'Like two senescent dogs,' Drinkwater muttered, half lifting his pen as if to write down the words. But he laid the pen aside and closed his journal.
'We are too old now, too interested in feathering nests for our old age to disturb our lives with the revival of former passions.'
He spoke the words to himself, a low mumble that at least satisfied him in their formation, even though they failed to find their way on to the written page.
The improvement in the weather, the convoy's discipline in maintaining station and the apparently resigned behaviour of Morris persuaded Drinkwater that, subject to a degree of vigilance, his bete noire might be permitted the occasional freedom of the quarterdeck. The incongruous sight of Morris, corpulent under the shimmering silk of his robe, pacing beside Rakitin, became familiar to the other occupants of the quarterdeck during the first dog watch. As the hour of tropical sunset approached, Drinkwater also kept the deck, maintaining his own watch upon the two men. Little appeared to pass between them beyond the odd word, and the Russian seemed to have shrunk beside the obscene bulk of Morris. No longer filling his elegant uniform, Rakitin paced with hunched shoulders next to his enforced companion. The relentless nature of the ship's routine soon removed the novelty of this odd, morose promenade.
Midshipman Chirkov was also more in evidence, showing active signs of growing interest in professional matters and receiving instruction from Mr Ballantyne in a most gratifying manner. Drinkwater hoped the young man was taking advantage of the opportunity to increase his knowledge and that, reconciled to his fate, circumstances had wrought a sea-change in him.
The lighter winds slowed their southward progress and allowed fraternising between the ships so that, late one afternoon, Drinkwater found himself aboard the Guilford, dining at Callan's ample table.
Throughout the meal Drinkwater felt a sense of detachment. It was partly due to the fact that he was an outsider and not one of the small band of intimates who had grown wealthy in the service of the Honourable East India Company. Among the diners, four of Callan's own officers and an equal number from the Ligonier, including her commander, had been joined by several of the masters of the Country ships, men who considered themselves, equal to, if after, the lordly Company captains. Drinkwater found the overt and artificial social posturing rather amusing, though their knowledge of the trade and navigation of the eastern seas, expressed in an argot with which he was unfamiliar, increased his sense of being an outsider.
The assumed superiority on the part of the East India commanders, whose wealth and power conferred on them a cachet that found its greatest expression in these remote oriental waters, seemed to Drinkwater a bubble ripe for pricking. He had accepted Callan's invitation, he privately admitted to himself, for motives other than the anticipation of a good meal. Looking down the table, however, he could see James Quilhampton entertained no such ulterior considerations for the meal was sumptuous, served on crisp, white linen, eaten off splendid porcelain with fine silver cutlery and accompanied by wines drunk from glittering crystal glasses.
Drinkwater enjoyed the luxury of the meal. He played up to Callan's efforts to engage him in conversation, but both men knew that unfinished business lay between them and only the convention of good manners prevented its open and indelicate discussion before the other guests. Quilhampton and a handful of his own subordinates were being entertained by the Indiamen's. Drinkwater's attention was engaged by the senior men about him, portly men, for the most part, fleshy and rubicund from the climate and its alcoholic antidotes. They were men of strong opinion, products of almost unbridled licence and power, and although this fell short of the life-and-death power of a post-captain in the Royal Navy, it was clear that the opportunities their commands gave them for making money had given them confidence of another kind.
It occurred to Drinkwater that Callan might have assembled these men as allies to shame him into passing over the matter of the deserters. He smiled inwardly. He was quite capable of enjoying the fruits of Callan's table with as much insouciance as was Callan in accepting the protection of his frigate's cannon.
"Twas a trifle of a near-run thing t'other day, Captain Drinkwater,' remarked one of the masters of a Country ship. 'We were firing alarm guns and you took 'em for shots at an enemy, eh?'
A silence had fallen and faces turned towards him. A conspiracy to embarrass him seemed in the air, or was it a remark provoked by over-much liquor? At the lower end of the table, too, there was a stir of interest and Drinkwater was gratified at the sudden irritation in Quilhampton's loyal eyes. Deliberately Drinkwater drained his glass.
'I took 'em, sir, for what you say they were, alarm guns. I would have been failing in my duty had I ignored them. Had you perused your instructions you would have observed a signal to indicate the convoy was standing into danger ...'
Drinkwater watched the face of his interlocutor flush. The company shifted awkwardly in its chairs and he was persuaded that there was at best some practical joke afoot to throw him in a foolish light, for another spoke as though trying to regain the initiative.
'I don't think there was time for the hoisting of flags, Captain Drinkwater ...'
The diners sniffed agreement, as though implying such niceties were all very well for a well-manned frigate, but a tightly run merchant ship could not afford the luxuries of signal staff.
'You were damned lucky to get away with it,' remarked the commander of the Ligonier.
'Now there I would agree with you, sir,' Drinkwater said smoothly, 'but a miss is as good as a mile, they say ...'
'And we were fortunate not to lose your services,' said Callan soothingly.
'Yes,' agreed Drinkwater drily. 'What bothers me, gentlemen, is how such experts in the navigation of these seas as yourselves came to be so misled in your navigation.' He paused, gratified by a suggestion of embarrassment among them.
'I take it,' he went on, 'that we nearly ran ashore upon a hitherto uncharted spur of the Paracels? I trust you have all amended your charts accordingly ...'
Drinkwater looked the length of the table. It had been a foolish attempt to mock him, of that he was now certain, and unwittingly they had given him a means to get his own back.
'A delightful meal, Captain Callan, and one in which the humour of the company induces me to ask you for the return of my men.'
There was only the briefest of pauses and then Callan urbanely agreed.
'Of course, Captain Drinkwater, of course ...'
Was there the merest twinkle in Callan's eye? Drinkwater could not be certain, but he hoped so, for they had measured blade for blade and Drinkwater was fencer enough to know he had the advantage.
Contrary to expectations aboard Patrician, Drinkwater did not punish the deserters immediately. He had, he admitted to himself as he sat, wooden-faced, in the stern of his barge, fully intended to, but the sullen faces of his barge crew as, eyes averted, they rocked back and forward, half-heartedly pulling at the knocking oar-looms, dissuaded him. Not that he was afraid of the consequences of the flogging as he had earlier been. Indeed his mood was almost one of light-heartedness, so clumsy had been the efforts of the merchant masters to disconcert him, but Drinkwater possessed a strong, almost puritanical sense of propriety born of long service, and he would have despised himself if, after a magnificent dinner, he had viciously flogged the deserters.