Seaflower (20 page)

'Sail
hoooo!’ 
The lookout in this small vessel
was only forty feet up, and his sudden bellow made Renzi start. He followed the
outstretched arm and saw a fore-and-aft rigged craft emerging from a kink in
the northern coastline, not large but dismayingly warlike. A second vessel appeared
and the pair set course to intercept.

'Armed
schooners!' muttered Jowett.

'Privateers,
an' we ain't got a chance!' a seaman added. In the absence of the bulk of the
Fleet at San Domingo the French privateers were basing themselves back in
Guadeloupe, issuing out to fall on any passing prey. Like corsairs, they were
savage and murderous.

'Don'
vex 'em more'n we need, Mr Jowett,' an older seaman advised, staring at the two
schooners leaning to their hard drawing sails. 'We ain't got powder fer our
guns, nor a full suit o' sails, so we'll never outrun 'em. Why don't we strike
our colours now?'

Jowett's
jaw set. 'No — we got a chance. If they see us in Antego, we get help. Hold
course!' The island was drawing nearer and hardening in definition. Renzi
scanned the south coast for any indication that they had been seen and a ship
was putting to sea in their aid.

Half-way
across, it became obvious that the Frenchmen would come up with them well
before they could make Antigua. The white swash at their bows sparkled in the
sun, their sails hard and boardlike. They were now close enough to show the
sight of their crew, clustered around their fore-part.

The
flat crack of a gun followed the sudden appearance of a puff of gunsmoke; the
leading schooner was making its intentions known. Renzi swept his gaze over the
approaching coast Even if they were sighted now, help could not arrive before
the privateers had done their worst A half-smile appeared on his face. Logic
ruled that he would be either dead or captured within two hours. He folded his
arms and awaited events.

Then
Renzi saw the leading schooner suddenly surge round, head to wind. Her sails
shook until the vessel paid off on the other tack — going before the wind away
from them! Shaking his head in disbelief, he looked about, searching for a
reason for the sudden retreat: perhaps the headsails of a ship-of-the-line
appearing around a headland, a vengeful frigate from the south. Nothing. The
other schooner followed suit and, under the incredulous gaze of the brig's
crew, the privateers were seen making for Guadeloupe and their lair.

Excited,
the sailors jabbered away, looking for an explanation for their deliverance.

Jowett
seemed not to share their jubilation. "Cos they seen that,' he said. His
arm pointed towards the north-east. The cloud banks had extended across the sky
and darkened. 'It's a reg'lar goin' hurricanoe, that's what, yer sees.'

'We
bears up fer English Harbour,' said the helmsman.

'Nah,
we bin holdin' course fer St John's an' we c'n never beat back to the east'd in
time.'

'If
we makes it ter Antego west about, we'll be in the lee o' the storm.'

Jowett
growled. 'Shut yer jabber - we goes t' St John's.'

The
brig was battened down tight; it was hard on the unfortunates in the airless
hold and if they foundered or struck on the rocks their-end would not be pleasant.
Renzi cringed as he gave Louise his assurances and asked her to calm her
compatriots. She did this without question, quietly accepting imprisonment in
the claustrophobic darkness.

They
kept well clear of the breakers to the south-west of Antigua but by the time
the rock-studded danger of Five Isles was abeam, the brig was bucketing and
rolling in ugly seas. 'Only a league or so,' yelled Jowett, to the men on the
yard. They had come up with the little islet of Sandy Island off St John's and
were now within a few miles of safety — but that now seemed impossible, for it
lay in the teeth of the fresh gale, hourly increasing in strength.

Seamen
gathered on deck. The distant sight of the town, no more than five miles ahead,
taunted and beckoned. The little brig strained to her uttermost close-hauled,
but could not lie close enough to the wind to fetch harbour.

A
fizz, then a sudden gout of choking smoke, and a rocket soared up into the grey
evening sky to explode high above. Jowett was trying to get a larger vessel to
come to their aid, but it was unlikely that any would risk putting to sea under
the threat of a hurricane. It was stalemate: on this point of sailing they
could only reach the rocky coast to the south where, without charts or local
knowledge, they were sure to be wrecked. Or they could run with the gale, but
that was no alternative for the hurricane would grow and overwhelm them. It was
only a matter of time.

'Wind's
backin'!' screamed a seaman, as the wind shifted into the north - and with it
came a chance. It would need acute judgement, but at the right moment it would
be possible to go about then beat down to St John's. It was a desperate matter,
for they would be close up against the coast on one side and the battering
storm on the other.

Renzi
watched Jowett: the thirty lives aboard were in his hands. Jowett stood facing
directly into the streaming wind, his nose unconsciously lifting in little
sniffs as he judged its mood. 'Ready about,' he snapped. The brig seemed to
stumble as her bow came up into the wind. Renzi willed the plain little vessel
to go through stays without complaint, which she did, and they lay over on the
larboard tack, every minute gathering speed in the blasting gale.

Explosions
of white heaved skyward from the seas pounding the rocks under their lee. The
clouds massing took on an ugly cast, but St John's grew ever nearer. Soon they
encountered the breaking seas over the bar at the harbour entrance and, once
inside the headland of Hamilton's fort, the waves lost their viciousness.

Weary
and weatherbeaten they headed directly for St John's town.

Renzi
survived the storm in the company of Louise and the French in a stone
warehouse. Worn out and emotionally drained, he snatched what sleep he could
with the insane howling of the storm outside. In the morning he looked outside,
in the gusting winds and rain of the dying hurricane, and saw their brig
miraculously still alongside the wharf, snubbing and rearing like a spirited
horse, but safe.

