Tenacious(4)
Renzi winked at him. ‘Was it not the sainted Traherne who tells us… let me see… “You never enjoy the world aright, till the sea itself floweth in your veins, till you are clothed with the heavens and crowned with the stars and perceive yourself to be the sole heir of the whole world”?’
Peake lifted dull eyes and said weakly, ‘I believe the Good Book may be more relied upon in this matter, as you will find in Proverbs, the thirtieth chapter: “There be three things which are too wonderful for me… the way of an eagle in the air… the serpent on a rock – and the way of a ship in the midst of the sea.”’
Bampton’s voice cut above the chuckles. ‘That you can safely leave with us, Mr Peake, but we’ll have early need of your services, I fancy.’ Adams gave the second lieutenant a quizzical look. ‘You don’t really think we’d be cracking on like this unless there’s to be some sort of final meeting with the French? It stands to reason,’ Bampton continued.
The table fell silent: the frantic preparations for sea, the storing of powder and shot, and last-minute fitting and repairs had left little time for the contemplation of larger matters.
Renzi steepled his fingers. ‘Not necessarily. All we have is rumour and hearsay. We have abandoned the Mediterranean with reason, that we can no longer support a fleet there, and therefore every vessel of ours is undefended prey. In this case we have no means of intelligence to tell us what is happening, hence the wild speculation.
‘Now, we do know of General Buonaparte and his designs on England – the landing boats in every northern French port, the daily inspections of his Army of England. Do you not feel it the more likely that he will ransack Toulon and Cartagena for ships of force to swell the Brest fleet to an unstoppable power that will overwhelm us? Rather, that is, than retain them in a landlocked sea for some sort of escapade far away.’
‘Just as I said.’ Bampton snorted. ‘A conclusion with Mr Buonaparte, in the chops of the Channel somewheres, I’d wager, and—’
‘Except we’re being sent south to Cadíz.’
‘Renzi, old trout, you’re not being clear,’ Adams admonished him.
‘Am I not? Then it could be that I am as much in the dark as you. Are we to be part of a grand fleet about to break into the Med again? Or might it be that we being only a sixty-four – a fine one indeed as I am obliged to remark – our purpose is merely that of releasing the more warlike seventy-fours?’
At the head of the table Bryant glowered. As first lieutenant his interest in a future bloody battle and the subsequent custom of promotion to commander for an active officer had been all too apparent on the quiet North American station. The prospect of sitting out his battle far from the action was hard to endure. ‘There’s a reason for it, never fear,’ he said loudly. ‘Jervis ain’t the one to ask for ships without he’s got a plan. My money’s on him takin’ Buonaparte as he heads north with the Toulon squadron afore he can join up with the mongseers off Brest.’
It was exhilarating sailing, a starboard tack with winds quartering, mile after deep-sea mile on the same course. As they edged south the weather brightened, the vivid white of towering clouds and hurrying white-horse seas contrasting pleasingly with the deep ultramarine of the water.
The stimulating stream of oceanic air impelling them along made it hard to stay below, and when Renzi took over his watch, Kydd felt too restless to retire to his cabin to work on his divisional list, and waited while Renzi satisfied himself as to the ship’s condition.
They fell into step in an easy promenade around the quarterdeck. The messenger midshipman returned to the helm, as did the duty master’s mate, leaving the two officers to their privacy. They paced in silence, until Renzi said, ‘Dear fellow, do I see you satisfied with your lot? Is this the visage of him who is at one with the world? Since your elevation to the ranks of the chosen are you content now with your station?’
Kydd paused. ‘Nicholas, I’ve been a-thinking. Who I am, where I’m headed in life, that sort o’ thing.’ He shot his friend a glance. ‘It’s not long since I was in bilboes waiting f’r the rope. Now I’m a king’s officer. What does that say t’ you?’
‘Well, in between, there was a prodigious battle and some courage as I recall.’
Kydd gestured impatiently. ‘Nicholas, I’ll tell ye truly. While I was afore the mast I was content. I allow that then t’ be a sailing master was all I could see, an’ all I wanted from life. Then with just one turn o’ the screw, my stars change an’ here I am. Makes me think – might be anything can happen, why, anything a-tall.’ He spun round to face Renzi squarely. ‘Nicholas, m’ life will never be complete until I have my own ship. Walk my decks, not a man aboard but tips his hat t’ me, does things my way. An’ for me, I get the chance to win my own glory because I make the decisions. Good or bad, they’re mine, and I get the rewards – or the blame. So, how does it sound, Nicholas – Cap’n Thomas Kydd, Royal Navy?’