The Great Cabin

Stephen shrugged with a smile. "This operation has always been a spectator event before."

Raoul was relaxing gradually, and found another smile. "I would be there for you, and would enjoy to walk about on land, again. But I think I will wait until we reach our destination. I shall be very well, and will do as the Captain commands - either Captain."

Operations at sea must in that case be very different to operations in the field, Padstowe thought. Perhaps it was more a novelty factor? In the army serious wounds were not uncommon, to put it mildly, and most soldiers would rather see the unfortunate screaming bugger on the table put to an end with a pistol than have him go under the surgeon's knife, only to die in agony or a blessed delerium of fever later.

"You may do as you please, capitaine, but I believe I shall prefer to stay aboard ship."

Stephen looked up at them with a nod. "It will probably be easier - we will probably be full in the boat in any case. It should not take very long."

"Then you will not want me and my guard," Raoul said. "but now - shall we go below and see you fed, doctor? That, I know, is not a spectator event, but one that I would watch with greater pleasure than seeing you cut into Mr Crozier's skull..." He glanced up at the sheets, still as taut as earlier. "I cannot say, but the weather still seems fair - you will have your steady land surface tomorrow, rather than performing on the deck."

Padstowe descended the next ladder by way of a reply, his blue eyes regarding the doctor impatiently.

"Thank the Dear - that will certainly help. Lighting is essential, but firm ground beneath is..." Stephen caught Padstowe's impatient look and faltered, going down the ladder.

Raoul followed, cutting off his retreat. If any of his patients had behaved in such a manner, Stephen would have been scathing in his condemnation of their foolishness. He really did need a nurse-maid, sometimes.

Most of those eating supper had left the messdeck while they talked above, and now only a few - those who had been on deck earlier - sat eating and talking in the dim light. The wardroom was more generously lit, but the low ceiling and the lack of windows did not make it cosy but cramped. Perhaps to those used to it, or to worse conditions, it would be welcoming. A marine, standing outside his cabin door, watched him suspiciously.

Padstowe smiled at the watching Marine as he shepherded the doctor into a seat, acknowledging those few officers that were still there. His smile still remained on his face, and perhaps even broadened a little, when at the mention of 'fish' the steward shuffled out and returned with a plate of what was undoubtedly cooked herring.

The captain also noticed the grey tabby he had seen about the ship sitting next to the table, a very put-out expression on its face as it saw the plate of herring go to the doctor. It mewed pathetically, and somehow Padstowe felt that he no longer wished to enquire for whom the fish had originally been caught.

Stephen smiled, embarrassed, when Padstowe asked if there was a possibility of fish, and he shared another with Raoul, more amused, when the cat was indignantly forced to give her treat. He bent briefly to scratch her ears by way of an apology. "Capitaine, will you have some?"

"Thank you - but I would not rob you of your meal," Raoul said meaningfully. There was a rather nice looking pie, and he wondered briefly at the habit that could make eating that today seem a worse sin than others he was too ashamed of even to take to confession. There was a rather rueful expression on his face as he took one of the herring and saw the cat follow the movement of his hand with a baleful glare.

Padstowe on the other hand helped himself to a small slice of pie. Naval pastry was, by nature, an interesting construction and so he decided to avoid eating much of that and take out the filling instead. It appeared to be steak and kidney, and by the lack of a very strong taste of salt assumed it must be fairly fresh steak at that.

Stephen ate a piece of the herring, and to his surprise found that his stomach responded with a sudden declaration of hunger. He reached for a bread roll, blithely ignoring the protests of the cat.

Padstowe was relieved to see that doctor eat with something approaching enthusiasm. Perhaps by way of compensation he dropped a piece of steak onto the floor. Never one to miss a chance, the cat advanced and sniffed cautiously at the meat. She licked at the gravy covering it, then devoured the cube with haste. Once finished she sat up and looked expectantly at the captain, who found that he had another incident of clumsiness and dropped a second piece of meat to the floor.

"Jonathan, are we at this again?" asked Stephen, in Portuguese and in a whisper.

"At what?" Padstowe whispered in return. He looked down at the tabby. "It is only a cat."

"I meant you, not eating," said Stephen, not looking up from his plate.

"I am eating!" Padstowe protested, though still in Portuguese. "Yet I did not think two pieces of meat would go amiss - by way of compensation, as I do not believe the fish may have originally been intended for you or the Capitaine."

"Ah, yes, we Papists should feel privileged to have the cat's food," said Stephen, with a small smile. "Eat the rest."

"I did not mean it like that..." Padstowe said with a sigh, but in resignation picked up his fork, giving the cat a cursory scratch behind the ears and started to eat his supper properly.

"I know," Stephen said simply, breaking his bread.

"But I am glad they had it anyway," Padstowe murmured, before shoving in another mouthful of pie. The pastry really was quite tasty if you let the gravy soak in a bit to not make it quite so hard on the teeth.

Raoul tried not to catch the eye of the other two. It would be embarrassing to laugh at them, when he was not absolutely certain if Dr Maturin was joking. If it was a joke, it was barbed as sharply as the hook that had caught this fish. But the doctor was eating, and relaxing - and although aware of the Marine watching him, he was relaxing too. He might even be able to sleep, he thought, growing accustomed to the movements and noises of the ship, and the strangeness of the cot.

Well, whether from the cat or not, Maturin seemed to be eating the fish with enthusiasm - as did Raoul.

"How is it anyway, capitaine?"

Raoul swallowed the fish, and its accompanying bread. "It is very good. And fresh bread... It was good of them to think of us." There was a glint in his eyes. "Your pie looks excellent too. The officers at least eat well, and feed their guests well."