Desolation Island

  'Well, Captain,' said Jack, 'I am heartily sorry for it.' He was too: most heartily sorry. He was well aware of the incident that rankled in the skipper's mind: in 1807 the Leopard, then commanded by Buck Humphreys, had fired three broadsides into an unprepared American man-of-war, the Chesapeake, killing or wounding a score of her men and forcing her to strike: had he been an American he would never have forgiven or forgotten such an insult. He too would have wished the Leopard at the bottom of the sea. For his own part he utterly condemned the whole business: he would never have gone to such lengths to take a few deserters nor even a hundred of them. But he could not say this to a foreigner, a pretty inimical foreigner at that. Instead he proposed another cup of coffee—the La Fayette had drunk the last of hers south of the Horn—and said something more in praise of Dr Maturin. 'He also has an American assistant,' he added. 'They are the gentlemen your boat rescued last night.'

  'I reckoned they might not be seamen,' said Captain Putnam, with something nearer to a smile than anything he had yet achieved. He stood up, thanked Captain Aubrey for his hospitality, and said he reckoned the American surgeon's mate might find himself in a tolerably awkward situation when the war broke out, if indeed it had not already been declared.

  'You think it likely, then?'

  'If the English go on hampering our trade and stopping our ships and taking whatever men they choose to consider British, how can it be prevented? We are a proud nation, sir, and we have whipped you before. If I had been President Jefferson, I should have declared war right away, the minute your Leopard fired on the Chesapeake. And let me tell you, sir, we have frigates built and building now that can whip anything you have in the same class; so when we do declare, we shall be able to wipe off a long, long score. Yes, sir.' He grew angrier as he spoke; he looked Jack straight in the eye with a fiery glare, and after the last emphatic 'Yes, sir' he stalked off to his boat, accompanied by his mate, who had remained silent throughout the interview.

  Later in the day the whaler's collective attitude became if anything yet more apparent. Her boats came in, to what the whalers evidently considered their own private beach, and the men made their way up the slopes behind to gather their own eggs and their own cabbages. Jack had taken measures to ensure that those Leopards who were ashore should not enter into conflict with the whalers, but there was little need. The whalers walked by without any greeting apart from an offhand grunt, communicating only indirectly, by remarks intended to be overheard—'That's the—old Leopard', 'Remember 1807', 'Stole half our—cabbages, the sods', and the like. They were a very tough-looking set of men, many so bearded that they looked like bears: yet to an attentive eye it was clear that some were not in the prime of strength; the higher slopes made them gasp and pause for breath, and though few carried more than half a hundredweight they bent under their nets of cabbages as they came down, eating the raw leaves on their way.

  During this time Jack watched not only the whalers but also their brig, from whose galley chimney there poured a fine stream of black smoke, rising without a doubt from coal. What line of conduct to adopt he could not tell: any whaler, working far from land for months and even years, must have a forge; but be could not run the risk of a direct refusal to let the Leopard use it. In his present frame of mind, Putnam certainly would refuse, and that would be the end of negotiations. Moore was all in favour of the strong hand: the Marines seizing the whalers on shore, taking their boats and boarding the brig. 'There would be little or no resistance,' he said. 'I have seen a good many invalids creeping about her deck: and after all, it is only to borrow their forge—they would scarcely cut up rough in such a case.'

  'I doubt that,' said Jack. Captain Putnam had already run out his four six-pounders and rigged boarding-netting: a natural precaution in a sperm-whaler frequenting the cannibal islands of the great South Sea, but more significant by far off Desolation. At all events, in such a time of tension, the use of force would certainly cause a diplomatic incident, if not provoke an actual war, the Leopard having such an unlucky name and reputation. Yet it might be the only solution: furthermore, war might already have been declared, and in that case he would be perfectly justified—the brig would be a fair prize, forge and all. It was extremely tempting. And he must act soon, for the whaler would be away as soon as she had gathered her greenstuff. 'Pass the word for Dr Maturin,' he said.

