Post Captain

  'I am not sure how far JA practised upon Mrs Williams's avid credulity: pretty far, to judge by her obsequious reception of me. It has had this curious result, that JA's stock has risen with her in almost the same proportion as mine. She would have no objection to him if his estate were clear. Nor, I swear, would Sophie. Yet I do believe that that good child is so firm in the principles she has been taught, that she would wither away an old maid, rather than disobey her mother—marry without her consent. No Gretna Green. She is a dear good child; and she is one of those rare creatures in whom principle does not do away with humour. This is no time for roaring mirth, to be sure, but I remember very well to have noted, again and again at Mapes, that she is quietly and privately jolly. A great rarity in women (Diana included, apart from an appreciation of wit and now and then a flash of it), who are often as solemn as owls, though given to noisy laughter. How deeply sorry, how more than sorry I should be if she were to take the habit of unhappiness: it is coming on her fast. The structure of her face is changing.' He stood looking out of the window. It was a clear, frosty morning, and the blackguardly town looked as well as it could. Officers passed in and out of the Port Admiral's house, over against the inn; the pavements were full of uniforms, blue coats and red, church-going officers' wives in pretty mantuas, with here and there a fur pelisse; scrubbed children with Sunday faces.

  'A gentleman to see you, sir,' said the waiter. 'A lieutenant.'

  'A lieutenant?' said Stephen; and after a pause, 'Desire him to walk up.'

  A thundering on the stairs, as though someone had released a bull; the door burst inwards, trembling, and Pullings appeared, lighting up the room with his happiness and his new blue coat. 'I'm made, sir,' he cried, seizing Stephen's hand. 'Made at last! My commission came down with the mail. Oh, wish me joy!'

  'Why, so I do,' said Stephen, wincing in that iron grip, 'if more joy you can contain—if more felicity will not make your cup overflow. Have you been drinking, Lieutenant Pullings? Pray sit in a chair like a rational being, and do not spring about the room.'

  'Oh say it again, sir,' said the lieutenant, sitting and gazing at Stephen with pure love beaming from his face. 'Not a drop.'

  'Then it is with present happiness you are drunk. Well. Long, long may it last.'

  'Ha, ha, ha! That is exactly what Parker said. "Long may it last," says he; but envious, like, you know—the grey old toad. Howsomever, I dare say even I might grow a trifle sour, or rancid, like, five and thirty years without a ship of my own, and this cruel fitting-out. And he is a good, righteous man, I am sure; though he was proper pixy-led before the captain came.'

  'Lieutenant, will you drink a glass of wine, a glass of sherry-wine?'

  'You've said it again, sir,' cried Pullings, with another burst of effulgence. ('You would swear that light actually emanated from that face,' observed Stephen privately.) 'I take it very kind. Just a drop, if you please. I am not going to get drunk until tomorrow night—my feast. Would it be proper for me to propose a sentiment? Then here's to Captain Aubrey—my dear love to him, and may he have all his heart desires. Bottoms up. Without him I should never have got my step. Which reminds me of my errand, sir. Captain Aubrey's compliments to Dr Maturin, congratulates him upon his safe arrival, and will be very happy to dine with him at the George this day at three o'clock; has not yet shipped paper, pens, or ink, and begs to be excused the informality of his reply.'

  'It would give me great pleasure if you would keep us company.'

  'Thankee, sir, thankee. But in just half an hour I am taking the long-boat out off of the Wight. The Lord Mornington Indiaman passed Start Point on Thursday, and I hope to press half a dozen prime seamen out of her about dawn.'

  'Will the cruising frigates and the Plymouth tenders have left you anything to take?'

  'Love you, sir, I made two voyages in her. There are hidey-holes under her half-deck you would never dream of, without you helped to stow men into 'em. I'll have half a dozen men out of her, or you may say, "black's the white of your eye, Tom Pullings." Lieutenant Tom Pullings,' he added, secretly.

  'We are short-handed, so?'

  'Why it's pretty bad, of course. We are thirty-two men short of our complement, but 'tis not so short as poor. The receiving-ship sent us eighteen Lord Mayor's men and twenty-odd from the Huntingdonshire and Rutland quotas, chaps taken off the parish and out of the gaols—never seen the sea in their life. It's seamen we're short of. Still, we do have a few prime hands, and two old Sophies among 'em—old Allen, fo'c'sleman, and John Lakey, maintop. Do you remember him? You sewed him up very near, the first time you ever sailed with us and we had a brush with an Algerine. He swears you saved his—his privates, sir, and is most uncommon grateful would feel proper old fashioned without 'em, he says. Oh, Captain Aubrey will lick 'em into shape, I'm certain sure. And there's Mr Parker seems pretty taut; and Babbington and me will have the hide off of any bastard as don't attend to his. duty—the Captain need not fear for that.'

  'What of the other officers?'

  'Why, sir, I have not rightly had time to come to know 'em, not with all this day-of-judgment hell and shindy of fitting-out—purser in the Victualling Yard, gunner at the Ordnance, master in the hold, or where the hold would be if there was a hold, which there ain't.'

