5. Backfire

Jack was extremely puzzled. He had been at the wheel since Tom had fetched him, sailing the Surprise himself for the last four bells, trying to discern why, why in God’s name, the ship he knew so well would not respond in a way he could recognize. She would not luff up as close to the wind as he expected, not by half, and, as a consequence she was not as stiff and weatherly as she should be, and she had a terrible time tacking.

For the whole of the stern-chase, he had doubted LaSalle’s sailing qualities, but he had never doubted his own, and he could not twig it. What was wrong with the Surprise?

‘Sir,’ said Tom Pullings, ‘we could consider stepping the mainmast back. She seems to be by the stem, in some way, and it’s not in the stowing. I have overseen that personally, and I know her, sir, I know her!’ Even-keeled Pullings was so frustrated by this quandary that he was about to fly into a passion over it.

‘Tom, pipe down,’ Jack said in an undertone. ‘This should be between us. We are undermanned, and we have the Lucky for a tender with a belly full of Boney’s men. We can afford no superstitious talking. We will crack this, I am sure of it; now clew up the mains and let’s try on tops’l alone. Perhaps we can get another point out of her. Damned strange, it is.’

Jack leaned over the quarterdeck railing and said, ‘Pass the word for Mr. Woodring.’

‘Sir?’ said the master carpenter, coming out of the hatch.

‘I would like to shift the great cabin bulkhead for’ard a good eighteen inches. There should be enough room. The doctor has a very special, eh, patient, and, after some, eh, consideration, he only sees fit to carry out his treatment in the great cabin. I presume it’s the, eh, stern windows, the light and the fresh air.’ Jack was never any good at fabricating, even when he believed with all his heart that it was for the good of the Service. He reddened slightly, then continued, ‘I am considering cutting off a small cabin for this… patient, so that I may have the use of the rest of the day-cabin, and we can still have our music at night…’

Jack looked up to the crosstrees distractedly, as his orders were piped by the bosun and followed up by the men. Topsails didn’t seem to bring it about it either. What else could he try?

‘Screech, screech, scrape, scrape,’ Killick, bringing Jack a cup of coffee, complained behind his Captain’s shoulder. ‘Which I would get sick too, having to listen to that racket. Not a single tune to dance to among them. I s’pose I’ll be serving the “patient” as well? Sir?’ Jack’s ill-mannered, bad-tempered steward had of course understood the situation, and the sort of patient, already, and had turned his beady eyes on his captain with a knowing look.

‘Killick,’ said Jack, turning around sharply. ‘Clap a stopper over that talk, and that look, or I promise you, I will personally crucify you at the masthead, tomorrow when we have made noon.’

‘Aye aye, sir,’ muttered Killick, looking down, tugging his forelock and shuffling out of the way as Stephen made his way up to the quarterdeck in a hurry. He nattered on, in an undertone: ‘…which he’s become a right hard tyrant lately…’

‘Jack, Jack,’ said Stephen hastily, passing Killick without noticing his irreverent mutterings. He caught his breath then started again. ‘Captain Aubrey. If you are free, please join me in the great cabin. I will have something to show you presently.’

‘Yes. I will be there momentarily,’ Jack said, still with an eye up in the canvas.

‘I believe there is not an instant to lose. Time and tide…’ A modestly vengeful gleam brightened Maturin’s eyes.

‘Stephen, upon my word,’ said Jack, his vexation plain on his reddened face. But he followed the Doctor back into his cabin nonetheless, avoiding the stern locker with his gaze. The stern locker with the beautiful girl. Trollop. Wench. Sprawled on it. Her fiery hair cascading down in luscious waves. It needed combing out, and washing, that hair, and for the briefest of instants Jack could see himself caring for this creature, running his fingers through those burgundy locks...

He harrumphed and jerked his head, his eyes on the harp in the corner. ‘The... patient?’ he asked, with a painfully studious air of indifference.

‘She has not yet regained her powers,’ Stephen said, apparently unaware of the effect the young woman was having on his friend, and he himself quite immune to her looks. ‘Trust me Jack, we are quite safe from prying eyes.’ And then he proceeded to insert a small sliver of metal into the lock of one of the chests. Jack watched with silent amazement. Stephen felt his way around inside the lock for a moment, and then he turned in his crouch and gave Jack a pale stare. ‘Are you surprised, joy?’ he almost whispered. ‘Surely you must know about...’ he raised an eyebrow.

‘Oh, yes, yes,’ Jack said, an old and strong suspicion now fully confirmed. ‘But I was not aware you’d also be... a, a...’ the word eluded him, and his face clouded for a moment.

