Artemis(65)

Kydd got to his feet and covered himself, but his breech flap hung down torn and useless. It seemed futile to pretend a dignity he no longer possessed, but he softly crossed over to her. Then the sobs began, quiet and endless. Clumsily he tried to put his arms around her, but she shrugged them off. The sobs turned to weeping; a hopeless, racking female sorrow.

In all the helplessness of a man he sat motionless, waiting. The evening turned to night, the lantern guttered low. He found his coat, put it around her and resumed his vigil. Long after the night noises of Macao outside had settled in slumber, he held her while the fitful weeping continued. The silent intervals between lengthened until at last it ceased.

'Thomas,' she said in a low voice.

'Yes?'

'It'll be all right if we love each other, won't it?' she said.

Kydd paused. His thoughts sped ahead. He had not even considered this, but then he realised that he could answer truthfully. 'Yes, Sarah, if we loved each other of course it would be all right.'

She sighed and reached for him. Her face in the dimness was a wet smear on his, but he kissed her dutifully, then gently disengaged to trim the lantern. The renewed light revealed wild disorder. Sarah stood the table on its legs again and began mechanically to pick up broken pieces of crockery and congealed food from the carpet. Kydd tried to help her.

The coolness of the night was now a hostile cold. Sarah shivered and moved to a corner of the room. Kydd found a tasselled covering and he brought it across to where she sat hugging her knees. In a touching gesture she held it open for him also. He snuggled up to her and found her feminine warmth roused him again. He dared not reveal it to her.

'I — we must plan,' she said, in a small voice.

Kydd made no move, taking refuge in silence.

'Macao is a small place, people will know,' she said.

'Only if Ah Lee tells 'em,' Kydd said stoutly. He saw no reason to panic.

She thought. 'She is discreet - she likes me. But Honrar Nunez, he would never lie.'

'And how would he know?' Kydd retorted.

'I - I could not lie to him, Thomas.'

There was no answer to that. They huddled stiffly together.

'There is a way — to save — my reputation,' Sarah said carefully. Kydd waited. 'Thomas, you shall marry me,' she announced. Thunderstruck, he stared at her. She was not looking at him but staring away dreamily into the distance. Her voice strengthened. 'I will leave Mr Tsoi's employ and you shall leave the sea, and we will set up house together, here in Macao.'

'Leave the sea?' Kydd couldn't keep the incredulity from his voice.

'Of course, Thomas dear, you wouldn't want me married to a common sailor, now, would you?' He was shocked as much by the prim possessiveness in her tone as the content of what she was saying.

'But—'

'You will get used to being on the land again soon, dear.' There was now a hint of asperity. 'Tomorrow you shall see the Captain and tell him you are leaving the ship to settle down.'

'Sarah, we are at war. My duty—'

'Fiddlesticks! Young men go to war to protect those on the land, and now you are on the land. Leave it to the others to be heroes/ she said crossly.

There could be no reply to that at this time. He urgently needed to get away to think it through, to weigh the consequences of his act. 'Yes, Sarah/ he uttered, unable to muster a term of endearment. She looked at him doubtfully, but snuggled closer, her fingers twitching at his waistcoat.

In a dream-like state he made his way back to the boats. Half of his being exulted, sang with joy - the other half recoiled. When he had gone to the residencia to reclaim his sea-clothes Nunez had come to the door in a dressing-robe and had seen his state.

'Had an accident, fell down/ he had mumbled. The honrar had not said a word, but the atmosphere had been grim and reproving.

The sky in the east was just lightening when the last boat pulled listlessly for the Artemis. He was lucky: any later and he would have been put down as a straggler, his leave stopped. He went to his sea-chest to shift into his working clothes, heedless of the lewd comments from the others. They had spent their small means quickly, had little chance of further frolics, and were curious about Kydd. He didn't enlighten them.

Pulling his striped shirt down over his head he emerged to see Renzi the other side of the chest. His face was savage, but he said nothing.

That forenoon they were paired on the painting stage hanging over the ship's side. They were to scrape back the broad yellow stripe that ran along the line of the gunports. Kydd wanted badly to talk with his friend, to let him work his logic on the situation, to resolve the skeins of worry and to come to a sound conclusion. Renzi worked next to him, his triangular iron rasping at the paintwork in vicious strokes.

'I saw Sarah last night,' he tried.

'And so?' Renzi replied acidly.