The Great Cabin

"You are asking me to believe that Hakeswill is worse than Paix? Jonathan, if everyone is so afraid of him that they will not do anything about him then he has won, and will continue to win. I will observe, and discretely ask some questions; he will have tripped up somewhere."

Padstowe turned an angry glare on him there.

"You want to know what you can do?" he whispered fiercely. "Have him committed. Declare him mentally unstable, a raving lunatic, and have him shackeled and packed away in a box! It's been tried before, but the officers haven't had the nerve, or he plays to them and they declare it to be rubbish. And we're not afraid. Every battle someone has tried to kill him, but he suervives. Sharpe would have been flogged to death years ago had Wellesley not stopped it - he has tried to kill him three times and failed. I was beaten to within an inch of my life - and now I want him to be humiliated as I was, as Cotton was. How many men has he intimidated, has he robbed and killed? If we despatch him quietly, they will never know they got justice. Whatever happens to him it needs to be public, and final."

He clamped his jaw shut and returned to staring at the deck, willing himself to calm. He would calm, yet a couple of coughs rattled up his throat as his breathing evened out again.

"I could have done it the day after I found you, Jonathan; I did not because Richard Sharpe asked me not to. He told me exactly what you have just told me, and I told him in return that if Hakeswill hurt another person, he should know that he stopped me. I will not kill him, because you are my friend, and I would like think that Richard Sharpe is as well, but I will not sit back out of fear and do nothing while this man continues to hurt people."

"Then for God's sake watch him closely," Padstowe said. "Then have him committed. He is mad, I know it, yet he is too good at hiding it. But you, as an eminent physician, can say his mad, and no one will have the authority to argue with you. Locked away he can do no more harm except to his keepers."

"How that gives any more justice to his victims I do not know, unless they travel to Bedlam to jeer, but I will heed what you say, Jonathan."

"Gossip travels fast," Padstowe gave a wry smile. "If Hakeswill is dragged away to be locked up kicking and screaming - which he will - they'll know about it soon enough. But thank you."

He shook his head and adopted a lighter tone.

"But we should not speak too much of him; not here anyway. There are other things to consider."

"Indeed," said Stephen, rubbing his forehead. "So many things. How is the Capitaine?"

"Bearing it well enough I think," Padstowe said, glancing across to Raoul, apparently watching the seabirds wheeling overhead. "Somewhat depressed in spirits, but who can really expect any different? His is not a comfortable position, and it has just become more uncomfortable. Though it is probably best that you ask him for yourself, as he is bound to know better than I how he is faring."

"I will, I will," said Stephen, casting a concerned glance at des Sablières. "And yourself, Jonathan?"

"Better, as you said. Much better."

Stephen looked up into Padstowe's face. "Physically, yes. But in yourself?"

"That too," Padstowe said, wondering why Stephen was giving him such a hard look.

"Good. Good," Stephen said softly, looking back towards the blue. "I am glad, Jonathan."

Padstowe across to Stephen, thinking of what he had written in his journal earlier. Yes, Maturin was probably going to find it hard to go back to the army. Here aboard ship he was amongst friends and colleagues, men he had known for years; but on land? He was, at best, near friendless - yet Padstowe was determined that what few friends he had would make sure that he would not be forsaken.

"I am glad you found me at Belem," he said softly. "I do not know what would have happened to me had you not been there."

Stephen looked back to Padstowe, blinking, his forehead slightly creased in guarded surprise. His face softened. "Thank you, Jonathan. For saying that. I..." He looked down at the deck for a moment. "I had gone looking for you the night you were attacked. I felt so guilty; I felt that if I had gone on searching for just a little longer I would have found you."

"I doubt it," Padstowe said levelly. "Lisbon is an impossible maze at the best of times; you could have searched all night and all morning but still not have found me." He smiled gently. "What matters is that you did find me, and that when you did you stayed to care for me despite my selfish and thankless manner."

Stephen smiled. "Thank you," he said again. "I feel... I felt that we had a real camaraderie on what I shall call our excursion - a genuine foundation for friendship. All the time in Lisbon, I felt that we had lost that; it grieved me extremely. But now we have regained it, I think."

Padstowe's smile became a little self-conscious.

"I do not believe we ever lost it," he said quietly. "It simply got buried for a while."

"Such is the fate of many foundations; perhaps we have unearthed it, then, I should have said." Stephen twisted his sleeve, embarrassed that he had brought the conversation to this point. "The Dear knows there were enough things for it to be buried under."

The captain gave a small chuckle.

"Enough to cover Pompeii again, I should say."

Stephen smiled sadly. "Did I ever explain to you what happened in Senhora Santana's house? With the curate?"

"Not quite," Padstowe said. "Not much beyond he was the assassin. You need not tell me if you would rather not; your report shall not be my affair."

"I owe you at least some further explanation than that. But not now, of course, not here. We should go down to eat."

Padstowe nodded. Here was not the place at all, and he looked across to des Sablieres again, the Frenchman also probably waiting to go down and eat.

"Let us go then. Capitaine? I think they may be ready for us now."

Raoul had been aware of the murmuring, but had let the constant creak and splash drown out any sense. He thought that once at least his name had been mentioned, but Padstowe's voice was raised to call him and he turned away from staring at unidentified birds. "Captain Padstowe? Dr Maturin? I am ready to go with you. But it has been a pleasure..." He smiled, and faced the descent into the dank darkness without too much of distaste.