Post Captain (19 page)

'Where did you find your others?'

'They were local men. Excellent, in their way, but they govern smallish crews, relatives, acquaintances, men they have sailed with. This is another problem entirely; it calls for a bigger man, a man on another scale. Might I beg for your advice, Captain Aubrey? Can you think of any man, any former shipmate of yours, perhaps, or... ? I should give him a free hand, and I should back him to the hilt.'

'I should have to consider of it,' said Jack.

'Pray do, pray do,' said Canning. No less than a dozen people came up to the buffet at once, and private conversation was at an end. Canning gave Jack his card, pencilling an address upon it, and said in a low tone, 'I shall be here all the week. A word from you, at any time, and I shall be most grateful for a meeting.'

They parted - indeed they were driven apart - and Jack backed until he was brought up by the window. The offer had been as direct as it could be in decency, to a serving officer: he liked Canning, had rarely taken to any man with such immediate sympathy at first sight. He must be most uncommon rich to fit out a six or seven hundred ton letter-of-marque: a huge investment for a private man. Yet Jack's reflection was one of wonder alone, not of doubt - there was not the least question of Canning's honesty in his mind.

'Come, Jack, come, come,' said Lady Keith, tugging his arm. 'Where are your manners? You are behaving like a bear.'

'Dear Queenie,' said he, with a great slow smile, 'forgive me. I am bemused. Your friend Canning wants to make my fortune. He is your friend?'

'Yes. His father taught me Hebrew - good evening, Miss Sibyl - such a very wealthy young man, so enterprising. He has a vast admiration for you.'

'That shows a proper candour. Does he speak Hebrew, Queenie?'

'Oh, just enough for his bar mitzvah, you know. He is about as much of a scholar as you are, Jack. He has many friends in the Prince of Wales's set, but don't let that put you off - he is not a flash cove. Come into the gallery.'

'Bar mitzvah,' said Jack, in a grave voice, following her into the crowded gallery; and there, momentarily framed by four men in black coats, he saw the familiar red face of Mrs Williams. She was sitting by the fireplace, looking hot and overdressed, and Cecilia sat next to her: for a moment he could not place them in this context; they belonged to another world and time, another reality. There was no empty place beside them, no vacant chair. As Lady Keith led him up to them she murmured something about Sophia; but her discretion swallowed up her meaning.

'Have you come back to England, Captain Aubrey?' said Mrs Williams, as he made his leg. 'Well, well, upon my word.'

'Where are your other girls?' asked Lady Keith, glancing about.

'I was obliged to leave them at home, your ladyship. Frankie has such a feverish cold, and Sophie has stayed to take care of her.'

'She did not know you would be here,' whispered Cecilia.

'Jack,' said Lady Keith, 'I believe Lord Melville is throwing out a signal. He wants to speak with you.'

'The First Lord?' cried Mrs Williams, half rising in her seat and craning. 'Where? Where? Which is he?'

'The gentleman with the star,' said Lady Keith.

'Just a word, Aubrey,' said Lord Melville, 'and then I must be off. Can you come to see me tomorrow instead of next week? It does not throw you out? Good night to you, then - I am obliged to you, Lady Keith,' he called, kissing his hand and waving it, 'your must humble, devoted..

Jack's face and eyes, as he turned back to the ladies, had a fine glow, a hint of the rising sun. By the law of social metaphysics some of the great man's star had rubbed off on him, as well as a little of young Canning's easy opulence. He felt that he was in command of the situation, of any situation, in spite of the wolves outside the door: his calmness surprised him. What were his feelings beneath this strong bubbling cheerfulness? He could not make it out. So much had happened these last few days - his old cloak still smelt of powder - and indeed was still happening, that he could not make them out. Sometimes you receive a knock in action: it may be your death-wound or just a scratch, a graze - you cannot tell at once. He gave up the attempt and turned his full attention to Mrs Williams, inwardly remarking that the Mrs Williams of Sussex and even of Bath was a different animal from the Mrs Williams in a great London drawing-room; she looked provincial and dowdy; and so, it must be admitted, did Cecilia, with her fussy ornaments and frizzled hair - though indeed she was a good-natured child. Mrs Williams was obscurely aware of this; she looked stupid, uncertain, and almost respectful, though he felt that resentment might not be far away. Having observed how affable Lord Melville was, very much the gentleman, she told Jack that they had read about his escape in the paper: she hoped his return meant

that everything was well with him: but how came he to be in India? She had understood he had withdrawn to the Continent in consequence of some... to the Continent.

