O'Brian Patrick - Aub-Mat 08 - The Ionian Mission

The Ionian Mission

CHAPTER ONE

Marriage was once represented as a field of battle rather than a bed of roses, and

perhaps there are some who may still support this view; but just as Dr Maturin had made a

far more unsuitable match than most, so he set about dealing with the situation in a far

more compendious, peaceable and efficacious way than the great majority of husbands.

He had pursued his strikingly beautiful, spirited, fashionable wife for years and years

before marrying her in mid-Channel aboard a man-of-war: for so many years indeed that

he had become a confirmed bachelor at last, too old a dog to give up his tricks of smoking

tobacco in bed, playing his 'cello at odd untimely moments, dissecting anything that

interested him, even in the drawing-room; too old to be taught to shave regularly, to

change his linen, or to wash when he did not feel the need - an impossible husband. He

was not house-trained; and although he made earnest attempts at the beginning of their

marriage he soon perceived that in time the strain must damage their relationship, all the

more so since Diana was as intransigent as himself and far more apt to fly into a passion

about such things as a pancreas in the drawer of the bedside table or orange marmalade

ground into the Aubusson. And then again his deeply-ingrained habits of secrecy (for he

was an intelligence-agent as well as a physician) made him even more unsuited for

domestic life, which withers in the presence of reserve. He therefore gradually retired to

the rooms he had long retained in an old-fashioned comfortable shabby inn called the

Grapes, in the liberties of the Savoy, leaving Diana in the handsome modern house in Half

Moon Street, a house shining with fresh white paint and new-furnished with elegant but

fragile satinwood.

It was in no way a parting; there was no sort of violence or ill-will or disagreement about

Stephen Maturin's fading away from the intense social life of Half Moon Street to the dim,

foggy lane by the Thames, where he could more easily attend the meetings of the Royal

Society, the College of Surgeons, or the entomological or ornithological societies that

interested him so very much more than Diana's card-parties and routs, and where he

could more safely carry out some of the delicate business that fell to his lot as a member

of the naval intelligence department, business that necessarily had to be kept from the

knowledge of his wife. It was not a parting in any sense of unkindness, but a mere

geographical separation, one so slight that Stephen usually covered it every morning,

walking up through the Green Park to breakfast with his wife, most often in her bedroom,

she being a late riser; while he nearly always appeared at her frequent dinner-parties,

playing the part of host to admiration, for he could be as smooth and complaisant as the

most civilized of her guests so long as he was not required to keep it up too long. In any

case Diana's father and her first husband were serving officers and all her life she had

been accustomed to separation. She was always delighted to see her husband and he to

see her; they never quarrelled now that all reasons for disagreement were gone; and in

fact this was probably the best possible arrangement for a pair with nothing in common

but love and friendship, and a series of strange, surprising, shared adventures.

They never quarrelled, except when Stephen brought up the question of marriage

according to the Roman rite, for their wedding had been performed in the brisk naval

fashion by the captain of HMS Oedipus, an amiable young man and a fine navigator but

no priest; and since Stephen, being of mixed Irish and Catalan parentage, was a Papist he

was a bachelor still as far as the Church was concerned. Yet no persuasion, no kind

words (and harsh ones he dared not use) could move Diana: she did not reason, but

simply and steadily refused. There were times when her obstinacy grieved him, for apart

from his own strong feelings on the matter he seemed to make out some obscure

superstitious dread of a strange sacrament mingled with the general English dislike of

Rome; yet there were also times when it added a certain not wholly disagreeable air of

intrigue to the connection. Not that this ever occurred to the eminently respectable Mrs

Broad of the Grapes, who liked her house to be just so and who would countenance

nothing whatsoever in the roving line, a landlady who would at once turn away any man

she suspected of leading out a wench. Mrs Broad had known Dr Maturin for many years;

she was thoroughly used to him; and when he told her that he meant to stay at the inn she

only stared for a while, amazed that any man born could sleep away from such a ravishing

lady; and then accepted it as 'one of the Doctor's little ways' with perfect calm. Some of his

little ways had indeed been quite surprising in the past, seeing that they ranged from the

quartering of badgers, rescued from a baiting, in her coal-shed to the introduction of

separate limbs and even of whole orphans for dissection when they were in good supply

towards the end of winter; but she had grown used to them little by little. The Doctor's

