The Privateer's Revenge(46)

Kydd was frustrated and restless. "I've a notion t' take a walk, Nicholas, clear th' intellects." Spirited discussion had not resolved the matter, but there had to be a way through.

With his uniform packed and stowed, Kydd was in his barely worn civilian garb, the dark-green tailed coat and nondescript pantaloons feeling odd after his stout naval coat and breeches. He was now a figure of scandal, of wonder—a Navy captain who had been publicly shamed, caught out in a felony and dismissed his ship. To make things even more juicy for the gossips he was the undoubted hero of the recent Granville action. In the street he would be pointed out, gaped at, scorned—and not a word could he say in his defence.

Feeling hot shame he descended the inn stairs, holding to his heart that, no matter what, he knew he was innocent of any wrongdoing. The street was in its usual clamorous busyness and Kydd's emergence was not noticed. Gathering his courage about him he turned left and marched resolutely up High Street.

Renzi caught up with him in the more spacious upper reaches. "I hadn't bargained on such a gallop," he puffed. "Do moderate your pace, I beg."

But Kydd wanted to be away from the town and didn't slow. Eventually they found the road north, slackened their speed and Renzi found breath for conversation. "A remarkable island—just a few miles broad but—"

"T' be pointed out as—as who I am, it's more'n a man should bear," Kydd said, through his teeth. He knew, however, that there was one easy answer: simply to return to England and find anonymity—but that would deprive him of any chance to uncover the truth and reclaim his honour.

Renzi glanced at him sharply. "Don't take it amiss, my friend, if I remark that few know you by sight, your not having entered upon society to any great degree. I have my doubts there are above a dozen people outside the Navy who know you so you shouldn't overmuch fear the gaze of the herd, if that is your concern."

"Aye, but they'll find out—an' you will say I'm damned in society."

Renzi bit his lip. "Here, this will be so for now, I agree. But in England—"

"I'm not leavin', Nicholas."

They walked on in silence and after an hour returned. Nothing had been concluded other than a vague intent to go to the admiral's office and do something unspecified. Yet every hour that passed . . . For all they knew, Lockwood's agent might still be on the island preparing to return, still available for unmasking.

It was the worst kind of frustration; Kydd found it hard to contain, and as they passed Government House he turned impulsively to go into the naval headquarters. Their entry was refused but he pushed past the scandalised sentry whereupon they were indignantly ejected. There would be no interrogations.

The evening meal was cheerless and silent. It had become obvious now that there would be no quick solution and happy restitution— in fact, nothing constructive whatsoever had suggested itself.

In the morning, Kydd excused himself and said he needed to go for a walk alone. When he returned his face was serious. Renzi knew better than to ask; indeed, his own situation was approaching despair, for complete idleness without the solace of his books was difficult.

The day wore on drearily with neither news nor inspiration; eventually, needing to get out, Renzi suggested they head to the tavern where they had shared a dinner before their world had turned demented.

It was a mistake. They had a fine view of the castle islet below, but also a first-class vantage-point to witness HMS Teazer win her anchor and stand out to sea, her long masthead pennant whipping in the brisk breeze. It was proof positive that a new commission had begun for her, a new life under a new captain.

Kydd's face was like stone. Then Renzi saw a glitter in his eyes and he had to turn away. When he looked back Kydd was as still as a statue, following the little vessel with his eyes until she spread full sail and made off southward—to the open sea. With infinite sadness, he said, "I'd be beholden t' ye, Nicholas, should we go back now."



"It grieves me to raise the subject, brother, but we must take stock of our position." Renzi and Kydd sat in their usual spot in the snug, to one side of the fire, teasing out their half-pints of ale for as long as they could. It was now five days gone and they were no further forward.

Kydd said nothing, gloomily lifting his grog-blackened leather tankard.

"In fine, it is to remark that our means are not without their limit—my humble emolument as a ship's clerk ceased the minute I quit the ship, as you would know, and for your own good self."

Kydd shifted uncomfortably. "I'm on half-pay, that's true, but I have t' say to ye, it's spoken for f'r months ahead—I outlaid a fat purse t' those villains in St Sampson t' prettify "Teazer's bright-work an' gingerbread. I doubt as Standish is appreciatin' it now," he added morosely.