Patrick O'Brian - Post captain

‘Oh God,’ said Jack, scrabbling for the handle. ‘Are they all out?’

‘Not all,’ said Stephen. ‘And learning from Killick that you expected guests, I conceived you might prefer them away. There is so much ignorant prejudice against bees in a dining-​room.’ Something was crawling on Jack’s neck; the door had completely vanished; he began to sweat heavily. ‘So I thought to create an artificial night, when, in the course of nature, they return to their hive. I also made three fires for the sake of the smoke: these did not have the desired effect, however. It may be that the darkness is too complete. Let us compromise with a twilight - dark, but not too dark.’ He raised a corner of sailcloth, and a beam of sun showed an incalculable number of bees on every vertical surface and on most of those that were flat; bees flying in a jerky, meaningless fashion from point to point; fifty or so sitting on his coat and breeches. ‘There,’ said Stephen, ‘that is far, far better is it not? Urge them to mount on your finger, Jack, and carry them back to their hive. Gently, gently, and on no account exhibit, or even feel, the least uneasiness: fear is wholly fatal, as I dare say you know.’

Jack had the door-​handle; he opened it a crack and glided swiftly through. ‘Killick!’ he shouted, beating at his clothes.

‘Sir?’

‘Go and help the Doctor. Bear a hand, now.’

“I dursn’t,’ said Killick.

‘You don’t mean to tell me you are afraid, a man-​of-​war’s man?’

‘Yes I am, sir,’ said Killick.

‘Well, clear the fore-​cabin and lay the cloth there. And uncork a dozen of claret.’ He plunged into his sleeping-​cabin and tore off his stock - there was something creeping beneath it. ‘What is there for dinner?’ he called.

‘Wenison, sir. I found a prime saddle at Chators’, the same as the ladies sent us from Mapes.’

‘Gentlemen,’ said Jack, as the last stroke of six bells in the afternoon watch was struck and his guests arrived, ‘you are very welcome. I am afraid we may have to sit a little close, but for the moment my friend is engaged in a philosophical experiment aft. Killick, tell the Doctor we hope to see him when he is at leisure. Go on,’ he muttered, clenching his fist secretly and vibrating his head at the steward. ‘Go on, I say: you can call through the door.’

Dinner ran very well. The Lively might be Spartan in her appearance and cabin furniture, but Jack had inherited an excellent cook, accustomed to sea-​borne appetites, and his guests were well-​bred men, easy within the strict limits of naval etiquette - even the midshipman of the watch, though mute, was mute gracefully. But the sense of rank, of deference to the captain, was very strong, and as Stephen’s mind was clearly far away, Jack was pleased to find in the chaplain a lively, conversible man, with little notion of the solemnities of dining in the cabin. Mr Lydgate, the Perpetual Curate of Wool, was a cousin of Captain Hamond’s, and he was taking this voyage for the sake of his health, leaving his living not for a new career but for a temporary change of air and scenery. The air of Lisbon and Madeira was particularly recommended; that of Bermuda even more so; and this, he understood, was their destination?

‘It may well be,’ said Jack. ‘I hope so, indeed; but with the changing face of the war there is no certainty about these things. I have known captains lay in stores for the Cape, only to find themselves ordered to the Baltic at the last moment. Everything must depend on the good of the service,’ he added piously; and then feeling that remarks of this kind might have a damping effect, he cried, ‘Mr Dashwood, the wine stands by you: the good of the service requires that it should circulate. Mr Simmons, pray tell me about the ape that so astonished me this morning. The living ape.’

‘Cassandra, sir? She is one of half a dozen that came aboard at Tungoo; the surgeon says she is a Tenasserim gibbon. All hands are very fond of her, but we are afraid she is pining. We rigged her out in a flannel jacket when we came into the chops of the Channel, but she will not wear it; and she will not eat English food.’

‘Do you hear, Stephen?’ said Jack. ‘There is a gibbon aboard, that is not well.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Stephen, returning to the present. ‘I had the pleasure of meeting her this morning, walking hand in hand with the very young gentleman: it was impossible to tell which was supporting which. A fetching, attractive creature, in spite of its deplorable state. I look forward eagerly to dissecting it. Monsieur de Buffon hints that the naked callosities on the buttocks of the hylobates may conceal scent glands, but he does not go so far as to assert it.’

A chill fell on the conversation, and after a slight pause Jack said, ‘I think, my dear fellow, that the ship’s company would be infinitely more obliged to you, was you to cure it, than for putting Monsieur de Buffon right - for putting Cassandra in order, rather than a Frenchman, eh, eh?’

‘Yet it is the ship’s company that is killing her. That ape is a confirmed alcoholic; and from what little I know of your foremast jack, no earthly consideration will prevent him from giving rum to anything he loves. Our monk-​seal in the Mediterranean, for example: it drowned in a state of besotted inebriation, with a fixed smile upon its face; and

when fished up and dissected, its kidneys and liver were found to be ruined, very much like those of Mr Blanckley of the Carcass bomb-​ketch, an unpromoted master’s mate of sixty-​three whom I had the pleasure of opening at Port Mahon, a gentleman who had not been sober for five and thirty years. I met this gibbon a little after the serving out of the grog - it had plunged from an upper pinnacle at the first notes of Nancy Dawson - and the animal was hopelessly fuddled. It was conscious of its state, endeavoured to conceal it, and put its black hand in mine with an embarrassed air. Who is that very young gentleman, by the way?’

He was Josiah Randall, they told him, the son of the second lieutenant, who had come home to find his wife dead, and this child unprovided for - no near family at all. ‘So he brought him aboard,’ said Mr Dashwood, ‘and the Captain rated him bosun’s servant.’

‘How very, very painful,’ said Jack. ‘I hope we have some action soon; there is nothing like it for changing the current of a man’s mind. A French frigate, or a Spaniard, if they come in; there is nothing like your Spaniard for dogged fighting.’

‘I dare say you have seen a great deal of action, sir?’ said the parson, nodding towards Jack’s bandage.

‘Not more than most, sir,’ said Jack. ‘Many officers have been far more fortunate.’

‘Pray what would you consider a reasonable number of actions?’ asked the parson. ‘I was astonished, on joining the ship, to find that none of the gentlemen could tell me what a pitched battle was like.’

‘It is so much a question of luck, or perhaps I should say of Providence,’ said Jack, with a bow to the cloth. ‘Where one is stationed, and so on. After all,’ he said, pausing, for on the verge of his mind there was a witticism, if he could but grasp it. ‘After all, it takes two to make a quarrel, and if the French don’t come out, why, you cannot very well have a battle all by yourself. Indeed, there is so much routine work, blockading and convoy-​duty and carrying troops, you know, that I dare say half the lieutenants of the Navy List have never seen action at all, in the sense of a meeting of ships of equal force, or of fleets. More than half, perhaps.’

‘I never have, I am sure,’ said Dashwood.

‘I saw an action when I was in the Culloden in ninety-​eight,’ said Simmons. ‘A very great action; but we ran aground, and never could come up. It nearly broke our hearts.’