The Letter of Marque by Patrick O’Brian Read Free Book Online Page B

required all his self-command - more indeed than he thought he possessed - to avoid kicking the young man; for the loss of almost all pleasurable emotion left susceptibility, irritation, anger and rage intact or in fact strengthened, except during his long periods of apathy; and this was not one of them. When the Viper was within bailing-distance she ordered the Surprise to come under her lee, to send her master aboard with his papers, and to look hellfire quick about it, the order being emphasized with a gun across her bows.
    Jack was pulled across in the target-towing boat and on going aboard the Viper - a mere two steps up the side, these vessels being so low in the water - he saluted the quarterdeck: the youth who had the watch, a master's mate, made a sketchy motion towards his hat and told him that the captain was busy: he would see Mr Aubrey later. With this he returned to his conversation with the captain's clerk, walking up and down and talking with an affectation of easiness. Cutters' midshipmen were notorious in the service for ill-breeding and the Viper's ran true to form, leaning against the rail with their hands in their pockets, staring, whispering, sniggering, and staring again. Farther forward the cutter's warrant-officers had gathered in a body, watching with silent disapproval; and a middle-aged seaman who had sailed with Jack many years before stood motionless at the bitts with a coil of rope in his hands and a look of positive horror on his face.
    At length the captain of the Viper received him in the low booth that passed for a cabin. Dixon was sitting at a table: he did not offer Aubrey a chair. He had hated him from those remote days in Minorca and ever since the Surprise had heaved in sight he had been preparing sarcastic remarks of a particularly cutting nature. But the sight of Jack's bulk towering there, filling the meagre space and all the more massive since he had to crouch under the low deckhead, his grim face and the natural authority that emanated from him, overcame young Dixon's resolution; he said nothing when Jack pushed some objects from a locker and sat down. It was only when he had leafed through the papers that he said 'I see you have a very full ship's company, Mr Aubrey. I shall have to relieve you of a score or so.'
    'They are protected,' said Jack.
    'Nonsense. They cannot be protected. Privateersmen are not protected.'
    'Read that,' said Jack, gathering up the other papers and standing over him.
    Dixon read it, read it again and held the paper against the light to see the watermark: while he did so Jack gazed out of the scuttle at his boat's crew's tarpaulin-covered hats, rising and falling on the gentle swell. 'Well,' said Dixon at last, 'I suppose there is nothing more to be said. You may go.'
    'What did you say?' said Jack, turning short upon him.
    'I said there is nothing more to say.'
    'Good day to you, sir.'
    'Good day to you, sir.'
    His boat's crew greeted him with radiant smiles, and as they neared the Surprise one of the Shelmerston men called out to his friends peering over the hammocks, 'Mates, we'm protected!'
    'Silence in the boat,' cried the coxswain in a shocked voice.
    'Silence fore and aft,' called the officer of the watch as the cheering spread.
    Jack's mind was still too full of Stephen's paper and its possible implications to take much notice of the din, and he hurried below. But scarcely was his file in its proper place before a far greater hullaballoo broke out: as the Viper filled and gathered way all the men from Shelmerston and all those Surprises who were deserters raced up into the weather shrouds, facing the cutter. The yeoman of the sheets called out 'One, two, three,' and they all bellowed 'Hoo, hoo, hoo' and slapped their backsides in unison, laughing like maniacs.
    'Belay there,' roared Jack in a Cape Horn voice. 'Goddamned pack of mooncalves - is this a bawdy-house? The next man to slap his arse will have it flogged off him. Mr Pullings, the Doctor's