'So I did, ma'am. Maturin and I went to France, where that scoundrel Bonaparte very nearly laid us by the heels.'

'But you came home in an Indiaman. I saw it in the papers - in The Times.'

'Yes. She touched at Gibraltar.'

'Ah. I see. So now the mystery is cleared up: I thought I should get to the bottom of it at last.'

'How is dear Dr Maturin?' asked Cecilia. 'I hope to see him.'

'Yes, how is the worthy Dr Maturin?' said her mother.

'He is very well, I thank you. He was in the far room some moments ago, talking to the Physician of the Fleet. What a splendid fellow he is: he nursed me through a most devilish fever I caught in the mountains, and dosed me twice a day until we reached Gibraltar. Nothing else would have brought me home.'

'Mountains - Spain,' said Mrs Williams with strong disapproval. 'You will never get me there, I can tell you.'

'So you travelled right down through Spain,' said Cecilia. 'I dare say it was prodigiously romantic, with ruins, and monks?'

'There were some ruins and monks, to be sure,' said Jack, smiling at her. 'And hermits too. But the most romantic thing I saw was the Rock, rearing up there at the end of our road like a lion. That, and the orange-tree in Stephen's castle.'

'A castle in Spain!' cried Cecilia, clasping her hands.

'Castle!' cried Mrs Williams. 'Nonsense. Captain Aubrey means some cottage with a whimsical name, my love.'

'No, ma'am. A castle, with towers, battlements, and all that is proper. A marble roof, too. The only whimsical thing about it was the bath, which stood just off a spiral staircase, as bald as an egg: it was marble too, carved out of a single block - amazing. But this orange-tree was in a court with arches all round, a kind of cloister, and it bore oranges, lemons, and tangerines all at the same time! Green fruit, ripe fruit, and flowers, all at the same time and such a scent. There's romance for you! Not many oranges when I was there, but lemons fresh every day. I must have eaten -'

'Am I to understand that Dr Maturin is a man of property?' cried Mrs Williams.

'Certainly you are, ma'am. A thumping great estate up where we crossed the mountains - merino sheep -,

'Merino sheep,' said Mrs Williams, nodding, for she knew the beasts existed - what else could yield merino wool?

'- but his main place is down towards Lerida. By the way, I have not inquired for Mrs Villiers: how rude of me. I hope she is well?'

'Yes, yes - she is here,' - dismissing Diana - 'But I thought he was only a naval surgeon.'

'Did you indeed, ma'am? However, he is a man of considerable estate: a physician, too - they think the world of him in-'

'Then how did he come to be your surgeon?' she asked, in a sudden last burst of suspicion.

'What easier way of seeing the world? Airy, commodious, and paid for by the King.' This was utterly conclusive. Mrs Williams relapsed into silence for some moments. She had heard of castles in Spain, but she could not remember whether they were good or bad: they were certainly one or the other. Probably good, seeing that Lord Melville was so affable. Oh yes, very good - certainly very good.

'I hope he will call - I hope you will both call,' she said at last. 'We are staying with my sister Pratt in George Street. Number eleven.'

Jack was most grateful; unhappily official business - he could not call his time his own - but he was sure Dr Maturin would be delighted; and he begged he might be particularly remembered to Miss Williams and Miss Frances.

'You may have heard, of course, that my Sophie is - 'began Mrs Williams, launched upon the precautionary lie, then regretting it and not knowing how to come off handsomely, '- that Sophie is, how shall I say - though there is nothing official.'

'There's Di,' whispered Cecilia, poking Jack with her elbow.

She was walking slowly into the gallery between two men, both tall: a dark blue dress, a black velvet band around her throat, splendid white bosom. He had forgotten that her hair was black, black, her neck a column and her eyes mere dark smudges in the distance. His feelings needed no analysis: his heart, which had stopped while he searched for the empty place by Mrs Williams, now beat to quarters: a constellation, a galaxy of erotic notions raced through his mind, together with an unmixed pleasure in looking at her. How well-bred she looked! She did not seem pleased, however; she turned her head from the man on her right with a lift of her chin that he knew only too well.

