Patrick O'Brian - The surgeon's mate

'I am perfectly convinced of it, sir,' cried Mr Solmes, who could not fail to notice the stern voice and the way Captain Aubrey seemed to swell in size. 'And you will appreciate that I act under direction in dwelling on this point. Departmental rules have to be obeyed; and this is an exceptional case.'

'I cannot see where the exception lies,' said Jack. 'Plenty of enemy ships have been destroyed without a scrap of material evidence to prove they ever swam. I could cite a dozen precedents. The log and the unanimous statement of the officers has always been accepted. It is the immemorial custom of the service.'

'I quite agree," said Solmes. 'But - you will forgive me, Captain Aubrey - but in this case the statement of the officers is not quite unanimous: it is that which makes it so exceptional. We have received a communication from your former first lieutenant in which, among other things, he acquaints us with his impression that the vessel was a Dutch store-ship, armed en flute.'

'A store-ship?' cried Jack. 'The man is mad. I may not have seen the Waakzaamheid's name on her stern, but by God I saw her broadside: and tasted it, too. A post-captain of my service and seniority not to know a ship of the line when he sees one - not to know a seventy-four when he engages her! By God, sir, it is monstrous! The man is mad.'

'No doubt, sir, no doubt. But until he is certified insane we are bound by the rules to take notice of what he says. May I suggest that you procure affidavits from your surviving commissioned officers and warrant officers of wardroom rank? I see that you had Lieutenant Babbington, Lieutenant Byron, and the surgeon Maturin. Come in.'

The messenger came in: Admiral Dommet had heard that Captain Aubrey was with Mr Solmes: would be happy to see him when he was at liberty.

'Aubrey,' cried the Admiral, 'I am very happy to see you. We were just about to send when we heard you were already here - here already, in Whitehall! That is what I call a coincidence. You think of a man one minute, and you see him the next! It almost makes you believe in crystal-gazers. Well now, the point is this: there is a delicate, pressing piece of work that calls for a cool, experienced hand. It was suggested that you might not like being offered a sloop, but I said "Pooh, pooh, Aubrey don't have to stand on his dignity - Aubrey don't top it the Great Mogul - Aubrey would take a punt against the enemy, so long as there was a gun in it". Ain't I right, Aubrey?'

'Quite right, sir,' said Jack. 'And I am obliged for your good opinion of me.' He knew very well that this was the Admiral's idea of deep manipulation: in the circumstances he did not resent it at all. 'May I ask what sloop, sir?'

'Ariel,' said the Admiral. 'She is lying at the Nore.

You can post down and catch the morning tide. God send the wind stays in the south-west.'

'May I not pick up my dunnage, sir, and have a word with my wife?'

'Heavens, no, Aubrey. This is an urgent business, as I said - I will telegraph Portsmouth and they will tell her to expect you back next month with a feather in your cap - but time and tide wait for no man, you know.'

'No, sir,' said Jack; and not to be outdone he added, 'And they say that a feather in the cap is worth two in the bush.'

'Ay, so they do. Well, come now: we must not lose a minute. The First Lord wishes to see you.'

In far graver, far more measured terms the First Lord told Captain Aubrey all that he had already heard from Stephen and Admiral Dommet, congratulated him on his escape from America, on having been present at the noble victory, and on his readiness to set formality and his own convenience aside for the good of the service; stated that it was of course fully understood that the command of the Ariel in no way represented the Board's estimate of Captain Aubrey's merits; and finished by saying that although no promises could be made at this stage, there was a possibility of his being offered one of the new heavy frigates now preparing for the North American station on his return. Captain Aubrey's orders would be sent to him as soon as they were written out; and if he would like to save coach-hire, he might choose to travel down with the King's Messenger, who would be setting out shortly after dinner.

'I should have asked when King's Messengers were fed,' thought Jack, walking quickly along the Strand. 'Are they fashionable eight o'clock coves, or are they not?'

He was not himself a fashionable cove, nor was his stomach: years of life at sea had trained it to expect its due at the old-fashioned early naval hour and to cry out when that hour was past. It had been past for some time now, and on entering the Grapes he too cried out 'Mrs Broad, Mrs Broad, there. Please to put dinner in hand directly. I faint, ma'am, I fail. Where is the Doctor?'

'It is all laid in the snug, Capting, and only waits on the Doctor's pleasure. He is upstairs with a foreign young gentleman, talking foreign twenty to the dozen.'

'Such a sweet young gentleman,' observed Lucy through the hatch.

'If I have told him once,' said Mrs Broad, 'I have told him ten times. No joint, no, nor no fowl, will bear such treatment. I will call him again.'

'Let me go up, Aunt Broad,' cried Lucy, darting from behind the bar.

Jack walked into the snug, seized a piece of bread and ate it. A few moments later Stephen came in, followed by the sweet young gentleman, a slim officer in a mauve coat with silver lace; he had surprisingly golden hair, bright blue eyes, large and set wide-apart, and a complexion that any girl might have envied. His air was modest, but by no means unmanly: Lucy gazed steadily at him with her mouth open, standing ready to pull out his chair, while Stephen said, 'Allow me to present Monsieur Jagiello, of the Swedish service: Captain Aubrey, of the Royal Navy.'

Jagiello bowed, blushed, and said that he was deeply honoured, most sensible of the occasion.

The meal began. Jack set the young man at his right hand and entertained him with small but civil talk, to which Jagiello responded in fluent, almost perfect English, with only the occasional confusion of v and w or j and y that made the native agreeably aware of his superiority. Stephen said nothing except during a silent pause: Jagiello was carving a fowl; Lucy and Deborah could be heard quarrelling about who should bring the next dish in; and in a quick aside Jack told him 'that they had their marching orders'. 'So I understand,' he replied. 'Monsieur Jagiello accompanies us.'

'I am heartily glad of it,' said Jack, who had taken a liking to the young man. 'I hope, sir, you are a good sailor?'

Before Jagiello could answer an Admiralty messenger came in, brought by both Deborah and Lucy, and delivered his official packet into Jack's own hands; the messenger had to find his own way out, however, since both girls stayed to stare at Jagiello in a very simple, moon-struck fashion, until Mrs Broad's voice called them about their business. Even then they kept coming in and out on one pretext or another - more salt, more gravy, a little mustard, would the gentlemen like more bread? -but at the end of dinner they had a far more valid excuse, since Jack always liked to do foreigners honour in his own country, and his favourite way of doing so was to fill them with as much port wine as ever they could hold, so that while they waited for the King's Messenger the bottles came in, pint after pint, a most surprising number.

Jagiello held it very well, but in time his beautiful complexion became pinker, his blue eyes brighter still, and he himself grew musical: he had spoken of English popular songs with an appreciation not far from enthusiasm, and now, after a proper reluctance, he obliged the company with The Lady and Death in a pure, true-pitched tenor. Chevy Chase followed, and All in the Downs, with Jack's deep voice making the glasses rattle, while Stephen's harsh and disagreeable croak convulsed the maidens clinging to one another just outside the door.