The Wine-Dark Sea by Patrick O’Brian Read Free Book Online

with the other he swept off his hat, saying, 'I am deeply sensible of your goodness in coming, sir.' Stephen instantly saw that his anxiety had been quite needless: there was no hint of recognition in the earnest look that accompanied these words. Of course, a public man like Dutourd, perpetually addressing assemblies, meeting scores, even hundreds of people a day, would not remember a slight acquaintance of several years ago - three or four meetings in Madame Roland's salon before the war, at a time when his republican principles had already caused him to change his name from du Tourd to Dutourd, and then two or three dinners during the short-lived peace. Yet himself he would have known Dutourd, a curiously striking man, more full of life than most, giving the impression of being physically larger than he was in fact: an animated face, an easy rapid flow of speech. Upright: head held high. These thoughts presented themselves to his mind while at the same time he registered the desolation fore and aft, the tangle of sailcloth, cordage and shattered spars, the demoralization of the hands. Some few were still mechanically pumping but most were either drunk or reduced to a hopeless apathy.
    Martin, Reade and Plaice boarded the Franklin on three successive swells, Bonden fending off; and in a high clear voice Reade, taking off his hat, said, 'Monsieur, je prends le commandement de ce vaisseau.'
    'Bien, Monsieur,' said Dutourd.
    Reade stepped to the stump of the mainmast: Plaice lashed a stray studding-sail boom to it and amid the heavy indifference of the Franklin's crew they hoisted British colours. There was a modest cheer from the Surprise. Dutourd said 'Gentlemen, most of the wounded are in the cabin. May I lead the way?'
    As they went down the ladder they heard Reade call to Bonden, who had an extremely powerful voice, telling him to hail the ship and ask for the bosun, his mate, Padeen and all the hands who could be spared: the prize was near foundering.
    On the starboard side of the cabin a dozen men lay side by side and another was stretched out motionless on the stern-window locker; in this heat they were suffering terribly from thirst. But the ship had such a heel to larboard that on the other side there was a wretched tangle of living and dead washing about with every roll: screams, groaning, a shocking stench and cries for help, cries for rescue.
    'Come, sir, take off your coat,' said Stephen. Dutourd obeyed and the three of them pulled and lifted with what care they could. The dead they dragged to the half-deck; the living they laid in something like an order of urgency. 'Can you command your men?' asked Stephen.
    'Some few, I think,' said Dutourd. 'But most of them are drunk.'
    'Then tell them to throw the dead overboard and to bring buckets and swabs to clean where the dead men lay.' He called to Bonden out of the shattered stern-window, 'Barret Bonden, now. Can you heave up the little keg till Mr Martin and I can catch a hold on it?'
    'I'll try, sir,' said Bonden.
    'We shall have to move this man,' said Stephen, nodding at the figure lying on the locker. 'In any case he is dead.'
    'He was my sailing-master,' said Dutourd. 'Your last shot killed him, his mate and most of the crew. The other gun burst.'
    Stephen nodded. He had seen a raking shot do terrible damage; and as for a bursting gun... 'Shall we ease him out of the window? I must look to these men at once.'
    'Very well,' said Dutourd, and as the rigid corpse slid into the sea so Bonden called, 'On the rise, sir; clap on,' and the keg came aboard. Martin started the bung with a serving-mallet: he had only a filthy can to serve it out, but in this unnatural parching heat neither filth nor can was of the least account, only the infinitely precious water.
    'Now, sir,' said Stephen to Dutourd, 'a pint is all, or you will bloat. Sit here and show me your head.' Beneath the handkerchief, dried blood and matted hair, there was a razor-like cut along the side of his