Patrick O'Brian - Desolation island

Mr Jay's mission and then to another in St Petersburg, where he may yet remain. Has published a comedy, The Distressed Lovers, under the name of John Doe, and a volume of poems, Thoughts on Liberty, by a Lady. Why, why did Blaine not find me copies? Nothing betrays a man like his book. Means of support unknown: irregular remittances from Philadelphia: considered an unsound risk by Morgan and Levy and the principal London money-lenders: presumably combines the higher prostitution with intelligence."

A more than usually thunderous din made his ink-horn tremble. He thrust his balls of wax still deeper into his ears, but it was no use. The Leopard's last boat-loads of water were coming aboard, the great casks plunging from the main-hatch into her bowels and there rolling to their place, growling as they went, ton after ton ranged in the echoing hold, bung up and bilge free. At the same time her people prepared to unmoor, and shortly after the last boat had been hoisted in, her eighteen-inch cables began to fill the tiers, bringing with them a great deal of water and the distinctive smell of Porto Praya ooze, which at least made a change in the stagnant fetor of the orlop. Few naval operations are carried out in silence, and now the tierers worked with a rhythmic howl, interspersed with oaths, while the fifer on the capstan-head blew with all his might, and the hands at the bar were encouraged to 'stamp and go, stamp and go' by men with brazen lungs: orders echoed from the quarterdeck and the forecastle, and above all an enormous voice cried passionately, "Will you light along those - nippers, there?" There was indeed far more noise than usual, since all Jack's care had not kept the hands from the distillery; and while many of them were partly dazed, others were so elevated that they grew jocose, tripping their mates, adopting antic postures, affecting lameness or even palsy, and laughing immoderately.

Yet eventually the clamour died away, and when

Stephen came on deck he found all the visible Leopards but six busy coiling down, fishing the anchors, and clearing away: the six lay in the lee gangway, and a swabber phlegmatically directed a hose upon them, while his companions worked the head-pump. The sober Leopards had made sail; the topgallants had been sheets home an hour ago and the little town was far astern: overhead white clouds moved steadily south-west across a deep blue sky; the air was warm but brisk, most gratefully fresh after the sheltered anchorage; and as he gazed about he saw the first tropic-bird of their voyage, gleaming white in the sun: the yellow-billed tropic-bird, clipping fast away to the south with strong quick strokes, its long tall stiff behind. He watched it out of sight, and walked forward to the convicts' sickbay.

It smelt strongly of the vinegar with which he had had it washed; the fresh white paint made it fairly light; it was as clean as the swabber's art could make it; and pure sea-air came down through the windsail. The patients were still much the same: three men in a low fever, with grave prostration, a weak thready intermittent pulse, fetid breath, severe headache, contracted pupils. The same disease was on all three: but what disease? Its course was following no description that he or Martin or the Phoebe's two surgeons had ever read. Yet as he leant over them, watching intently, he felt that the fever would soon declare itself, that the crisis was not far distant, and that in a little while he would not only know his enemy but have the power of bringing all his allies into action. "Carry on with the slime-draughts, Soames,"he said to the attendant, and stepped aft to the other bay. The only man there, apart from Herapath, was his old shipmate Jackruski, a Pole, in a deep alcoholic coma once again. "How their bodies stand it," he said, "I cannot tell. I can but suppose that sea-air, one solid meal a day, more or less continual damp, heavy labour, no more than four hours of uninterrupted sleep at a time, and that taken in such a-tight-packed crowd of

unwashed sweating bodies as would be thought severe in a Dublin doss-house, must be what the human frame in fact requires to keep it thoroughly robust; and that our notions of hygiene are quite fallacious. Herapath, how do you do?"

"Far better, sir, I thank you," said Herapath.

Stephen peered into his eyes, felt his head and took his pulse, and said, "Show me your hands. Still more raw flesh than undamaged skin, I see. You will have to wear mittens, when you hale upon a rope again: canvas mittens, until the horny integument shall have had time to grow. Will you take off your shirt, now? You are strangely emaciated, Herapath, and must put on some flesh before you return to your labours: our diet may not be delicate, but it is wholesome, and as you see, men may thrive with nothing else. It will never do, to be over-nice. A proud stomach will not answer, Herapath."

"No, sir," said Herapath, and he murmured something about 'biscuit excellent - he ate any amount of biscuit, when off duty' before saying, "Might I beg you to advise me, sir?" Stephen gave him a questioning, noncommittal look, and he went on, "I should like to thank the Captain for taking me from the water. But I do not know whether I should address him through my immediate superior, nor whether it would be proper at all - I am at a loss."

"In service matters, the first lieutenant, Mr Pullings, would be the intermediary, I believe: yet since your relationship with the Captain was in the ocean, rather than aboard, and was therefore that of one private person with another, it seems to me that a direct acknowledgement on your part would be perfectly proper. And if, as I suppose, that note is intended for the Captain, I will undertake to be your messenger."

Carrying the note, Stephen unlocked Mrs Wogan, and, roaring above the din of the carpenter's crew nailing sheet-tin to the outside of her cabin, stated that if she were at leisure, he proposed attending her to the poop. He noticed that she looked less composed than usual, and that

there was a singular tension on the silent quarterdeck as they made their way across it. A small awning had been rigged for her, and as its shade fell amidships, there she took her paces walking round and round the cabin skylight. After a while she said hesitantly, "I hope your patient is doing well, sir?"

"Which patient, ma'am?"

"The young man with long curling hair; the young man the Captain saved so heroically when he fell into the sea."

"Young Icarus? I never noticed that his hair curled. Oh, he comes along, sure: only a few ribs stove, and what are a few ribs? We all have four and twenty, whatever Genesis may say. We shall pull him through this awkward pass; but sometimes I fear that we shall do so only to see him deperish from mere inanition and want of nourishment - such a waste of all our effort. That reminds me, I have a note from him to the Captain. Pray forgive me."

Ile walked down the poop ladder to the cabin door, but there the Marine sentry stopped him: only Captain Moore could be received at present. Ile returned in time to point out another tropic-bird, and he was speaking with somewarmth of their nesting-habits when below them the sentry clashed his musket, opened the door, and cried, "Captain Moore, sir."

"Captain Moore," said Jack, "I have sent for you because it has come to my knowledge that certain officers have seen fit to disobey my express orders, and to attempt to enter into communication with the female prisoner abaft the cable-tiers."

Moore's face flushed as red as his coat and then turned whitey-yellow. "Sir," he said.

"You are aware of the consequences of disobedience to orders, Captain Moore, I believe . . . "

"Perhaps we had better move away," said Mrs Wogan. But it was no use: Jack Aubrey's strong voice, though inaudible on the quarterdeck because of the intervening sleeping and dining cabins, came up through the skylight