Seaflower (41 page)

The
old woman's race to the stairs was astonishing to see, but in vain, and the
daughter had no chance with Kydd. 'Take her,' he told a nearby Seaflower.
'Toby, I got a feelin' the yellow jack next door's goin' to recover a mort
sharpish!' There would be no danger for Kydd if he were wrong, for he, of
course, had lifelong immunity.

The
women darning had broken for the street but had easily been rounded up under
the dumbfounded gaze of the coopers in the yard. 'Don't ye give no mind t' us,'
Kydd called, as they passed, but Merrick stopped. He turned to face the
coopers. They went back reluctantly to work under his gaze, but the boatswain
did not move on: his unblinking stare seemed to make the workers nervous. They
had finished knocking down the barrels to staves and now should take up tools
to shape the raw wood of a cask head, but they shamefacedly tailed off..

'Come
along wi' me, then, my little lambs,' the boatswain said.

Captain
Kernon could not have been more of a contrast to
Seaflower's previous commanders. A grey, cautious
lieutenant, he smacked of reliability before initiative. His words to the
ship's company on reading his commission were careful and considerate, but were
notable more for the 'do nots' than the 'do this'.

Seaflower
left Port Royal with her pennant streaming, bound for the Spanish Main across
the width of the Caribbean. But, to Renzi's disappointment, it seemed they
would not be touching on the vast continent to the south, with its lure of
amazing wild creatures and history of blood and conquest. Instead, as Kydd
explained, having studied their passage plans with Jarman, they were to
reconnoitre Aruba, an island off the mouth of the vast Gulf of Venezuela.

'A
Dutch island,' Renzi said, with interest.

'Are
they not our friends?' Kydd remembered hazily that the United Provinces had
been one of the first to declare an alliance with Britain in the feverish times
in the days following the guillotining of the French king.

'I
believe not,' Renzi said.

'Ah,
so chance o' plunder,' Stirk growled,

'Not
as who would say,' Renzi continued. 'If you remember, the French invaded last
year and we now must call their country the Batavian Republic'

'So
it's French.'

'Again,
we cannot say. I saw recently that William the Fifth, who is your Stadtholder
of Holland, has crossed the Channel seeking refuge at King George's court. He
still rules — or so we must accept. I think it an imprudent commander who makes
the assumption that his possessions are for their plundering.'

"They
are our allies?' asked Kydd, in disbelief.

'It
is safe to say that they are neither our friends nor our enemies. I rather fancy
that our enterprise is one of prudent enquiry.'

'Spying,'
said Kydd.

'Judicious
reconnaissance.'

The
ship sailed on, knifing through the slight swell southward, and Kydd felt
contentment build.
Seaflower
seemed to realise this, and lay more snugly to the quartering wind, the hiss of
her passage always at the same eager pitch but rising and falling in volume.
Kydd sent the helmsman below for an early supper and took the helm himself,
letting the recurved tiller press against his hip with the slight weather helm.

Out
to starboard a fine sunset promised: he and Renzi would probably sit on the
main-hatch gratings and see out the dog-watches in companionable conversation.
Muffled laughter eddied up from below as supper was served at the mess tables.
The watch on deck sat forward, little to do but spin yarns and watch the night
steal in.

Reluctantly,
Kydd gave up the tiller to the relief helmsman and murmured the hand-over
mantra to the quartermaster's mate relieving him, together with the slate of
course details. Luke arrived with a plate of supper and he joined Renzi
forward. The golden sunset spread gradually and silently to a vast scarlet
spectacle, an unfolding heavenly splendour perfectly unobstructed to the far
bounds of the darkling seas. It was not a time for idle talk and the two
friends took their victuals in appreciative silence.

When
Luke came with their grog pots, Renzi took out his clay pipe and prepared it,
letting the fragrance of the smoke drift away until it was whisked into nothing
by the higher stream of air above the bulwarks. 'Little enough chance of a
prize,' he said idly.

At
first Kydd didn't reply. Then he gave a small smile and, still gazing at the
copper ball of the sinking sun, said, 'But ye have other things in y' sea life,
Nicholas.'

'A
sight better than town or country alike, these troubling times.'

'Aye,'
said Kydd, his eyes still on the majesty of the sunset 'Nicholas, I've been
thinkin' over what y' said before,' he said slowly, 'about betterin' m'self.'
He eased himself to a more comfortable position. 'I own that it would be very
agreeable t' see m'self in a gunroom as master's mate, an' in course o' time to
take m' ticket with Trinity House as sailin' master — is that idle dreamin', do
ye think?'

