Patrick O'Brian - H.M.S. Surprise

But Lord, the infinite possibilities of self-​deception - the difficulty of disentangling the countless strands of emotion and calling each by its proper name - of separating business from pleasure. At times, whatever he might say, he was surely lost in a cloud of unknowing; but at least it was a peaceful cloud at present and sailing through a milky sea towards a possible though unlikely ecstasy at an indefinite remove was, if not the fulness of life, then something like its shadow.

Peace, still deeper peace. The languid peace of the Arabian Sea in the south-​west monsoon; a wind as steady as the trades but gentler, so gentle that the battered Surprise had her topgallants abroad and even her lower studdingsails, for she was in an even greater hurry than usual. Her stores were so low now that for weeks past the gunroom had been living on ship’s provisions, salt beef, salt pork, biscuit and dried peas, and the midshipmen’s berth reported no single rat left alive: what was worse, Stephen and M’Alister had cases of scurvy on their hands once more.

But the lean years were thought to be almost over. At one time Harrowby had wished to steer for the Nine Degree Channel and the Laccadives; but Harrowby was an indifferent, timid navigator and Jack, overruling him, had laid her head for Bombay itself; and now they had been running north-​east by east so long that by dead reckoning the Surprise should have been a hundred miles east of the Western Ghauts, another Ark stranded in the hills of Poona. But consulting with Pullings, working his lunars again and again, dragging his brighter midshipmen repeatedly through the calculations in search of an error, worshipping his chronometers, and making the necessary corrections, Jack was almost certain of his position. Sea-​birds, native craft far off, a single merchantman that fled, crowding sail on the horizon without waiting to learn if they were French or English - the first sail they had seen in four months - and above all, soundings in eleven fathoms, a bottom of shelly white sand like Direction Bank, strengthened him in his persuasion that he was in 18¡34′ N, 72¡29′E, and that he should make his landfall the next day. He stood on the quarterdeck, glancing now over the side, now up at the masthead, where the sharpest eyes and the best glasses in the ship were trained steadily eastwards.

Stephen’s confidence in Captain Aubrey’s seamanship was as entire, as blind, as Jack’s in the medical omniscience of Dr Maturin; and untroubled by the cares that now oppressed his friend he sat in the mainchains, as naked as Adam and much the same colour, trailing a purse-​net in the sea.

The chains, broad planks jutting horizontally from the outside of the ship to spread the shrouds wider than her extreme breadth, provided the most comfortable seat imaginable; he had all the advantage of the sun, of solitude (for the chains were well below the rail), and of the sea, which ran curving past under his feet, sometimes touching them with a warm caress, sometimes sending an agreeable shower of spray over his person; and as he sat he sang ‘Asperges me, Domine, hyssopo - but those qualities were of course most apparent when she was poor lonely and oppressed what shall I find now? what, what development? if indeed I call? hyssopo et super nivem dealbabor.

Asperges me. . .’

A passing sea-​snake broke his song, one of the many he had seen and failed to catch: he veered out his line, willing the creature to enter the purse. But an empty purse had no charm for the serpent; it swam on with scarcely a hesitation in its beautiful proud easy glide.

Above and behind him he could hear Mr Hervey’s usually conciliating voice raised in passion, wanting to know whether those sweepers were ever coming aft -whether this bloody shambles was ever going to look like the deck of a man-​of-​war. Another voice, low, inward and confidential, was that of Babbington, who had borrowed Stephen’s Hindustani phrasebook: over and over again he was repeating ‘Woman, wilt thou lie with me?’ in that language, staring impatiently north-​eastwards. Like many sailors he could sense the loom of the land, a land with thousands of women upon it, every one of whom might perhaps lie with him.

‘No great guns this evening, Doctor,’ said Pullings, leaning over the rail. ‘We are priddying for tomorrow. I reckon we shall raise Malabar Hill before it’s dark, and the Admiral lays there in Bombay. We must be shipshape for the Admiral.’ Bombay: fresh fruit for his invalids, iced sherbets for all hands, enormous meals; the marvels of the East; marble palaces no doubt; the Parsees’ silent towers; the offices of the Commissioners for the former French settlements, counters and factories on the Malabar coast: the residence of Mr Commissioner Canning.

‘How happy you make me, Mr Pullings,’ said Stephen. ‘This will be the first evening since thirty south that we shall be spared that inhuman - hush, hush! Do not stir. I have it! Ha, ha, my friend: at last!’ He hauled in his line, and there in the net lay a sea-​snake, a slender animal, shining black and brilliant yellow, quite amazing.

‘Don’t ee touch her, Doctor,’ cried Pullings. ‘She’s a sea-​serpent.’

‘Of course she is a sea-​serpent. That has been the whole purpose of my fishing ever since we reached these waters. Oh what a lovely creature.’

‘Don’t cc touch her,’ cried Pullings again. ‘She’s deadly poison. I seen a man die in twenty minutes -,

‘Land ho,’ hailed the lookout. ‘Land broad on the starboard beam.’

‘Jump up to the masthead, Mr Pullings, if you please,’ said Jack, ‘and let me know what you see.’

A thunder of feet as the whole ship’s company rushed to stare at the horizon, and the Surprise took on a list to starboard. Stephen held his close-​meshed net at a prudent distance; the serpent writhed furiously, coiled and struck like a powerful spring released.

‘On deck there,’ roared Pullings. ‘It’s Malabar Hill itself, sir; and I see the island plain.’

The serpent, blind out of its own element, bit itself repeatedly, and presently it died. Before Stephen could bring it inboard, to its waiting jar of spirit, its colours were already fading: but as he climbed in over the rail, so a waft of air took the frigate’s sails aback, a breath of heavy air off the land, with a thousand unknown scents, the green smell of damp vegetation, palms, close-​packed humanity, another world.

Fresh fruit for the invalids, to be sure, and enormous meals for those who had time to eat them; but apart from the omnipresent smell and a little arrack that came aboard by stealth, the wonders of the East, the marble palaces, remained distant, half-​guessed objects for the Surprise. She was taken straight into the naval yard, and there they stripped her to the bone; they took out her guns and cleared her holds to come to her bottom, and what they found there made the master-​attendant clear the dry-​dock as fast as ever he could, to bring her in before she sank at her moorings.

The Admiral visited her in state; he was a jolly, rose-​pink admiral and he said the kindest things about the Surprise; but he instantly deprived Jack of his first lieutenant, appointing Mr Hervey to an eighteen-​gun sloop as master and commander, thereby throwing all the labour of refitting on to the captain’s shoulders.

The Admiral had a conscience, however; and he knew that Mr Stanhope was of some importance. He spoke the good word to the master-​attendant, and all the resources of a well-​equipped yard lay open to the Surprise. The daughter of the horse-​leech was moderation made flesh compared to Captain Aubrey let loose in a Tom Tiddler’s ground strewn with pitch, hemp, tow, cordage, sailcloth by the acre, copper in gleaming sheets, spars, blocks, boats and natural-​grown knees; and although he, too, was afire to wander on the coral strand beneath the coconut-​palms, he said, ‘While this lasts, not a man shall leave the ship. Gather ye rose-​pods while ye may, as dear Christy-​Pallire used to say.’