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

‘What the devil are you about, sir?’ cried Canning from the open door.

‘What is that to you, sir?’ said Stephen, turning sharp upon him.

‘Mrs Villiers is under my protection,’ said Canning. He was pale with fury.

‘I give no explanations to anyman for kissing a woman, unless it is his wife.’

‘Do you not?’

‘I do not, sir. And what does your protection amount to? You know very well Mrs Canning will be here in the Hastings on the sixteenth. Where is your protection then? What kind of consideration is this?’

‘Is that true, Canning?’ cried Diana.

Canning flushed deeply. ‘You have been tampering with my papers, Maturin. Your man Atkins has been tampering with my papers.’ He stepped forward and in his passion he gave Stephen a furious open-​handed blow.

Instantly Diana thrust a table between them and pushed Canning back, crying out, ‘Pay no attention, Stephen. He does not mean it - it is the heat - he is drunk - he will apologise. Leave the house at once, Canning. What do you mean by this low vulgar brawling? Are you a groom, a pot-​boy? You are ridiculous.’

Stephen stood with his hands behind his back: he, too, was very pale, apart from the red print of Canning’s hand.

Canning, at the door, snatched up a chair and beat it on the ground: he wrenched the back apart, flung it down, and ran out.

‘Stephen,’ said Diana, ‘do not notice it. Do not, do not fight him. He will apologise - he will certainly apologise. Oh, do not fight him - promise me. He will apologise.’

‘Perhaps he will, my dear,’ said Stephen. ‘He is in a sad way entirely, poor fellow.’ He opened the window. ‘I believe I will go out this way, if I may: I do not altogether trust your tigers.’

‘Captain Etherege, sir,’ he said, ‘will you do me a service, now?’

‘With all the pleasure in life,’ said Etherege, turning his round benevolent face from the scuttle, where he held it in the hope of air.

‘Something happened today that caused me uneasiness. I must beg you to call upon Mr Canning and desire him to give me satisfaction for a blow.’

‘A blow?’ cried Etherege, his face instantly changing to a look of profound concern. ‘Oh dear me. No apology in that case, I presume? But did you say Canning? Ain’t he a Jew? You don’t have to fight a Jew, Doctor. You must not put your life at risk for a Jew. Let a file of Marines tan his unbelieving hide and ram a piece of bacon down his throat, and leave it at that.’

‘We see things differently,’ said Stephen. ‘I have a particular devotion to Our Lady, who was a Jewess, and I cannot feel my race superior to her; besides, I feel for the man; I will fight him with the best will in the world.’

‘You do him too much honour,’ said Etherege, dissatisfied and upset. ‘But you know your own business best, of course. You cannot be expected to stomach a blow. And yet again, having to fight a commercial fellow is like being forced into an unequal match, or having to marry a maid-​servant because you have got her with child. Should you not like to fight someone else? Well, I shall have to put on my regimentals. I should not do it for anyone but you, Maturin, not in this damned heat. I hope he can find a second that understands these things, a Christian, that’s all.’ He went to his cabin, worried and displeased; reappeared in his red coat, already damp with sweat, and putting his head through the door he made a last appeal. ‘Are you sure you would not like to fight somebody else? A bystander, say, who saw the blow?’

‘It might not have quite the same effect,’ said Stephen, shaking his head. ‘And Etherege, I may rely upon your discretion, of course?’

‘Oh, I know what o’clock it is,’ said Etherege crossly. ‘As early as possible, I suppose? Will dawn suit?’ and Stephen heard him muttering ‘Obstinate - don’t listen to reason -pig-​headed,’ as he went down the gangway.

‘What is the matter with our lobster?’ asked Pullings, coming into the gunroom. ‘I have never seen him so hellfire grum. Has he caught the prickly heat?’

‘He will be cooler, and more collected, in the evening.’

On his return Etherege was much cooler, and almost satisfied. ‘Well, at least he has some respectable friends,’ he said. ‘I spoke to Colonel Burke, of the Company’s service, a very gentlemanlike man, quite the thing, and we agreed on pistols, at twenty paces. I hope that suits?’

‘Certainly. I am obliged to you, Etherege.’

‘The only thing I have left to do, is to view the ground:

we agreed to meet after the Chief Justice’s party, when it will be cooler.’

‘Oh, never trouble your kind heart, Etherege; I shall be content with any usual ground.’

Etherege frowned, and said, ‘No, no. I do hate any irregularity in affairs of this kind. It is strange enough already, without the seconds not viewing the ground.’

‘You are too good. I have prepared you a bowl of iced punch: pray drink off a glass or so.’

‘You have been preparing your pistols, too,’ said Etherege, nodding at the open case. ‘I do recommend corning the powder uncommon fine - but I am not to tell you anything about powder and shot. This is capital punch: I could drink it for ever.’

Stephen walked into the great cabin. ‘Jack,’ he said, ‘it is weeks since we played a note. What do you say to about this evening, if you are not too taken up with your bollards and capstan-​bars?’

‘Have you come aboard, my plum?’ cried Jack, looking up from the bosun’s accounts with a beaming face. ‘I have such news for you. We are to carry treasure, and the freight will see me clear.’

‘What is freight?’

‘It means I am clear of debt.’

‘That is news indeed. Ha, ha, I give you joy, with all my heart. I am delighted - amazed.’

‘I will explain it to you, with figures, the moment my accounts are done. But damn paper-​work for today. Had you any particular music in mind?’

‘The Boccherini C major, perhaps?’

‘Why, that is the strangest thing - the adagio has been running through my head this last hour and more, yet I ain’t in the least melancholy. Far from it, ha. ha.’ He rosined his bow, and said, ‘Stephen, I took your advice. I have written to Sophie, asking her to come out to Madeira. Canning sends it overland.’

Stephen nodded and smiled, hummed the true note and found it on his ‘cello. They tuned, nodded, tapped three times, each with his eye fixed on the other’s bow, and dashed away into the brilliant, heart-​lifting first movement.

On and on, lost in the music, intertwined, a lovely complexity of sound; on through the near-​desperation of the adagio, on and on with such fire and attack to the very height and the majestic, triumphant close.

‘Lord, Stephen,’ said Jack, leaning back and laying his fiddle carefully down, ‘we have never played so well.’

‘It is a noble piece. I revere that man. Listen, Jack: here are some papers I must confide to you - the usual things. I fight Canning in the morning, alas.’

A dense curtain fell instantly, cutting off all but formal communication between them. After a pause Jack said, ‘Who is your second?’

‘Etherege.’

‘I will come with you. That was why there was all that firing on the quarterdeck, of course. You would not mind it, if I were to have a word with him?’

‘Not at all. But he is gone to the Chief justice’s: he is to view the ground with a Colonel Burke after the party. Never vex your heart for me, Jack: I am used to these things - more used to them than you, I dare say.’

‘Oh, Stephen,’ said Jack, ‘this is a damned black ending to the sweetest day.’

‘This is where we usually settle our affairs, in Calcutta,’ said Colonel Burke, leading them across the moonlit Maidan. ‘There is the road over the Alipur bridge, do you see, conveniently near at hand; and yet behind these trees it is as discreet and secluded as you could wish.’