‘So. We sail this afternoon,’ Kydd said, helping himself to another warm roll. ‘I’m to circumnavigate this island of Jamaica, our presence a deterrent and comfort, I’m told. I rather fancy it will be a leisurely voyage, time for once not being of the essence.’
Tysoe noiselessly cleared away the breakfast things and went for more coffee.
‘The only question to be faced is whether this is to be conducted clockwise or the other. What do you think, old trout?’
‘We’ve seen much of the east, would not a west-about route now be in order?’
The coffee arrived and Kydd had an idea. ‘Tysoe – you hail from hereabouts, don’t you?’
‘From this island, yes, sir,’ he said quietly.
‘Which part, if you don’t mind my asking?’
‘I was born at Breadnut Island Pen, which is in Westmoreland County, sir,’ he answered softly.
‘Um, and where’s that?’
‘Out to the west, as far as you may go.’
‘Tysoe, how would you like to visit your mother and father? If they should be in good health, that is.’
He held still and then whispered, ‘That would be good, sir, very good.’
‘How long has it been since last you saw them?’
‘Sir, I was eight years old when taken from them.’
‘Eight! How so?’
‘A captain in the Navy thought to take home to England a little black page-boy. It was the fashion then, sir.’
‘But your parents—’
‘Were slaves, sir.’
‘Oh, I see. Er, what happened to you after then, Tysoe?’ Kydd asked. He had acquired him years ago in Canada as a junior lieutenant, when no other would have him as servant, and realised now that he knew little of his previous history.
‘I was in service with the Duke of Rutland until I …’
Became too big to be a pretty page-boy, thought Kydd. But then how would it have been to grow up the only black boy below stairs with the servants, and no one to look out for him? There must be depths to Tysoe’s character that he’d never suspected.
‘Then I was seen and taken up by a sea officer who was of a noble family and wished to have about him one of polite accomplishments, if you’ll pardon the expression, sir.’
‘Captain Codrington?’
‘No, sir. That was later, when I came under his notice and he arranged to have me as his personal chamberlain in Tremendous 74, in the Mediterranean,’ he said, with quiet pride.
It must have been a bitter blow when the aristocratic Codrington had died of a stroke in his own great cabin, leaving Tysoe in Halifax without employment to fend for himself. He must have felt he’d come down in the world when the raw Lieutenant Kydd had asked for him.
‘And now you’re here in L’Aurore, and with more sea service than myself, I’d wager.’
‘Oh, no, sir, that cannot be,’ Tysoe said shyly.
‘Well, we’re off to west Jamaica this afternoon. Have you a thought for what you’ll give them both?’
Leaving the feverish atmosphere of Kingston, L’Aurore spread her wings for the open sea. As always, Kydd felt a lift of the heart at the first rise and fall of a live deck responding to a grand seascape – sparkling, clear and limitless. Orders were essentially simple: to show themselves, to be seen for what she was – a powerful agent of the Crown, able to express the resolve of Britain to defend what was hers wherever it might be.
The muted talk of Curzon and Gilbey on the other side of the quarterdeck, however, was of Napoleon Bonaparte and his war-winning strategy.
Away from the Hellshire hills and past Portland Point, they went looking into the wide reaches of Long Bay, with the prospect of a night at anchor off the steep sides of the Santa Cruz Mountains.
The wind dropped and they were left to enjoy the warmth and splendour of a Caribbean evening, gazing directly into the vast broadness of a spectacular tawny orange sunset. It was difficult to conceive of a wider world locked in war while sitting in wardroom chairs on the quarterdeck, watching the majestic sight with a glass of punch in hand and exotic scents wafting out from the land on the soft breeze.
The next day saw a leisurely sail past marshes and mountains until they reached the tiny old sugar port of Savanna La Mar. Keeping well off the reef-strewn approaches, Kydd sent in a boat, which returned with no news of strange sail and they sailed on.
Tysoe maintained a dignified manner but it was surprising how often he needed to adjust the stern-windows, be on deck to check the direction of the wind and linger as they rounded South Negril Point and glided past the lonely wilderness of the Great Morass towards the north.
Long before their anchor plunged into the impossibly lovely sea-green transparency of Bloody Bay, Tysoe was ready on deck. He was dressed plainly but that did nothing to conceal his patrician bearing and gentle manner. The bundle by his side was not large but well tied, his face unreadable as he surveyed the unexceptional seashore.