'The gentleman she is walking with is Colonel Colpoys, Admiral Haddock's brother-in-law, from India. Diana is staying with Mrs Colonel Colpoys in Bruton Street. A pokey, inconvenient little house.'

'How beautiful he is,' murmured Cecilia.

'Colonel Colpoys?' cried Mrs Williams.

'No, Mama, the gentleman in the blue coat.'

'Oh, no, my love,'- lowering her voice, speaking behind her hand and staring hard at Canning - 'that gentleman is a jay ee double-u.'

'So he is not beautiful, Mama?'

'Of course not, my dear' - as to an idiot - 'I have just told you he is a' - lowering her voice again - 'jay ee double-u,' pursing her lips and nodding her head with great satisfaction.

'Oh,' said Cecilia, disappointed. 'Well, all I can say,' she muttered to herself, 'is, I wish I had beaux like that following me around. He has been by her all the evening, almost. Men are always following Di around. There is another one.'

The other one, an army officer, was hurrying through the press with a tall thin glass of champagne, bearing it towards her with both hands as though it were a holy object; but before he could urge a fat, staring woman out of his way, Stephen Maturin appeared. Diana's face changed at once - a look of straightforward, almost boyish delight -and as he came up she gave him both hands, crying, 'Oh, Maturin, how very glad I am to see you! Welcome home.'

The soldier, Canning and Jack were watching intently; they saw nothing to give them uneasiness; the delicate pink flush in Diana's face, reaching her ears, was that of spontaneous open uncomplicated pleasure; Maturin's unaltered pallor, his somewhat absent expression, matched her directness. Furthermore, he was looking uncommonly plain - rusty, neglected, undarned.

Jack relaxed in his chair: he had got it wrong, he thought, with a warm and lively pleasure in his mistake: he often got things wrong. He had set up for penetration, and he had got it wrong.

'You are not attending,' said Cecilia. 'You are so busy quizzing the gentleman in blue, that you are not attending. Mama says they mean to go and look at the Magdalene. That is what Dr Maturin is pointing at.'

'Yes? Oh, yes. Certainly. A Guido, I believe?'

'No, sir,' said Mrs Williams, who understood these things better than other people. 'It is an oil painting, a very valuable oil painting, though not quite in the modern taste.'

'Mama, may I run after Dr Maturin and go with them?' asked Cecilia.

'Do, my love, and tell Dr Maturin to come and see me. No, Captain Aubrey, do not get up: you shall tell me about your Spanish journey. There is nothing that interests me more than travel, I declare; and if I had had my health I should have been a great traveller, a second -a second -' 'St Paul?'

'No, no. A second Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. Now tell me about Dr Maturin's establishment.'

Jack could not tell her very much; he had been unwell, delirious at times, and he did not attend to the kind of leases they had in those parts, or the return on capital

- Mrs Williams sighed - had not seen the rent-roll, but supposed the estate was 'pretty big' - it took in a good deal of Aragon, as well as Catalonia; it had its drawbacks, however, being sadly infested by porcupines; they were hunted by a pack of pure-bred porcupine-hounds, often by moonlight, the field carrying Cordova-leather umbrellas against the darting of their quills.

'You gentlemen are always so taken up with your sporting, when a little attention to rack-rents and fines and enclosures - I am enclosing Mapes Common - ah, here comes the dear Doctor.'

Stephen's face rarely betrayed much emotion, but her effusive welcome made him stretch his eyes: her first question set him right, however, 'So I hear that you have a marble bath, Dr Maturin? That must be a great comfort to you, in such a climate.'

'Certainly, ma'am. I conceive it to be Visigothic.'

'Not marble?'

'Visigothic marble, my dear madam, from a baptistery destroyed by the Moors.'

'And you have a castle?'

'Oh, it is only a small place. I keep one wing in order, to go up there from time to time.'

'For the porcupine-hunting, no doubt?'

Stephen bowed. 'And for my rents, ma'am. In some ways Spain is a more direct country than England, and when we say rack-rent in those parts, rack-rent is what we mean - why, we make them pay for the use of the instrument.'

Jack found Diana at the buffet where he had had his conversation with Canning: Canning was no longer with her, but his place had been taken by two more soldiers. She did not give Jack both hands, because one was holding a glass and the other a piece of cake, but her greeting was as gay, cheerful and undisguised as it had been for Stephen: