MAES 31: Thank You, Killick
AN: When Jack’s chelengk was missing, I felt so bad when I read the description of Killick turning over the desert to find it. Even before I read of the actual rediscovery, I had imagined a little scene in which Killick finds it again, perhaps tangled up in a tent flap or bag, and was relieved when POB had Stephen find it in the spy’s belongings. But how bad Killick must have felt when it was gone, considering the obsessive care he gives to Jack’s property and clothing, particularly the valuable parts. Killick is another of my favorite supporting characters in the series: he is the bitterness that provides a delightful contrast to Jack’s sweet nature, if on another level than Stephen.
Killick was an unimproved foremast-hand, rougher than most, impervious to what civilizing influence the cabin might exert and deeply, obstinately ignorant, self-opinionated, and ill-informed. But he did know that ‘a diamond the size of a pea was worth a king’s ransom,’ and he did know that the chelengk was made of diamonds because he had privately written Preserved Killick HMS Surprise none so Pretty on a window-panel with it. The two topmost stones were certainly as big as the dried naval peas he had eaten all his life - the green kind he had never seen - and he was persuaded that the chelengk ranked with the crown jewels: or even higher, since not one of the crown jewels had clockwork in it. Ever since the present had arrived from Constantinople his life had been one long anxiety, particularly as they were now ashore, with thieves at every hand; he hid the object in a different place every night, usually wrapping its outer case in sailcloth and covering that with filthy rags, the whole nestling among concealed fish-hooks and rat-traps set to go off at a sneeze.
-Treason’s Harbor, pg. 38, Norton Press paperback
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‘He did faint away the next afternoon - you would have felt for him - from a mixture of heat-stroke and vexation. A pair of camels ran mad (they often do when they come in season, I am told) and they had a frightful set-to on and over my tent, roaring and bubbling and scattering my belongings far and wide… my best hat had been most cruelly used. I was sorry for it, because it had my Turkish decoration by way of cockade…But the chelengk had been trod deep into the sand, and although Killick, helped by many others, turned over tons of desert until the sun set and as I say he fainted clean away, we had to march on without it, poor Killick slung over a camel.’
-Treason’s Harbor, pg. 182, Norton Press paperback
Thank You, Killick
Killick was thoroughly miserable as he set the captain’s table that first night back aboard. He had recovered only recently from his faint, and his head still throbbed. He felt embarrassed, and in low spirits. As steward, it was his job to attend to his captain’s table, property, lodgings and wardrobe. Of these, he delighted in the last the most: there was something infinitely satisfying in seeing his captain dressed in square-rig, particularly since that memorable day when his decorations had received the addition of the Grand Bauble, the magnificent diamond chelengk that not even the crown jewels could match in beauty and rarity.
“Bloody camels,” he muttered as he laid the table. Had it not been for those beasts suddenly running mad, that most precious treasure might never have been lost. Now it was buried, perhaps forever, beneath heaven knew how much sand. It still seemed inconceivable to him that the chelengk should have been lost: a camel’s foot did not sink so deeply into the sand, and he had dug several feet down in the area where Captain Aubrey’s tent had stood before the stampede. He should have found it.
Since awaking, he had wondered if one of the men helping him had secretly found it and slid it into his own pocket. But what would be the point of such theft? A decoration like that could not simply be pawned: what moneylender could match its value? And besides, the chelengk was fairly well-known as belonging to Captain Aubrey: no pawnbroker worth his wits would buy it.
Captain Aubrey was another reason for his discomfiture. Ever since awakening, Killick had fully been expecting to be blown up, if only a little, by his captain. Jack had done no such thing: he had been solicitous, expressed gratitude for his efforts to recover the chelengk, and wished him a speedy and complete recovery.
It would have been far better if he had shouted, Killick thought as he finished his familiar task. But perhaps it was not so surprising that he had not: in all the years of Killick’s service to him, Killick could count on one hand the times Jack had truly lost his temper, and even at those times he had never been more than curt with his steward. It had been so ever since Jack had first joined the Sophie.
Killick had served under several commanders before entering Jack’s service. Some of them were proper tyrants, who would throw a plate at you if there was the slightest thing wrong with the food. Others were slovenly and needed the services of a steward if they were to get along at all. Jack fell somewhere between the two sorts: he liked things to be done proper in the cabin, especially when he had guests, but he never placed blame if things went wrong. So long as he was fed regularly, he didn’t much seem to care about the quality of the food, eating all Killick placed before him with an appetite Killick found immensely gratifying. Jack also liked dressing fine when the occasion called for it, but would go to bloodiest battle in his best coat without a thought, much to Killick’s dismay.
