Patrick O'Brian - The fortune of war

He stared stupidly at the paper for some moments and then wrote: Jack, I have been obliged to kill two Frenchmen here. There are other Frenchmen below and I cannot get out - they tried to kill me this morning. I must get Diana out of here at any cost at all, and some papers and myself if it can be done. Wogan will not do - do not tell Herapath this - nor the Asciepia. Choate might find Diana a refuge or Fr Costello, who is to marry me. I am not myself. Jack, do what you can. The big porter might prove a friend.

'Mr Herapath,' he said, coming back, 'might I beg you to give this to Captain Aubrey as soon as ever you can reach him? It is of the very last importance to me, or I should not trouble you.'

'With all my heart,' said Herapath.

They were alone, and Diana moved about the room, lighting candles, drawing curtains. She looked at him from time to time and said, 'My God, Stephen, I have never seen you look so down, or low, or such a wretched colour. Have you had anything to eat today?'

'Not a thing,' he said, trying to smile.

'I shall order a meal at once. And while it is coming, lie on my bed and have a drink. You look as if you could do with it. I shall have one too.'

He did as he was told - his head was furiously painful now - but he said, 'No food.'

'You do not like to see me drinking, do you?' she said, pouring out the bourbon.

'No,' said he. 'You are a fool to your complexion, Villiers.'

'Is whisky bad for it?'

'Spirits harden tissues, sure: that is a fact.'

'I only drink any when I am excited, as I am now, or when I am low. Still, as I have been low ever since I came here, I dare say I must have swallowed gallons. But I will not be low with you, Stephen.' A long silence, and she went on. 'Do you remember, years and years ago, you asked me whether I had read Chaucer, and I said "Filthy old Chaucer?" and you abused me for it? Well, at least he did say "In woman vinolent is no defence. Thus knoweth lechers by experience..."'

'Diana,' he said abruptly, 'do you know anyone in America - have you any sure friend that you can trust, that you can run to?'

'No,' she said, surprised. 'Not a single soul. How could I, in my position? Why do you ask?'

'You were so kind as to write me a letter yesterday, a very, very kind letter.'

'Yes?'

'It never reached me. I found it on Johnson's desk, next to your diamonds.'

'Oh my God,' she said, quite deadly pale.

'Clearly we must be away before he returns,' said Stephen. 'I have sent to Jack, to see what he can do. If he can do nothing, why, there are other possibilities.' Maybe there were: but what were they, apart from a wild flight in the dark? His mind could not, or would not, grapple with the problem hard and tight: clear, prolonged incisive thought was beyond his power.

'I don't care,' she said, taking his hand. 'I don't mind, so long as you are there.'

CHAPTER EIGHT

'Captain Aubrey, if you please,' said Michael Herapath.

'What name?' asked the porter.

'Herapath.'

'You are not Mr Herapath.'

Looking into those black implacable eyes Herapath replied, 'I am George Herapath's son. I have brought the Captain a message from Doctor Maturin.'

'I will take it up. No visitors are allowed.'

Shortly afterwards he reappeared with a nurse and said in a more human tone, 'Ascend. Miss will show you the way.'

'Mr Herapath,' cried Jack, holding out his hand, 'I am heartily glad to see you.' And when the door had closed, 'Come, sit close by my bed. Is the Doctor hurt?'

'Not that I could see, sir. But he was strangely slow: dazed, I might say.'

'Did you see any Frenchmen as you came away from the hotel?'

'Yes, sir. It is their general rendezvous, and there were eight or nine of them sitting about the lobby, soldiers and civilians.' His former captain had always been a formidable figure to Michael Herapath; he was still more so now, as he sat straight up in his bed, looking larger and broader and more angry than ever he had done aboard the Leopard, and when, after a dark, brooding pause, he said in that strong, decided voice of his, 'Reach me my shirt and breeches, will you?' Herapath did so without protest. He did cry out however when Jack plucked off his sling and thrust his injured arm into the sleeve. 'Surely, sir, Doctor Maturin would never allow...'

The only reply was 'My coat and shoes are in that tall locker. Mr Herapath, is your father at home?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Then be so good as to give me an arm down the stairs and to show me the way to his house. God damn and blast this buckle.' Herapath knelt to fasten it, reached Jack his pistol, and helped him down the stairs. 'Not,' as Jack observed, 'that I am not spry enough; but when you have been laid up a while, sometimes you are unsteady when it comes to a flight of steps. And I would not stumble now, by God.'

But in the hall the porter stopped them. 'You are not allowed out,' he said, his hand on the lever that controlled the door.

Jack compelled his face to assume what amiability it could, and he said, 'I am only going to take a turn, to see Doctor Maturin.' His left hand clenched round the barrel of his pistol, and he measured the force of the blow he should have to give to disable such a powerful man. 'The Doctor is in some trouble,' he added, remembering Stephen's note.

The Indian opened the door. 'If he needs me,' he said without any change of expression, 'I am his man. I am free in half an hour: less, if necessary.'

Jack shook his hand, and they walked out into the fog, as thick now as it had been in the morning. 'Do you know, those damned French dogs set upon him this morning. They mean to kill him if they can. It is like attacking a ship in a neutral port. God rot their...

The rest of his words were lost in a deep growl of blasphemy.

Yet on the surface he was calm enough by the time they reached the house. He asked Herapath to go in first and tell his father he wished to see him alone, and when he was shown into the study he found the big man there, looking concerned, surprised, but welcoming.

'I am delighted to see you in my house, Captain Aubrey,' he said. 'Pray sit down, and take a glass of port. I do hope and trust that this is not imprudent, in such a fog, with your...'

'Mr Herapath, sir,' said Jack, 'I am come to your house, because you are a man I trust and esteem. I am come to ask you a service, and I know that if you cannot do it, if you must decline, you will not blab.'

'You do me honour, sir,' said Herapath, looking at him hard, 'and I am obliged to you for your confidence. Please to name the service: if it is a matter of discounting a bill, even an important bill, set your mind at rest.'

'You are very good, but it is far more than any bill that I could draw.' Herapath looked grave. Jack considered for a moment and said, 'You showed me two fine barques of yours, Mr Herapath, tied up not far from the Asclepia. Now when they were sailing, before this accursed war, I dare say your masters did not care to have all their best hands impressed. I dare say they had their hiding-holes.'

'That may be so,' said Herapath, his head cocked to one side.

'And knowing you, sir, I dare say they were about the best hiding-holes that could be devised.' Herapath smiled. 'Now I will not beat about the bush: I will tell you straight out, my friend Maturin is beset by a gang of Frenchmen who mean to kill him. He is gone to ground at Franchon's hotel, and he cannot stir. I mean to get him out, and with your leave, I mean to hide him in one of your barques.' He saw agreement and relief flood over Herapath's enormous purplish face. 'But that is not all. I must be quite open and candid with you. He has also knocked a couple of them on the head: the others do not know it yet, I am sure, but it cannot be long concealed. He also wishes to take an English lady with him, a cousin of my wife's, to whom he is contracted in marriage, Mrs Villiers.'