Kydd(63)

“I beg you will tell me more of this philosophy, er, Mr. Renzi,” Kydd said.

“Upon a more suitable occasion, perhaps, Mr. Kydd.”

“Tom.”

“Nicholas.”

The cutter went about around their stern and came smartly up into the wind bare yards away, the brailed-up mainsail flogging violently. A heav ing line shot up and was seized; canvas-covered despatches followed quickly. Mission performed, sail was shaken out again and the despatch cutter bore away.

“All the haaands! Hands lay aft!” The pipe came within the hour — it did not need much imagination to guess that something was afoot.

Salter was quite sure. “The Frogs have signed a peace, and we’re on our way home.”

“Nah — pocky knaves like that, they want ter bring us down first. It’ll be the rest o’ the Fleet comin’ to help.”

Stirk was more skeptical, but ready to listen. “Let the dog see the rabbit, Doggo,” he said, elbowing him to one side.

The Captain stepped forward to the poop rail. “We have been entrusted with a mission.” He paused, looking around him, delicately touching his mouth with a fine handkerchief before replacing it in the sleeve of his heavy gold-laced coat. “A mission that could see the beginning of the end for that vile gang of regicides.”

There was quiet. A mission did not sound like something that could end the war — that would take a great battle involving the rest of the Fleet — but anything that offered a break from the monotony of sailing up and down on blockade duty would be welcome.

“We, together with Royal Albion and Tiberius, have won the opportunity to dart a lance into the very belly of the enemy. We are going to join with true Frenchmen who will rejoice to see their nation restored to its former glory — and make our landing together on the shores of France.

“You will all have heard how the wretches murdered their officers and govern their affairs by citizens’ council. The rabble will retire in confusion under our disciplined advance. We will thrust deep into the heart of France, sweeping all before us, and bring to an end this squalid regime.”

A restless muttering rippled through the men crowded on deck and in the lower rigging. An armed descent on the mainland of Europe?

“Mr. Tyrell leads our contribution, which will be two hundred men. He will be assisted by Mr. Lockwood and Mr. Garrett. They will be protected by the marines, for we shall be landing four guns, complete with equipment. As I speak, a strong force of Royalists is marching from across the Cherbourg peninsula to join with us. Our objective will be to free the great old town of Rennes and, having established our position there, we will be reinforced for the big advance to Paris — and victory! But by then we will long be returned on board. You need have no fear that you will be turned into redcoats.

“Now I am asking for volunteers — and might I add that they will certainly share in whatever spoils of war Providence brings.”

Significant looks were exchanged. This was far more to the point than grand strategy.

“Volunteers may approach the First Lieutenant after dinner. God save the King!”

“Damn right I’m going. Not set foot ashore in eight months.” Whaley’s eyes gleamed.

“Want to clap eyes on them French women — wouldn’t repel boarders should a saucy piece lay alongside!” declared Doud, his lewd gestures leaving no doubt as to his meaning.

Claggett did not join in. “Might be things are different to what you thinks,” he said.

Howell sniffed. “What d’ye mean?”

Claggett leaned over. “I went in with the boats at Los Cayos and we suffered somethin’ cruel. Moskeeters, stinkin’ heat, an’ never a morsel o’ meat one day’s end to the next. Cruel, I tells yer — you’ll see.”

Howell sneered. “Anyways, no chance o’ that where youse are going! Just goin’ to get yerselves separated from yer head by this here gillo-tin!”

“What about you, Tom?” Whaley said, tapping a piece of hard tack.

“Could do with a stretch o’ the legs,” Kydd said casually.

“Ye’re all bloody mad,” said Howell. “Mantrap and Shaney Jack both — it’ll be seven bells of hell for all hands wi’ them two. I’m stayin’ aboard, where they won’t be at.”

At supper, Kydd eased into place opposite Renzi. “We join up with the Fleet in the morning, I’ve heard,” Kydd said to him.

Renzi responded slowly, “Yes, I believe we shall.”

“You volunteered.” Kydd had been just as surprised as the others.

“As did you.”

Renzi looked away, then back. “In the dog-watch it is my pleasure to take a pipe of tobacco on the fo’c’sle, should the weather prove tolerable.”