'cello booming through the night and skeletons in every cupboard were nothing now to Mrs

Broad; and nothing now could astonish her for long. She also thoroughly approved of

Diana, whom she had come to know well during her first startled stay at the inn, where

Stephen had brought her when they landed in England. Mrs Broad liked her for her

beauty, which she Candidly admired, and for her friendliness ('no airs nor graces, and not

above taking a little posset with a person behind the bar') and for her evident affection for

the Doctor. Mrs Maturin was very often at the Grapes, bringing shirts, blue worsted

stockings, shoe-buckles, leaving messages, darting in for small sums of money, for

although Diana was far richer than Stephen she was even more improvident. It seemed a

strange kind of marriage, but Mrs Broad had once seen Mrs Maturin in one of the palace

coaches with Lady Jersey - royal footmen up behind - and she had an indistinct notion that

Diana was 'something at Court', which would naturally prevent her from living like mortal of

ordinary flesh and blood.

Diana had been there still more often in recent days, because the Doctor was going to

sea again with his particular friend Jack Aubrey, a post-captain in the Royal Navy, once

known in the service as Lucky Jack Aubrey for his good fortune in taking prizes but now

so miserably involved in his affairs that he was glad to accept an unenviable temporary

command, the Worcester of seventy-four guns, one of the surviving Forty Thieves, that

notorious set of line-of-battle ships built by contract with a degree of dishonesty in their

scantlings, knees, fastenings - in their whole construction - that excited comment even in a

time of widespread corruption: very strong comment indeed from those who had to take

them to sea. She was to carry him to the Mediterranean, to Admiral Thornton's squadron

and the interminable blockade of the French fleet in Toulon. And since Stephen was to go

to sea, it was obviously necessary that his sea-chest should be prepared. He had packed

it himself on a great many occasions before this and it had always satisfied his modest

needs even when he was a great way from shore, let alone in the Mediterranean, with

Malta or Barcelona only a few hundred miles to leeward, according to the wind; but neither

Diana nor Mrs Broad could bear his method of tossing things in pell-mell, the more fragile

objects wrapped in his stockings, and they both perpetually interfered: tissue-paper,

orderly layers of this and that, neatness, even labels.

The brassbound chest was open now and Dr Maturin was fishing in it, hoping to find his

best neckcloth, the frilled white neckcloth the size of a moderate studding-sail that he was

to put on for Diana's farewell dinner. He fished with a surgical retractor, one of the most

efficient instruments known to science, but nothing did he find; and when at last the steel

claws grated on the bottom he called out, 'Mrs Broad, Mrs Broad, who has hidden my

neckcloth?'

Mrs Broad walked in without ceremony, the neckcloth over her arm, although Stephen

was in his shirt. 'Why, oh why did you take it away?' he cried. 'Have you no bowels, Mrs

Broad?'

'Mrs Maturin said it was to be new-starched,' said Mrs Broad. 'You Avould not like to

have your frill all limp, I am sure.'

'There is nothing I should like better,' muttered Stephen, folding it about him.

'And Mrs Maturin says you are to put on your nice new pumps,' said Mrs Broad. 'Which I

have scratched the soles.'

'I cannot walk to Half Moon Street in new pumps,' said Stephen.

'No, sir,' said Mrs Broad patiently. 'You are to go in a chair, like Mrs M said this morning.

The men have been waiting in the tap this ten minutes past.' Her eye wandered to the

open chest, as neat as an apple-pie not half an hour ago. 'Oh, Dr Maturin, fie,' she cried.

'Oh fie, Doctor, fie.'

'Oh fie, Stephen,' said Diana, tweaking his cravat straight, 'How can you be so intolerably

late? Jagiello has been slavering in the drawing-room this last age, and the others will be

here any minute.'

'There was a mad bull in Smithfield,' said Stephen.

'Does one really have to pass through Smithfield to reach Mayfair?' asked Diana.

'One does not, as you know very well. But I suddenly remembered that I was to call at

Bart's. And listen my dear, you have never been in time in your life, to my certain

knowledge; so I beg you will keep your irony for some more suitable occasion.'

'Why, Stephen, you are as furious as a mad bull yourself, I find,' said Diana, kissing him.

