Nobody spoke, it cost too much effort. At three in the afternoon, a flaw of wind darkened the water. On the quarterdeck Powlett in his thin, threadbare shirt looked meaningfully at the figure of the Master.
It was what they had been waiting for. A wind - but from the south-east! They had already reached the winds of the south. The change in spirits aboard Artemis was remarkable. Although they had to wait until evening for the winds to reach a point where the sails began to fill and the rudder to bite, all talk was on the future.
'Got our slant - gonna be shakin' hands with them Kidderpore fillies in a month.'
'Hassiiming that we get in afore the monsoon shifts about.'
Happy chatter swelled, but Petit remained serious as he cradled his pot.
'Anythin' amiss, Elias, mate?' Stirk asked. His powerful body was, as usual, naked from the waist up, an expanse of damp mahogany muscle.
'Yes, mate,' Petit replied quietly.
The talking stopped and the group on the fo'c'sle looked over at him in the lanthorn light. 'How so, cuffin?' Stirk said softly.
'You knows, Toby, youse a man-o'-war's man an' unnerstands.' Stirk didn't reply, but a frown lined his face. 'Recollect, shipmate, we're in th' south now, and we ain't never had a visit from 'Is Majesty.'
Stirk's face eased fractionally. 'But o' course,' he murmured. When Kydd looked again he had disappeared.
It looked as though the wind would hold. The morning breeze had stayed and strengthened just a little, and with the lightest possible canvas spread abroad they were making progress. Powlett stood with his arms folded, squinting up at the undulating sails as they played with the breeze. The Master was next to him, willing on the winds.
Kydd was tricing up the after end of the quarterdeck awning and could hear the pleased conversations — whatever was in those secret orders, he guessed they must include every stricture for speed.
The boatswain came aft, and touched his hat. 'Sir,' he said, 'with m' duty, just found this paper near the quarterdeck nettings, thought you'd want t' sight it.'
Taking the paper, Powlett's face hardened. The ploy was often used to allow crew members to convey discontents anonymously aft. He read on, his expression grim. 'King Neptune? It's a nonsense, Mr Merrydew!' he roared. The boatswain stiffened. 'And a damnable impertinence!' Powlett snapped, and ripped the paper in two. The pieces fluttered to the deck. The boatswain's chin jutted belligerently: the customs of the Sea Service were not so easily to be put aside.
Turning to the Master, Powlett said loudly, 'Mr Prewse, pray tell us our position.'
Rubbing his chin, Prewse looked up at the sky. 'Well, sir, near enough . ..'
'Our position, sir!'
'Our longitude was thirty-two degree an' seventeen minutes west, noon yesterday.' 'Latitude, Mr Prewse?'
'An' nought degrees an' fifty-four minutes — north!'
Powlett whirled back on the boatswain. 'There you are. North. Do you propose, sir, that we enter King Neptune's realm early? That is to say, precipitate, like a damn-fool set o' canting lubbers who can't work a sea position to save their skins?'
The boatswain's face eased into a smile. 'Aye, sir, we'd best not set His Majesty at defiance!'
Kydd could hardly wait to relay the conversation to the mess, who were taking their victuals in the shade of the main deck.
'Yair, well, it's no small thing, mate, to enter hupon his realm,' Petit said portentously.
Cundall leered evilly at Kydd. 'An' it's bad days fer them 'oo 'aven't been welcomed inta it yet.'
Realising that he would be made sport of whatever he did, Kydd just smiled.
Doud's grin was devilish. His gaze slid to Quashee, who winked at him, and he affected a kind, considerate manner. 'Could be the best fer any who don't know the rules to steer a mite clear of the ceremonies,' he told Kydd. "Is Majesty don't stand fer no contempt ter his person.'
Kydd resolved to be conveniently absent when King Neptune came aboard.
'Should be hearin' from 'im soon!' Stirk said, his black eyes glittering at Kydd. "Oo is it that ain't been admitted to 'is kingdom, then?'
That night, at seven bells of the first watch, Artemis was boarded by a messenger from King Neptune himself. Or, at least, a man looking just like a ragged sea sprite and dripping sea-water suddenly appeared before the starboard fo'c'sle lookout from outboard, clambering rudely over the fife rail.
'What ship?' was demanded, and when the hapless lookout stuttered an answer, he was pelted with a rotten fish. 'Down, yer scurvy shab, make yer respects to one o' King Neptune's crew!'
The officer-of-the-watch was summoned; it was Rowley. He doffed his hat, and courteously enquired of the stranger.
"Is Majesty requires of yer a list of all 'oo have not yet bin truly welcomed inter his realm,' the officer was told in lordly tones. By this time curious sightseers had gathered around, including some from the wardroom.