Free 21: The Final Unfinished Voyage of Jack Aubrey by Patrick O’Brian Page B

regimentals, smiling just behind him. “ But of course you know him already, you are neighbours in the country.”
    “How do you do, sir?” said Jack, accepting Miller’ s proffered hand.
    “ And this, sir, is Dr Maturin, I presume?” said Lord Leyton. “ How kind of you to come. I have had a particular desire to meet you ever since the Duke of Clarence told me you were a most uncommonly learned man. I am not particularly learned myself, but I love to surround myself with those that are. May I introduce you to Captain Miller, my cousin Randolph – but now I come to reflect, perhaps a Doctor of
    Medicine takes r ank over a simple soldier . . .”
    “ Not at all, my lord: but it so happens that we were at Trinity at much the same time , so I already have that honour.”
    “ Indeed he was: Trinity College, Dublin. Well then, if he too were at Trinity, then he too is one of the learned - it stands to reason. And I dare say he can split an infinitive as quick as any man. But may I introduce . . .”
    Presently they were called to the Admiral’ s truly splendid dining-cabin, which could seat ten people easily, each with a servant behind his chair and plenty of room for those who came hurrying in with dishes and tureens, sauceboats, trays of bread and of course very large quantities of wine – a grateful Sancerre with the bonito, an Haut-Brion with the admirable duck and an ancient burgundy with the roast beef: unhappily it was corked. The chaplain on Stephen’ s right murmured something about ‘ a q uaint reminiscence of antiquity’ and Jack did not empty his glass; but their host took no notice of his formal first sip and none of his officers showed any sign of awareness. ‘Stoicism?’ asked Stephen privately. ‘ Dislike of offending the great man? D iscipline? Stark insensibility?’
    When it came to the port, however, the case was altered: all hands, including the parson, drank eagerly; and when they reached the loyal toast there was no man who did not drain his brimming glass and murmur, ‘God bless him,’ with real feeling, and emptied it.
    After this ceremony and the chaplain’ s grace, Lord Leyton observed that although the glass was sinking it was still quite a fine afternoon, and some of them might like to take their coffee, and perhaps some brandy, on deck. There were general sounds of agreement, a general movement, though with due regard for precedence, and the Admiral keeping Jack by his side until the room was free, said, in answer to h is thanks and congratulations, “ Not at all, not at all, my dear fellow - a very simple little feast: though I must admit that they have capital beef in these part. But did you noti ce anything about the burgundy?”
    “No, sir: capital wine.”
    “ Well, I am glad of that. For a moment I thought – but, however, what I wanted to tell you before coffee was that I should like you to weigh on the ebb and to proceed to Saint Helena under a very easy sail and there to wait in that damned uneasy roadstead until you see me plain. Then you must weigh and carry on for the Cape: there is not room for all three squadrons to lie there safely together in a strong sou’ wester. But that will already make a very impre ssive show of force, I believe.”
    “Certainly, sir.”
    “ And then I should like you to take my nephew along with you. As you may know, he has been given an appointment at the Cape, and the sooner he is there the better – you might even lend him your tender for the last few days, if the wind drops, as it so often does as you approach the coast. Now let us hurry on deck, before all those God-damned sol diers have drunk all the brandy.”
    On deck Captain Miller at once came up to Jack and said, “ Sir, I hear with great pleasure that Mrs Aubrey and Mrs Wood are both aboard you, and that perhaps we may be shipmates far as the Cape. Allow me to fetch you a glass of brandy .” Coming back with the glass in his hand he cried, “ My dear cousin has just