'And to think that I have bought you such a beautiful present. Come upstairs and look at it:

Jagiello can receive any early worms.' As she passed the drawing-room she called in,

'Jagiello, pray do the civil for us if anyone should come: we shall not be a minute.' Jagiello

was almost domesticated at Half Moon Street, an absurdly beautiful young man, an

exceedingly wealthy Lithuanian now attached to the Swedish embassy: he and Stephen

and Jack Aubrey had been imprisoned in France together and they had escaped together,

which accounted for an otherwise unlikely close friendship.

'There,' she said proudly, pointing to her bed, where there stood a gold-mounted

dressing-case that was also a canteen and a backgammon-board: little drawers pulled in

and out, ingenious slides and folding legs transformed it into a wash-hand-stand, a writing

desk, a lectern; and looking-glasses and candle-holders appeared on either side.

'Acushla,' he said, drawing her close, 'this is regal splendour - this is imperial

magnificence. The Physician of the Fleet has nothing finer. I am so grateful, my dear.' And

grateful, infinitely touched he was: while Diana put the gleaming object through its paces,

explaining how it worked and telling him how she had stood over the workmen, bullying

them into finishing it in time - oaths, sweet persuasion, promises until she was hoarse, as

hoarse as a God-damned crow, Stephen cheri - he reflected on her generosity, her

improvidence (rich though she was, she never had any money to spend, and this was far

more than even she could afford), and on her ignorance of naval life, of the damp,

cramped cupboard that a surgeon lived in at sea, even the surgeon of a seventy-four, a

ship of the line: this precious piece of misguided craftsmanship might do very well for a

field-officer, a soldier with a baggage-wagon and a dozen orderlies, but for a sailor it

would have to be wrapped in waxed canvas and struck down into the driest part of the

hold. Or perhaps it might be allowed in the bread-room . . .

'But the shirts, dear Stephen,' she was saying. 'I am absolutely desolated about the

shirts. I could not get the wretched woman to finish them. There are only a dozen here.

But 1 will send the others down by coach. They may catch you in time.'

'God's love,' cried Stephen, 'there is no need, no need at all. A dozen shirts! I have never

had so many at one time since I was breeched. And in any case I need no more than two

for this voyage. Sure, it is almost over before it is begun.'

'I wish you were back already,' said Diana in a low voice. 'I shall miss you so.' And then,

glancing out of the window, 'There is Anne Trevor's chariot. You will not mind her coming,

Stephen? When she heard that Jagiello was dining here she begged and prayed to be

invited, and I had not the heart to say no.'

'Never in life, my dear. I am all for the satisfaction of natural desires, even in Miss Trevor,

even in a Judas-haired rack-renting County Kerry absentee landowner with a Scotch

Anabaptist vulture by way of an agent, or bailiff. Indeed, we might go so far as to leave

them alone for two minutes.'

'It seems a damned odd voyage to me,' said Diana, frowning at the pile of shirts. 'You

never told me how it all came about. And it is all so sudden.'

'In the crisis of a war naval orders are apt to be sudden. But I am just as pleased: I have

some business to deal with in Barcelona, as you know: I should have travelled to the

Mediterranean in any case, Jack or no Jack." This was true as far as it went; but Stephen

had not seen fit to explain the full nature of his business in Barcelona, nor did he now say

that he also had a rendezvous with French royalists no great way from Toulon, a

rendezvous with some gentlemen who were heartily sick of Buonaparte, a rendezvous

that might lead to great things.

'But it was understood that Jack was to have the Blackwater and take her to the North

American station as soon as she was ready,' said Diana. 'He ought never to have been

shoved into a temporary command in that rotten old Worcester. A man of his seniority,

with his fighting record, ought to have been knighted long ago and given a decent ship,

perhaps a squadron of his own. Sophie is perfectly furious: so is Admiral Berkeley, and

Heneage Dundas, and all his service friends.' Diana was well informed about Captain

Aubrey's affairs, he being married to her cousin Sophie and an old friend into the bargain;

but she was not quite as well informed as Stephen, who now said, 'You are aware of

Jack's predicament, of course?"

'Of course I am, Stephen. Pray do not be an ass.' Of course she was: all Captain

Aubrey's acquaintance knew that on coming ashore with his pockets full of French and

Spanish gold he had fallen an even easier prey to the landsharks than most sailors, as

being of a more trusting, sanguine disposition. He had made a disastrous plunge into the

arms of a more than usually rapacious shark and he was now deep in law-suits, with the

possibility of ruin at the end of them.