  At this time Dr Maturin and his assistant were on Paradise again, grubbing up the lower mosses, Herapath in a state of extreme but suppressed excitement. He was much less concerned with botany than the likelihood of war, which he turned in all directions with a wealth of hypotheses; and he was very urgent with Stephen to intercede with the Captain to allow him to visit the La Fayette in spite of this morning's order.

  'But since you are yourself American,' said Stephen, 'the Captain would never be able to bring you back without violating international law; and as you know, the Leopard is terribly short-handed.'

  'It is true, then, that an American citizen, born in the States, cannot be removed from an American ship?'

  'Gospel true.'

  'But I leave a hostage on shore: I should never, never leave her behind, as you know.'

  'I know that, but Captain Aubrey does not. Poor Mrs Wogan. It must go hard with her, to see freedom floating not half a mile away: for she too would be out of the reach of English law, once she set foot upon an American deck. Perhaps it would be as well not to mention this, however, lest she should break out in some wild, unconsidered act. She may not know it, and—hush, I hear a voice.'

  He would have to have been stone deaf not to hear it. Allan had by now developed the full bosun's roar, and he was hailing the mossy slopes of Paradise with all his might from the jolly-boat—the Captain wished to see the Doctor.

  'Make a lane, there,' he said, addressing the penguins as he hurried Stephen down the road that countless generations of the birds had made.'

  'Now, Mr Allan,' said Stephen in the boat, 'what is all this haste? Is there news of this dreadful war—do we hear that it has broken out?'

  'God forbid, sir,' said Allan. 'There is my brother in the States, ran from Hermione, though bosun's mate and ripe for a warrant; and I don't want to point no gun at him. No: all I know is the Captain seemed mortal anxious to see you.'

  The anxiety in Jack's face diminished somewhat as Stephen walked in. He laid the case before him, and after thinking for a while Stephen said, 'Perhaps the best course would be to let Herapath have his way. He very much wishes to go aboard the whaler. The visit is natural; he is under an obligation to the ship; he is a fellow-countryman. Let him go, and I believe good will come of it.'

  'But would he ever come back? I cannot spare even such a Landsman as Herapath—he can heave at a pump in an emergency, or haul on a rope. The whaler can sail off whenever she wishes: she will never have to winter here and maybe freeze or starve to death. She is homeward-bound, Stephen—think of that! And even if the Leopard were in perfect order, it would not be pleasant for him to have to serve with us, if war breaks out.'

  'I will answer for his coming back, if for no other reason than that he is an honourable creature: he has a strong sense of duty, and he is very sensible of your having preserved his life and of having promoted him. He has often mentioned it in the course of the voyage, the last time only yesterday. He will certainly return.'

  'Yes: he seems a very decent sort of a man,' said Jack. 'Very well: let us send for him. Killick, pass the word for Mr Herapath.'

  'Mr Herapath, I understand that you wish to visit the whaler, and you have my permission to go. You are no doubt aware that there is a great deal of ill-feeling between the United States and England, and that most unhappily the Leopard was the cause of some of it: that is why I thought best to forbid the usual ship-visiting, to prevent quarrelling of any kind. You also know the Leopard's condition: one day's use of a forge and the proper tools would enable her to put to sea rather than winter here. The whaler certainly possesses a forge, but as a gentl
eman you will understand that I am extremely reluctant to ask a favour of the American skipper, extremely reluctant to expose the service or myself to a rebuff. I may add that he is equally reluctant to come a-begging to me, and I honour him for it. However, on reflection he may feel inclined to exchange the use of his forge for our medical services. You may give him a view of the situation, but without committing us to any specific request—harkee, Mr Herapath, don't you expose us to an affront, whatever you do. And if it should turn out that he would like the exchange, why, I should be very much obliged to you. Very much obliged indeed, for I should be even more reluctant to use force.'

  'Surely, sir, you could never do that?' cried Herapath.