‘A picker of locks? Do not presume to grow virtuous on me, Jack. It is a... useful, and sometimes even necessary skill in this, shall we say, occupation. Believe me. Ah... there we are, I think.’ The lock clicked and Stephen smiled coldly, lifting the lid with cautious fingers.

Jack craned his neck, then saw, and a soft, surprised ‘Oh!’ escaped him.

‘My idea exactly,’ Stephen said. ‘And there’s three of them. Three! Any man aboard this ship would lose his senses if he knew what this represents.’

‘A modest kingdom. Possibly even two or three, in the South Pacific,’ Jack whispered, kneeling next to his friend and lifting out one of the precious stones that made up the contents of the chest. An emerald the size of a child’s fist. It rolled around on Jack’s big hand like a green miracle, catching the light of the stern windows and scattering patches of colour all through the cabin. ‘And all this was for Boney?’

‘Yes.’

‘From the King of Spain?’

‘Yes.’ Stephen picked up a ruby not much smaller than the stone Jack held in his hand.

‘By God...’ Jack quickly calculated. ‘This treasure would tip the balance in Bones Apart’s favour and we’d stand powerless. Powerless! The ships he could build with this... The King of Spain eh? And you knew this? So he has finally declared himself.’

‘No: he has not. He means to secretly support Napoleon, with a fortune that cannot be traced. The Lord only knows what he must have done to collect these stones... but Jack, you must see now that the men must never know. Mutiny would be inevitable, even if they knew their share of the prize would amount to more money than they’d ever seen together in their entire lives.’

‘Yes... yes by all means, you are absolutely right. Absolutely right. It is damn vexing though,’ said Jack with deep, heartfelt regret, ‘that this fortune cannot possibly be part of the prize... A captain’s share would have set me up handsomely. Cleared all those blasted debts, and set me up most handsomely. Most handsomely indeed...’ He stared out the window wistfully.

Stephen turned a quizzical eye upon him. ‘Of... what do you speak? This treasure was found in the Surprise, which is taken a prize by you, am I correct? Therefore...’

‘Ah, no, Stephen,’ Jack explained patiently, ‘this treasure will be seen as a declaration of war from Spain, and as such a political matter of much broader import that the Navy alone. I am sure it will be confiscated by Whitehall easy as kiss my hand and none of us, not even Admiral Harte, that vindictive whoreson, will ever see a penny of it. He will hate me all the more for it, I’m sure; he will do his utmost to see me undone within the service.’

Jack sighed from the bottom of his soul and softly continued, a look of deep depression settling on his otherwise handsome, amicable face, ‘ I should have perished in the action... perished and be done with it...’

Stephen sighed as well, dropped his ruby back into the chest and closed the lid cautiously. His plan seemed to have backfired: not only had he done his friend a great disservice, he had also contrived to drive him farther into the arms of the blue devils. This was not what he had in mind when he’d arranged for this cruise; no, not at all.

At that point, a loud hammering began, right outside the cabin. Mr. Woodring and his crew, working to shift the bulkhead. Jack creased his brow in agitation; the sound was almost too much for his current state of mind. A fortune in his hands, a fortune that could save him ashore, a fortune he could not possibly touch. And on top of that, his cabin resembling a Parisian brothel, and on top of that, a woman, an exquisitely beautiful woman, lying unconscious upon the stern locker cushions.

Had he met that woman in an alehouse in a foreign port, he would not have thought twice.  She would have been his for the night. And the next morning he would have been on his merry way, time and tide waits for no one, my dear. But now she was here, invading his cabin, invading his view, invading his mind. Perhaps even invading his heart a trifle; after all, he felt deeply sorry for her for having had to endure LaSalle’s cruelty. No woman deserved that, however tarnished her reputation.

 Jack heaved a sigh as the pounding wore on. He was weary from the action, he was stretched too thin and crowded in on all sides, laid by the lee, wind and weather-gauge against him... It was not to be borne. It was simply insupportable.

The patient suddenly moved, and a soft moan escaped her. The hammering intensified, supported by a barrage of distinctly nautical invective. Jack’s frown increased exponentially, and he growled at Stephen, ‘I’ll be on deck; I am no company fit for man or beast.’

But before he could make his way out of the cabin, a heart-stopping shriek made him stop abruptly. He turned around to see the young woman, white as a sheet, sitting upright and clinging to his coat for dear life. Her eyes were big and round and she was quite clearly scared out of her wits. But what made Jack’s heart suddenly turn cold in his chest was that she was looking directly at him.

Chapter Six

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