The Privateer's Revenge(6)

"Spare me y'r pity, Nicholas," Kydd said. "It happened."

"I'm saying that I've yet to meet the man who, trapped in a pit, is able to fix on far horizons. What you did—"

"What I did was weak an' foolish. I could've brought th' Service t' contempt an' ridicule." He paused. "I'm t' be—I'm beholden t' ye, Nicholas, f'r what ye did last night."

"It was nothing more than a friend would do, dear fellow."

Kydd resumed at the mirror. "I'm goin' back aboard. This is m' duty an' this I must obey above all things." He paused. "It was th' last thing she spoke t' me, o' course," he added, swallowing hard.

"A noble sentiment, Thomas. Fitting for a gentleman of the first rank."

Kydd found his waistcoat. "Ye'll oblige me b' tellin' how many— er, who saw me last night."

"Why, none of acquaintance, I believe," Renzi answered equably. "The quarter is not favoured by King's men."

"But there was Stirk."

"It was Toby Stirk who thought to summon a waterman, once we were landed, and even gave you his coat to wear over yours on the way back. Do you think he would be the kind of man to glory in his captain's abasement? There is none who—"

"And Cecilia?"

"She will now be in possession of my note detailing how you were cruelly set upon by footpads while taking the night air to clear your head, and that visitors are discouraged."

Kydd finished dressing. "I'm returnin' t' Teazer now," he said abruptly. "Do ye wish t' come?"

"If that is my duty, Captain."

"It is."



The waterman, under the tight-lipped grimace of his passenger, bent to his oars and sent the wherry skimming across to the little brig in Barn Pool. Rounding the pretty stern windows he brought it expertly alongside her sidesteps, and Kydd boarded briskly.

"You, sir!" he roared at Prosser, the lounging mate-of-the-watch, who straightened in dismay at Kydd's sudden appearance. "What kind o' watch can't sight their captain returnin' on board?"

Prosser snatched off his hat. "Er, you're not in uniform, sir," he said weakly.

Farther forward the boatswain faltered under Kydd's glare. "We—we weren't told ye was comin', sir," he said.

Hurriedly the watch found things that needed attention round the decks. "This is not a King's ship, it's a Dutch scow. What are th' men doin' for'ard?" Kydd said angrily. "Hangin' out th' washing? If'n ye can't take charge properly, Mr Prosser, I'll find someone who will."

He stalked down to his cabin. Renzi paused, then descended the after hatchway to his own tiny hideaway to wait out the mood.

The morning wore on: he usually worked by the clear light of the stern windows in the captain's cabin. He gathered up his papers and made his way aft, knocked softly and waited.

"Yes?"

The impatient tone made him hesitate.

Kydd was at his desk, his face stony. "Is there anything y' need?"

"Oh—er, you wished to sight the quarterly return on casks shaken," Renzi said, thinking quickly. "Will this be the right time, do you think?"

"Not now. Ask th' bosun to step aft, if y' please."

The afternoon watch came to an end and the starboard watch for liberty mustered. There would be the usual sore heads in the morning after their time ashore. Standish paid his respects warily and was off as smartly, leaving the ship to its evening rest. Renzi waited a little longer, then went up.

Kydd was sitting motionless by the stem windows, gazing out at the shadowed waters. "I—I'll be stayin' with Teazer for now, Nicholas," he said stiffly. "Ye're at liberty t' use number eighteen as y' see fit."

"Thank you, my friend," Renzi said quietly. "But, as you'll know, we've been at sixes and sevens in recent days. I need to take some quiet time to bring things to order. I shall stay aboard." Without asking, he sat down in the opposite chair.

Kydd stirred and cleared his throat. "Ship's business? Then do y' care t' share m' dinner?"

It was a cheerless meal: not so much Kydd's halting conversation or his silences but the contrast with what had been before. Kydd's face was drawn, his eyes dull, and there was no light-hearted taking up of Renzi's witty sallies.

As soon as he decently could, Renzi excused himself.

The next day Kydd kept to his cabin. Life aboard Teazer settled to a dreary stasis at her mooring, the entire ship affected by the solitary and melancholy figure in the captain's cabin.

Renzi knew the cause of the flares of temper, the distracted silences: Kydd had seized on duty as salvation—the stern call to a code of conduct that was plain, uncompromising and immediate. A pathway out, which would offer a clear and unthinking course to follow that was sure and secure. And it was denied him while Teazer lay idle.