The Mauritius Command

  Up and down they strolled among the hurrying soldiers, then through the tortoise-park, where the disconsolate French superintendent stood thigh deep among some hundreds of his charges, and so towards the interior, until at last the rollers crashing on the reef were no more than a continuous, half-heard thunder. Stephen had seen a flight of parrots that he could not identify, some francolins, a kind of banyan tree which, rooting from its branches, made dark arcades that sheltered countless fruit bats the size of a moderate dove: and some promising caves; yet his professional mind had also followed McAdam's long and detailed account of his patient's habit of body, his diet, and his mind. He agreed with his colleague in rejecting physical causes. 'This is where the trouble lies,' repeated McAdam, striking the dome of his head, bald, naked and disagreeably blotched with ochre against the pallid, sweating scalp.

  'You were not so sure of your diagnosis a little while ago, my friend, with your iliac passion and your strangulation,' said Stephen inwardly; and outwardly, 'You have known him a great while, I collect?'

  'Sure, I knew him as a boy—I treated his father—and I have sailed with him these many years.'

  'And peccatum illud horribile inter Christianos non nominandum, can you speak to that? I have known it produce strange sufferings, though mostly of a cutaneous nature; and none as extreme as this.'

  'Buggery? No. I should certainly know it. There is repeated venereal commerce with the other sex, and always has been. Though indeed,' he said, standing while Stephen grubbed up a plant and wrapped it in his handkerchief, 'it is the wise man that can always separate male and female. Certainly men affect him far more than women; he has more women than he can do with—they pursue him in bands—they cause him much concern—but it is the men he really minds: I have seen it again and again. This crisis, now: I know it was brought on by your Captain Aubrey's checking him. Corbett is bad enough, but Aubrey . . . I had heard of him often and often, long before he ever came out to the Cape—every mention of him or of Cochrane in the Gazette, every piece of service gossip, analysed, diminished, magnified, praised, decried, compared with his own doings—cannot leave them alone, any more than a man can leave a wound in peace . . . Och, be damned to his whimsies—why does he have to be Alexander? Do you want a drink?' asked McAdam, in a different voice, pulling out a case-bottle.

  'I do not,' said Stephen. Until now the decent conventions of medical conversation had restrained McAdam's language and even his harsh, barbarous dialect; but spirits worked very quickly upon his sodden frame, and Stephen found the liberated McAdam tedious. In any event, the sun was no more than a hand's-breadth above the horizon. He turned, walked quickly through the almost deserted camp, down the now empty beach with McAdam blundering after him, and into the boat.

  'I beg you will take notice, Commodore,' he said, darting on to the poop, 'that I am come aboard seven minutes before my time, and desire it may be made up, whenever the requirements of the service next permit.'

  For the time being the service required Stephen, his shipmates, and three hundred and sixty-eight soldiers to bowl along the twentieth parallel, and to cover the hundred leagues between Rodriguez and the rest of the squadron as briskly as ever the Néréide, with her heavy load, could be induced to pass through the sea. It would have been far more convenient to stow the troops in the spacious Raisonable, but here everything depended upon speed, and Jack dreaded the loss of time in transferring them to the Néréide, perhaps with the sea running high: for he had fixed upon Corbett's landing-place, and the Néréide, replete with local knowledge and drawing little water, was to set them ashore at the Pointe des Galets; she therefore ran westward horribly crowded and trailing a smell of Oriental cooking.

  Cracking on as though yards, booms, gaffs and even topmasts were to be had for the asking in the nearest port, they ran off the distance in two days, and on the evening of the second they found the Boadicea and Sirius north east of Mauritius, exact to the rendezvous and, as far as could be told, undetected from the land. This Jack learnt from the soaking Captain Pym, whom he summoned aboard the Raisonable in the most pitiless way through an ugly crosssea, with a close-reef topsail wind sending warm green water over the waist of the two-decker. Pym had some solid intelligence, gained from two separate fishing-boats taken far off shore: the Canonnière, condemned by the surveyors as a man-of-war, had had all her guns but fourteen taken out and was refitting to carry a commercial cargo back to France in a month or so; on the other hand, only one of the powerful new frigates, the Bellone, was in Port-Louis, the Manche and the Vénus having sailed north-eastwards some time before, with six months provisions aboard.

