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"But Jack, my dear, it makes no more sense than your other heathenish superstitions!"
"You know I don't believe that stuff, Stephen," said Jack in an exasperated tone, "but the men do, and if we trifle with their luck I shall have an unhappy ship on my hands."
"Soul, whether it is your own superstition or theirs, it is still illogical. I have seen any number of female passengers aboard ships. Why, you know perfectly well that Diana sailed with us from Halifax, and I need not mention the time that dear Sophie rode with us to the Downs, back in the old Lively." Stephen's eyes twinkled.
"That is not at all the same thing, Stephen, and you know it," said Jack. "Passengers are quite different."
"If that is so, what of the wives of the carpenters and bosuns, whom I have seen on any number of ships?"
"Stephen, you are trying to vex me, and I will not stand for it!" His smile belied his harsh words. "You know as well as I do that it is tradition: the immemorial custom of the service. Now may we not play another hand?"
Jack dealt the cards. Stephen took up his hand, holding it close and examining it with an even expression, then remarked, "I seem to recall hearing that you were not always so set against having women onboard."
"Yes, yes, Stephen, but where would we be if every man did the same? I would have to send our entire midshipman's berth before the mast, and your friend Jagiello would most likely have to sling his hammock in the heads, ha, ha, ha!" His wit was directed at their passenger, the Lithuanian cavalry officer with the boyish features who had found "the Gentleman's Relish" lying uninvited in his cot and had blushingly sought their assistance to set her ashore. It seemed that Jagiello attracted women like honey attracted ants, and with as little volition: his discomfiture had been the jest of the ship since the morning watch.
The play and the conversation continued in good humour, their remarks interspersed with "quart!" and "pique!" from time to time. They had embarked with too much haste to bring their instruments, but an evening of piquet, toasted cheese and madeira in each other's company was nearly as pleasant as playing together.
"Stephen," said Jack as the evening drew to a close, "You have no idea how much it lifts my spirits to see you so happy. I dare say you are more cheerful on this voyage than I have seen you since La Reunion."
"Sure, joy, it fills my heart to know that you worry for me, so. I admit I have been wretched these several months; but now I believe the worst is past."
"I wish I could say the same," said Jack with a frown, thinking of his legal difficulties at home. "Come, let us not think on that, or it will bring us both low again. A toast, to happiness and health!" He poured the last drops of Madeira into their glasses, and they drank.
After the doctor had retired to his cabin, Jack took up his pen to continue his episodic letter to Sophie: "Stephen is so much improved I would hardly know him to be the same man. It was shocking to see him miserable for such a long time. Now he is so light-hearted that he frolicks in the crosstrees and sets the whole watch a-muddle for fear he should take a tumble." Half a smile creased the corners of his eyes as he dipped his nib. "He reminds me of our early days in the Mediterranean, when he was forever exclaiming over some bird or fish and had the crew near bursting not to laugh aloud at his lubberliness.
"Stephen is such a close fellow that he will not tell me what has cheered him up so, but I believe it must be Diana. He has suffered so much for her, and I know he was in a pitiable state all the way to New Holland and home again. Why, I don't believe he collected a single beast or flower the whole time we were in the States! He moped about with such a hangdog expression while my arm was mending, though I believe he was glad to meet Herapath again. However when he came home from Paris he seemed almost his old self, and when we breakfasted at the Grapes that morning and he told me we were to have the Ariel, that seems to have set a cap on it."
Stephen's thoughts were not set to paper that night, but the habit of reflecting on the day's events had not left him since he had forsworn his diary, and he sat in contemplation by the light of a lantern.
"I believe I can attribute my felicity to two factors. The first and simplest is that my work once again coincides with my own desires. Grimsholm will be risky, but it is straightforward: a simple communication, delivered to Catalan soldiers who desire independence and liberty no less than I do, and who in some some cases I know personally; it cannot fail to be well received, and if I survive the attempt I am assured that I will not feel stained by it. My second reason is less noble, but no less powerful. Sir Joseph's advice has had the same effect on me as mine, with regard to Miss Smith, had on Jack; I have been convinced that it is no great trouble to be suspected of unnatural vices as long as there is no undeniable proof of it; in truth, it may be desirable to have yet another ready excuse for my unusual travels. If the French should not believe that I have come to the Baltic to see the eider duck, perhaps they would believe that I had followed Aubrey for my own reasons?
