The Passengers' Cabins

"Leat," said Stephen, looking up. "We were shipmates on the Polychrest. Or was it the Lively? Not, it was the Polychrest. It was very good of him to offered this transportation to us; we are indebted to him. But I am sure he will dine with the wardroom; you will meet him then."

"He seems incredibly young even for a naval lieutenant. You said he was pressed?"

"He has risen through the ranks extraordinarily quickly, in my understanding of the matter - I believe he was fifteen or sixteen when he was pressed."

Padstowe's brow creased a little. It still did not enlighten him much as to the Lieutenant's age or character.

"How old is he now?"

"That was in '03, so..." Stephen frowned a little at the arithmetic. "Twenty-two, I believe, maybe twenty-three. I do not recall his date of birth."

"Usually with the army it is the other way round - those come from the ranks are the longest in waiting. Yet somehow that does not tally with what I've heard; one of the men referred to him as 'unfortunate'."

"Ah. Yes, unfortunate indeed, but as his misfortune is in the medical line I am afraid I cannot share its nature with you. Though one is forced to wonder if it is a misfortune at all; Origen suffered it quite voluntarily."

Padstowe frowned.

"Origen?"

Unfortunately the captain had not paid attention to his Classics when in the classroom.

Stephen waved his hand again. "It is something you do not need to know, Captain."

"I might like to correct my ignorance and know who Origen was."

Stephen raised an eyebrow at Padstowe's tone of voice. "Origen was born in about the year 185, supposedly in Alexandria; he corrected the Septuagint, wrote commentaries on all the book of the Bible, De principiis, the Hexapla, Stromateis, and attempted to bring Christian belief into line with the Hellenistic scientific principles of the day. He was accused of heterodoxy, but was a vehement defender of orthodoxy himself, while being essentially apophatic in view; he abhorred Docestism but if you look at his vision of Christ there are certainly strong elements of it. He died from injuries inflicted during torture in the persecution of Christians after the Plague of Cyprian. He was later declared anathema for the views of his followers, the Origenists, whose heretical ideas included the pre-existence of souls and universal salvation."

Padstowe blinked.

"Oh. I see. Thank you."

And that, as he suspected it wouldn't, didn't give him any clues either - and it wsn't as if there was anyone else to ask.

"You are welcome," said Stephen, his eyes traveling over the wood grain.

A short silence fell between them as they sat quietly.

"Incidently," Padstowe said eventually. "A grey tabby cat walked through here not five minutes ago. I don't suppose you have seen it?"

"Not in here - she is probably in the wardroom. She has by all accounts adopted Lieutenant Leat; Emily, I believe he has called her. A charming little thing, if somewhat desirous of attention - the cat, that is, not the Lieutenant, though he is of course perfectly charming in his own way."

Padstowe imagined the red-haired lieutenant curled up in Maturin's lap and swiftly abandonned the thought for the benefit of his mental health.

"I heard somewhere that it was thought unlucky to cats aboard ships. Is that not true at all? You have sailed on far more ships than I."

Stephen nodded at Padstowe's deference to his far superior knowledge. "I have known plenty of cats on board ships, and so though it might well be a belief of the messroom it is not one so greatly feared. They are good ratters as well, though not as good as Irish stoats, I find, or some snakes. And all bosuns have cats, of course," he finished with a smile for himself.

"I doubt some would find snakes so agreeable," Padstowe mused, giving a half smile to Stephen's jibe at bosuns. "At least a cat can show some affection, and is not opposed to receiving some. Somehow the idea of a cobra or an adder curling up in your lap is not that appealing."

"Oh, but a perfectly innocent snake - Malpolon monspessulanus leaps immediately to mind, if snakes could leap - and twelve of those on a ship would soon free it of rats. I met a very affectionate one when first I became a naval creature; such a happy little smile, and a comfortingly warm weight in the lap, curling about the arms. He liked to be sung to, dear thing."

"Possibly," Padstowe replied. "But I have yet to see the crew of a frigate brought round to the idea. What happened to your snake?"

"Alas, I was forced to set him free - he had my companion leaping on chairs by his very presence" said Stephen.

"Oh dear. I hope the lady was not too terrified of it?"

The corner of Stephen's mouth quirked, cheered by the thought of cats and snakes and Jack in a dress. "It was not a lady, but he was certainly scared, despite my assurances as to the harmlessness of the creature - you would have to go searching for any poison, with your hand down it's throat. Just the thing for rats though."

"I admit that snakes are not highly regarded by many of both sexes," Padstowe said, hoping to repeal on his blunder. "Many of the crawling species are not."

"Sadly that is the case - I so dislike the useless shrieking at some poor, harmless insect or arachnid or reptile. While I do not have the same passion for them as I do for birds, or the same affection as I do for mammals, they are all God's creatures, and the majority we humans need have no fear of."