The
time of trial had left Renzi strangely depressed: the lunacy of war was
au fond
the outworking of the crass irrationality that lay
in the heart of Unenlightened Man, but he knew that what lay on him was more
personal. At least Kydd would not meet the hurricane at sea: he was safe
ashore, but in what circumstances? His helplessness in the face of the
situation was probably the true reason for his dejection, Renzi realised. Moody
and hungry, he awaited events.

Rather
later a busy little man arrived from the civil administration to relieve him of
his charges. He left Louise with no false hopes for Kydd, and when the goodbyes
were said, French fashion, he saw the sparkle of tears in her eyes.

The
brig was uncomfortable to work in, her movement brisk and jerky, but it would
not need much to make her ready for the short voyage south again to the naval
dockyard at English Harbour.

In
the afternoon, Renzi begged leave and went into town, seeking a bookshop, the
well of contentment that might restore his balance. Three hours later he
returned, spirits restored, his bag stuffed with gold — another Goethe, for
'Prometheus' had awakened in him a grudging respect for the man; a second-hand
Raynal, the
Histoire des deux  Indes,
which had probably been the property of a French
royalist; and an interesting new work by the Plutarchian Robertson on
'conjectural history'.

And,
most important, a glorious find, newspapers from England a bare six weeks old.
He exulted as he tramped back to the brig: this was what it was to be alive! At
the gangway a cross-looking lieutenant was waiting. Jowett called down from the
deck of the brig and the officer rounded on him. 'Are you Renzi?' he huffed.

'I
am, sir.'

'Parley-vous
le fronsay vraymont?
Astonished,
Renzi could only stare. 'Answer, then, if indeed you have the French!' 'Mais
bien sur - qu'est-ce que ca vous fait?' The lieutenant smiled in satisfaction.
'That will do. Follow me.'

Without
thinking, Renzi fell into step beside the man, but was swiftly told, 'Fall in
astern, if you please.' The officer's look of disdain caused Renzi nothing but
secret amusement. A short walk took them to an imposing stone building: a blue
ensign and marine sentry at the door proclaimed it a naval establishment. The
marine slapped his musket to the present as the officer entered, then winked at
Renzi.

The
lieutenant paused. 'Play your cards right, my man, and your days as a foremast
hand may well be at an end.' Mystified, Renzi followed him down the passageway.

They
stopped at a door; the lieutenant knocked and leaned inside. 'The man Renzi,
sir,' he said.

'Send
'im in!' roared the unseen personage within.

'Rear
Admiral Edgcumbe,' said the lieutenant softly, and ushered Renzi in.

The
Admiral sat behind a massive dark-polished desk, his expression more curious
than fierce. 'So you has the French, an' a manner to go with it, I'm told,' he
mused, looking keenly at Renzi.

He
slid across a piece of paper and quill. 'Write "Render to me your return
affecting stores that are rotten.'"

Renzi
complied, his hand flying across the page, sure and fluent.

'Damme,
that's a splendid hand for a sailor,' grunted the Admiral, and looked up
sharply. 'Are ye a forger?' 'Er, no, sir.'

'Pity.
First class with a pen, y' forger.' His head snapped up. 'What's the county
town o' Wiltshire?'

'Sarum
— which is Salisbury,' said Renzi immediately. It was a little too close for
comfort: his family were prominent in the next county and he had reason to
remember the spires of old Salisbury.

Admiral
Edgcumbe smiled. 'Ah, quick an' sharp with it,' he said, with satisfaction, and
leaned back in his chair.

'Flags!'
he roared.

The
lieutenant instantly poked his head inside the room. 'This one'll do. Get 'im
in a decent rig an' on the staff.'

'Aye-aye,
sir.'

'See
he doesn't run, an' have him aboard the packet
in
good time.' He bent his head again to his work, thus dismissing both men.

By
the evening it had become clear what was going on. The Admiral was newly
promoted commander-in-chief designate to the Jamaica station and was due to
sail shortly with his staff to take up the appointment. He had been unlucky in
the matter of fever — it was damnably difficult to find good replacement staff
at short notice - and word about Renzi had reached him just in time. Renzi
would be a writer, a form of clerk entrusted only with duplication of orders
and unimportant matters, but would prove useful with his good knowledge of the
language of the enemy. The lieutenant clearly felt that Renzi had been plucked
from an existence as a sea menial to a prestigious position with real
prospects, and should be grateful.

For
himself, Renzi felt a lurch of premonition at the mention of Jamaica, but
perhaps in the naval headquarters there would be no exposure and therefore
little risk of confrontation. A new life of petty politics at headquarters was
not to his liking, for he had deliberately chosen the sea life as the purest
form of exile.

Next
day the packet swarmed with the Admiral's retinue. Renzi, as a seaman, knew
precisely where to keep out of the way and watched with wry amusement the
fluster and confusion as the pretty little topsail cutter put to sea. A small frigate
accompanied them as escort, the pair foaming along in the freshness after the
hurricane, heading westward deep into the glittering blue of the Caribbean sea.

The
island of Jamaica was raised five days later without incident, an impressive
blue-grey monolith appearing out of the morning on the distant horizon. They
had passed St Kitts during the night and Hispaniola was a disappointing low
scrubby headland, approaching then receding as, with the favourable
north-easterlies, they headed direct for the southern coast of Jamaica.

Off
Morant Bay they hove to, a pilot schooner plunging and rolling as she sent
across the Kingston pilot, and in turn took aboard the Admiral's flag
lieutenant. They would remain there for the night while warning of the arrival
of their august passenger reached the capital overland.