Patrick O'Brian: The Hundred Days

‘Aye. There is something very odd about it all. Our intelligence people see a Muslim influence, possibly Turkish, possibly the Barbary states, or even of all of them combined. At this very moment there is much greater activity in Algiers, Tunis and down the Moroccan coast, fomented by Napoleonic renegadoes with native craft and vessels up to

the size of a sloop of war: it is almost impossible to deal with it, our naval strength being so reduced and so tied up. Already it is most harmful to Allied trade, particularly to ours, and it is likely to grow worse.’

The Admiral stirred his tea, contemplated, and said, ‘If Napoleon Bonaparte with his three hundred thousand very well trained men and his usual brilliant cavalry and artillery, can knock out say the Russians or part of the Austrians, the French navy may sweep us out of the Mediterranean again, above all as the Maltese and the Moroccans are so ungrateful as to hate us and as there is a real possibility of a French alliance with Tunis, Algeria and the other piratical states, to say nothing of the Emperor of Morocco and even the Sultan himself. For you know, Aubrey, do you not, that Bonaparte turned Turk? During the Egyptian campaign I think it was; but Turk in any case.’

‘I heard of it, sir, of course; but no one has ever asserted that he recoiled from swine’s flesh or a bottle of wine. I put it down to one of those foolish things a man says when he wishes to be elected to Parliament, such as “give me your votes, and I undertake to do away with the National Debt in eighteen months.” I do not believe he is any more a Mussulman than I am. You have to be circumcised to be a Turk.’

‘For my own part I have no knowledge of the gentleman’s soul, or heart, or private parts: all I am sure of is that the statement was made, and that at this juncture it may be of capital importance. But we are prating away like a couple of old women...’ He was interrupted by his secretary, who said, ‘I beg pardon, my Lord, but the courier is just come aboard with his budget.’

Jack had started to his feet, and now he said, ‘May I wait upon you later, sir, when you are less engaged?’

‘Is there anything urgent, Mr Campbell?’ asked Lord Keith, with a temporizing wave.

‘Tedious and toilsome, rather than immediate, apart from one enclosure that I have already sent on.’

‘Very good, very good. Thank you, Mr Campbell. Sit down, Aubrey. I will just run through the heads of these, then attend to your statements of the squadron’s condition, and give you some notion of what I should like you to do.’ A pause, during which the Admiral’s long-practised hand ran through the dockets, already marked with Campbell’s secret mark of importance: none rated above c3, and putting them down he said, ‘Well, Aubrey, in the first place you must allot a force adequate for the protection of the Constantinople trade. Convoys have been re-introduced, you know one is due within the week - and the Algerians in particular have grown very bold, though some vessels are also to be expected from Tripoli, Tunis and the rest, while other corsairs push up from Sallee and pass the Straits in the dark of the moon. Then you must prevent any unauthorized outward or inward movement to the best of your ability. But your most important task by far is to look into those Adriatic ports you know so well. Even the small places are capable of building a frigate, and we have reports of actual ships of the line on the stocks in four places whose names Campbell will give you. If any of the two-deckers have openly declared for Napoleon you must not venture upon an action but send to me without the loss of a moment. Where frigates, corvettes or sloops are concerned, particularly if they are unfinished, you must endeavour to stop the building and obtain their disarmament, all of which requires the utmost degree of tact: I am so glad you have Maturin with you. An incident would, as I have said, be disastrous: though of course if there is a clearly-expressed intent of joining Bonaparte, you must burn, sink or destroy as usual.’

‘Aye-aye, sir,’ said Jack, and then, ‘My Lord, I believe you spoke of a courier. If he is not already gone, may I beg for my tender Ringle to be sent out immediately? William Reade, master’s mate, handles her very well indeed - an uncommon fast and weatherly Chesapeake clipper - and I shall have the utmost need for such a craft.’

‘William Reade, the young gentleman that lost an arm with you in the East Indies?’ asked the Admiral, scribbling a note. ‘Certainly. Should you like to send him a message - things to be brought out? Or Maturin? Well, I think that is the essential: you will of course receive detailed orders and some estimate of what you can expect from Malta when you are in Mahon.’ The Admiral stood up. ‘I hope you will dine with us tomorrow?’

Jack bowed, said, ‘Very happy,’ and Keith went on, ‘I do not wish to be importunate, but if you feel you could convey some sense of our feeling - our concern our sympathy - to Maturin, pray do so. In any case, I look forward to learning his views on the situation this evening, when he will have been closeted with Campbell and the two gentlemen who came down from Whitehall. Do not ask him to come aboard the flag: they will go to see him in Pomone.’

A little before the evening gun Preserved Killick, Captain Aubrey’s steward, an ill-faced, ill-tempered, meagre, atrabilious, shrewish man who kept his officer’s uniform, equipment and silver in a state of exact, old-maidish order come wind or high water, and who did the same for Aubrey’s close friend and companion, Dr Stephen Maturin, or even more so, since in the Doctor’s case Killick added a fretful nursemaid quality to his service, as though Maturin were “not quite exactly” a fully intelligent being, approached Stephen’s cabin. It is true that in the community of mariners the “not quite exactly” opinion was widely held; for although Stephen could now tell the difference between starboard and larboard, it still called for some reflection: and it marked the limit of his powers. This general view, however, in no way affected their deep respect for him as a medical man: his work with a trephine or a saw, sometimes carried out on open deck for the sake of the light, excited universal admiration, and it was said that if he chose, and if the tide were still making, he could save you although you were already three parts dead and mouldy. Furthermore, a small half of one of his boluses would blow the backside off a bullock. The placebo effect of this reputation had indeed preserved many a sadly shattered sailor, and he was much caressed aboard. A little before the evening gun, therefore, Preserved Killick walked into Stephen’s cabin and found him sitting there in his drawers, a jug of now cold water and an unused razor in front of him, together with a clean shirt, neck-cloth, new-brushed black coat, new-curled wig, clean breeches, silk stockings and a respectable hand-kerchief, reading the close-written coded message from Sir Joseph Blaine, the chief of naval intelligence that had just arrived by courier.

‘Oh sir,’ cried Killick: but even as he exclaimed he choked the inborn shrew, lowering the ‘sir’ to the gentlest tones of remonstrance.

‘One moment, Killick,’ said Stephen, resolving a particularly intractable group: he wrote it in the margin, covered it close, and said, ‘I am yours.’

Apart from the words ‘Which the gentlemen have been waiting ten minutes - called twice for wine, and was you quite well?’ Killick dressed him silently, efficiently, and led him to the captain’s cabin, where the Admiral’s secretary and the two gentlemen from Whitehall rose to greet him. One of them, Mr William Kent, was a familiar figure, his high office sometimes required him to resolve difficulties between the various departments of government and the services so that confidential work might be carried on in official silence: the other, Mr Dee, he knew only from having seen him at a few restricted conferences at which he spoke rarely or not at all, though he was treated with deference as an authority on eastern matters, particularly those concerned with finance - he was connected with some of the great banking-houses in the City. Sir Joseph’s coded message had only said ‘You will of course remember his book on Persian literature’.