STO'B 29

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The presence of the master and surgeon relieved some of the awkwardness, nevertheless the meal was not a success. Or not at first, anyway. Convention dictated that no one beneath the captain’s rank should speak at his table without having first been spoken to - it was an extension of the court etiquette, the captain representing the king - and though Dr M’Mullen was either ignorant or uncaring of this custom, the surgeon and master were properly mute. Further, Philip had not yet had time to acquire any wine on board, nor any personal stores of any kind, and he was forced therefor to feed his guests the same salt horse eaten by the crew, wetted by nothing more than rum, grog, and coffee.

Nor did he know his guests terribly well. Dr M’Mullen, of course, he knew only through having crashed into him. The master he knew to be a good seaman, if perhaps somewhat lax in discipline, though the men did jump for him just as they did for Lt Grey. The surgeon he knew not at all, save for observing his generally shabby appearance. The man had shaved and put on a creased, clean uniform coat for this invitation to the cabin, however, and the creases in his rarely-worn coat gave him an even frailer, more bent look than he usually displayed. “Dr Foster,” Philip called across the table, “a glass of grog with you, sir.”

Philip also had a glass of grog with Mr South and another with Dr M’Mullen, and so fortified he began to relax. “Dr M’Mullen will be accompanying us as far as Gideon’s Bay,” he said, passing the grog around again as Simkin brought in their simple meal. “I trust you have found your accommodations to your liking, Doctor?”

“Yes,” replied Dr M’Mullen. My books are spread out on the desk, by the windows, and I expect that most of them will recover.”

“Your books, sir?” asked Philip

“Yes, sir. I accidentally dropped several of them as I climbed down to the boat. The crew were good enough to fish them out again, however.”

“I remember when I was a midshipman in the London,” said Philip, “74, Captain West, the Valkerie, Captain Corbell, was taking aboard gunpowder and they dropped one of the casks. It must have stove and hit a lantern - they were working at night so as to sail before sunrise - or perhaps someone was smoking, but the powder caught and the whole brig went up - vanished. London was a quarter mile away but we were rocked at our moorings, and we all talked in a roar for days afterward. Several of the men were looking at her when she went and they couldn’t see right for many hours.”

“Did anyone survive?” asked Dr M’Mullen.

“No,” said Philip. “The largest piece we found of anyone was a head, and that was too badly burned to recognize.”

Ship explosions were rare, but they were common enough for everyone to have a story about them, and the dinner wound its course through explosions due to accident and enemy fire, those due to igniting magazines and boiler failures, the need for dowsing all lights when bringing powder aboard, and some captains’ insistence that all lights be dowsed for loading coal as well.

“Why is that?” asked Patrick.

“The coal dust can explode.” Philip said.

“Oh, indeed?”

“Yes. But it needs a shock, like, to get it going, as well as a light,” explained the master.

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GLOSSARY