‘But surely that would be suicidal?’
‘No, no — think of it! The copper strip is grounded. It attracts the lightning away from the combustible wood, and tar, and pitch, and disperses it harmlessly into the water. Simple physics, one would think, but apparently I am the first to put my faith in Harris. I am having conductors installed in every mast, in the bowsprit, even in the flying jib-boom.’
‘What an ingenious idea,’ enthused Darwin, momentarily forgetting his concerns about his own size relative to that of his cabin.
‘One of the many on board. I have spared neither expense nor trouble in making our little expedition as complete with respect to material and preparation as my means will allow. We have a new Frazer’s closed galley stove, which does not have to be put out in rough weather. All the cannons are of brass, not iron, so as not to have a deleterious effect on the magnetism of the ship’s compasses. We have a patent windlass instead of the old capstan. The rudder is of a new type. All the boats are new, and have been constructed on the diagonal principle — ’
‘Forgive me, FitzRoy. Did you say your means?’
‘I did.’
‘But surely the Admiralty pays for the fitting-out and manning of its own expeditions?’
‘Well, the Admiralty and the Navy board between them, but only up to a point. The Beagle’s refit has cost seven and a half thousand pounds, and for that they could have had an entirely new brig. I have chosen to supplement the Admiralty’s most generous allowance with a contribution from my own funds.’
Darwin’s imagination reeled at the scale of the sums involved, but he said no more on the subject.
Meanwhile, FitzRoy’s eyes lit up. ‘Come, let me show you the scientific instruments. We have a sympiesometer — it is like a barometer only there is gas above the quicksilver to measure radiation — a pluviometer for the rain and an anemometer for the wind. They are all from Worthington and Allan. I ordered the ship’s telescope, though, from Fullerscopes in Victoria Street. Do you know them? I think their instruments superior to Dollond’s.’
‘I have brought my own telescope, FitzRoy. And my own aneroid barometer and microscope - it is a Coddington’s folding microscope. I must show you when my luggage arrives - it is most ingenious.’
‘My dear fellow, you must indeed.’
And so the pair spent a happy hour discussing scientific instruments, until Darwin, fired with enthusiasm, realized that an all-consuming naval fervour had come over him.
‘I tell you, FitzRoy, I shall become a seafarer yet. With my pistols in my belt and my geological hammer in hand, shall I not look like a pirate at the very least?’
‘The key to seafaring, my dear fellow, is to think like a seaman, not a landsman.’
‘How does one think like a seaman?’
‘It is a state of mind. For instance, the east, the west, the north and south - are they places or directions? The moon - is it a flat disc of light in the sky, put there by the good Lord in order to illuminate the trysts of lovers? Or is it a celestial body of such overwhelming power that it can pull thunderous tonnages of water from one side of the world to the other - a body deserving of careful study and immense respect?’
FitzRoy’s reference to trysts with the opposite sex had set Darwin thinking of Fanny Owen.
‘Ah, I see that I have distracted you. May I ask, is there a particular lady who will lament your absence?’
‘I - well - that is ...’ Darwin, flustered, dissolved into incoherence.
‘My dear fellow, please excuse my question. It was unforgivable.’
‘No, no, not at all. There is one young lady — well, I will tell you, FitzRoy, she is the prettiest, plumpest, most charming personage that Shropshire possesses. The want of her company is certainly something that shall try me sorely. But as to whether she shall lament my absence, I cannot tell.’
He brought to mind her letters, so forward, so flirtatious, referring to him archly as ‘Dr Postillion’ and herself as ‘The Housemaid’. ‘You cannot imagine how I have missed you already,’ she had written to him in London. And yet, and yet - at the Forresters’ midsummer ball she had seemed to have eyes only for Robert Biddulph, whose father was an aristocrat and a Member of Parliament. She played him, he knew, like a musical instrument, but to what tune?
FitzRoy could sense the troubled journey of his friend’s thoughts, and left the subject there. ‘Now, my dear fellow, it is time to go ashore.