  The heavy sea, the increasing wind, the sudden tropical darkness made it impossible to gather a council of war; and having seen the half-drowned Pym regain his ship, Jack called the Boadicea under his lee and in a voice that carried loud and clear over the general roar he desired Captain Eliot to proceed to St Paul's with the utmost dispatch, the utmost dispatch, to lie there In the offing, and to 'bottle 'em up until we join you—never mind about carrying away a spar or two.' The Boadicea, with her fire-power, would hold them if there was any attempt at getting away.

  By the next day the squadron had left Saint-Louis far astern; they were clear of the disturbed winds and currents to the leeward of Mauritius, and in the moderate sea the Marines and a hundred seamen went aboard the Néréide to join the rest of the landing-party. The captains gathered with the Colonel and his staff in the great cabin of the Raisonable, and the Commodore ran over the plan of attack once more. Stephen was there, and Jack presented him, as casually as possible, as the political adviser to the governor-designate: this earned him a broad stare from Corbett and a curiously agreeable smile from Clonfert, but it aroused no emotion in the others, taken up as they were with the coming event. Lord Clonfert was looking pale and drawn, but much stronger than Stephen had expected: before the conference he had taken Dr Maturin aside and had thanked him for his care with an obliging warmth that was evidently intended to convey more than common civility. For most of the meeting he sat silent: only towards the end, moved by some impulse that Stephen could not make out, did he put forward the suggestion that he should lead the detachment of seamen—he had some knowledge of the country, and he spoke French. It made sense: Jack agreed, looked round the table, asked whether anyone had any further point to make, caught Stephen's eye, and said 'Dr Maturin?'

  'Yes, sir,' said Stephen. 'I have only this to say: in the event of the capture of St Paul's, it is of the first political consequence that the inhabitants should be well treated. Any looting, rape, or disorderly conduct would have the most prejudicial effect upon the political ends in view.'

  They all looked grave, murmuring a general agreement, and shortly afterwards Jack stood up. He wished them all a very good night's sleep, he said, 'for it will be a busy day tomorrow, gentlemen; and if this blessed wind holds, it will start precious early. For my part I shall cut quarters and turn in the minute hammocks are piped down.'

  He turned in, but it was not to sleep. For the first time in his sea-going life he lay awake, listening to the wind, watching the tell-tale compass over his cot, and going on deck every hour or so to look at the sky. The blessed wind never faltered, still less did it veer into the dreaded west; indeed it strengthened so much that early in the middle watch he reduced sail.

  At the change of the watch he was on deck again. He could feel the loom of the land somewhere on the larboard bow, and as his eyes grew used to the darkness he could in fact see the mountains of La Réunion clear against the starlit sky. He looked at his watch by the binnacle lamp; paced up and down the quarterdeck; called out 'Sharp the bowlines, there,' and heard the answering 'One, two, three, belay oh!' 'Bowlines hauled, sir,' said the officer of the watch, and the hands returned to their cleaning of the decks. 'I wonder what Corbett will do about it,' he thought, 'with seven hundred people aboard and not an inch to shove a swab.' He looked at his watch again, stepped into the master's day-cabin to check it
with the chronometer, checked his reckoning once more, and said, 'Signal Néréide carry on.' The coloured lanterns soared up, Néréide acknowledged and a few moments later he saw the dim form of the frigate shake out her reefs, set her topgallant salls, haul her wind two points, and stretch away for the land, away from the squadron, trailing her string of boats.

  According to the plan she was to go in alone to avoid suspicion: the landing parties were to take the batteries commanding the roadstead, and the squadron was then to sail in and deal with the men-of-war and the town. So far the timing was perfect. Corbett would have just light enough to see: Jack disliked the man, but he believed in his knowledge of the coast. But the waiting was going to be hard and long, since the troops had seven miles to march: he resumed his pacing. Seven miles to march, and all he could do in the meantime was to stand in quietly for St Paul's under topsails alone. He watched the sand in the half-hour glass: the top emptied, the glass was turned, the bell rang clear; again the sand began its busy journey, tumbling grain by grain, millions of grains. If all had gone well they should be on their way by now. The glass turned and turned again, and slowly the sky lightened in the east. Another turn, another bell: 'You may pipe the hands to breakfast, Mr Grant, and then clear the ship for action,' he said, and with a fair show of unconcern he walked into his cabin, into the smell of toast and coffee. How had Killick guessed?

