The Hundred Days

  'Very true,' said Jack. 'Mr Harding, strike topgallantmasts down on deck; take a warp out on to the mole; throw out the signal Squadron prepare to unmoor. I am going across to the flag in Mr Reade's boat.'

  It was not a long pull to the Royal Sovereign, but in spite of their hooded boat-cloaks both Jack and William Reade came up the side as wet as drowned rats. Waterlogged officers were by no means rare in the Royal Navy, however, and their appearance excited no comment: but when Jack, in a very few words, had outlined the position, the Captain of the Fleet whistled and said, 'By God, I think you must see the Admiral.'

  Jack repeated his statement to Lord Keith, who looked grave and asked, 'What measures do you propose?'

  'My Lord, I propose leading the squadron out directly, making for Laraish. If the corsairs are still there I shall just make a show of force and stand on until I find the Indiamen, presumably still lying under the Sugar Loaf. If I find them engaged, clearly I disengage them: if not, I escort them westward and as near north as they can lie, leaving Dover to see them home.'

  'Make it so, Captain Aubrey.'

  'Aye-aye, sir. My best compliments to Lady Keith, if you please.'

  On his way back the boat passed Dover and Pomone, both of which he hailed, directing them to make sail, to shape a course for Tangier, and to attend to his signals. It was not really night when he reached the Surprise, but the weather was so thick that he sent his orders by word of mouth to the rest of the squadron, adding that signals would now be made by lights and guns.

  It gave him the liveliest pleasure to see how naturally the frigate came to life: battle-lanterns fore and aft, the signal midshipman and his yeoman overhauling the flares, the blue lights and apparatus, the ease with which the warp moved the ship's six hundred tons and all her people towards the mole, and the totally professional, even nonchalant manner in which, edging round its head with barely steerage-way, they flashed out headsails, carried her clean through the gap and into the open sea, where she lay a-try, waiting for the others to join her. This they did, creditably enough on the whole, though their moorings had been ill-placed for this uncommon wind, while the mole itself and its overlapping neighbour, in the course of construction, were singularly awkward. But in the event they all came through, though Dover, setting a trifle too much sail at that unhandy turn, grazed the new stonework with enough force to wound her forward starboard mainchains. Her captain's voice, cracked with fury, could be heard a great way downwind; yet even so he had enough right sailors, officers and ratings, aboard to make sail and steer the course shown by the Commodore's signal, while the excellent bosun and his mates made good the worst of the damage, so that the frigate, though disfigured, did not disgrace herself as the squadron formed the line, heading for a point west of Tangier at no more than eight knots to give the Dover time to reinforce the main shrouds before their southward turn for Laraish.

  They had scarcely cleared the Straits, leaving the glow of Tangier on the larboard quarter, before the rain stopped and the wind lessened, though it was still capable of a powerful gust from the same direction. 'Mr Woodbine,' said Jack to the master, 'I believe we may send up the topgallantmasts and spread a little more canvas.'

  This, with the help of a clearing sky over the main ocean, the light of a splendid moon and a more regular sea, was soon done; and the squadron, well in hand, at the proper cable's length apart, ran down the Moroccan coast under courses and full topsails with an easier following sea and the wind on their larboard quarter; they were still in the order of their leaving, Ringle lying under Surprise's lee, as became a tender.

  This was pure sailing, with a fine regular heave and lift, an urgency of the water along the side, and sea-harping in the taut sheets and windward shrouds, the moon and the stars making their even journey across the clearer sky from bow to quarter, pause and back again.

  At eight bells in the first watch the log was heaved and a very small and sleepy boy reported, 'Twelve knots and one fathom, sir, if you please.'

  'Thank you, Mr Wells,' said Jack. 'You may turn in now.'

  'Thank you very much, sir: good night, sir,' said the child, and staggered off to get four hours' sleep.

  Beautiful sailing, and it was with some reluctance that Jack, having re-arranged his line by signal, so that they sailed Surprise, Pomone, Dover, Ganymede, Rainbow, Briseis, left the deck: he had an overwhelming desire to read his letters again, thoroughly digesting every detail.

