Patrick O'Brian - Desolation island

twenty-four-pounders bowsed up against the tight-shut ports; down again to the orlop and the cable tiers, where Jack called for a hold-lantern: only a very dim light came down through the gratings overhead, and since this part of the ship had been fitted up for the convicts he no longer knew just how things lay. He paused at the head of the ladder leading down to the forepeak, and considered.

Although he was sole captain, under God, aboard the Leopard, this was another world, a living-space inconveniently cut out of his kingdom, and one that was, to be transported to New Holland with the utmost dispatch, there to be emptied and restored to its true function as part of a man-of-war. A self-sufficient world, with its own stores, its own immediate authorities; one with which he came into contact only through the superintendent, who, with his subordinates, dealt with all problems that might arise. A numerous world, however, for although it had at first been considered that half a dozen convicts would serve as a sufficient blind to cover Mrs Wogan's transportation - to make it seem something other than the most exceptional measure that in fact it was - some of the other bodies or departments concerned had been unable to resist adding to the number, so that it had grown to well above a score, with a superintendent, a surgeon, and a chaplain, besides the usual guards or turnkeys, to look after them. And all these people, the convicted and the unconvicted, inhabited the forward part of the orlop and the forepeak, under the waterline, where they could not get in the way of the working or the fighting of the ship, and where, he had hoped, they could be forgotten. The chaplain and the surgeon were allowed to walk the quarterdeck, but the remaining free men, including the furiously indignant superintendent, were obliged to take the air on the forecastle; while they also messed together in what had been the bosun's cabin.

"That is where the women are stowed," he observed, nodding towards the carpenter's store.

"Are there many?" asked Stephen.

"Three," said Jack, "and another farther aft. Mrs XA'ogan is her name.' Ile collected himself, cried, "Below there! Show a glim," set his foot on the ladder and ran down. Forward of the bitt-pins stretched a curving, triangular space, whitened, barred with iron across its after end, and lit with three dim lanterns. Underfoot lay a mass of straw, floating a foot deep in bilge and liquid filth that heaved with the heaving of the ship, and all about it lay men in the various attitudes of extreme prostration; some few squatted against the step of the foremast; many were still uttering the hoarse sounds of sea sickness; all were beyond caring where they lay or crouched; and all were wearing irons. The stench was appalling, and the air so foul that when Jack lowered his lantern the flame guttered,burning faint and blue. The Marines were lined up outside the cage: inside, near the door, stood their sergeant and a couple of guards, standing over the body of the superintendent. The man's head had been battered to a pulp and it was clear to Stephen that he had been dead some time, probably since the beginning of the storm.

"Sergeant," said Jack, "Jump aft - Mr Larkin and the mate of the hold. Mr Pullings, twenty swabbers immediately. The channels and pump-dales are choked with all this straw: they must be cleared. Sailcloth and the sailmaker for the body. Do you wish to examine it, Doctor?"

"No further, sir," said Stephen, bending low and rolling back an eyelid. "I know all I need to know. But may I suggest that these men should be be carried up at once, and that a wind-sail should be installed? This air is mortal."

"Make it so, Mr Pullings," said Jack. "And let a hose be shipped in the head, to lead down through the mangerscuttle: that will give us a clear run to the forward well. Tell the carpenter to leave everything and repair the forward chain-pump.' Turning to the civilians, he said,

"Do you know who did this?"

No, they said, they did not: they had looked at all the irons, as far as they could, what with being hardly able to move themselves and having no orders, like, but in all this wet and filth, why, one pair of irons was much the same as another. In a low voice, jerking his head towards a huge raw-boned man who lay almost naked, utterly indifferent as the lapping surge turned his body from side to side, one of them said, "I think it was him, sir. The big 'un. And his mates."

Mr Larkin, the master of the Leopard, came running down the ladder, followed by the mate. Jack cut their exclamations very short, gave a number of sharp, clear orders, and turning to the hatchway roared, "Swabbers, bear a hand there, swabbers. Bear a hand, God damn you all," in a voice that could be heard on the poop.

As soon as the sickening work was well in hand, he told the senior turnkey to follow him, and propelled Stephen up the ladder into the comparative light and purity of the cable-tier. Here there was much less water, but on the other hand many more rats were to be seen; for as usual during a really heavy blow, the hold rats had moved up a stage or two, and the Leopard's motion being still so brisk, they had not yet seen fit to go down again. Jack gave one an expert kick as he stopped at the door of the carpenter's storeroom and bade the turnkey open it. Here again was something like the same mess of straw, but the women's pallets had disintegrated less, and it was drier by far: two of the women were barely conscious, but a third, a girl with a broad, simple face, sat up, blinking in the light, and asked 'was it nearly over yet?" adding, "We ain't had no food, gentleman, not for days and days."

Jack told her it would be seen to, and said, "You must put on your frock."

"I ain't got no clothes left," she replied. "They stole my blue and the yellow cambric with muslin sleeves my lady gave me. Where's my lady, gentleman?"

"God help us," he muttered as they made their way aft, past the huge cables, still smelling of Portsmouth mud - plenty of rats among the tiers - past the carpenter's crew working on the forward chain-pump, and towards the after cockpit.

"This is where we put the other one," he said, "the Mrs Wogan that was to berth alone.' He rapped on the door and called out, "Is all well there?"

A sound within, but indistinct. The man opened the door and Jack walked in. Ile saw a young lady sitting in a trim cabin, eating Naples biscuits from the top of a locker by the light of a candle. She was looking indignantly, even fiercely, at the door; but when he said, "Good morning, ma'am. I trust I see you well?" she rose, curtsied, and replied, "Thank you, sir. I am quite recovered."

An awkward pause followed: physically awkward, because the beam of the lower deck that traversed the little cabin, or rather the large cupboard, obliged Jack to adopt a hangdog stoop as he stood there just inside the door, blocking it entirely - the space was so small that he could scarcely advance another yard without coming into direct contact with Mrs Wogan; and morally awkward because he could not think of what to say, could not think how to tell this obviously well-bred young woman, who stood there, looking modestly down, and who had come through so rough a time so creditably - neat bunk, neat counterpane, all dunnage stowed away - that her candle, her only light, could not possibly be countenanced, that showing a naked light, above all a naked light no very great way from the powder-room, was the most criminal act aboard a ship. He gazed earnestly at the flame, and said, "However.' But this led to nothing, and after a moment Mrs Wogan said, "Will not you sit down, sir? I am sorry that I have no more than a stool to offer you."

"You are very good, ma'am," said Jack, "but I fear I am not at leisure. A lantern, however - just so, a lantern slung from the beam. You would be much better, with a lantern