  Stephen was already up, sitting there clean, shaven and respectably dressed under the swinging lamp. He said, 'There is the strange look about you, brother?'

  'A strange feeling, too,' said Jack. 'Do you know, Stephen, that in about one hour's time the dust will begin to fly, and what I shall do is just lie there in the road and give orders while the other men do the work? It has never happened to me before, and I don't relish it, I find. Though to be sure, Sophie would approve.'

  'She would also beg you to drink your coffee while it is hot: and she would be in the right of it. There are few things more discouraging to the mind that likes to believe it is master in its own house, than the unquestionable effect of a full belly. Allow me to pour you a cup.'

  The banging of the carpenters' mallets came closer as the bulk-heads went down and the cabins vanished to give a clean sweep fore and aft: not that the poor old Raisonable could do much, clean sweep or not; but even so the familiar sound, the coffee and the toast brought his heart back to something like a natural state. The carpenter himself appeared at the door, begged pardon, hesitated. 'Carry on, Mr Gill,' said Jack pleasantly. 'Don't mind us.'

  It is irregular, sir, I know,' said the carpenter, not carrying on at all but advancing towards the table, 'and I beg you will forgive the liberty. But I fair dread the notion of a battle, sir. Man and boy I've been in the Raisonable these six and twenty year; I know her timbers, and I know her butt-heads; and with respect, sir, I make so bold as to say, the firing-off of they old guns will start 'em.'

  'Mr Gill,' said Jack, 'I promise you I will use her reasonable. Reasonable, eh, you smoke it?' A ghost of his old merriment showed for a moment; a ghost of a smile appeared on the carpenter's face; but not much conviction.

  On deck again, and now the world was full of growing light. The squadron was already right into the broad shallow bay: on the larboard quarter the cape stretched out far westwards into the sea; at the bottom of the bay stood the town of St Paul's, now no more than five miles away; behind rose the savage mountains of La Réunion, barring the eastern horizon; and in the offing lay the Boadicea. The wind was steady in the south-east out here, but the different patterns of the sea inshore showed odd local breezes blowing. Jack took his glass, searching for the Néréide: he swung it along the cape, the Pointe des Galets—a moderate surf on the outer reef, far less on the beach itself—and all at once he saw her, almost becalmed in the lee of the headland, working slowly out from behind an island against the scend of the sea. At the same moment the signal-lieutenant caught sight of her, made out her hoist, and reported, 'Néréide, sir: troops on shore.'

  'Very good, Mr—' The young man's name escaped him. His glass ran along the coast, along the causeway that traversed a long stretch of flat watery ground, farther and farther along, and there they were: three bodies of them: first an exact column of red; then the seamen in a smaller, irregular, but compact blueish mass; and then the sepoys. Already they were much nearer to St Paul's than he had dared to hope: but could they ever take the batteries by surprise? Viewed from the sea, the red coats were horribly conspicuous.

  'Boadicea signalling, sir,' said the lieutenant again. 'Enemy in sight, bearing due east.'

  That meant that the Caroline had not slipped out. 'Thank you, Mr Graham,' said Jack—the name came to him this time—'Reply Stand in: and to the squadron Make more sail.' As he spoke a flaw in the wind shivered the Raisonable's jib: he and every other man on board glanced up at the clouds gathering over the island: the dark masses had a look that none of them much cared for. Was the wind going to come foul at last? But in a moment the gust had passed, and the squadron, Sirius, Raisonable and Otter, ran fast and true straight for St Paul's and the powerful batteries guarding the port. And as they ran, so every eye aboard, furtively or openly, watched that distant progress on the land, for a long, long half hour.

