The Privateer's Revenge(15)

Angry now, Renzi took a moment to control himself. "My dear fellow, your words cannot help but strike me as somewhat intemperate, not to say provocative, and hardly justified. You've been under strain lately, I know, and—"

"Ye're not t' go ashore again without I say so."

"As you wish," Renzi said, "Yet I'll have you know that I understand and have much sympathy for you in your loss . . ."

"F' give me f'r sayin' it," Kydd said sarcastically, "but I don't see how y' can. Until y' cares enough f'r someone, loves 'em as I do—did . . ." he said thickly. He faced away suddenly, then turned back with a wooden expression. "But, then, it's of no account to you, o' course."

Renzi felt his control slipping. "Confound it, man—do you think you're the only one who's loved and lost? Death is part of life, and others find ways to deal with it." He was breathing deeply. "You're not the same man I knew, Tom. It's knocked you askew, touched your human judgement—where's your spirit? You've changed— and not for the better."

Kydd did not respond and stared down at his hands. Then he said, "You're in th' right of it. I'm changed." With a heavy sigh he went on, "I'm now empty—quite empty, y' see, an' there's only duty now in m' life."

Renzi bit his lip. "This won't do, Tom. You must come up with a round turn—see yourself, what you're becoming. Do I need to lay it out before you? Be a man, for God's sake!"

Kydd stiffened. "An' you're th' one t' tell me? If you were a man you'd not have run off fr'm Cecilia to New South Wales."

With a deadly ferocity, Renzi swept Kydd's papers off his desk. He leaned down, inches from his face. "How dare you?"

Kydd did not flinch, staring back with equal intensity, and said slowly, "Pick up th' papers—or leave my ship now!"

Renzi bit off what he was about to say and made to walk away, then turned back abruptly to face Kydd again. "I will not leave the ship. You don't realise it but, at this moment, there is not a soul whom you may call friend. And I solemnly warn you, as surely as the sun will set this day, very soon you will most certainly need one."

"Do try the buttered crab, Mr Kydd," Lady Saumarez pressed, "You really should—Guernsey is not to be outshone in the article of fruits of the sea."

"Yes, yes, my dear," the admiral murmured. He turned to Kydd and chuckled. "She's local-born, as was I, and will not rest until you are as a fatted calf on the good produce of our island."

Kydd sat quietly, toying with his food.

"Now, I always like to invite my new captains to a little dinner en famille like this—less formal and allows us to talk freely, learn about each other, as it were."

"Aye, sir," Kydd said respectfully.

"Tell me, your service history is sparse in its detail—you were at the Nile, were you not?"

"Sir. Fifth of Tenacious."

"Come, come, sir! You are much too coy. I happen to know that you were out in the boats when L'Orient blew up. That must have been such a fearful sight close to. Did you suffer much on your own account?"

"No, sir. I had th' boat's crew under coats an' sails. Th' big wreckage went over th' top of us."

Saumarez waited but Kydd did not elaborate. "And this is how you won your step to commander?"

"No, sir. That was later, just before th' peace." He resumed his meal.

Saumarez threw an amused look of resignation at his wife, who simpered encouragement at Kydd. "Who placed you on your own quarterdeck?"

"It was Adm'ral Keith, sir."

"For a fine action, no doubt."

"Off Toulon, Captain Rowley desired I be removed fr'm his ship, sir, an' so Adm'ral Keith sent me t' Malta to commission a new brig jus' built."

Saumarez sat back in amazement. "Well—'pon my soul! For an officer of record you are a quiet one. Have you any family?"

"No, sir."

"Ah, well, then, perhaps you should. There is nothing on this earth to compare with the love of a good woman to set the cares of the world to naught." His warm look at his wife was returned with an affection that was as tender as it was private. He turned back to Kydd. "May we know if you have any hopes at all—in the connubial sense, I mean?"

Kydd sat rigid and unspeaking.

Saumarez went on, "Sea officers, I fear, are so much at a disadvantage when it comes to affairs of the heart. I remember once when . . ." Then his words trailed off and astonishment was replaced by dismay as tears coursed down Kydd's face. Lady Saumarez stared open-mouthed.

Saumarez jumped up, stupefied by the sight but caught himself quickly. "Er, my dear, Commander Kydd is, um—and will be retiring with me to the red drawing room—for brandy, that is."