"For the French this is galling in the extreme. You see, we in turn do use these islands to our own advantage, which is as a base to fall on their sea lanes with men-o'-war and privateers to paralyse their commerce and attempts to reinforce. And, most critically, to keep close in watch on Bonaparte's invasion preparations—which we are so well placed to do," he added, with satisfaction.
The mood changed. He lifted his glass and exclaimed genially, "But then we are neglecting the plaice with our talk. Pray, eat and enjoy—and I have a notion how we might deploy your talents to better effect, Mr Renzi," he added mysteriously.
Renzi lay awake in his creaking four-poster. A south-westerly was blustering outside against the ancient stone and penetrating draughts had him drawing up the counterpane. He'd been prepared to endure nights under a hedge and feast on scraps but he was now safely immured in a castle, in comfort under a goosedown quilt and reflecting on the conversations he had enjoyed with the reigning flag-officer no less.
There was no real reason for d'Auvergne to have so readily seized on him as a personal secretary—unless for intellectual companionship. Could this be so? And what were those extra duties that d'Auvergne had alluded to? Was he in truth a prince? His thoughts raced on.
Kydd, meanwhile, was living in a sail-loft, vainly trudging the streets in his forlorn quest. Did Renzi have the right to spend his days in such grand surroundings while his friend suffered? On the other hand, with a library of such richness within reach his study might yet take wings—the Voyages and Travels alone must be a gold-mine of ethnical facts against which . . .
"Ah, Renzi. Did you sleep well at all?" D'Auvergne was at his desk early, reading various articles of mail. Renzi took his accustomed place. "I did, sir."
One letter seemed to be causing d'Auvergne some concern. He lifted his head and spoke unseeingly: "Oh. That's good."
He stood up suddenly and paced about the room then stopped abruptly. "I think it's about time we put you to real work, Mr Renzi. My daily routine does not vary much, you'll see. In the morning I shall be here attending to matters and the afternoon I spend aboard my flagship, Severn, devoted to the business of my flag. There she is." He pointed out of the window.
Renzi glanced at the two-decker of a distinct age peacefully at anchor in the centre of the wide sweep of Gorey Bay below the castle, several smaller vessels moored alongside.
"She's a 44 only," d'Auvergne said apologetically, "but, as you can see, Gorey Bay is sandy and open and the only invasion beach worth the name on the island. Severn does her duty nobly as nothing more than a floating battery to cover the approach."
Renzi could well see the convenience of having a commodore's retinue so close at hand with the ability to put to sea within minutes. At the same time it left d'Auvergne free to maintain his interests ashore.
"Now, this is your first duty. I desire you to make known to yourself the whole situation obtaining on the mainland with its problems and concerns. Only when you are privy to the complete picture will you be able to assist me as you should."
"Er, yes, sir."
"That is, in Brittany and neighbouring regions—Paris and that gang of regicides you may leave to their evil machinations. And for this I would suggest the French local newspapers, all of which are conveyed to me here. A prime source of insight into a country, your newspaper."
"Sir," Renzi said politely. "Then might I beg the use of your library for the acquisition of background material and similar?"
"I would hope you do, sir."
Renzi nearly hugged himself with glee. To spend his days poring over those literary treasures—it was too good to be true.
"Oh, and I'm often accused of being mortally absent-minded, therefore I'll take the precaution of advancing you your first month's emolument before I forget."
Renzi was touched. "I am obliged to you, sir." He pocketed the envelope gratefully.
The piles of provincial newspapers were delivered to one of the empty rooms nearby so he excused himself and set to. They were read in market towns by peasant farmers and agricultural factors, yet clues stemming from the fluctuating prices of common produce, and unintended allusions in shrill editorials, revealed that all was not well and ugly dissatisfaction was not far below the surface in Napoleon's France.
When d'Auvergne left for his flagship Renzi scribbled a quick letter to Kydd for collection at the Guernsey post office, enclosing three coins and explaining his good fortune at meeting the Prince de Bouillon without going into detail.
Turning back to his task he heard movement in d'Auvergne's office. Startled, he went through but found only the flag-lieutenant waiting for a message. He seemed surprised to see Renzi. "Er, Jenkins. You must be the new man?"