I have taken a room for you at Weakley’s Hotel until such time as the Beagle is ready for departure.’
‘Ashore? Then I am not to sleep aboard when she is in harbour?’
‘Forgive me, Darwin, but I would have imagined that the less time you spend in that ridiculously small cabin, the more comfortable you will be — do you not think?’
FitzRoy grinned at him conspiratorially.
The flotilla of small boats bounced around to Devonport from the steamer dock in line abreast, dancing upon the waves like the participants in a drunken late-night quadrille. Jemmy Button, in the bow of the lead boat, gave a shout of excitement as they rounded Devil’s Point and turned a-starboard into the dockyard.
‘The Beagle! Look, Mister Bennet, the Beagle!’
‘So it is, Jemmy But there’s something different about her. There are more trysails. The skipper’s had the deck raised too, and the rail lowered.’
‘The Beagle! The Beagle!’ squealed Fuegia Basket.
By the time they had moored alongside, a small reception party had assembled to meet them, headed by a puzzled FitzRoy. He could see Jemmy, York, Fuegia and the coxswain, but where were the two missionaries they were expecting — the two ‘muscular’ Christians? He could see only a pale, wispy youth of about seventeen, sitting alongside Bennet. And what was in all those boats?
‘I love Capp’en Fitz’oy!’ shouted Fuegia, levering her increasingly spherical frame on to the quayside with surprising agility and hurtling into his arms. Finally, he extracted himself from a series of high-spirited reunions and said his how-dos to Bennet.
‘Commander FitzRoy, may I introduce the Reverend Richard Matthews, of the Church Missionary Society?’
‘Welcome to Devonport, Mr Matthews.’
‘It is an honour to meet you, Commander.’
FitzRoy extended a hand to assist Matthews, who was labouring to clamber out of the boat, and simultaneously flashed Bennet a what-the-hell-is-going-on? look behind the missionary’s back. Bennet responded with a grimace that - he hoped - conveyed his powerlessness with regard to any decisions taken at Walthamstow, however ill-judged.
‘Forgive me, Mr Matthews, but I was under the impression that you were to be accompanied by a colleague.’
‘Unfortunately not. I have with me a letter from Mr Wilson that explains the situation.’
FitzRoy took the letter and unfolded it.
My dear Sir
I write to introduce the Reverend Richard Matthews, who is to be the permanent representative of the Church Missionary Society in Tierra del Fuego. He is possessed of such knowledge and information as seem calculated to promote the present and eternal welfare of the savages of that region. I very much regret that we could not meet with a suitable companion for him. However, we have provided Mr Matthews with all such articles as appear to be necessary for him, and which could most advantageously be supplied from this country. I hope that they will not be found to amount to a quantity to occasion you inconvenience; and I think you will be of the opinion that no part of his outfit could, with propriety, be dispensed with.
Believe me, my dear Sir,
Yours faithfully
The Reverend William Wilson
FitzRoy refolded the letter. With propriety? What did he mean, with propriety? What were these articles?
Under Wickham’s direction, crewmen pulled back the tarpaulins on the boats to reveal a series of enormous packing cases.
‘Some kind Christian friends have supplied these most essential articles, Commander. I trust th
at space will be found for them in your hold.’
FitzRoy found himself transfixed by Matthews’s moustache or, rather, the lack of it. A few downy hairs were struggling against all odds to take hold on the slopes of his upper lip.
Lieutenant Wickham cut in: ‘Mr Matthews, the hold of the Beagle is packed to the gunwales with six thousand canisters of Kilner and Moorsom’s preserved meat, vegetables and soup. There is absolutely no chance on God’s earth of fitting these crates below decks.’
‘We must break them open — it is our only course of action,’ ordered FitzRoy. ‘Distribute the contents about the ship as best you can, Lieutenant. Anywhere there is space.’
‘Sir.’
