me. We sailors hear so little music – are so little used to genteel company – that we grow carried away. I beg your pardon.’
‘My dear sir,’ cried the man in the black coat, with an odd flush rising in his dead-white face, ‘you had every reason to be carried away. I have never heard a better quartetto in my life – such unity, such fire. May I propose a cup of chocolate, or coffee? It would give me great pleasure.’
‘You are very good, sir. I should like it of all things. To tell the truth, I was in such a hurry of spirits I forgot my breakfast. I have just been promoted,’ he added, with an off-hand laugh.
‘Have you indeed? I wish you joy of it with all my heart, sure. Pray walk in.’
At the sight of Mr Maturin the waiter waved his forefinger in that discouraging Mediterranean gesture of negation – an inverted pendulum. Maturin shrugged, said to Jack, ‘The posts are wonderfully slow these days,’ and to the waiter, speaking in the Catalan of the island, ‘Bring us a pot of chocolate, Jep, furiously whipped, and some cream.’
‘You speak the Spanish, sir?’ said Jack, sitting down and flinging out the skirts of his coat to clear his sword in a wide gesture that filled the low room with blue. ‘That must be a splendid thing, to speak the Spanish. I have often tried, and with French and Italian too; but it don’t answer. They generally understand me, but when they say anything, they speak so quick I am thrown out. The fault is here, I dare say,’ he observed, rapping his forehead. ‘It was the same with Latin when I was a boy: and how old Pagan used to flog me.’ He laughed so heartily at the recollection that the waiter with the chocolate laughed too, and said, ‘Fine day, Captain, sir, fine day!’
‘Prodigious fine day,’ said Jack, gazing upon his rat-like visage with great benevolence. ‘Bello soleil, indeed. But,’ he added, bending down and peering out of the upper part of the window, ‘it would not surprise me if the tramontana were to set in.’ Turning to Mr Maturin he said, ‘As soon as I was out of bed this morning I noticed that greenish look in the nor-nor-east, and I said to myself, “When the sea-breeze dies away, I should not be surprised if the tramontana were to set in.” ’
‘It is curious that you should find foreign languages difficult, sir,’ said Mr Maturin, who had no views to offer on the weather, ‘for it seems reasonable to suppose that a good ear for music would accompany a facility for acquiring – that the two would necessarily run together.’
‘I am sure you are right, from a philosophical point of view,’ said Jack. ‘But there it is. Yet it may well be that my musical ear is not so very famous, neither; though indeed I love music dearly. Heaven knows I find it hard enough to pitch upon the true note, right in the middle.’
‘You play, sir?’
‘I scrape a little, sir. I torment a fiddle from time to time.’
‘So do I! So do I! Whenever I have leisure, I make my attempts upon the ’cello.’
‘A noble instrument,’ said Jack, and they talked about Boccherini, bows and rosin, copyists, the care of strings, with great satisfaction in one another’s company until a brutally ugly clock with a lyre-shaped pendulum struck the hour: Jack Aubrey emptied his cup and pushed back his chair. ‘You will forgive me, I am sure. I have a whole round of official calls and an interview with my predecessor. But I hope I may count upon the honour, and may I say the pleasure – the great pleasure – of your company for dinner?’
‘Most happy,’ said Maturin, with a bow.
They were at the door. ‘Then may we appoint three o’clock at the Crown?’ said Jack. ‘We do not keep fashionable hours in the service, and I grow so devilish hungry and peevish by then that you will forgive me, I am sure. We will wet the swab, and when it is handsomely awash, why then perhaps we might try a little music, if that would not be disagreeable to you.’
‘Did you see that hoopoe?’ cried the man in the black coat.
‘What is a hoopoe?’ cried Jack, staring about.
‘A bird. That cinnamon-coloured bird with barred wings. Upupa epops. There! There, over the roof. There! There!’
‘Where? Where? How does it bear?’
‘It has gone now. I had been hoping to see a hoopoe ever since I arrived. In the middle of the town! Happy Mahon, to have such denizens. But I beg your pardon. You were speaking of wetting a swab.’
‘Oh, yes. It is a cant expression we have in the Navy. The swab is this’ – patting his epaulette – ‘and when first we ship it, we wet it: that is to say, we drink a bottle or two of wine.’
‘Indeed?’ said Maturin with a civil inclination of his head. ‘A decoration, a badge of rank, I make no doubt? A most elegant ornament, so it is, upon my soul. But, my dear sir, have you not forgot the other one?’
‘Well,’ said Jack, laughing, ‘I dare say I shall put them both on, by and by. Now I will wish you a good day and thank you for the excellent chocolate. I am so happy that you saw your epop.’
The first call Jack had to pay was to the senior captain, the naval commandant of Port Mahon. Captain Harte lived in a big rambling house belonging to one Martinez, a Spanish merchant, and he had an official set of rooms on the far side of the patio. As Jack crossed the open spaces he heard the sound of a harp, deadened to a tinkle by the shutters – they were drawn already against the mounting sun, and already geckoes were hurrying about on the sunlit walls.
Captain Harte was a little man, with a certain resemblance to Lord St Vincent, a resemblance that he did his best to increase by stooping, by being savagely rude to his subordinates and by the practice of Whiggery: whether he disliked Jack because Jack was tall and he was short, or whether he suspected him of carrying on an intrigue with his wife, it was all one – there was a strong antipathy between them, and it was of long standing. His first words were, ‘Well, Mr Aubrey, and where the devil have you been? I expected you yesterday afternoon – Allen expected you yesterday afternoon. I was astonished to learn that he had never seen you at all. I wish you joy, of course,’ he said without a smile, ‘but upon my word you have an odd notion of taking over a command. Allen must be twenty leagues away by now, and every real sailorman in the Sophie with him, no doubt, to say nothing of his officers. And as for all the books, vouchers, dockets, and so on, we have had to botch it up as best we could. Precious irregular. Uncommon irregular.’
‘Pallas has sailed, sir?’ cried Jack, aghast.
‘Sailed at midnight, sir,’ said Captain Harte, with a look of satisfaction. ‘The exigencies of the service do not wait upon our pleasure, Mr Aubrey. And I have been obliged to make a draft of what he left for harbour duty.’
‘I only heard last night – in fact this morning, between one and two.’
‘Indeed? You astonish me. I am amazed. The letter certainly went off in good time. It is the people at your inn who are at fault, no doubt. There is no relying on your foreigner. I give you joy of your command, I am sure, but how you will ever take her to sea with no people to work her out of the harbour I must confess I do not know. Allen took his lieutenant, and his surgeon, and all the promising midshipmen; and I certainly cannot give you a single man fit to set one foot in front of another.’
‘Well, sir,’ said Jack, ‘I suppose I must make the best of what I have.’ It was understandable, of course: any officer who could would get out of a small, slow, old brig into a lucky frigate like the Pallas. And by immemorial custom a captain changing ships might take his coxswain and boat’s crew as well as certain followers; and if he were not very closely watched he might commit enormities in stretching the definition of either class.
‘I can let you have a chaplain,’ said the commandant, turning the knife in the wound.
‘Can he hand, reef and steer?’ asked Jack, determined to show nothing. ‘If not, I had rather be excused.’
‘Good day to you, then, Mr Aubrey. I will send you your orders this afternoon.’
‘Good