  'She is constructed on new principles, I find?'

  'Well, sir, I hope she's constructed to swim, that's all. I would not say it to any but a shipmate, sir, but I never seen anything like her, Pearl River, Hugh or Guinea coast. You can't tell whether she's coming or going. Not but what she's a gallows deal more handsome than the common run,' he added, as though taking himself up for disloyalty. 'Mr Parker seen to that—gold-leaf, bright-work galore, special patent blacking for the bends and yards, blocks stropped with red leather. Was you ever at a fitting-out, sir?'

  'Not I.'

  'It's a right old Bedlam,' said Pullings, shaking his head and laughing. 'Dockyard mateys underfoot, stores all over the deck, new drafts milling about like lost souls, nobody knowing who anyone is or where to go—a right old Bedlam, and the Port Admiral sending down every five minutes to know why you're not ready for sea—is everybody observing the Sabbath aboard the Polychrest, ha, ha, ha!' In the gaiety of his heart Tom Pullings sang

  'We'll give you a bit of our mind, old hound:

  Port Admiral, you be damned.

  'I haven't had my clothes off since we commissioned her,' he observed. 'Captain Aubrey turns up at crack of dawn—posted all the way—reads himself in to me and Parker and the Marines and half a dozen loobies which was all we had then, and up goes his pendant. And before his last words are rightly out—fail not as you will answer the contrary at your peril—"Mr Pullings, that topsail-sheet block needs a dog-bitch thimble, if you please," in his own voice exactly. But Lord, you should have heard him carrying on at the riggers when he found they had been giving us twice-laid stuff; they had to call the Master-Attendant to soothe his horrid passion. Then "Lose not a minute," says he, driving us all though fit to drop, merry as a grig and laughing when half the people run to the stern thinking it is the bows, and t'other way about. Why, sir, he'll be glad of his dinner, I'm sure: he's not had above a bit of bread and cold beef in his hand since I been aboard, And now I must take my leave. He would give his eye-teeth for a boat-load of thorough-paced seamen.'

  Stephen returned to his window, watched the lithe young form of Thomas Pullings weave through the traffic, cross to the far side and hurry away with that easy, loose-limbed rolling gait of his kind towards the Point and his long night's wait in an open boat far out in the Channel. 'Devotion is a fine thing, a moving thing to see,' he reflected. 'But who is going to pay for that amiable young man's zeal? What blows, oaths, moral violence, brutalities?'

  The scene had changed: church-going was over, and the respectable part of the town had vanished behind doors, into an odour of mutton; now groups of sailors straggled up and down, walking wide, like countrymen in London, and among them small greasy tradesmen, rou
ts, hucksters, and the thick local girls and women called brutes. A confused bellowing, something between merriment and a riot turning ugly, and the Impregnable's liberty-men, in shore-going rig and a prize divided in their pockets, came staggering by with a troop of whores, a fiddler walking backwards in front of them and small boys skirmishing on every side, like sheepdogs. Some of the whores were old, some had torn dresses with yellow flesh beneath, all had dyed and frizzled hair, and all looked pinched with cold.

  The warmth and happiness of young Pullings' joy receded. 'All ports I have seen are much the same,' he reflected. 'All the places where sailors congregate: I do not believe that this reflects their nature, however, but rather the nature of the land.' He sank into a train of thought—man's nature how defined? Where the constant factors of identity? What allows the statement 'I am I' from which he was aroused by the sight of Jack, walking along with the fine easy freedom of Sunday—no bowed head, no anxious looks over his shoulder. There were many other people in the street, but two, some fifty yards behind Jack and keeping pace with him, caught Stephen's eye: burly fellows, of no obvious trade or calling, and there was something odd about them, some intentness, some want of casual staring about, that made him look harder, withdrawing from the window and fixing them until they came abreast of the George.

  'Jack,' he said, 'there are two men following you. Come over here and look out discreetly. There they are, standing on the Port Admiral's steps.'

  'Yes,' said Jack. 'I know the one with the broken nose. He tried to come aboard the other day—no go, however; I smoked him at once. I dare say he is putting the other on to my line, the pragmatical bastard. Oh, be damned to them,' he said, hurrying to the fire. 'Stephen, what do you say to a drink? I spent the whole morning in the foretop, starved with cold.'

  'A little brandy will answer the case, I think; a glass of right Nantes. Indeed, you look quite destroyed. Drink this up, and we will go straight to the dining-room. I have ordered a halibut with anchovy sauce, mutton, and a venison pasty—simple island fare.'

  The worn lines eased out of Jack Aubrey's face, a rosy glow replaced the unhealthy grey; he seemed to fill his uniform again. 'How much better a man feels when he is mixed with halibut and leg of mutton and roebuck,' he said, toying with a piece of Stilton cheese. 'You are a much better host than I am, Stephen,' he observed. 'All the things I stood most in need of but hardly name. I remember a wretched dinner I invited you to in Mahon, the first we ever ate together, and they got it all wrong, being ignorant of Spanish, my sort of Spanish.'