  The cabin had not yet been fully cleared for action and Stephen was sitting there with the light of an Argand lamp focused by a concave mirror on to the dark purple of that terrible hand, now stretched out by clamps on a board; and he was making an extraordinarily exact drawing of a particular tendon, in spite of the frigate's motion.

  'What a sea-dog you are become,' said Jack.

  'I flatter myself that a whole pack of sea-dogs could not have improved upon the forward starboard aspect of this aponeurosis,' said Stephen. 'I do it by pressing the underneath of the table with my knees and the top of it with my elbows so that we all, paper, object, table and draughtsman, move together with very little discontinuity—one substance, as it were. To be sure, a fairly regular motion of the vessel is required; and for regularity this slow, even swing could hardly be bettered; though the amplitude calls for such tension that I believe I shall now take a spell.'

  They both returned to their heaps of letters—small heaps, since William Reade had kept nagging at the writers about his tide, and since they had had so little notice that many things of the first importance flew out of their heads. Clarissa Oakes wrote by far the best, least flustered account of the household and its return towards something like a normal existence, much helped by the unchanging ritual of the countryside—of Jack's estate and his plantations in particular—and by the children's steadily continuing education. Sophie's two hurried, tear-blotted pages did her heart more credit than her head, but it was clear that the company of Mrs Oakes was a great relief to her; though of course their neighbours far and near were very kind: she asked Jack's advice about the wording of her mother's epitaph—the stone was ready and the mason eager to begin—and she referred to the window-tax.

  'Sophie and the children send their love,' he said, when Stephen laid down the letter he was reading. 'George tells me that the keeper showed him a sett with young badgers in it.'

  'That is kind of them,' said Stephen. 'And Brigid sends you hers, together with a long passage from Padeen that I cannot make out entirely. He told it her in Irish, do you see—they generally speak Irish together—but although she is perfectly fluent in the language she has no notion at all of its orthography, so she writes as it might sound, spoken by an English person. In time I shall find out the meaning, I am sure, by murmuring it aloud.'

  He fell to his murmuring, and Jack to a closer study of Sophie's hurried, distracted words: both were interrupted by the sound of seven bells in the middle watch. Jack tidied his papers, reached for his sextant and stood up. 'Is anything afoot?' asked Stephen.

  'I must look at the coast, take our latitude and have a word with William: we should be quite near the height of Laraish by now.'

  On deck he found the sky clearer still, with the outline of the shore plain against it. Both wind and sea had been diminishing steadily, and if it had not been for his doubt about the solidity of Dover's mainmast he would have increased sail some time ago: he glanced down the line—all present and correct—and to leeward, where the schooner was running goose-winged on a course exactly parallel with his, well within hail for a powerful voice. Jack had a powerful voice, strengthened by many, many years of practice; but for the moment he contented himself with looking at the logboard, with all its entries of course and speed, doing some mental arithmetic, and taking the exact, double-checked height of Mizar, a star for which he had a particular affection.

  'Mr Whewell,' he asked the officer of the watch, 'what do you make our position?'

  'Just at seven bells, sir, I had a very good observation
and found 35°17' and perhaps twelve seconds.'

  'Very good,' said Jack with satisfaction. 'Let us signal Squadron diminish lights, reduce sail.' Then, leaning over the rail, 'Ringle?'

  'Sir?'

  'Close to speak pennant.'

  'William,' said Jack in conversational tone, some minutes later, looking down at the young man who stood there, smiling up, his steel hook gleaming in the foremast ratlines. 'William, you have been in and out of Laraish pretty often, I believe?'

  'Oh, a score of times at least, sir. There was a young person—that is to say, quite frequently, sir.'

  'And are we near enough for you to recognize the shore-line?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Then be so good as to look into the harbour, and if you see more than two or three corsairs—big xebec-rigged corsairs and galleys—stand half a mile offshore and send up three blue lights, if less, then red lights and rejoin without the loss of a moment.'

