Caribbee(109)

Something of the sense of what he’d said penetrated and he tried to make amends. He sat in a chair opposite. ‘I’ll grant he was a tyrant, a miserable dog who deserved his fate – but, Hell’s bells, the world won’t see it that way.’

Kydd replied in a low voice, ‘One of my previous officers serving in Hannibal told me in confidence he thought the man was mad – he could be right.’

‘That’s as may be. But the whole thing’s monstrous! It has to stop – the first post-captain this age to be tried for his life! Boney will make much of this and the Tory press will never let it drop.’

He got up again and resumed pacing. ‘You know I’m unable to do anything for you, Kydd. I can’t prevent this going forward, for then we’d all be in a pretty pickle.’

Finally he stopped, went to his desk and regarded Kydd sorrowfully. ‘I now have to act, I’m sorry. Send for some lawyer coves as will put things all shipshape before the, um, trial begins.’

Kydd’s face was stony. There was nothing to say: his future was now irrevocably cast into a single track with only one ending.

Cochrane brightened. ‘I can do something, damn it! No open arrest for our victor of Marie-Galante. For you I offer the hospitality of the flag-officer’s residence, quarters fit for a hero.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Kydd said, almost in a whisper. That would be a mercy at least – a prison cell of luxury.

‘Providing, um, that you give me your word of honour and so forth …’

It had happened too quickly. Within the space of hours only, Renzi had lost his closest friend to a bolt from the blue that had neatly snared him in as tight a grip as it was possible to get. And for all his learning and logic, he had found that he was totally helpless in the face of it.

He knew the ways of the Navy: unlike shoreside law there would be swift justice, a need to get a distasteful business out of the way as soon as possible and the ships back on station. In the Mediterranean he recalled the commander-in-chief convicting on the Saturday with executions on the Sunday – would this be Cochrane’s way?

Renzi had had to try something. His forlorn hope had been to rifle through any legal work he could lay hands on for some stray loophole, but in the thickets of legalese he was getting nowhere.

Hearing the boatswain’s mate piping aboard an officer he looked up from his reading. Strange, he’d heard that all L’Aurore’s officers who could had resolved to stay ashore in sympathy and support of their captain.

Shortly there was a knock at the door of the great cabin.

‘Why, Mr Bowden,’ he said, sincerely pleased to see the young man. ‘How kind in you to visit.’

‘I’d rather it were in different circumstances, Mr Renzi, I really do,’ he said, looking around wistfully, before awkwardly taking Kydd’s armchair.

‘You’ve come to see what’s to do, old fellow.’

‘In a word – yes.’

Renzi sighed. ‘One thing we can be sure of …’

‘… that he did not kill Captain Tyrell.’

‘Just so.’

‘And another: that unless the real murderer is caught there’s every prospect that … it will end badly.’

Bowden bit his lip. ‘That is so true, Mr Renzi. And what gives me the most pain is that there’s not a shadow of a doubt in my mind that the Hannibals did this thing. However, they gave their sworn and solemn testimony that it was none of them.’

‘So the world will say Captain Kydd it must be. With motive and good opportunity, together with the evidence of a just-fired musket, I think we must take it there’s little chance he’ll escape.’

‘It … it would appear that is so,’ Bowden said quietly, his face tight. ‘Am I right – that is to say, is it realistic to trust that the captain will be afforded a firing party rather than the noose?’

‘Let’s not think on these things, my friend,’ Renzi said, his head in his hands. ‘It may not come to pass.’

‘There must be something we can do!’ burst out Bowden, ‘We can’t just sit and wait for things to happen.’

Renzi looked up wearily. ‘I’m no lawyer but in this little reading I’ve managed there’s not the slightest hope. Whether the jury is of naval captains or men from the street, with the facts they have, they’ll be obliged to convict.’

‘Then …’

‘Then we cannot prevent events taking their dolorous course.’

On the way back to Hannibal Bowden felt anger rising. That a man he admired above all others was to be brought down through none of his doing – there had to be a way out!