'I am speaking more of the most recent phase. It seems that he forgot the discretion his

legal advisers urged him to observe, and it seems to them that an absence from the

country is now essential for a while. I forget the details -mayhem, attorneys flying out of a

two-pair-of-stairs window, glass damaged to the extent of several pounds, clerks put in

fear of their lives, blasphemous words, a breach of the King's peace. That is why things

are so sudden. And that is why he accepted this command. It is no more than a

parenthesis in his career.'

'He will come back for the Black-water then, when she is ready? Sophie will be so

happy.'

'Why, as to that, my dear, as to that . . .' Stephen hesitated; and then, overcoming the

passion for reserve that among other things made him so unsuitable a husband, he said,

'The fact of the matter is that he had very great difficulty in getting even this command: his

friends were obliged to make the most pressing representations to those in power,

reminding them of services rendered, of promises made by the late First Lord; and even

with all that he might never have had it if Captain - if a friend had not very handsomely

stood aside. There is some hindrance, some personal grudge in the Admiralty itself; and in

spite of his record he may be disappointed of the Bfackwater, although he has been fitting

her out so long. The parenthesis may close only to find him on shore, eating his heart out

for so much as a rowing-boat that flies the King's flag.'

'I suppose it is his shocking old father,' said Diana.

General Aubrey was an opposition member of Parliament, a vehement enthusiastic

loquacious Radical, a sad handicap to any son serving the Crown, whose ministers

controlled appointment and promotion.

'Sure, that has something to do with the matter,' said Stephen. 'But there is more to it

than that, I believe. Do you know a man called Andrew Wray?'

'Wray of the Treasury? Oh yes. One sees him everywhere: I was obliged to dance with

him at Lucy Carrington's ball the day you went off to your old reptiles, and he was at the

Thurlows' dinner. Listen: there is another carriage: it must be Admiral Faithorne. He is

always as regular as a clock. Stephen, we are behaving abominably. We must go down.

Why do you ask about that scrub Wray?'

'You think him a scrub?'

'Certainly I do. Too clever by half, like so many of those Treasury fellows, and an infernal

blackguard as well - he treated Harriet Fanshaw so shabbily you would not believe it. A

scrub for all his pretty ways, and a coxcomb: I would not touch him with a barge-pole.'

'He is now acting as second secretary to the Admiralty during Sir John Barrow's illness.

But he was in the Treasury some time ago, when Jack told him he cheated at cards, told

him quite openly, in his candid naval way, in Willis's rooms.'

'Good God, Stephen! You never told me. What a close old soul you are, upon my

honour.'

'You never asked.'

'Did he call Jack out?'

'He did not. I believe he is taking a safer course.' A thundering treble knock on the front

door cut off his words. 'I will tell you later,' he said. 'Thank you, my dear, for my beautiful

present.'

As they went down towards the hall Diana said, 'You know all about ships and the sea,

Stephen.' Stephen bowed: he certainly should have known a fair amount about both,

having sailed with Captain Aubrey since the turn of the century, and in fact he could now

almost always discriminate between larboard and starboard: he prided himself extremely

on his acquaintance with fore and aft and some even more recondite nautical terms. 'Tell

me,' she said, 'What is this barge-pole they are always talking about?'

'Ho, as for that, mate,' said Stephen, 'you must understand that a barge is the captain's

particular boat, or pinnace as we say; and the pole is a kind of unarticulated mast.'

He opened the drawing-room door for her, disclosing not one young woman but two,

alternately scorning one another and adoring Jagiello, who sat between them in his

splendid Hussar's uniform, looking amiable but absent. On seeing Stephen he sprang up,

his spurs clashing, and cried 'Dear Doctor, how happy I am to see you,' clasping him in

both arms and smiling down on him very sweetly.

'Admiral Fait home,' called the butler in a hieratic boom, and the clock struck the hour.

