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

‘He is waiting for Berceau to come up,’ said Jack. ‘We shall not see him for an hour or two. What do you say, sir, to a turn on deck?’

Left alone, the midshipman silently devoured the remains of the pudding, pocketed two French rolls, and darted after his captain, who was standing with the commodore on the poop, watching the last boats pull away from the line, filled with passengers bound for the hypothetical safety of the leeward division.

‘I cannot tell you, sir,’ said Muffit in a low voice, ‘what a feeling of peace it gives me to see them go: deep, abiding peace. You gentlemen have your admirals and commissioners, no doubt, and indeed the enemy to bring your spirits low; but passengers . . . “Captain, there are mice in this ship! They have ate my bonnet and two pairs of gloves. I shall complain to the directors: my cousin is a director, sir.” “Captain, why cannot I get a soft-​boiled egg in this ship? I told the young man at India House my child could not possibly be expected to digest a hard yolk.” “Captain, there are no cupboards, no drawers in my cabin, nowhere to hang anything, no room, no room, no room, d’ye hear me, sir?” There will be all the room you merit where you are going to - ten brimstone shrews packing into one cabin in a country ship, ha ha. How I love to see ‘em go; the distance cannot be too great for me.’

‘Let us increase it, then. Give them leave to part company, throw out the signal to tack in succession again, and there you have two birds in one bush. It is a poor heart that never rejoices.’

The flags ran up, the ships to leeward acknowledged and made sail, and the line prepared to go about. First the Alfred, then the Coutts, then the Wexford, and now the Lushington: as she approached the troubled wake where the Wexford had begun her turn, Mr Muffit took over from his chief mate and put her about himself, smooth, steady, and exact. The Lushington swung through ninety degrees and the Surprise came into view on her port bow.

The sight of her low checkered hull and her towering masts lifted Jack’s heart, and his grave face broke into a loving smile; but after this second’s indulgence his eyes searched beyond her, and there, clear on the horizon, were the topgallantsails of Linois’s squadron.

The Lushington steadied on her course. Mr Muffit stepped back from the rail, mopping his face, for the turn had brought the sun full on to the poop, where the awning had long since been replaced by splinter-​netting, which gave no protection from the fiery beams:

he hurried to the side and stood watching the centre and the rear. The line was re-​formed, heading south-​east with the larboard tacks aboard, a line of ships a mile and a half long, lying between the enemy and the rest of the convoy, a line of concentrated fire, nowhere strong, but moderately formidable from its quantity and from the mutual support of the close order. A trim line, too: the Ganges and the Bombay Castle were sagging away a little to leeward, but their intervals were correct. The East India captains could handle their ships, of that there was no doubt. They had performed this manoeuvre three times already and never had there been a blunder nor even a hesitation. Slow, of course, compared with the Navy; but uncommon sure. They could handle their ships: could they fight them too? That was the question.

‘I admire the regularity of your line, sir,’ said Jack. ‘The Channel fleet could not keep station better.’

‘I am happy to hear you say so,’ said Muffit. ‘We may not have your heavy crews, but we do try to do things seaman-​like. Though between you and me and the binnacle,’ he added in a personal aside, ‘I dare say the presence of your people may have something to do with it. There is not one of us would not sooner lose an eye-​tooth than miss stays with a King’s officer looking on.’

‘That reminds me,’ said Jack, ’should you dislike wearing the King’s coat for the occasion, you and the gentlemen who are to have pendants? Linois is devilish sly, and if his

spyglass picks up the Company’s uniform in ships that are supposed to be men-​of-​war, he will smoke what we are about: it might encourage him to make a bolder stroke than we should care for.’

It was a wounding suggestion; it was not happily expressed; Muffit felt it keenly. He weighed the possible advantage, the extreme gravity of the situation, and after a moment he said he should be honoured - most happy.

‘Then let us recall the frigate, and I will send across all the coats we possess.’

The Surprise came running down the wind, rounded-​to outside the line and lay there with her foretopsail to the mast, looking as easy and elegant as a thoroughbred.

‘Good-​bye, Captain Muffit,’ said Jack, shaking his hand. ‘I do not suppose we shall see one another again before the old gentleman is with us: but we are of one mind, I am sure. And you must allow me to add, that I am very happy to have such a colleague.’

‘Sir,’ said Captain Muffit, with an iron grasp, ‘you do mc altogether too much honour’

The lively pleasure of being aboard his own ship again -her quick life and response after the heavy deliberation of the Indiaman - her uncluttered decks, a clean sweep fore and aft - the perfect familiarity of everything about her, including the remote sound of Stephen’s ‘cello somewhere below, improvising on a theme Jack knew well but could not name.

The frigate moved up to the head of the line, and on his strangely thin quarterdeck - only the more vapid youngsters left and the master, apart from Etherege and Stourton - he listened to his first lieutenant’s report of Linois’s motions. The report confirmed his own impressions: the Admiral had gathered his force, and his apparent delay was in fact an attempt at gaining the weather-​gauge and at making sure of what he was about before committing himself.

‘I dare say he will put about as soon as ever he fetches our wake,’ he observed, ‘and then he will move faster. But even so, I doubt be will be up with us much before sunset.’ He gave directions for making free with all the officer’s coats aboard and walked over to the taffrail, where Mr White was standing alone, disconsolate and wan.

‘I believe, sir, this is your first taste of warfare,’ he said. ‘I am afraid you must find it pretty wearisome, with no cabin and no proper meals.’

‘Oh, I do not mind that in the least, sir,’ cried the chaplain. ‘But I must confess that in my ignorance I had expected something more shall I say exciting? These slow, remote manoeuvres, this prolonged anxious anticipation, formed no part of my image of a battle. Drums and trumpets, banners, stirring exhortations, martial cries, a plunging into the thick of the fray, the shouting of captains - this, rather than interminable waiting in discomfort, in suspended animation, had been my uninformed idea. You will not misunderstand me if I say, I wonder you can stand the boredom.’

‘It is use, no doubt. War is nine parts boredom, and we grow used to it in the service. But the last hour makes up for all, believe me. I think you may be assured of some excitement tomorrow, or perhaps even this evening. No trumpets, I am afraid, nor exhortations, but I shall do my best in the shouting line, and I dare say you will find the guns dispel the tedium. You will like that, I am sure: it raises a man’s spirits amazingly.’

‘Your remark is no doubt very just; and it reminds me of my duty. Would not a spiritual, as well as a physical preparation be proper?’

‘Why,’ said Jack, considering, ‘we should all be most grateful, I am sure, for a Te Deum when the business is done. But at this moment, I fear it is not possible to rig church.’ He had served under blue-​light captains and he had gone into bloody action with psalms drifting in the wake, and he disliked it extremely. ‘But if it were possible,’ he went on, ‘and if I may say so without levity, I should pray for a swell, a really heavy swell. Mr Church, signal tack in succession. All hands about ship.’ He mounted the hammock-​netting to watch the brig that lay outside the line, where all the long file could see her: