Patrick O’Brian - HMS Surprise

‘… and so, gentlemen, I believe I may confidently state that the hibernation of swallows, and of all the other hirundines , is conclusively proved,’ said Mr Lamb, with a defiant glare at his audience.

‘I am sure we are all very grateful to Mr Lamb,’ said the chairman, in an atmosphere of general discontent, with some cross shuffling of feet and murmuring. ‘And although I am afraid that we are now short of time – perhaps not all the papers can be read – allow me to call on Sir Joseph Blaine to favour us with his remarks on A True Gynandromorph recently added to his Cabinet.’

Sir Joseph half rose in his place and begged to be excused – he had left his notes behind – he was not perfectly well, and would not try the patience of the meeting by trying to speak without ’em – he begged pardon, but thought he would retire. It was only a passing indisposition, he said, to reassure the company: the company would not have cared if it had been the great spotted leprosy – three entomologists were already on their feet, eager for immortality in the society’s Proceedings.

‘What am I to infer from this?’ asked Stephen of himself, as Sir Joseph passed with a distant bow; and during the following account of luminous beetles, lately received from Surinam – a fascinating account, which he should certainly read with great attention later – a cold presentiment formed in his bosom.

He carried this presentiment with him from the meeting; but he had not walked a hundred yards before a discreet messenger accosted him and gave him a card with a cipher and an invitation not to Sir Joseph’s official apartments but to a little house behind Shepherd Market.

‘How good of you to come,’ said Sir Joseph, seating Stephen by the fire in what was clearly his library, study and drawing-room; it was comfortable, even luxurious, in the style of fifty years before; and cases of butterflies alternated with pornographic pictures on the walls – emphatically a private house. ‘How truly kind.’ He was nervous and ill at ease, and he said ‘how truly kind’ again: Stephen said nothing. ‘I begged you to come here,’ Sir Joseph went on, ‘because this is my private shall I say refuge , and I feel I owe you a private explanation. When I saw you this evening I was not expecting you; my conscience gave me a rude jerk – it put me about strangely, because I have exceedingly disagreeable news for you, news that I should rather have any other man deliver but that necessarily falls to me. I had prepared myself for it at our meeting tomorrow morning; and I should have done it well enough, I dare say. But seeing you suddenly there, in that atmosphere … To put it in a word,’ he said, putting down the poker with which he had been teasing the fire, ‘there has been a grave indiscretion at the Admiralty – your name was mentioned and insisted upon at a general meeting, in direct connexion with the action off Cadiz.’ Stephen bowed, but still said nothing. Sir Joseph, looking at him covertly, went on. ‘Of course, I drowned the indiscretion at once, and afterwards I let it be understood that you were aboard by chance, that you were bound for some undefined Eastern region in a scientific or quasi-diplomatic capacity in which a commission would be necessary for your status, for your eventual negotiations, citing the precedent of Banks and Halley – that its connexion with this incident was purely fortuitous and coincidental, occasioned only by the need for extreme haste. This I have put about as the true inside story, far more secret than the interception, known only to the initiated and not to be divulged on any account: it should answer with most of the sailors and civilians who were present. The fact remains that in spite of my efforts you are somewhat blown upon; and this necessarily calls our whole programme into question.’

‘Who were the gentlemen present?’ asked Stephen. Sir Joseph passed him a list. ‘A considerable gathering … There is a strange levity,’ he said coldly, ‘a strange weak irresponsibility, in playing with men’s lives and a whole system of intelligence in this manner.’

‘I entirely agree,’ cried Sir Joseph. ‘It is monstrous. And I say so with the more pain since it is I who am partly at fault. I had minuted the First Lord on the subject and I wholly relied upon his discretion. But no doubt I had allowed myself to become too much accustomed to a chief upon whom I could rely without question – there never was a closer man than Lord Melville. A parliamentary government is hopeless for intelligence: new men come in, politicians rather than professionals, and we are all to seek. Your dictatorship is the only thing for intelligence: Bonaparte is far, far better served than His Majesty. But I must not evade the second unhappy issue. Although it will be a matter of public notoriety in a few days’ time, I feel I must tell you myself that the Board means to treat the Spanish treasure as droits of the Crown – that is to say, it will not be distributed as prize-money. I did everything in my power to avert this decision, but I am afraid it is irrevocable. I tell you this in the faint hope that it might prevent you from committing yourself to any course of action on the contrary assumption; even a few days’ warning is perhaps better than none at all. I also tell you, with the utmost regret, because I am aware that you have another interest in this – in this matter. I can only hope, alas without much conviction, that my warning may have some slight … you follow me. And as for my personal expressions of extreme regret, intense chagrin and concern, upon my word, I scarcely know how to phrase them with a tenth of the force they require.’

‘You are very good,’ said Stephen, ‘and I am most sensible of this mark of confidence. I will not pretend that the loss of a fortune can be a matter of indifference to any man: I do not feel any emotion other than petty vexation at the moment, though no doubt I shall in time. But the interest to which you so obligingly refer is another matter: allow me to make it clear. I particularly wished to serve my friend Aubrey. His agent absconded with all his prize-money; the court of appeal reversed the condemnation of two neutral vessels, leaving him £11,000 in debt. This happened when he was on the point of becoming engaged to a most amiable young woman. They are deeply attached to one another; but since her mother, a widow with considerable property under her own control, is a deeply stupid, griping, illiberal, avid, tenacious, pinchfist lickpenny, a sordid lickpenny and a shrew, there is no hope of marriage without his estate is cleared and he can make at least some kind of settlement upon her. That was the position I flattered myself I had dealt with; or rather that you, a kind fate and the conjuncture had dealt with for me. That was the understanding of all concerned. What am I now to tell Aubrey when I join him at Minorca? Does anything accrue to him from this action at all?’

‘Oh yes, certainly: there will certainly be an ex gratia payment: indeed, it might clear the debts you mention, or very nearly: but it will not be wealth, oh dear me no; far from it. But, my dear sir, you speak of Minorca. Do I collect that you mean to continue with our original plan, in spite of this wretched unnecessary contretemps?’

‘I believe so,’ said Stephen, studying the list again. ‘There is so much to be gained from our recent contacts; so much to be lost by not … In this case it seems to me essentially a question of time: as far as common loose talk and confidential rumour are concerned, I must in all probability outrun it, since I sail tomorrow night. Information of this seeping kind is unlikely to move as fast as a determined traveller; and in any event you have dealt with the more obvious prattlers. This is the only name here I am afraid of ’ – pointing to the list – ‘He is, as you know, a paederast. Not that I have anything against paederasty myself – each man must decide for himself where beauty lies and surely the more affection in this world the better – but it is common knowledge that some paederasts are subject to pressures that do not apply to other men. If this gentleman’s meetings with Monsieur de La Tapetterie could be discreetly watched, and above all if La Tapetterie could be neutralised for a week, I should have no hesitation in carrying on with our former arrangement. Even without these precautions, I doubt I should put it off; these are the merest conjectures, after all. And it is no use sending Osborne or Schikaneder – Gomez will put his head into no man’s hands but mine; and without that contact the new system falls to pieces.’