Master and Commander. Patrick O’Brian

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      ‘Why, bless you, sir, they never amounted to half a dozen, and we took good care they was all the hard bargains and right awkward buggers. Beg pardon, sir: the idle men. So as for mere numbers, why no, sir. In a three-watch brig like the Sophie it’s a puzzle to stow ’em all between-decks as it is: she’s a trim, comfortable, home-like little vessel, right enough, but she ain’t what you might call roomy.’

      Jack made no reply to this; but it confirmed a good many of his impressions, and he reflected upon them until the boat reached the yard.

      ‘Captain Aubrey!’ cried Mr Brown, the officer in charge of the yard. ‘Let me shake you by the hand, sir, and wish you joy. I am very happy to see you.’

      ‘Thank you, sir; thank you very much indeed.’ They shook hands. ‘This is the first time I have seen you in your kingdom, sir.’

      ‘Commodious, ain’t it?’ said the naval officer. ‘Rope-walk over there. Sail-loft behind your old Généreux. I only wish there were a higher wall around the timber-yard: you would never believe how many flaming thieves there are in this island, that creep over the wall by night and take away my spars: or try to. It is my belief they are sometimes set on it by the captains; but captains or not, I shall crucify the next son of a bitch I find so much as looking at a dog-pawl.’

      ‘It is my belief, Mr Brown, that you will never be really happy until there is not a King’s ship left in the Mediterranean and you can walk round your yard mustering a full complement of paint-pots every day of the week, never issuing out so much as a treenail from one year’s end to the next.’

      ‘You just listen to me, young man,’ said Mr Brown, laying his hand on Jack’s sleeve. ‘Just you listen to age and experience. Your good captain never wants anything from a dockyard. He makes do with what he has. He takes great care of the King’s stores: nothing is ever wasted: he pays his bottom with his own slush: he worms his cables deep with twice-laid stuff and serves and parcels them so there is never any fretting in the hawse anywhere: he cares for his sails far more than for his own skin, and he never sets his royals – nasty, unnecessary, flash, gimcrack things. And the result is promotion, Mr Aubrey; for we make our report to the Admiralty, as you know, and it carries the greatest possible weight. What made Trotter a post-captain? The fact that he was the most economical master and commander on the station. Some men carried away topmasts two and three times in a year: never Trotter. Take your own good Captain Allen. Never did he come to me with one of those horrible lists as long as his own pennant. And look at him now, in command of as pretty a frigate as you could wish. But why do I tell you all this, Captain Aubrey? I know very well you are not one of these spendthrift, fling-it-down-the-kennel young commanders, not after the care you took bringing in the Généreux. Besides, the Sophie is perfectly well found in every possible respect. Except conceivably in the article of paint. I might, at great inconvenience to other captains, find you some yellow paint, a very little yellow paint.’

      ‘Why, sir, I should be grateful for a pot or two,’ said Jack, his eye ranging carelessly over the spars. ‘But what I really came for was to beg the favour of the loan of your duettoes. I am taking a friend on this cruise and he particularly desires to hear your B minor duetto.’

      ‘You shall have them, Captain Aubrey,’ said Mr Brown. ‘You shall most certainly have them. Mrs Harte is transcribing one for the harp at the present moment, but I shall step round there directly. When do you sail?’

      ‘As soon as I have completed my water and my convoy is assembled.’

      ‘That will be tomorrow evening, if the Fanny comes in: and the watering will not take you long. The Sophie only carries ten ton. You shall have the book by noon tomorrow, I promise you.’

      ‘I am most obliged, Mr Brown, infinitely obliged. Good night to you, then, and my best respects wait on Mrs Brown and Miss Fanny.’

      ‘Christ,’ said Jack, as the shattering din of the carpenter’s hammer prised him from his hold on sleep. He clung to the soft darkness as hard as he could, burying his face in his pillow, for his mind had been racing so that he had not dropped off until six – indeed, it was his appearance on deck at first light, peering at the yards and rigging, that had given rise to the rumour that he was up and about. And this was the reason for the carpenter’s untimely zeal, just as it was for the nervous presence of the gun-room steward (the former captain’s steward had gone over to the Pallas) hovering with what had been Captain Allen’s invariable breakfast – a mug of small beer, hominy grits and cold beef.

      But there was no sleeping; the echoing crash of the hammer right next to his ear, ludicrously followed by the sound of whispering between the carpenter and his mates, made certain of that. They were in his sleeping-cabin, of course. Jets of pain shot through Jack’s head as he lay there. ‘’Vast that bloody hammering,’ he called, and almost against his shoulder came the shocked reply, ‘Aye aye, sir,’ and the tip-toe pittering away.

      His voice was hoarse. ‘What made me so damned garrulous yesterday?’ he said, still lying there in his cot. ‘I am as hoarse as a crow, with talking. And what made me launch out in wild invitations? A guest I know nothing about, in a very small brig I have scarcely seen.’ He pondered gloomily upon the extreme care that should be taken with shipmates – cheek by jowl – very like marriage – the inconvenience of pragmatic, touchy, assuming companions – incompatible tempers mewed up together in a box. In a box: his manual of seamanship – and how he had conned it as a boy, poring over the impossible equations.

      Let the angle YCB, to which the yard is braced up, be called the trim of the sails, and expressed by the symbol b. This is the complement of the angle DCI. Now CI:ID = rad.:tan. DCI = I:tan. DCI = |: cotan. b. Therefore we have finally |: cotan. b = A¹:B¹:tan.²x, and A^1. cotan. b = B ^tangent², and tan. ¹x = A — B cot. This equation evidently ascertains the mutual relation between the trim of the sails and the leeway…

      ‘It is quite evident, is it not, Jacky darling?’ said a hopeful voice, and a rather large young woman bent kindly over him (for at this stage in his memory he was only twelve, a stocky little boy, and tall, nubile Queeney sailed high above).

      ‘Why, no, Queeney,’ said the infant Jack. ‘To tell you the truth, it ain’t.’

      ‘Well,’ said she, with untiring patience. ‘Try to remember what a cotangent is, and let us begin again. Let us consider the ship as an oblong box…’

      For a while he considered the Sophie as an oblong box. He had not seen a great deal of her, but there were two or three fundamentals that he knew with absolute certainty: one was that she was under-rigged – she might be well enough close to the wind, but she would be a slug before it; another was that his predecessor had been a man of a temper entirely unlike his own; and another was that the Sophie’s people had come to resemble their captain, a good sound quiet careful unaggressive commander who never set his royals, as brave as could be when set upon, but the very opposite of a Sallee rover. ‘Was discipline to be combined with the spirit of a Sallee rover,’ said Jack, ‘it would sweep the ocean clean.’ And his mind descending fast to the commonplace dwelt on the prize-money that would result from sweeping the ocean even moderately clean.

      ‘That despicable main-yard,’ he said. ‘And surely to God I can get a couple of twelve-pounders as chasers. Would her timbers stand it, though? But whether they can or not, the box can be made a little more like a fighting vessel – more like a real man-of-war.’

      As his thoughts ranged on so the low cabin brightened steadily. A fishing-boat passed under СКАЧАТЬ