  'Aye-aye, sir. More than three, stand off half a mile: three blue lights. Less, then red lights and rejoin without the loss of a moment.'

  'Make it so, Mr Reade. Mr Whewell: Reduce sail in conformity with pennant.' And directing his voice upwards, 'Look afore, there!'

  Eight bells: all round Surprise the sentinels called 'All's well' and prepared to go below, but without much conviction, they knowing the general situation and their captain's tone of voice. How right they were. As soon as the muffled thunder of the watch below hurrying up on deck had died away, Jack said, loud and clear, to Somers, the relieving officer, 'Mr Somers, we may pipe to breakfast at two bells or earlier, and then clear. It is not worth going below. Look out afore, there.'

  He swung over the rail to the larboard ratlines and ran up to the maintop. 'Good morning, Wilson,' he said to the lookout, and stood gazing away eastward, gazing, gazing.

  Two bells, and almost at once three red lights appeared, spreading like crimson flowers one after another, fading and drifting away fast downwind. Before the second had reached its full Jack called down, 'Pipe to breakfast.'

  On the quarterdeck he gave orders to increase sail, to steer south by south-south-west, and to prepare for action: these of course were signals, but by word of mouth he sent to tell the cook to use a bucket of slush to get the galley stove right hot right quick.

  'Stephen,' he said, walking into the cabin, 'I am afraid we must disturb you. William has just let us know that Laraish has no corsairs: since the wind has been dropping this last watch and more, the likelihood is that the Indiamen will very soon leave their shelter under the lee of the Sugar Loaf, sailing for home, and that the corsairs mean to cut them off. So we are pelting down to stop their capers—we shall be setting close-reefed topgallants presently—and quite soon we shall have to turn you out to clear for action. But at least there is this consolation: we shall have an uncovenanted pot of coffee. It is always far better for the people to have something in their belly before a fight, even if it is only hot burgoo; and since the fires are lit, we may as well profit by the situation.'

  'It is our obvious duty,' said Stephen, with a pale smile. In the earlier crises of his life he had often, indeed generally, taken refuge in laudanum, or more recently in coca leaves: on this occasion he had entirely forsworn them, together with tobacco and anything but the merest token of wine to avoid singularity; yet he had always despised the stylite or even hair-shirt kind of asceticism and he was still drinking the last of the pot with something not far from relish—Jack had left him ten minutes earlier—when the thundering drum beat to quarters.

  He swallowed the remaining grouts and hurried down to the orlop, where he found Poll and Harris, the ship's butcher: seamen had already lashed chests together to form two operating tables and Poll was making fast the covers of number eight sailcloth with a practised hand—she had already laid out a selection of saws, catlings, clamps, tourniquets, leather-covered chains, dressings, splints; while Harris had lined up buckets, swabs, and the usual boxes for limbs.

  To them, after a long pause, entered Dr Jacob, led by an irascible boy—not a ship's boy, but a nominal captain's servant, entered as a first-class volunteer and looked after by the gunner until he should be rated midshipman and join their berth—one of those useless little creatures who had been wished on Jack Aubrey in Gibraltar by former ship-mates, men he could not refuse, though the original hydrographical Surprise had carried no learners, only thoroughly trained midshipmen capable of passing their examination for lieutenant in a year or two.

  'There, sir,' said the first-class volunteer, 'it was as simple as I told you the first time. First left, second left, down the ladder and second on your right. Your right.'

  'Thank you, thank you,' said Jacob; and to Stephen, 'Oh sir, I do beg you to forgive me. I am no great seaman, as you know, and this great dark wandering labyrinth confounded me—darkness visible. At one time I found myself by the seat of ease in the head, spray dashing upon me from the rising wave.'

  'No doubt it will become more familiar in time,' said Stephen. 'What do you say to putting a true razor's edge on our implements? Poll, my dear, there are two coarse and two very fine oilstones on the bottom shelf of the medicine chest.'

