Kydd knew that this was at the core of himself as an officer. If the seamen regarded him as square and true they would follow him through anything; if he was seen as a glory-seeker, he might one day find himself alone on an enemy deck.
He could not sleep – the torturing thoughts rioting through his mind made it impossible – and when the marine private arrived at midnight to call him for his watch he almost welcomed it.
Renzi was below at the operations table, staring at the map with its lines and erasures enumerating the many assaults and savage encounters they had endured. So tired, the friends spoke little more than a few words and, after the customary hand-over, Renzi left for his room above.
Kydd had the watch until dawn. If it was quiet it was usual to stay at the headquarters where any could find him, but his heart was so full of dark thoughts that he told the sentries gruffly he would be at the wall.
Hearing the burr and chirp of night insects he paced along the parapet past the occasional sentries next to watch-fires. Out there, in the vast unknown velvet darkness, their mortal enemy lay and plotted their destruction. In the other direction was the inky sea and anchored offshore Tenacious and Tigre, the warmth of golden light from the wardroom windows and clustered lanthorns on their fo’c’sles so redolent of the sea life, but at the same time so remote from Kydd’s place of trial.
He continued pacing, the cool breeze bringing with it the ever-present stench of death, overhead the calm splendour of stars in the moonless heavens. What would they face tomorrow? If the guns kept up their bombardment there would be ruin and panic. The only course would be evacuation and a suicidal rearguard action. His mind shied from the implications.
He heard someone approach in the stillness. It was Laffin. The seamen had no night watches: the man had no reason to be about at that hour. ‘C’n I talk, if y’ please, Mr Kydd?’ His expression was indistinct in the gloom.
‘What d’ ye want?’
‘It’s Bill Dobbie – sir.’
‘If ye want to say you’re grieving f’r him, then I’ll have you know – so am I.’
‘He were m’ mate, sir.’
Kydd waited warily.
‘We was two-blocks since ’e came aboard in Halifax. ’E was ’appy ’n’ did well in Tenacious, ’e did – wanted t’ make gunner’s mate but didn’t ’ave ’is letters, an’ so I learned him.’
This was by no means unknown but spoke of a deep friendship born of common hardship, which Kydd recognised, with a stab of feeling.
‘Has a wife in Brixham an’ a little girl—’
‘Laffin, why are you telling me this?’ Kydd said sharply.
The man hesitated, then straightened. ‘Sir, I wants ye t’ know that I was hasty wi’ me words when I called ye a –’
‘Aye, well, thank you f’r telling me.’
‘– an I think as how y’ should read this’n. Comes across it while I was makin’ up his gear t’ give to his wife.’ He held out a paper, then disappeared into the darkness.
Kydd went to a watch-fire and realised, with a sinking feeling, that it was a letter. Back in the privacy of Headquarters he took the lanthorn across to the table and smoothed out the paper. The writing was strong but childish. Kydd remembered that in Canada not much more than a year ago, Dobbie had been obliged to make his mark on the ship’s books, the tell-tale sign of illiteracy.
‘My sweet Mary’ it began. A letter home to his wife. ‘Anuther day in this god-blastd hole whi the bedoo like it I dont know for the lif of me.’
It was hard to continue – he felt it a violation to read the precious words that would be all that the woman would know of her man’s thoughts and feelings before… Kydd wondered why Laffin had wanted him to read this.
I hav saved for you my dearist mor than eihtgteen gineas to this date. I doant know when wi will return it is a hard time wi are having but my dear it wuld make yuo smil to see the rare drubbing we ar giving the frogs and we not lobsterbaks but jack tar!
Kydd felt his eyes sting but he kept reading.
Wi will win, sweethart there is no dout of that. Yuo see we hav the best men and the best oficers and yuo may beleive that like sir sidny and mr kidd who I hav seen miself with his fine sowrd at the breech in the wall. He giv hart to us all to see him alweys there he is a leson in currage if we see him in charg of us wi will allways tak after him wher he tell us to go…
The rest dissolved in a blur of tears. Any torturing doubts were now behind him for ever.
‘Sir? One hour t’ dawn.’
Renzi was fully awake but politely thanked the marine, who touched a taper to a little oil-lamp. He lay for a few more moments, then, with a sigh of resolution, threw off the single sheet. He had barely slept and wondered at Kydd’s stamina after the much longer perils and hardships he had endured.