  The trim columns far over there were losing shape: they were advancing at the double now, closer and closer to the first battery guarding St Paul's, the Lambousière, closer and closer until they were hidden from Jack by a screen of trees. In a barely tolerable suspense he waited for the sound of the heavy French guns sending grape into the close-packed companies; but what he heard was a remote crackle of musketry, a faint wind-borne cheering. The red coats were swarming all over the battery, and already the sailors were beyond it, racing for the next, La Centière. Still in their dead silence the three ships stood on, Boadicea converging upon them from the west, Néréide tearing up from the north. In five minutes they would be within the extreme range of the third battery, La Neuve, right by the town, with its forty guns: now the harbour was wide open; there lay the Caroline, and there lay the Indiamen; and Jack could see boats plying between the frigate and the shore. She was landing troops. Beyond her the two Indiamen, a brig-of-war, several smaller vessels—total confusion there. Confusion too just outside the town, where the musketry-fire was spreading fast, two distinct lines of fire, as though the French soldiers had formed at last, and were standing firm. Musketry, and then Jack saw the Caroline begin to turn; there had been some order amidst all that turmoil, for she had evidently laid out a spring: in his glass he could see the hands at her capstan, slewing her; and as her guns bore so she fired at the English troops, a steady, rapid independent fire. The brig was firing too. Yet scarcely had her first guns spoken but there was an answer from the Lambousière battery: the seamen had turned the guns on the shipping in the port, and they had sent up the union flag. Immediately afterwards the musket-fire round the Centière reached a paroxysm; the British colours ran up on the battery, and its guns joined in. The smoke drifted wide, a cloud with flashes in its heart.

  Jack glanced up and down his line. The Boadicea had reached her station ahead: the Néréide was still half a mile astern. He must stand on past the guns of the third battery, tack and stand closer in. Although his guns would easily fetch the town by now he dared not fire into the melee at this range; even a broadside at the Caroline meant the risk of hitting his own people, directly behind. The inaction, the passive waiting, was extraordinarily painful, above all as the English soldiers seemed to be falling back. Slowly, slowly on, and silently; they were coming abreast of La Neuve. The waiting would not last much longer: roundshot would be all about their ears at any moment now. The battery glided by, full on the beam, and he could see the mouths of the guns. But not one spoke, and not a man was there to serve them: the gunners had either run, or they had joined the defenders. The confusion in the town now had a pattern, the French line had broken, and they were retreating up the hill. Yet for all that the round-shot came flying from the harbou
r. The Caroline, still firing fast from her starboard broadside, now gave the squadron her whole tier of larboard guns. She concentrated her fire on the pennant-ship, and at her first discharge she hulled the Raisonable three times and struck her maintop. Wreckage, a studdingsail-boom, and some blocks came hurtling down into the splinter-netting over the quarterdeck. The next sent a dozen hammocks flying amidships; yet still the squadron could not reply.

  'You have noted the time, Mr Peter?' asked Jack, knotting a stray signal halliard.

  'Immediately, sir,' cried Peter. The secretary was a yellowish white, made all the more evident by his black clothes: his morning's beard showed strongly against his skin. 'Seventeen minutes after eight,' he said.

  How the Caroline pasted them! She was completely shrouded in her own smoke, but still the twenty-four pound shot came crashing home. 'Admirable practice,' observed Jack to the secretary. Still another steady broadside, and the ship's bulwark of hammocks had great ragged gaps in it; three men were down. The glass turned; the bell struck one. 'Mr Woods,' said Jack to the master, as he stood conning the ship, 'as soon as the church and the tower are in line, we shall go about. Mr Graham, to the squadron: Tack in succession at the gun. And then Close engagement.' The minutes dropped by, then at last the signal-gun. The squadron went about as smoothly as a machine, Boadicea, Sirius, Raisonable, Otter, Néréide; smoothly, but slower, close-hauled on the failing inshore breeze, into the reach of the French guns again. Nearer still, and now the Indiamen let fly, together with the brig and every armed vessel in the port. But now in the town the situation was clear enough. Union flags were flying from all the batteries but one, and at this close range the squadron's guns could at last tell friend from foe. In succession their forward guns began to speak: Boadicea fired some deliberate sighting shots, Sirius her half-broadside, and the Raisonable, a moderate rolling fire; Otter and Néréide nothing but their bow-guns yet. Eliot had a fine notion of close engagement, observed Jack to himself. The Boadicea had stopped firing and she was standing straight in to cross the bows of the Caroline as she lay there within twenty-five yards of the shore. At this rate she would surely ground in the next few minutes.