The Surgeon’s Mate. Patrick O’Brian
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broken, or anything like that?’
‘No. She was quit for the fright and a torn petticoat. But since we are to go so soon, now is the time to make your farewells and pack your belongings.’
‘Oh, as for that, I have nothing but what I stand up in. I shall step round and ask for orders for the packet and then pull across and make sure of decent berths for us.’ He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should ask whether they would like a cabin between them: they had wished Captain Broke to marry them aboard the Shannon, and although the battle and Broke’s wound had put an end to that, Jack had understood that the ceremony would take place in Halifax. But as neither had ever uttered a single word since, he felt a delicacy about raising the matter now: he said nothing.
A silence fell when he had gone: at last Diana said, ‘What is that?’ pointing at the remains of their late breakfast.
‘It is technically known as coffee,’ said Stephen. ‘Should you wish for a cup? I cannot recommend it, unless you particularly like ground acorns and roast barley, infused in tide-water.’ After another silence he went on, ‘We spoke of our marriage some time ago. My dear, since the ship is to sail so very soon, should we not walk round to the presbytery now? It is still before twelve: I am well with Father Costello, and he would pronounce the conjugo without any difficulty.’
She changed colour at this, stood up and walked nervously about the room. Passing by the table where his cigars were laid out she picked one up. He lit it for her, and out of the cloud of smoke she said, ‘Stephen, I love you dearly and if ever I were to ask any man’s charity it would be yours. But my dear I know very well that you do not want to marry me in the least; I have known it ever since I recovered my wits after that appalling time in Boston. I should have known it at once, the minute I saw you again, if I had not been so utterly destroyed, and terrified of that man. No: do not lie, Maturin. It is infinitely kind in you, but it is no use. No use at all. And in any case,’ she said, looking at him defiantly while a great flush mounted in her cheeks, ‘I would not marry any man when I was in child by another. No, by God, not to save my life. There. Give me a drink, Stephen: these confessions are perfectly exhausting.’
‘There is nothing here but rum,’ said Stephen, looking round for a clean glass, ‘and that is the very last thing for you. I had meant to mention it to you some weeks ago: no spirits. Strait-lacing too is to be avoided, and tobacco.’
‘You knew?’ she cried.
He nodded, and said, ‘You exaggerate the importance of this, my dear, you do indeed. But it is not unnatural that you should; for you are to consider, that not only is your present physical condition well known to warp the judgement – and here I speak as a physician, Villiers – but that the recent turmoil of spirits, the escape, the rescue, the battle with the Chesapeake, must necessarily carry the process much farther, and cause your mind to make grave mistakes. You are mistaken, for example, in your estimate of my feelings. I may not appear as the trembling suppliant of former days, of my almost-youth; but that is the effect of age, no more. An outward display of emotion is indecent when one’s hair is grey; but upon my honour, my essential attachment is unchanged.’
She laid her hand upon his sleeve without a word and gave him such a sad, disillusioned smile that he faltered, took a turn to the window and back, put on his blue spectacles, and lit a cigar for himself before going on, ‘But even if you were right, which I deny entirely, there is the question of expediency – there is the question of your civil status. A marriage, even a nominal marriage, at once restores your nationality: perhaps even more important, it gives your child a name. Reflect, my dear, upon the condition of a bastard. His state is in itself an insult. He is born with heavy disadvantages under all the codes of law I know; he is penalized from birth. He is debarred from many callings; if he is admitted to society at all, he is admitted only on sufferance; he meets the reproach at every turn all through his life – any tenth transmitter of a foolish face, any lawfully begotten blockhead can throw it in his teeth, and he has no reply. I believe you are aware that I am myself a bastard: I speak with full knowledge when I say that it is a cruel, cruel thing to entail upon a child.’
‘I am sure it is, Stephen,’ she said, deeply moved. She pressed his hand, and they sat for a while without speaking. Then she said in a low voice, ‘But that is why I have come to you, the only friend I can rely on. You understand these things; you are a physician. Stephen, I could not bear to have that man’s child. It would be a monster. I know that in India women used to take a root called holi…’
‘There, my dear, there is a certain proof that your judgement is astray: otherwise you would never have thought of such a course, nor would you ever have said such a thing to me. My whole function is to preserve life, not to take it away. The oath I have sworn, and all my convictions –’
‘Stephen,’ she said, ‘I beg of you not to fail me.’ She sat, twisting her fingers together, and in a low, pleading voice she murmured, ‘Stephen, Stephen…’
‘Diana,’ he said, ‘you must marry me.’
She shook her head. Each knew that the other was immovable, and they sat in a miserable silence until the door burst open and a very young officer, pink and white, extremely cheerful, cried, ‘There you are, ma’am; there you are, sir. I have found you both at the same time. I can deliver both my messages at once.’ And then, very rapidly, as by rote, and in an official tone he said, ‘Admiral Colpoys presents his best compliments and respects to Mrs Villiers; has the honour to acquaint her that the packet sails directly, and begs her to repair aboard at her earliest possible convenience.’ He drew breath and went on, ‘The Commander-in-chief informs Dr Maturin that Diligence sails on the next tide but one, and directs him to proceed to the man-of-war’s hard with the utmost dispatch. There she lies, sir,’ he went on in a natural voice, pointing out of the window, ‘the brig just beyond Chesapeake. She has the blue peter flying.’
Chapter Three
The Diligence tided it down the long harbour during the night, and before daybreak she was clear of the Little Thrumcap: by the time the dim sun began to whiten the eastern sky she had made a good offing, and with a moderate breeze on her starboard beam she was steering a little north of east under all plain sail, to leave Sable Island well to the south. Astern there was nothing to be seen: even if the weather had not been so hazy, she had long since sunk the high land of Cape Sambro. But six points on her starboard bow there lay a vessel dark against the light, a tall schooner, not five miles away. Not a sloop, not a man-of-war, but unmistakably a schooner: and in any case the Nova Scotia, given a whole tide’s start, was at least forty miles beyond the horizon.
She was lying there with no way on her, breasting the swell under her reefed fore-and-aft mainsail; yet it was clear that she was no fisherman, since she had no dories anywhere around her, and in any case no skipper making a voyage for cod would have brought a long slim rakish schooner with little room for his catch to a place where there were even fewer fish.
The second mate, who had the watch, saw her as soon as the lookout on the forecastle, and after one hard stare across the lightening sea he stepped below to the cabin, where the Captain and Jack Aubrey were eating steak. ‘I believe we have the Liberty to windward, sir,’ he said.
‘Is that so, Mr Crosland?’ said the Captain. ‘And how far off might she be?’
‘A matter of five mile, sir.’
‘Then bear up, Mr Crosland, and set the foretopgallantsail. I shall be on deck presently.’
Mr Dalgleish, the owner – literally the owner – of the Diligence, emptied his cup deliberately, took his spyglass from the rack, and walked up the companion-ladder, followed by Jack.
The stranger had already filled and worn on the same course, and as they watched, gazing over the starboard quarter, a signal broke out at her masthead: she fired a windward gun.
It was clear to Jack, as he considered her, that there was a strong possibility of her being an American privateer – no one else would lie there in the middle of the main shipping-lane between England and Canada – and he was not particularly