And so, under Matthews’s forlorn gaze, the packing cases were shouldered on to the quay and levered open one by one. Gradually, the contents came to light: an astonishing assortment of wine-glasses, butter-bolts, tea-trays, soup tureens and fine white linen, as if someone had transplanted the entire window display of a fashionable Bond Street store to the Devonport quayside. The sniggers and guffaws of the crew were entirely audible, and FitzRoy could see Wickham trying to suppress a smile. One crewman produced an earthenware chamber pot and cracked a joke under his breath. Laughter rippled through the company.
‘I am not entirely sure that I see any occasion for levity,’ observed Matthews, coldly.
‘Quite so,’ said FitzRoy, trying to compose his features as best he could.
‘Look!’ shouted Jemmy, who had found an elegant silver looking-glass with a delicate tracery of filigree-work on the back.
‘That’s him happy,’ said Bennet.
Fuegia was prancing around the quayside in a beaver hat. York had uncovered a cut-glass decanter set, and was holding each piece skyward to catch the glint of daylight as refracted through the glass. Several complete sets of crockery were beginning to stack up, not to mention an entire mahogany dressing-table and a set of French doilies.
‘Mr Matthews, are you entirely cognizant of the conditions prevailing in Tierra del Fuego?’ FitzRoy asked gently.
‘I have not previously left these shores myself, sir, but my elder brother is a missionary near Kororareka in New Zealand. Like him, I will make it my study and endeavour to do these poor creatures all the good in my power, in every practicable way. I shall promise the glory of God and the good of my fellow creatures, and I shall be strong in the grace that is Jesus Christ.’
‘Good heavens, sir, an entire packing case of Bibles,’ reported Wickham.
‘I intend to make the scriptures the basis of all my teaching, Commander. Let us not forget the great theological principle laid down in the sixth article of the Church of England — that Holy Scripture containeth all things necessary to salvation.’
‘Absolutely, Mr Matthews. It is a principle I adhere to faithfully myself.’
‘By the deuce!’ exclaimed Midshipman King. ‘Someone’s only been and bought up the whole of Swan and Edgar!’
FitzRoy half turned away. As fiercely as he struggled to keep his facial muscles from creasing and his shoulders from heaving, he was losing the battle. Silent tears of laughter trickled down his cheeks.
The rhythmic clump of heavy footsteps, as lines of men tramped on board carrying table-linen and expensive glassware, was counter-pointed by high-pitched shrieks of pleasure from above, as Musters and Hellyer chased Fuegia Basket up the rigging and around the crosstrees.
‘Really. The Beagle is becoming a nursery, with all these deuced kids running about the place,’ grumbled King.
FitzRoy had half a mind to let them continue, as it kept Fuegia happy and occupied, but the last thing he needed now was a child with a broken neck. ‘Mr Musters! Mr Hellyer! Get down here this instant.’
‘Sir!’
The two boys scrambled obediently to the deck.
‘Mr Hellyer, I presume by all this foolery that there are no more invoices or pay-tickets to be checked and signed. Have you completed your work?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Have you signed off the inventory from the victualling department?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good lad. Now, this is Midshipman King. I am going to place you both in his charge.’
King rolled his eyes in despair.
‘Over the next few months, I expect you to hang by his every word, after which I hope you will both know everything there is to know about seamanship.’
‘I expect I shall know most of it already, sir,’ averred Musters, stoutly.
‘Quite possibly. But if I hear that you have missed even .one nugget of useful information, Mr Musters, you will feel the business end of Mr Sorrell’s rattan. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Now go about the business of learning to be a sailor.’
FitzRoy was glad, a moment or two later, that he had put an end to the two boys’ larking, when a well-appointed scarlet carriage with livery servants made its way down the approach road towards the Beagle. When it drew to a halt, no less a person than Captain Francis Beaufort, His Majesty’s hydrographer, climbed down. Any more visitors, thought FitzRoy, and I shall have to employ a footman to collect calling cards on a salver. He hissed at Wickham and the sailors present to look lively, but he need not have worried. The carriage was sufficiently distinguished that the entire crew had stood to attention even before it had disgorged its occupant. Beaufort limped up the accommodation-ladder, disregarding offers of assistance, and nodded a greeting.