Killick had never had a nanny himself, although he sometimes privately thought of himself as Jack’s nanny: it was his job to make sure the man was fed, after all, and that he was dressed properly, and that not too much ink spilled on his britches when he wrote letters. Doctor Maturin was far worse: if that man had ever learned to take proper care of himself, Killick had yet to see much sign of it. If his position in relation to Jack was that of a nanny, then his position in relation to the Doctor was more like that of an underpaid, underappreciated maid/manservant.
Killick knew, though he would hardly admit it even to himself, that he truly did prefer things this way. If Jack or Doctor Maturin would take care of themselves completely, then he would be relegated to the role of a table-setter, and little more. He would have much less to do, and not nearly enough things to grumble at to be at all happy: there was nothing he liked better than a good grumble, and being in his position, he had no lack of opportunity to indulge his favorite past-time.
But still, he thought as he went moodily to his hammock that night, sometimes he wished Jack were not quite so forgiving. He felt guilty over what he saw as this failing in his duty to his captain, and that Jack had not seemed to care much made him feel guiltier still.
It would have been better if he yelled a little, was Killick’s last thought before he fell asleep.
0~0
‘I attended to his papers and belongings, as you desired me to do,’ he said after a pause. ‘I did not find his family’s direction in any of the letters I could read - they were mostly Arabic - but I did find this.’ He passed the box, took out its false bottom, and passed the chelengk.
‘Oh what a damned thing,’ cried Jack. ‘I am so sorry. Poor fellow.’ He tossed it into a drawer, stood up and put on his shirt and trousers. ‘Let us take a turn on deck,’ he said.
-Treason’s Harbor, pg. 205, Norton press paperback
0~0
The day after Stephen had gone through Hairabedian’s papers, he sat with Jack late in the evening. He had noticed, even if Jack had not, Killick’s unusual gloom over the loss of the chelengk, and thought the steward must not yet know it had been recovered. Jack was so taken up with the prospect of his likely prize that he had had little time to concern himself with much else, and had likely neglected to mention its rediscovery to Killick. Stephen was truly worried about Killick, and thought Jack should have told him immediately, rather than tossing the bauble into a drawer: he knew the steward’s devotion, and could tell that this loss of such a valuable piece was weighing on him.
“Jack,” he began, “did you not notice Killick’s upset when it seemed your diamonds were lost? I believe he blames himself for losing your diamonds at all. Perhaps you should tell him you have them back, that they are in that drawer, and that they were recovered from the thief who was truly responsible for their loss.”
“If he was upset then he’s a damned fool,” Jack replied at once. “’Tweren’t his fault those camels ran mad, nor that Hairabedian was such a thief, and he certainly did all he could to retrieve it when he thought it was lost in the sand. Why should I be disappointed in him, at all? He didn’t fail in his duty: sometimes these things happen through no-one’s fault. Besides, it was never lost in the sand, ‘twas stolen, as you said.”
“That may be, but should he not be told that they are not lost? It would certainly cheer him up, to know that it was a thief responsible for their brief absence.”
Jack was about to reply when they heard a startled cry from the adjoining room. They both knew that Killick had an incurable habit of listening in on private conversations between them, which was bothersome at times, but not now: clearly, Killick no longer had any need to hear the good news from Jack. They heard a frantic scrabbling, the sound of drawers being pulled open, then a thump as from a man falling to his knees in the most profound relief.
Jack winked at Stephen and said sotto voce, “That’s that, then.” In a louder tone he said, “I know full well that Killick takes great pride in looking after my belongings, and that speaks well of his devotion to duty. He might be the most cantankerous dog ever to set foot on board one of his majesty’s ships, he might moan and groan more than is good for either of us, but that don’t make him any less worthy of his post. More to the point,” he added in a thoughtful tone, “for all his failings, I feel perfectly safe and justified in trusting him to hold a razor near my throat nearly every day. I would not say so much of a good many friends. What higher praise can one give a servant than that?”
Jack turned back to his charts, and Stephen looked at him in some surprise. He had thought Jack remarkably insensitive to his steward’s feelings at times, but it seemed that he was merely not very demonstrative in such things. In Jack’s mind, his opinion of his steward was quite clear, if unspoken: had he found Killick to be intolerable, he would have dismissed him long since. That Killick remained in Jack’s service in spite of his failings spoke volumes, far more clearly than any words of praise. Yet he had just praised Killick aloud at a time when he knew his steward must overhear his words, and Stephen thought this a very kind gesture.
Killick seemed to think so too: he had certainly heard Jack’s remarks, for he entered the main cabin soon after, bearing a tray of refreshment that was infinitely welcome to both men in this intolerable heat. The diamond chelengk lay on the tray next to Jack’s cup, and Killick said proudly, “Which I gave the stones a rub, sir, for they were uncommon dull-looking,” with an unusually affectionate look at his captain.
Jack picked up the chelengk, put it in his hat and placed both on his head. Smiling at his steward rather wryly, he said, “Thank you, Killick.”