More guests arrived, and profiting by the frequently opened door the kitchen cat glided

in, low to the ground, and swarmed up Stephen's back to his left shoulder, where it sat

purring hoarsely, rubbing its ear against his wig. Still more guests, one of them being the

banker Nathan, Diana's financial adviser, a man after Stephen's own heart, he too being

wholly devoted to the overthrow of Buonaparte, using his highly-specialized weapons with

singular efficiency. And although the ceremony was spoilt by an ugly scene when the

butler removed the cat, they did at last move into the dining-room, where they sat down to

as good a meal as London could offer, for in spite of her sylph-like form Diana was rather

greedy and in addition to an educated taste in wine she possessed an excellent cook. His

talents had on this occasion been directed to the preparation of all Stephen's favourite

dishes.

'May I help you to some of these truffles, ma'am?' said he to his right-hand neighbour, a

dowager whose influential countenance had helped to re-establish Diana's reputation,

damaged by ill-judged connections in India and the United States and only partially

restored by her marriage.

'Alas, I dare not,' she said. 'But it would give me great pleasure to see you do so. If you

will take an old woman's advice, you will eat up all the truffles that come your way, while

your innards can still withstand 'em.'

'Then I believe I shall,' said Stephen, plunging a spoon into the pyramid. 'It will be long

before I see another. Tomorrow, with the blessing, I shall be aboard ship, and then hard

tack, salt-horse, dried peas and small beer must be my lot: at least until that Buonaparte is

brought down.'

'Let us drink to his confusion,' said the dowager, raising her glass. The whole table drank

to his confusion, and then at due intervals to Dr Maturin's return, to his very happy return,

to the Royal Navy, to one another, and then standing - a point of some difficulty to Miss

Trevor, who was obliged to cling to Jagiello's arm ? to the King. In the midst of all this

cheerfulness, of this excellent claret, burgundy and port, Stephen looked anxiously at the

clock, a handsome French cartel on the wall behind Mr Nathan's head: he was to take the

Portsmouth mail, and he had a mortal horror of missing coaches. To his distress he saw

that the hands had not moved since the lobster bisque; like most of the clocks in Diana's

house the cartel had stopped, and he knew that decency forbade even a surreptitious

glance at his watch. Yet although he and Diana lived lives more independent than most

married pairs they were very, very close in other respects: she caught his look and called

down the table 'Eat your pudding in peace, my dear; Jagicllo has borrowed his

ambassador's coach, and he is very kindly driving us down.'

Shortly after this she and the other women withdrew. Jagiello moved up the table to the

dowager's place and Stephen said to him, 'You are a good-hearted soul, my dear, so you

are. Now I shall see Diana for the best part of another twelve hours; and I shall not have to

fret my mind over that infernal mail-coach.'

'Mrs Maturin tried to make me promise that she should drive,' said Jagiello, 'and I have

given my word that she should, once the sun was up, subject to your approval.' He

sounded uneasy.

'And did she submit to your condition?' said Stephen, smiling. 'That was kind. But you

need not be concerned: she drives prodigiously well, and would send a team of camels

through a needle's eye at a brisk round trot.'

'Oh,' cried Jagiello, 'how I admire a woman that can ride and drive, that understands

horse!' And he went on at some length about Mrs Maturin's shining parts, which had

needed only a thorough understanding of horses to be quite complete.

Stephen was aware of Nathan's amused, benign, cynical face on the far side of the table,

smiling at Jagiello's enthusiasm: there was something about Jagiello that made people

smile, he reflected - his youth, his cheerfulness, his abounding health, his beauty, perhaps

his simplicity. 'None of these qualities are mine, or ever have been,' he said to himself.

'Are the Jagiellos conscious of their happiness? Probably not. Fortunatosnimium . .

.'Ayearning for coffee spurred his vitals, and seeing that the decanters had made their last

round untouched by his pink and somewhat stertorous guests he said aloud, 'Perhaps,

gentlemen, we might join the ladies.'

Jagiello's offer of the coach had come as a surprise, and the other carriages had been

ordered early so that Dr Maturin should be able to make his farewells and reach the

Portsmouth coach with half an hour to spare. The carriages therefore appeared at half

past ten and rolled away, leaving Stephen, Diana, and Jagiello with a delightful sense of

holiday, of free, unexpected, unmortgaged time. Nathan was also left behind, partly

because he had come on foot from his house just round the corner and partly because he

wished to speak to Diana about money. She had brought some magnificent jewels back

from India and the United States, many of which she never wore; and in the present state

of war, with Napoleon's astonishing, horrifying victories over the Austrians and Prussians,

their value had increased immensely. Nathan wanted her to take advantage of the fact

and to put some of the rubies ('vulgar great things, much too big, like raspberry tarts' she

said) into a select list of deeply depressed British stocks, a drug on the market - an

investment that would yield splendid returns in the event of an Allied victory at last.