  'I should find it abhorrent. Anything that might increase the ill-feeling would be abhorrent to me: I utterly detest the notion of a war between the two countries. But necessity is law, and I have my duty to the ship and to the people, particularly the women who may have to winter in her otherwise, with all that wintering means. However, let us hope it don't come to that. Pray see what you can do to prevent such a state of affairs: there are almost no terms that I should refuse. And by the way, Mr Herapath, I remember your telling me that you were an American citizen: I need not say that if you had anything of the air of a rat that leaves a sinking ship, I should not allow you to go.'

  Herapath left, stayed an hour, and returned. 'Sir,' he said, 'I scarcely know what to report. I found Mr Putnam confined to his bed, and at times the pain from his jaw made him incoherent. The mates are his cousins and part-owners, and they too had their say. I am sorry to have to tell you, sir, that the feeling against England is very strong indeed. They do have a forge, but Mr Putnam and Reuben swore that no Englishman should ever set foot in their ship: the other two were less violent. The one with the horribly swollen leg and his brother were in favour of an accommodation; they spoke of the health of the crew in very serious terms, and I saw some cases that shocked me. Mr Putnam wavered, and in one bout of pain he desired me to draw the tooth straight away. I told him that I had no instruments with me, and that I must return to consult with my chief.'

  'Very good, Mr Herapath,' said Jack. 'I see that you have done all that is proper: well fare ye, my lad, as we say.' Herapath gave a forced smile, and Stephen, watching his strained face, with its slightly hangdog expression, was convinced that he had not confined himself to the forge and the whalers' health. 'Well now,' said Jack, 'here is your chief. I shall leave you to talk about physic and pills.'

  'Dr Maturin,' said Herapath, when they were alone, 'may I beg you to come with me, if only to give advice? There are men in the whaler far, far beyond my competence. You have taught me the symptoms and treatment of the usual diseases, but here are cases I have never seen. Frostbitten toes that their late surgeon amputated and that are now blue and green, perhaps gangrenous; a harpoon-wound that had gone bad; and what I take to be a strangury, as well as . . . I could not even deal with the Captain's tooth, which he has mangled horribly with pincers. And all the time they looked at me with such confidence—indeed, they very much wished me to go with them, and offered me what they call a full doctor's share. I should never have represented myself as an assistant-surgeon; I feel extremely guilty.'

  'Oh, you would do very well, once things were set in order,' said Stephen. 'I have known many young fellows who have walked the wards with far less knowledge than yourself. You are a reading man, and with Blane and Lind to refer to, and a decent medicine-chest, you would do very well. Your conscience is too nice: I have noticed this before.'

  'Will you go with me, sir? I have mentioned that you come from Ireland, and that you are a friend to independence: you would be most heartily welcomed, I know. Heartily welcomed, and I am sure that Mr Putnam would agree to any fee you might choose to name, although he will never ask Captain Aubrey for your services.'

  'I have never firked a fee out of any man,' said Stephen, frowning. 'Recollect yourself, Mr Herapath. All we want is the use of his forge. And Captain Aubrey will no more ask for it than Mr Putnam will ask for the Leopard's surgeon. A foolish, foolish situation. Each, as an individual, would pull the other out of the water; each would succour the other, even at considerable danger to himself. But each, as the representative of his tribe, will batter the other with great guns and small; sink, burn and destroy at the drop of a hat. A foolish, foolish situation, that must be dealt with by men of sense, not by gamecocks stalking about on stilts and high horses. Come to my cabin.' There he opened his locker and said, 'Which tooth does it be?'

  'This one,' said Herapath, opening his mouth and pointing.

  'Hm,' said Stephen, picking out a grisly instrument and clapping its jaws. 'Still, we had better take the whole shooting-match. There are sure to be several more, with scurvy aboard. Retractors. Catlins. Perhaps a few little saws: yes, a selection of these capital Swedish-steel saws. Bone-rasp, just in case. Now physic. What is the condition of their medicine-chest, Mr Herapath?'

  'They have emptied it, sir, apart from a little lint.'

  'Of course. Just so. Calomel on top of physic-nuts, no doubt, with cassia and James's powders to send it down. Small wonder they are sickly.' When he had filled his bag he said, 'We must have someone to row us over. It will never do to have trembling hands, if we are to operate.

