Mutiny(19)

By the dog-watches he was torn with doubt. Had he been deceived by her manner, mistaken in his conclusions? But there could be no mistaking the need and urgency of that kiss.

The evening had turned into a study of scarlet and orange, the sea darkling prettily, with Thomas Kydd, master's mate, still to be found on deck. Then, after the evening meal, a message came. The coxswain of the gig's crew brought it to him, apologetically mentioning that due to being called away to attend the captain, he had not had a chance before to pass it along — and this from early afternoon.

Kydd ground his teeth and clattered below to the gunroom. The master had returned, so his cabin was no longer available. Savagely, he sent the midshipmen to their berth and, silently cursing the impossibility of getting privacy in a warship, settled to open the message under the eye of the sallow surgeon's mate and his bottle.

He inspected the inscription — 'Mr T. Kydd, HMS Achilles' — then split the wafer and hurriedly unfolded the sheet.



Dear Mr Kydd,

Thank you for the kind invitation to visit your ship. Unfortunately I have rather a lot of engagements at the present, hut will let you know when convenient.

Yours sincerely,

Mrs Emily Mulvany



He reread, and again, slowly, so as not to miss any subtle clues. An initial wash of disappointment was replaced by logic: of course she would be otherwise engaged, it had been kind of her to fit him in before. 'Mr Kydd': cold or cautious lest the message fall into the wrong hands? The same might be said of the way she had ended the letter. In any event, he must bide his time.



Nothing could have been better calculated to ease Kydd's frustrations than his meeting with Renzi the following day. True to Renzi's wishes, the pair toiled up the hill to the commissioner's house, then found the path running along the flanks of the Rock. There was a row of fig trees on the upper side, and a vineyard below, with occasional olive trees to afford shade.

'This is particularly agreeable to the spirit, Tom,' Renzi said. They walked on in the warm sun in perfect silence but for the sough of the breeze, an occasional murmur of busyness from the distant town below and their own progress along the dusty ground.

The quiet was calm and companionable. Presently they came to a flowered area with a fine orange tree in the centre and a rustic wooden seat round it, a view of the harbour at their feet.

'Utterly peaceful — the work of man, yet supernal in its effects.' Renzi sat and stared at the view, then closed his eyes. Kydd's mind was alive with distractions of the present. Was Emily's letter a delaying tactic while she reviewed her feelings? Should he press his case more clearly, perhaps?

'A lady?' Renzi's lazy murmur cut through his rush of thoughts.

Kydd glanced suspiciously at him, but Renzi's eyes were still closed. 'Er, y'r in the right of it - but I beg, tell me of y'r battle. I heard it was a thunderin' good drubbing f'r the Dons.'

Renzi opened his eyes and stared into space. 'Little enough to say. It was a hard-fought encounter and they had overweening forces, but we prevailed.' He looked at Kydd with a sardonic smile. 'You would have been diverted by the sight of their Santissima Trinidad — a four-decker of a hundred and thirty guns, a leviathan indeed.'

As far as Kydd knew, the largest ship in the Royal Navy only had a hundred guns and three decks, so such a monster a third bigger should have made a devastating impact. 'Did she — who should say — get among our ships—'

'We took her.'

Kydd's eyes gleamed.

'Then we forgot about her, so she rehoisted her colours and retired from the field.' 'But Nelson, did he not—'

'The man is a genius of the sea war — daring and courageous with it. He will either die young or find great glory, nothing less.'

Kydd fell silent. While great deeds were happening on the open sea, he was wasting his life in port, going nowhere.

Renzi shifted position awkwardly. 'Somethin' pains you?' Kydd asked.

'Only a pinking from a splinter across my chest.' He turned to Kydd. 'You made mention of a lady.. .'

'Er, yes. Her name's Emily.'

'A fine name,' said Renzi drily.

'She's very beautiful.'

'I have no doubt she has shining parts,' Renzi prompted.

'There is somethin' that is stoppin' her showin' her true feelings.'

'She believes you are from an inferior station in life?'

'No. That's to say, this is not where the problem lies.' He struggled with what had to come next, feeling a chill of doubt for the first time. 'You see, Nicholas, right at th' moment. .. she is married.' Kydd blushed, then muttered protestations of love.

Renzi's expressionless mask did not change. Then, suddenly, he came to his feet, and paced round the small garden with his hands behind his back, once, twice, then returned to Kydd and stood before him. 'It seems to me the lady does not appreciate your true worth, my friend. She probably has cognisance only of the army life, never the navy.' He paused for effect, then announced gravely, 'I have a plan.'