  Each of the surgeons valued himself upon his skill in sharpening knives of all kinds, scalpels, gouges—almost everything indeed except saws, which they left to the armourer—and they ground away by the light of the powerful lamp. There was some degree of silent competition, avowed only by the slightly ostentatious manner in which each shaved his forearm with his finished blade and his evident complacency when the skin was left perfectly bare. Stephen was uniformly successful with the scalpels, but he had to return the largest catling, a heavy, double-edged, sharp-pointed amputating knife, to the coarse stone again and again.

  'No sir,' cried Harris, who could bear it no longer. 'Let me show you.' Stephen was not a particularly sweet tempered man, above all at this moment when Jacob had scarcely a hair left to show; but Harris's professional authority was so evident that he let the heavy catling be taken—he let the stone be spat upon, the spittle smoothed with an even rapid drawing movement, heel to tip, then transferred to the fine stone and finished with an emulsion of spit and oil. 'There, sir,' said the butcher, 'that's how we do it in Leadenhall Market, asking your pardon.'

  'Well damn you, Harris,' said Stephen, having tried the superlative edge. 'If ever I have to operate upon you, I shall do so with an instrument of your own preparing, and . . .' He was about to add something more likely to please when all present raised their heads, listening intently, ignoring the sound of the hull in a fairly heavy sea, the whole complex voice of the ship; and after a few seconds there it was again, not thunder but the sound of guns.

  On deck Jack had not only the advantage of hearing more clearly but of seeing too. The squadron had been sailing close inshore, heading for a point beyond which there rose the modest hill called the Sugar Loaf: at the first remote sound he had thrown out the signal Make more sail, and when they came round the point at twelve or even thirteen knots they had the battle spread out full before them in the little leeward bay, rosy with a burning ship and lit by innumerable flashes. The East India convoy, under sail, was being attacked by at least a score of xebecs and galleys, while smallcraft crammed with Moors waited to board any disabled merchantman.

  The convoy, escorted only by a sixteen-gun brig-sloop, had formed in something of a line and it was protecting itself moderately well against the xebecs, powerfully armed though they were. But it was almost helpless against the galleys, which could race downwind of the line under sail, turn, take to their oars and come up from leeward, raking the hindmost ships from right aft or on the quarter, where their guns, though comparatively small and few, could do terrible slaughter, firing from so low and near, right along the deck, while the galley itself could not be touched by its victim's cannon.

  The rearmost Indiaman it was that lit the bay—an enemy shot having no doubt traversed her light-room and powder-magazine—but even without that, t
he moonlight, the clear sky and the flashes made the position perfectly evident. Jack made the signal for independent engagement, emphasized it with two guns, and he launched the Surprise at what seemed to be the commanding xebec, the corsairs' leader: the Moors had no distinct line of battle, but this one wore some red and tawny pennants.

  They met, sailing with the wind on the beam, Surprise on the starboard tack, the Moor on the larboard. When each was five points on the other's bow, Jack backed his foretopsail, and called, 'On the downward roll: fire from forward as they bear.'

  All along the deck the gun-crews crouched motionless, the captain with the linstock in his hand, glaring along the barrel. Officers and midshipmen exactly spaced.

  Some desultory musket-fire, two or three well-directed round-shot from the xebec; the tingling sound of a gun hit full on the barrel; and immediately after the height of the wave Surprise fired a long rippling broadside from forty yards. The wind blew the smoke back, blinding them, and when it cleared they saw a most shocking wreckage, half the xebec's ports beaten in and her rudder shot away. They also heard Jack's roaring 'Look alive, look alive, there: run 'em out!' his order to fill the topsail and the cry 'Port your helm!'

  He took the Surprise right under the xebec's stern. The frigate stayed beautifully and ran up the enemy's side. The next slower, even more deliberate broadside shattered the Moor entirely. Xebecs were fine nimble fast-sailing craft, but they were not strongly built and she began to settle at once, her people crowding the deck and flinging everything that would float over the side.