera, was coming up the Surprise's side from the heavy ship-sloop, carrying a letter. He was properly received by Harding, and permission having been sought, he was shown into the cabin, where Jack offered him some sherry and begged pardon while he read the letter.

  'I am very sorry for what it contains,' said Carrera. 'Sorry and ashamed: the men in Santiago beg for another three months, and then all debts will be paid.'

  'It grieves me to say this to you,' said Jack, 'but you will recall our agreement. I must desire you to take your young men, your excellent and most promising young men, aboard the sloop. For I am required to sail in another direction. But please rest assured of my personal esteem for you, and of my very best possible wishes for the Chilean navy of the future.'

  The transfer took a considerable time—a very cheerful, good-humoured transfer—and the ships parted with hearty reciprocal cheering.

  After a last salute Jack glanced aloft—still the sweet west wind—and then he looked fore and aft: a fine clear deck, hands all at
their stations and all beaming with pleasure; and turning to the master he said, 'Mr Hanson, pray lay me a course for Cape Pilar and Magellan's Strait.'

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Interchapter

  Chapter Ten