"Jack, I am convinced, will never suspect unless I tell him outright. He is an excellent judge of ships and officers, but his judgement of people outside the service is entirely based on instinct. He loves without understanding: yet his love is warmer and more loyal than any other man I have known. Perhaps there is a connection."
Stephen undressed, leaving his coat and stockings tangled untidily on top of his sea chest, and clambered into his swaying cot. As he lay on his back in the darkness, listening to the creaking of the ship and the rush of water along its side, his thoughts turned to Jagiello.
"His consternation at finding a woman in his cot was quite unfeigned, I am sure: no dissimulation could bring such a colour to the cheeks. No, he seems quite the innocent. But one may seem to be many things which one is not, as I have good reason to know." With this he drifted to sleep.
He slept soundly through the night and was oblivious to the thump and scrape of the holystones on the deck as the sun rose; he was finally roused when Killick arrived, accompanied by a wafting scent of coffee, muttering, "Which it is breakfast in the Captain's cabin, if you ain't too blear-eyed."
Jack was spilling crumbs on his charts, and looked up to say, "Why Stephen, there you are!" He poured coffee and passed the meagre remains of the bacon. "I'm sorry I left you so little, my dear. Shall I have Killick make up some more?"
"No, I believe I shall be content with some toast and marmalade. How are we situated this morning?"
"We will reach Grimsholm this afternoon. I'll crew the Minnie with able seamen, no officers, and we will put you into her before we raise the island; then we will follow you in at long gun range." The captain then detailed the crew and the disposition of the guns, with Stephen nodding his assent at regular intervals.
"It will serve well, I believe. And now, if you will excuse me, I must prepare myself." With that he took his leave, and retired to his own cabin to arrange the papers he would deliver to the Catalans. When he was done he took up the work of a prominent ichthyologist, and passed an enlightening hour learning about the unusual marine fauna of the Americas.
A young midshipman appeared at his door, and said, "Captain's compliments, sir, and he asked me to tell you that the Minnie's crew is aboard."
"Thank you, I am happy to hear it," said Stephen, "but wait! Would you be so kind as to present my compliments to Mr. Jagiello, and ask him whether he can spare me a few moments of his time?" The midshipman scampered away.
Jagiello arrived, smiling broadly, at the cabin door. Stephen closed his book and removed his glasses, and returned the youth's friendly greeting. "I am glad to see you, friend. I was just reading Bonnaterre's treatise on Sparisoma viride. I do not suppose you know it?"
"No indeed!" Jagiello laughed. "I am not such a scholar as you, good Doctor."
"That is a great pity, for I believe you would find this to be most instructive. Sparisoma viride -- it is a fish which inhabits the tropical waters of the Caribbean, you understand -- possesses the rare talent of changing sex at will. In times of crisis, the male can become female, and vice versa."
Jagiello responded with a laugh which rang unnaturally in the enclosed space. "Why, Doctor, it is the wonder of the world! How astonishing nature is!" He then sought to change the subject, and failed, and lapsed into uncomfortable silence.
Stephen regarded him gravely. "You know I am the very soul of discretion, not to mention that I am also a physician. If you stand in need of a confidant..." Jagiello's colour rose, and he looked wildly about the cabin as if seeking a means of escape. "Sure," observed Stephen with a serious expression but a betraying glint in his eye, "your blushing cheek certainly indicates more than just a sanguine humour. Who else knows?"
Jagiello deflated, and looked ashamed. "Only my tailor in Stockholm."
"Yes, of course, that would be quite necessary." Stephen ran a critical eye up and down Jagiello's exquisite coat and well-fitted breeches and noted the way in which they concealed faint curves visible only to the knowing eye. "I must congratulate you: the man is a prodigy. One would never realise, if one did not already know."
"But sir, how did you come to find out?"