  It was a sensible precaution. As soon as he had seen what passed for the whaler's sickbay, Stephen realized that he would have to conduct two delicate resections at once if the legs were to be saved; and there were, as he had supposed, a good many teeth that would call for a firm, steady hand, a strong wrist, when the more important work was done. He looked at Putnam's jaw, told him to stop chewing tobacco, to hold this dressing on his gum, and to sit with his feet in hot water until the surgery was over. He might have time to deal with Captain Putnam before the light failed, but he was not sure: nor would he touch it until the swelling had diminished.

  'May I ask you to name your fee, Doctor? Whatever it is, I will double it and welcome, if you draw this—before sundown.'

  'I am not come here for a fee, sir,' said Stephen. 'Your men asked no fee for taking me off the island: they made no stipulations, and nor do I.'

  Checking his cases while the operating-table was being prepared—four chests lashed together under the roundhouse skylight—Stephen learnt at least one of the reasons that made Captain Putnam so very unwilling to have the Royal Navy aboard his brig. It was Stephen's custom to listen attentively to what his patients had to say; this was unusual in the profession, as he admitted, but he found it helped his diagnosis. Now as he listened he realized that many of them were trying to deceive him, not about their various ills, but about their country of origin. He had heard the distinctive American dialect often enough to know that this was a poor imitation; and the particular syntax of the English spoken in Ireland could never escape his accustomed ear, still less the odd murmurs of Irish itself in the background. And when the strangury showed a strong reluctance to take off his shirt, Stephen told him candidly that if he was afraid of having to do with an informer rather than a physician he might keep it on and go to the Devil, for there he would be in another week's time without he was treated; and this he followed with some of the peculiarly shocking Gaelic oaths and blasphemies that remained from his childhood.

  The shirt came off, revealing the tattooed image of a first-rate man-of-war in sail, HMS Caledonia, and the strangury was not the only one: quite a large proportion of the whaler's men were Irish-born and therefore liable to be pressed; and some of them were deserters, liable to be hanged or at least flogged and compelled to serve again in the Royal Navy. Jack could probably seize as much as a third of the La Fayette's crew, remaining well within the law; and he was known to be short-handed. However, the tension grew far less after Stephen's remark, only to be replaced by tension of another kind when he settled down to his work. The La Fayette was a democratic brig, and faces lined the skylight, watching the long, delicate play of the knife, the brusque intervention of the saw, with a ho
rrified fascination.

  When the first resection was carried away, the tall harpooner from Cahirciveen said, 'Will you take a tint now, Doctor dear?'

  'I will not,' said Stephen. 'I want my head as clear as if I had the College of Cardinals under my knife. But when I have done, I might look on a drop.'

  The work was long and exacting. Fortunately he had a good light, a steady sea, sharp instruments, and a capable assistant. Herapath would make a good surgeon, with experience: Stephen, speaking always in Latin, explained each step; and he spoke of the necessary after-care as though the young man were to tend these patients for months. Stephen was in fact convinced that Herapath would leave in the whaler, if only he could get his mistress aboard; and nothing could suit Stephen better. He would miss them both—they had engaged his affections—but he could scarcely wait for them to be gone, carrying the poison, harmless to Wogan, that would play Old Harry with Buonaparte's intelligence system, and saving Wogan herself from the dreariest exile.

  The evening came, and with it the drop. 'Jesus, Mary and Joseph, that went down well,' said Stephen. 'You may fill it again. Another hour like that, and I should have been killed.' He looked at his hand, quivering as it relaxed after its delicate task. 'The teeth will be for tomorrow.'

  'Tomorrow?' cried Putnam. 'Why, you son of a bitch, you promised—' He checked himself, and in terms as civil as the pain would permit he urged Stephen to 'whip it out right now'—he could not stand such another night.

  'Yours is a difficult, ill-set tooth, Captain, and the swelling has not gone down. I would not touch it now, in the half-light, and with my hand unsure, if you were the Pope,' said Stephen.

  'Oh—the Pope,' cried the skipper.