
Jex's jaw hung. In the preceeding minutes his expression had undergone several dramatic changes but the post of purser in even the meanest of His Britannic Majesty's ships was sought after as a source of steady wealth and steadier opportunity. Drinkwater had not yet finished with the unfortunate man.
'We have not, of course, mentioned the fee customarily paid to the captain of a warship for your post. Shall we say one hundred? Come now, what do you say to my terms?'
'Ninety.'
'Guineas, my last offer, Mr Jex.'
Drinkwater watched the purser's face twist slowly as he calculated. He knew he could never stop the corruption in the dockyards, nor in the matter of the purser's eighth, but he might put the system to some advantage. There was a kind of rough justice in Drinkwater's plan. Mrs Jex's wealth came from the brief sexual excesses of a multitude of unfortunate seamen. It was time a little was returned in kind.
Virago presented something of a more ordered state a day or two later. Both Matchett and Mason, despite their unprepossessing introduction a few days earlier, turned out to be diligent workers. With a third of Jex's ninety guineas Drinkwater was able to 'acquire' a supply of paint, tar, turpentine, oakum, rosin and pitch to put the hull in good shape. He also acquired some gilt paint and had Rogers rig staging over the stern to revive the cracked-acanthus leaves that roved over the transom.
