‘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.’
‘That is true. And of course you understand the local position far better than any of us. But I do not like to think of you running this added risk.’
‘It is very slight, if indeed it exists at the moment – negligible if I have a fair wind and if you caulk this leak, this purely conjectural leak. For this one voyage it does not weigh at all, compared with the common daily hazards of the trade. Afterwards, if silly chatter has its usual effect, clearly I shall not be useful for some time – not until you rehabilitate me, ha, ha, with your quasi-diplomatic or scientific mission to the Cham of Tartary. When I come back from it I shall publish such papers on the cryptogams of Kamschatka that no one will ever set the mark of intelligence upon my head again.’
To and fro, to and fro, from Cape Sicié to the Giens peninsula, wear ship and back again, all day long, week after week, month after month, whatever the weather; after the evening gun they stood out into the offing and at dawn they were back again, the inshore squadron of frigates watching Toulon, the eyes of the Mediterranean fleet, those line-of-battle ships whose topsails flecked the southern horizon, Nelson waiting for the French admiral to come out.
The mistral had been blowing for three days now and the sea showed more white than blue, with the off-shore wind cutting up little short waves that sent spray flying over the waist of the ship: the three frigates had reduced sail at noon, but even so they were making seven knots and heeling until their larboard chains were smothered in the foam.
The tediously familiar headland of Cape Sicié came closer and closer; in this sparkling clean air under the pure sky they could see the little white houses, carts creeping on the road up to the semaphore station and the batteries. Closer, almost within range of the high-perched forty-two pounders; and now the wind was coming in gusts off the high ground.
‘On deck, there,’ hailed the lookout at the mast-head. ‘Naiad’s showing a waft, sir.’
‘Hands wear ship,’ said the lieutenant of the watch, more from form than anything else, for not only did the Lively have a crew that had worked together for years, but also she had carried out this manoeuvre several hundred times in this very stretch of water and the order was scarcely needed. Routine had taken the edge off the Livelies’ zeal, but nevertheless the boatswain had to call out ‘Handsomely, handsomely, now, with that bleeding sheet’; for the crew had been brought to such a pitch of silent efficiency that the frigate ran the risk of darting her jib-boom over the taffrail of the Melpomene, her next ahead, whose talents and sailing qualities could not have recommended her anywhere.
However, round they went in succession, each wearing in the spot where her leader had turned; they hauled their wind and re-formed their rigid line, heading for Giens once more, Naiad, Melpomene, Lively.
‘I do hate this wearing in succession,’ said one thin midshipman to another thin midshipman, ‘It does not give a man a chance: nothing can you see, not a sausage, no not a sausage; nor yet a smell of one,’ he added, peering forward through the rigging and sails towards the gap between the peninsula and the island of Porquerolles.
‘Sausage,’ cried the other. ‘Oh, Butler, what an infernal bloody thing to say.’ He, too, leaned over the top of the hammocks, staring towards the passage; for at any moment now the Niobe might appear from her cruise, watering at Agincourt Sound and working back along the Italian coast, badgering the enemy and picking up what supplies she could find, and it would be the Lively’s turn next. ‘Sausage,’ he cried above the mistral, as he stared, ‘hot, crisp, squirting with juice as you bite ’em – bacon – mushrooms!’
‘Shut up, fat-arse,’ whispered his friend,