However, he only smiled and bowed when she suggested that they should take the

remains of the bombe glacee into the billiard-room and there eat it while they played.

'Because in any case Stephen must say goodbye to his olive-tree,' she observed. Hers

was perhaps the only billiard-room in Half Moon Street to possess an olive: the room had

been built out over the garden behind, and Stephen, prising up a flagstone by a

convenient window, had set a rooted cutting from a tree growing in his own land of

Catalonia, itself the descendant of one in the grove of Academe. He sat by it now,

showing Nathan the five new leaves and the almost certain promise of a sixth. With

another husband Nathan might have spoken about these stocks and shares; but Stephen

would have nothing whatsoever to do with his wife's fortune ? he left it entirely to her.

'Come, Stephen,' said she, putting down her cue. 'I have left you such a pretty position.'

Dr Maturin addressing himself to a shattered leg with a saw in his hand was a bold, deft,

determined operator; his gestures were rapid, sure, precise. But billiards was not his

game. Although his theory was sound enough his practice was contemptible. Now, having

studied the possibilities at length, he gave his ball a hesitant poke, watched it roll

deliberately into the top right-hand pocket without touching any of the others, and returned

to his olive-tree. The other players belonged to a different world entirely: Nathan gathered

the balls into a corner, nursing therein a long series of almost imperceptible cannons and

breaking them only to leave his opponent in a most uncomfortable situation; Jagiello

accomplished some surprising feats at the top of the table with a spot-stroke; but Diana

favoured a more dashing game by far, delighting in the losing hazard. She walked round

the table with a predatory gleam in her eye, sending the balls streaking up and down with

a ringing crack. At one point, when she had already made a break of thirty-seven and

needed only three to win, the balls were awkwardly placed in the middle. She hoisted her

slim person on to the edge of the table and she was about to reach right out with her

whole length poised over the baize when Stephen called 'Take the rest to it, my dear; take

the long rest, for all love.' There was a strong possibility that she was with child, and he

did not like the position at all.

'Bah,' said she, lowering her cue to her outstretched hand: she glared along it, her eyes

narrowed, the tip of her tongue showing from the corner of her mouth; she paused, and

then with a strong smooth stroke sent the red straight into the bottom right-hand pocket

while her own ball shot into that on the left. She slipped off the table with such a lithe, easy

grace and such an open delighted triumph that Stephen's heart stopped for a beat and the

other men looked at her with the utmost fondness.

'Captain Jagiello's coach," said the butler.

As far as real battlefields and beds of roses were concerned, Captain Aubrey was far

better acquainted with the first, partly because of his profession, which, with enormous

intervals of delay, often cold and always wet, brought him into violent conflict with the

King's enemies, to say nothing of the Admiralty, the Navy Board, and bloody-minded

superiors and subordinates, and partly because he was a wretched gardener. For all his

loving care the roses at Ashgrove Cottage produced more greenfly, caterpillars, mildew,

rust, and grey mould than flowers -never enough at any one time to make a bed for a

dwarf, let alone a six-foot sea-officer who tipped the beam at sixteen stone. In the

figurative sense, his marriage was a good deal nearer the roses than most; he was a good

deal happier than he deserved (he was neither a sure provider nor quite strictly

monogamous) and although he was not ideally happy, although he might secretly wish for

a companion with more sense of a man's carnal nature and somewhat less possessive, he

was profoundly attached to Sophie: and in any case he was often away from home-for

years on end.

He now stood on the poop of HMS Worcester, about to set off again; and his wife sat a

little way behind him, on an incongruous elbow-chair brought on deck for the occasion.

The ship had been at single anchor in Spithead these long hours past, the Blue Peter as

firmly established at her foretopmast head as though it had been nailed there, her

foretopsail loosed, and her capstan-bars shipped and swifted a whole watch ago, ready to

send her on her way: the entire ship's company was in a state of angry tension - officers

snappish, dinner delayed, all eyes indignantly turned to the shore. She swung broad on

O'Brian Patrick - Aub-Mat 08 - The Ionian Mission

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