Patrick O'Brian - The Nutmeg of Consolation

Many a proa did he see, particularly west of 123 E, and the occasional junk coming down from the Philippines; those he reported in a non-committal howl, often angering the official lookouts and rarely earning much thanks from the quarterdeck. For the last few days, however, he had been mute; not only were there no vessels to be seen, but there was no horizon either. A soft warm haze filled the air, making it difficult to breathe and impossible to distinguish sea from sky - there was no edge to the world - and only a providential clearing of the mist to the north-north-west allowed him to discern a ship some two miles away, a ship steering south-east under topsails, no more. In a confident roar he hailed the quarterdeck: 'On deck, there. A ship hull-up on the larboard quarter, steering south-east.'

A moment later, transmitted by one taut set of rigging after another, he felt the vibration of a heavy powerful body racing aloft, and then he heard the Captain's voice from the maintop telling him to clear the way. They passed in the shrouds on either side of the topmast and Jack said 'Where away, Mr Miller?'

'Perhaps half a point on the quarter, sir; but she comes and goes.'

Jack settled himself on the crosstrees, staring over the soft blue sea to the north-north-west: hope, which had almost given way to resignation, flared up again, making his heart beat so that he felt its pounding in his throat. The haze cleared once more, showing the sail quite close; and hope fell to a reasonable pitch. Of course a ship steering south-east could not have been the Corn�e: nevertheless he gave the order that ran up the colours and brought the Nutmeg round in an elegant curve to close the stranger, a quite remarkably shabby Dutch merchant-man, fat and deep-waisted. She made no attempt to escape, but lay there with a backed topsail until the Nutmeg ranged up on her windward side. Her crew, mostly black or greyish brown, lined the rail, looking pleased. Not one of her little range of guns - six-pounders, in all likelihood - had been run out.

'What ship is that?' hailed Jack.

'Aikmaar, sir, from Manila to Menardo.'

'Let the master come across with her papers.'

The boat splashed down, the master came across: his papers included a licence to trade from Raffles' secretariat in Batavia and they were perfectly in order. Jack handed them back and offered the Dutchman a glass of madeira.

'To tell you the truth, sir,' said he, 'I had much rather have a keg of water, however old.' And in answer to Jack's questioning eye he went on, 'Two or three barrels would be more welcome still, if you can spare them. We have been down to half-pipkins these last days, but even so I doubt we can fetch Menardo without a recruit. The hands are mortal dry, sir.'

'I think we can manage that, Captain,' said Jack. 'But drink up your wine and tell me first how you come to speak English so well, and then how you come to be so short of water.'

'Why, as for the English, sir, I was in and out of herringbusses, Dutch or English, no matter which, when I was a little chap and a young man - in and out of Yarmouth all the time. And it was there I was pressed and sent aboard the Billy Ruffian, Captain Hammond, for close on two years, until the peace. And as for the water, we started the top two tiers over the side, running from a couple of pirate junks off the Cagayanes; but when we were free of them, I found that some fool had started almost all the ground tier too, dead against my orders. Oh, it has been a damned unfortunate voyage, sir. Next thing a French frigate - a French frigate in these here waters, sir, would you believe it? - brought us to.'

'How many guns?'

'Thirty-two, sir. Far too many for me to argue with. She was short of water likewise, but when I showed them we had barely enough to get home with, if that, whereas she had a good watering-place under her lee, since she was bound for the Passage and beyond, she let it alone. I must say they behaved quite pretty, considering - no pillaging, and left our cargo be - nothing wanton - and though they did take all our powder and all our sails bar what you see, sir, the officer spoke civil and gave us a draught on Paris that may be honoured some day, I hope.'

'How much powder?'

'Four barrels, sir.'

'Halves, I suppose?'

'No, sir, whole barrels. And best Manila large-grain cylinder-powder at that.'

'Where is the watering-place?'

'The island called Nil Desperandum, sir; not the one down in the Banda Sea, but the northern one. It is a slow business watering there because of the winding passage and the smallness of the stream - no basin - but it is the best water in these parts, and I should have gone along with them, only I could never have beat back again against the monsoon. My ship ain't the Gelijkheid. What do you call her now, sir?'

'Nutmeg,' said Jack; and after a little more conversation about the French frigate, the Corn�e of course, her crew and her qualities, and about the watering-place at Nil Desperandum, he stood up, saying 'Forgive me, Captain, but I am pressed for time. I shall have to send the water over by the fire-engine: I shall come alongside as close as I can and pass a line for the hose. You had better get back to your ship at once and lay everything along.'

The ships parted after perhaps the most unpleasant quarter of an hour in Fielding's life as a first lieutenant. There was a considerable swell; the fire-engine's hose was criminally short; the Alkmaars were criminally negligent in booming-off and the Nutmegs were not much better; they had no respect for his paintwork. And if he had heard Captain Aubrey call out that there was not a moment to be lost once he had heard him a score of times; and even after the lane of water between the ships had widened to a quarter of a mile and the Dutchmen's grateful hooting was faint on the breeze, his spirits were so ruffled that he kicked a ship's boy for pulling off loose ribbons of paint on the blackstrake.

Immediately afterwards he was summoned to the cabin, and he hobbled aft with an uneasy heart, straightening his clothes as he went. He knew very well that Captain Aubrey disliked starting with a rope's end or a cane, kicking, cobbing, and even reproachful words such as 'lubber' or 'damn your infernal limbs' unless they were uttered by himself; and the first lieutenant did not relish the prospect of reproof.

When he opened the door however he found the Captain leaning over a chart with the Doctor on one side and Mr Warren on the other. 'Mr Fielding,' said Jack, looking up with a smile, 'do you know what Nil Desperandum means?'

'No, sir,' said Fielding.

'It means Never say die, or Luck may turn yet,' said Jack, 'and it is the name of an island about 300 miles to leeward, just before the Passage.'

'Indeed, sir? I had imagined it was somewhere east of Timor.'

'No, no; that is another one. It is the same with Desolation. There are plenty of Desolation Islands, and there are plenty of Nil Desperandums too, ha, ha! With any luck we shall find the Corn�e watering there. My aim is to run in and get as close as possible to her. And for that we must look as much like a merchantman as ever we can. How I wish I had thought to exchange the Alkmaar's thin, patched, shabby sails for a suit of ours! But zeal will do wonders!

'Yes, sir,' said Fielding.

Never mind your paintwork, Mr Fielding,' said Jack, never mind your prettily blacked yards, square by lifts and braces, take your pattern from the Aikmaar, and be damned to cleanliness.'

'Yes, sir,' said Fielding, who minded very much indeed about his paintwork and who had turned the Nutmeg out with exceptional care, the trimmest twenty-gun ship in the service, fit for any admiral's inspection.

'Ha, ha,' said Maturin suddenly. 'I remember what a vile mud-scow we made of the dear Surprise, to deceive the Spartan. Turds everywhere.'