Read Online The Discovery Of Slowness by Sten Nadolny - Free Book Online Page A

Mr Franklin! Aye aye, sir – name – write – fast!
    The red paint in the quarters below was supposed to prevent spattering … the spattering of blood. No, to make it inconspicuous. The sand spread on the floor was supposed to keep people from slipping on blood. All part of combat. Trim sails aft, and so forth, that much was clear …
    Compliments of the captain, sir. Please come below deck. Sails: mizzen topgallant royal, main topgallant royal, fore topgallant royal. One sail farther down and there was already a hitch. He knew how to calculate the height of the stars at night, their angles of elevation – knowledge he didn’t need at all. That kind of thing nobody wanted to know. But which line belongs where? Where does the jib-boom fit on the martingale, or vice versa? Shrouds and backstays, halyards and sheets, that endless pile of hemp, mysterious as a spider web. He always joined others in lashing things where they also lashed them, but what if they were wrong? He was a midshipman; that meant he was considered an officer. Now then, once more: mainsail, topsail, topgallant …
    â€˜Quiet,’ a voice hissed in the bunk next to him. ‘What’s all that whispering about in the night?’
    â€˜Reefing-point,’ John whispered. ‘Gaff jigger.’
    â€˜Say that again,’ said the other, very quiet.
    â€˜Forestay, martingale, martingale guys, martingale stays.’
    â€˜Oh, I see,’ growled his neighbour. ‘But that’s enough for now.’
    He could do it with his lips closed: only his tongue moving behind them remained indispensable. For example, he visualised in this way how to get from the bottom of the foremast to the maintop by way of the foretop, the fore topmast cap, and the fore topgallant, by climbing up the ratlines and outside the futtockshrouds, because only that was considered proper seamanship.
    Would he be able to notice mistakes? For example, could he discover why the ship lost momentum and stopped moving? And what would he do if part of the running rigging tangled up?
    He also noted all the questions that had so far remained unanswered. It was important to ask them at precisely the right moment, and therefore they had to wait. A jib was something very special; why? They were moving against the Danes; why not against the French? He also had to recognise those questions that might be asked of him, John Franklin. Question: what’s your assignment? Or, question: what’s the name of your ship, Midshipman? The name of the captain? When they went ashore after the capture of Copenhagen, there’d be lots of admirals running about, perhaps even Nelson himself. HMS Polyphemus , sixty-four guns, sir. Captain Lawford, sir. Everything in order.
    He had memorised entire fleets of words and batteries of responses so as to be ready with answers. In speaking, as in acting, he had to be prepared for anything that might come up. If he had to get it through his head first – that would take too long. If a question addressed to him became only a signal allowing him to rattle off the requested response without hesitation like a parrot, there would be no reprimand and the answer passed. He had done it! A ship, bounded by the ocean, could be learned. To be sure, he couldn’t run very fast. And yet the entire day was filled with running, transmitting orders, running from one deck to the other – all narrow passages! But he had memorised every route; he had even drawn them and had repeated them to himself every night for two whole weeks. Running was all right if nobody came at him unexpectedly. Then, of course, there was nothing to be done, and he kept to his route without agile manoeuvres; the appropriate formula for apologies had to be well rehearsed. Soon the others learned that it was better to get out of his way. The officers took the lesson with displeasure. ‘Please see it this way,’ he had said three days before to the