Patrick O'Brian - The Ionian mission

While the earlier cases were being heard Stephen was with Dr Harrington, the Physician of the Fleet, an old and esteemed acquaintance, a learned man with very sound ideas on hygiene and preventive medicine but unhappily somewhat too gentle and timid for full effectiveness at sea. They talked of the squadron's remarkably good state of health: no scurvy, Sicily and its orange-groves being near at hand; little venereal disease, the ships being so rarely in port and the Admiral forbidding all but the most unexceptionable women aboard and very few even of them; no casualties from action, of course, and surprisingly few of the maladies usual to seamen, except in Thunderer, Superb, and Defender. 'I put it down largely to the use of wind-sails to bring at least some fresh air below,' said Harrington, 'to the continual serving-out of antiscorbutics, and to the provision of wholesome wine instead of their pernicious rum; although it must be admitted that happiness, comparative happiness, is a most important factor. In this ship, where there is often dancing on the forecastle, and stage-plays, and an excellent band, we have almost no sickness: in the three ships I have mentioned, where the diet, the wind-sails and the antiscorbutics are exactly the same, the surgeons have their hands full.'

'Indeed, the effect of the mind on the body is extraordinarily great,' observed Stephen. 'I have noticed it again and again; and we have innumerable authorities, from Hippocrates to Dr Cheyne. I wish we could prescribe happiness.'

'I wish that we could prescribe common sense,' said Harrington. 'That might be at least a first step towards it. But there is so strong a resistance to change in the official mind, with so stubborn and dogged a clinging to tradition, however evil, in the seamen, that sometimes I grow discouraged. Yet I must admit that the Admiral, though a difficult patient himself, supports me in all the reforms I try to introduce.'

'A difficult patient?'

'I should scarcely go too far if I were to say an impossible patient. Disobedient, masterful, doses himself. I have ordered him home I do not know how many times: I might as well have spoken to the ship's figurehead. I regret it extremely. But he tells me that he has consulted you before, you must know what kind of a patient he is.'

'What is his present state?'

Harrington made a hopeless gesture. 'When I have said that there is a tabes of the inferior members and a generalized severe and progressive lowering of the whole constitution I have said all I can usefully say.' He nevertheless went on to give a more detailed picture of decline: great loss of physical strength in spite of adequate digestive and eliminatory functions, a wasting of the legs, little or no exercise, occasional seasickness - disturbing after so many years at sea and dangerous in such a reduced condition -lack of sleep, extreme irascibility.'

'Is there any imbecility of will?'

'Heavens, no! His mind is as sharp and clear as ever it was. But his task is beyond the powers of a man his age - it is beyond the powers of a man of any age, that is not in perfect health. Can you imagine dealing not only with the management of a large and often troublesome fleet, but with all the affairs of the Mediterranean as well?-Particularly of the eastern Mediterranean, with its devious, shifting politics? He is at it fourteen and fifteen hours a day, hardly finding time to eat, still less to digest. And all this is required of a man whose education has been that of a sailor, no more: it is required of him for years on end. I wonder the strain has not killed him before this. My prescriptions, my bark and steel, may do some good; but short of going home there is only one thing that will set him squarely on his feet again.'

'What is that?'

'Why, an action with the French, a victorious fleet-action with the French. You spoke of the effect of mind upon matter just now: I am convinced that if the French were to come out of Toulon, and if they could be brought to action, Sir John would throw off his weakness; he would eat again, he would take exercise, he would be happy, vigorous, and young. I remember the change in Lord Howe after the First of June. He was about seventy and old for his age, sitting in an elbow-chair on the old Charlotte's quarterdeck at the beginning of the battle, mortally tired from want of sleep: by the end he was in the prime of life, following every move, giving the clear exact orders that won the victory. And so he continued, for years and years. Black Dick, we used to call him . . .' Dr Harrington looked at his watch. 'However,' he said, 'you will be seeing our patient in a little while, and perhaps you will put your finger on some peccant organ that I have missed. But before that I should like to show you a very odd case; a case, or rather a cadaver, that puzzles me.'

He led the way below, and there in a small triangular room lit by a scuttle, lay the case in question, a young man arched backwards so that only his head and heels touched the deck, his face set in so agonized a grin that his mouth reached almost to his ears. He was still in irons, and the ship being on an even keel the broad leg-shackles kept him in position.

'He was the Maltese clerk,' said Harrington, 'a linguist employed by the Admiral's secretary for Arabic documents and so on. There was some question of his having made a wrong use of them. I do not know the details, but they would have come out at the court-martial had he lived to stand his trial. What do you make of it?'

'I should have said tetanus without hesitation,' said Stephen, feeling the corpse. 'Here is the most characteristic opisthotonos you could possibly wish, the trismus, the risus sardonicus, the early rigor. Unless indeed he could have taken a wild overdose of St Ignatius' beans, or a decoction of their principle.'

'Just so,' said Harrington. 'But how could he have come at the draught with his hands in irons? It puzzles me.'

'Pass the word for Dr Maturin - pass the word for Dr Maturin.' The cry ran along the decks from the Admiral's cabin and reached them as they stood gazing at the corpse.

Stephen had seen a good deal of the Admiral in earlier years, when Sir John was a member of the Board of Admiralty, a junior lord who had to do with Intelligence. He knew the reason for Stephen's presence in the Mediterranean and he said, 'I understand your possible rendezvous on the French coast is not for the immediate future, and that you wish to go to Barcelona before that. Now as far as Barcelona is concerned, there is no difficulty: any one of the victuallers can set you down and bring you back to Mahon when you wish. But the French coast is clearly a matter for a man-of-war, and as I am very short of sloops and avisoes, I have it in contemplation to make the return of one of the ships of the line to Mahon coincide with your visit. Perhaps the Thunderer is most in need.'

'If her need is not particularly urgent, sir," said Stephen, 'I should infinitely prefer it if the Worcester might be sent. Indeed, from my point of view that would be the ideal solution. Taking me and those I may bring with me off that coast is likely to be a delicate business, and Captain Aubrey is used to expeditions of this kind: we have nearly always sailed together. He is also a very discreet man, which is a point of great importance for any future undertaking of a similar character.' The pug had been staring at Stephen from the time he came in, sniffing in his direction: now she walked across the deck, bowing and wagging what tail she possessed. She made a heavy spring into his lap, and sat there wheezing, gazing into his face and smelling strong.

'I know he is a fine seaman, and no one can possibly question his courage,' said the Admiral, with something like a smile lighting his grey face, 'but I do not believe that I have heard him called discreet before.'