"Ta, ta," said Stephen with a dismissive wave, "I am a physician, a confidential servant of the Crown, and a naturalist; I am used to close observation, and to concealment as well."
"You will not tell the captain?"
"I have already given you my assurances of discretion."
"But he is such a particular friend of yours! I thought --"
"Nevertheless there are many things I do not tell him." Secrets just as intimate as yours, he added silently. "But now, if you will forgive me, I am on the point of departure. When I return, which with the blessing I hope I may do by tomorrow, I would be happy to advise you, or to examine you if you stand in any need of medical attention." Jagiello bowed and thanked him, and left in an apparent state of confusion.
Stephen's dinner with the captain at noon was a sorry affair, with Jack eating very little, speaking with utmost politeness, and becoming obviously distraught when he dropped his glass as he attempted to give a toast; he took it for an ill-omen, and would not have taken kindly to further teasing about his superstitions. Stephen longed to reach out and comfort him, but there seemed a distance between them, as if he had already gone.
And then, at last, he was gone. Over the side, shaking Jack's hand at the last moment and lingering for a second to feel the strength of his friend's grip. Jack watched the boat pull away, and then paced the deck, staring constantly over Ariel's bows to watch the Minnie pull away with Stephen sitting calm under the mizzen-mast, perhaps never to return.
Jack stood at the rail until the sun set and he could no longer make out what was happening ashore, and then as twilight darkened into night he stalked wretchedly about the deck and peered into the gloom for the smallest sign that Stephen was alive and well.
He was leaning on the taff-rail in a state of dejection and misery when Jagiello approached: the man had no idea of the sanctity of the quarterdeck, and Jack could not very well inform him of it. He had no desire to find himself in the company of such a light-hearted, merry soul when his own mind was so beset with fear; but Jagiello seemed quite subdued in spirit, and stood silently next to him for a few minutes before speaking. "Captain, have you known Dr. Maturin very long?" Jack gave his assent, and mentioned their first voyage together more than ten years ago.
"He seems to be a trustworthy man." Jagiello spoke tentatively, as if seeking confirmation, and Jack had opened his mouth to reply when he found he could not put his answer into words. Yes, Stephen was trustworthy; but what a feeble word it seemed to describe him. Jack had trusted Stephen with his life more times than he could count, and knew no other man he could rely on more as a friend; they had shared innumerable voyages, and the captain had come to rely on his surgeon beyond the mere requirements of naval service; Stephen had been his partner, his conscience, and the one thing which had made the loneliness of command bearable.
Jagiello had not waited for a reply, but continued: "The doctor spoke the other night of women, of a ship's company half women. What do you suppose he meant by it?"
Jack turned at this, the word "women" seeming so strangely out of place with his thoughts. "Women, Mr. Jagiello? I believe he would be in favour of having them aboard; in fact he as much as told me so last night. But the notion is preposterous. Even one woman can cause an uproar, as you well know." With this he frowned, and Jagiello, turning a furious red, beat his retreat.
No, he had no desire to see women aboard his ship, breaking up their comfortably masculine world; he was happy to have Stephen at sea, and Sophie ashore. If only Stephen would return safely from Grimsholm. His thoughts turned on this through the evening's first watch as he tossed and turned in his cot. Years of watch-keeping had taught him to sleep whenever the opportunity presented itself, but even such habit could not counteract the fear of losing his particular friend.
Dawn saw him in the maintop, his sea cloak wrapped tight around him and dew glistening on his shoulders and hair. His stomach was twisted in a tight knot that rejected the very thought of breakfast, and his eyes burned from staring ashore through his glass. When at long last he saw the yellow and red colours fly from the flagstaff, and saw the soldiers dancing and cheering, he could hardly prevent himself from likewise hallooing in his joy. Instead he called down for Grimmond to raise the Catalan flag, and descended stiffly but happily to the deck. With a lightness of spirit that felt like flying, he brought the Ariel about and headed for the island, and for Stephen.
More notes (containing spoilers, which is why they're at the end):
Sparisoma viride exists, has the habit which Stephen mentions of changing sex at will, and was described by Bonaterre in 1788. Its vernacular name is "parrotfish", hence the title of this story.