  'It was a very good meal, a very welcome meal,' said Stephen. 'I remember it perfectly. Shall we take our tea upstairs? I wish to hear about the Polychrest.' The big room was an almost unbroken spread of blue, with here and there a Royal Marine, and conversation was little more private than signals on the open sea.

  'We shall make a go of her, once we get used to her ways, I make no doubt,' said Jack. 'She may be a little odd to look at, to the prejudiced eye; but she floats, and that is the essential, do you see? She floats; and as a floating battery—why, I have rarely seen the like! We only have to get her there, and then we have four and twenty thirty-two pounders to bring into play. Carronades, you may say; but thirty-two pounder carronades! We can take on any French sloop afloat, for these are your genuine smashers—we could tackle a thirty-six-gun frigate, if only we could get close enough.'

  'By this same argument of proximation you could also set about a three-decker, a first-rate, at six inches; or two, indeed, if you could wedge yourself between them and fire both sides. But believe me, my dear, it is a fallacious argument, God forbid. How far do these carronades of yours fling their vast prodigious missiles?'

  'Why, you must engage within pistol shot if you want to hit what you point them at; but at yard-arm to yard-arm, oh, how they smash through the oak!'

  'And what is your enemy doing with his long guns, while you labour to approach him? But I am not to teach you your own trade, however.'

  'Approach him . . .' said Jack. 'There's the rub. I must have hands to work the ship. We are thirty-two men short of our complement—no hope of another draft—and I dare say you will reject some of the cripples and Abraham-men the receiving-ship has sent us: sad thievish little creatures. Men I must have, and the glass is running out . . . tell me, did you bring Scriven with you?'

  'I did. I thought he might be found some small employment.'

  'He is an eminent hand at writing, is he not? Pamphlets and such? I have tried dashing off a poster—even three or four volunteers would be worth their weight in gold—but I have had no time, and anyhow it don't seem to answer. Look.' He brought some papers out of his pocket.

  'Well,' said Stephen, reading. 'No: perhaps it don't.' He rang the bell and bade the man ask Mr Scriven to walk up. 'Mr Scriven,' he said, 'be so good as to look at these—you see the problem—and to draft a sheet to the purpose. There is paper and ink on the table over there.'

  Scriven withdrew to the window, reading, noting and grunting to himself; and Jack, as he sat there, warm and comfortable by the fire, felt a delicious total relaxation creep over his person; it espoused the leather chair, sinking into its curves, no tension anywhere at all. He lost the thread of Stephen's remarks, answering oh and ah at the pauses, or smiling and moving his head with ambiguous appreciation. Sometimes his legs would give a violent twitch, jerking him out of this state of bliss; but each time he sank back, happier than before.

  'I said "You do move with the utmost caution, I am sure?" ' said Stephen, now touching him on the knee.

  'Oh, certainly,' said Jack, at once grasping the subject. 'I have never set foot on shore except for Sunday, and every boat that comes alongside is examined. In any case, I am moving out to Spithead on tomorrow's tide, which will prevent surprises. I have refused all Dockyard invitations, even the Commissioner himself. The only one I shall accept is Pullings' feast, where there is no risk of any kind—a little place in Gosport by the landing-stage, quite out of the way. I cannot disappoint him: he is bringing his people and his sweetheart up from the country.'

  'Sir,' said Mr Scriven, 'may I show you my attempt?'

  £5,000 a man! (or more)

  WEALTH EASE DISTINCTION

  YOUR LAST CHANCE OF A FORTUNE!

  HMS Polychrest will shortly sail to scour the seas of ALL KING GEORGE'S enemies. She is desined to SAIL AGAINST WIND AND TIDE and she will Take, Sink and Destroy the Tyrant's helpless man-of-war, without Mercy, sweeping the Ocean of his Trade. There is no time to be lost! Once the Polychrest has gone by there will be no more PRIZES, no more fat French and cowardly Dutch merchantmen, loaded with Treasure, Jewels, Silks, Satins and Costly Delicacies for the immoral and luxurious Usurper's Court.

  This Amazing New Vessel, built on Scientific Principles, is commanded by the renowned

  CAPTAIN AUBREY!

  whose brig Sophie, with a 28lb broadside, captured £100,000's worth of enemy shipping last war. 28lb, and the Polychrest fires 384lb from either side! So what will she do, in this proportion? More than TWELVE TIMES as much! The Enemy must soon be Bankrupt—the End is Nigh. Come and join the Fun before it is too late, and then set up your Carriage!

  Captain Aubrey has been prevailed upon to accept a few more Hands. Only exceptionally wide-awake, intelligent men will be entertained, capable of lifting a Winchester bushel of Gold; but PERHAPS YOU ARE THE LUCKY MAN! Hurry, there is no time to be lost. Hurry to the Rendezvous at the—YOU MAY BE THE LUCKY MAN WHO IS ACCEPTED!

  No troublesome formalities. The best of provisions at 16 oz to the pound, 4lb of tobacco a month. Free beer, wine and grog! Dancing and fiddling aboard. A health-giving, wealth-giving cruise. Be healthy and wealthy and wise, and bless the day you came aboard the Polychrest!