‘FitzRoy.’
‘This is a most unexpected honour, sir.’
‘No need to flatter yourself unduly, FitzRoy, my presence in Plymouth is on Admiralty business. But while I am here I have good reason to pay you a visit.’
His practised eye took in the new trysails between the masts, the brass cannon, the gleaming whaleboats and the hand-painted figure of Neptune on the ship’s wheel, with the motto ‘England expects that every man will do his duty’ circled elegantly around it.
‘My, you have dug deep into your capital,’ he observed. ‘The rail is lower than in an everyday coffin brig, am I right?’
‘You are, sir. The deck is raised but not the bulwarks, so as to make her less deep-waisted. It also means that more air will be trapped inside her hull to resist a capsize if she goes over on her beam-ends.’
‘You are a marvel, FitzRoy. Although I fear you will bankrupt yourself at this rate - we don’t wish to see your name printed in the London Gazette, I’m sure. Shall we speak in your cabin?’
They repaired to the cubby-hole that would be FitzRoy’s home for the next couple of years.
‘So, it seems you have interest enough to get the Beagle sent on whatever track you like.’
‘My uncle, Lord Londonderry, was kind enough to be interested about me.’ FitzRoy though it best to avoid mentioning His Majesty.
‘Well, I for one am glad of it. Let us sincerely hope that you have not made enemies in the process. Now, to business. How many chronometers, ultimately, were you able to withdraw from stores?’
‘Eleven. I have procured a further eleven myself.’
‘Excellent. So the Beagle will be better equipped to calculate longitude than any previous vessel to sail from these shores. I want you, FitzRoy, to run a chronometric line around the world. To fix accurately the known points on the surface of the globe in relation to each other. Isolated observations are all very well but no one has ever made a complete chain of measurements around the globe before.’
‘That’s wonderful, sir, but that is to be in addition to the South American survey?’
‘Nothing has changed on that account. Use the southern winters to survey the Patagonian coast between Buenos Ayres and Port Desire. Complete the survey of Tierra del Fuego during the summers. And you will be required to provide a full survey of the Falkland Islands as well.’
‘The Falklands as well?’
‘It is not strictly necessary for the Admiralty’s navigational needs, but Buenos Ayres is making noises about
inheriting the Spanish claim to the islands. Your presence may act as a deterrent. All ships in the area have been ordered to make a stop there.’
‘All of this is to be completed with the one vessel, sir, in two years?’
‘You will be wasting your time, FitzRoy, if you pursue the infinite number of bays, openings and roads of Tierra del Fuego. Yet I cannot stress sufficiently that no good harbour should be omitted.’
Do not enter every bay. But do not miss a good harbour on any account. A contrary instruction if ever there was one.
‘There will be no time to waste on elaborate maps, Commander. Plain, distinct roughs with explanatory notes shall suffice. After all, you can hardly fail to improve upon the Spanish charts, which are the product merely of a running view of the shore.’
‘And if it is discovered that I have omitted a navigable harbour?’
‘Then — not to put too fine a point on it - the blame will attach to you. Remember that you are the one who has pursued this commission. There are those who will not be unhappy to see you fail. I suggest that your best course is not to omit one.’
So I shall be damned if I undertake the task properly, and damned if I do not.
‘I also desire you to pursue another enquiry for me, in the Pacific. A modern and very plausible theory has arisen regarding coral: that reefs do not ascend from the sea bed, but are raised from the summits of extinct volcanoes. I want you to exert every means that ingenuity can devise of discovering at what depth the coral formation begins.’
Under normal circumstances, a fascinating enquiry. Under normal circumstances.
‘Finally, are you familiar with Alexander Dalrymple’s proposed numerical scale for the recording of weather conditions? Well, I have long considered that wind and weather should be logged on some intelligible scale, right across the Service. Terms such as “fresh” and “moderate” are ambiguous. I have devised two scales, based upon Dalrymple’s, which I should like you to pilot for me. There is a letter code for meteorological observations, and a numerical code for wind strength. Here.’