A
master in the Royal Navy was as high as it was professionally possible for a
seaman to go: he had his own cabin and advised the Captain himself. Kydd was a
natural seaman, having the skills and rare combination of moral courage in a
decision with an instinctual understanding of the sea. Yet he was only a few
years into the sea-service — but that, by fortunate coincidence, in some of
the most testing regions of the globe. It would not be impossible. 'Indeed it
is not, given the time and opportunity, dear fellow.' Renzi smiled. 'Who knows?
This war is spreading like a canker over Europe and its dominions. Soon England
will be wanting every man of skill and enterprise to man its fleets. Your
course is set fair for the greatest things.'

Kydd's
secret smile did not escape Renzi.

'You
may find it happens sooner than you expect,' he added.

Shifting
uncomfortably, Kydd hesitated, then said, ‘Rattlin' good news from Cecilia, she
meetin' this Lady Stanhope an' being rated companion. D'ye think she'll make a
good 'un?'

In
turn Renzi paused. 'Inasmuch as she values politeness above all things, a
quality her brother is only now achieving, yes, she has the vivacity, or we
might say the liveliness of wit,, that the position requires . ..' he said
drily.

When
the smoky blue of Aruba island rose grand and distant in the shimmering sea the
next day, Seaflower shortened sail and altered away to stand off and on until
night stole in. 'Mr Jarman, I will not risk the vessel by closing on
Oranjested,' Kernon announced.

Jarman
looked uncomfortable. This was taking caution to the limit: a cutter like Seaflower
had reconnaissance as one of its main purposes, and risks had to be taken. The
harbour might well have a larger warship ready to put to sea in chase, but this
was an acceptable part of their duty.

'I
have it in mind to despatch the longboat to oversee the port,' Kernon
continued. This was hard on the boat's crew but would reduce the risk to Seaflower.
'I will need a steady hand to command, one with the sea knowledge and the skill
to navigate the boat there, and back to the rendezvous.'

Kydd
stepped forward and touched his hat. 'Sir, I have m' figurin' an' can do this.'

Kernon
said nothing, ignoring Kydd, and continuing to regard Jarman gravely.

'It'll
be me who takes th' boat, o' course, sir,' Jarman said calmly. 'You'll have y'r
chance in good time, lad -please be s' good as to assist the Captain. Sir, Kydd
is a fine quartermaster and knows his charts. I leave him with ye.'

'Thank
you, Mr Jarman, I knew I could rely on you. Kydd, please to wait on me presently
with the charts. We approach the island at dusk.'

The
reality was more perturbing than Kydd had imagined: the sea details to be won
from the austere lines of a chart — the bearings, tide sets, implied wind
variants inshore - were exercises in imagination compared to the reality on
deck: a moonless night, the longboat bobbing alongside being boarded by Jarman
and four men, who must push off into the blackness and trust that Seaflower would
be in exactly the same position for their return. The quiet faith of others in
his powers — this was the true end of his sea learning.

A
barricoe of water was passed down: they would be holed up for a day in the
craggy hills overlooking the port and would rendezvous the next night. There
was little chatter, and when Jarman was ready, he climbed into the boat, settled
his hat and ordered, 'Bear off for'ard — give way together.'

The
boat slipped into the darkness and out of human ken; Kydd's farewell wave
faltered when Jarman did not look back. Seaflower's sheets were taken up and
she surged ahead, safely out to sea on a fixed course. At a calculated time,
she would reverse her heading and run down the line back to this position - in
theory. The wind dying or freshening, and her speed over the ground would be
different. An unsuspected current in these heated tropical seas, roiling to the
surface at right-angles to their course, would displace her bodily from her
intended track — even the shape and strength of waves at different aspects of
the hull would result in a deflecting.

Kydd
watched intently as the watch prepared to launch the logship. This triangular
float would be cast astern with a log-line to measure the ship's speed. Kydd
himself held the twenty-eight-second sand-glass, and when the logship had
exactly reached its mark he instantly inverted it and stared at it by the small
light of a dark-lanthorn. The log-line whipped away from the roller held above
his head by a seaman until Kydd saw the last sand grains slipping away. 'Stand
by!' he growled. The glass emptied. 'Nip!' he bawled, and the point reached by
the log-line was noted. The number of knots tied at equal distance that passed
out with the line would give the speed directly. While his crew hauled in the
wet log-line, Kydd chalked in the speed on the slate, and set about worrying
over the wind direction.

Kernon
was cautious, but considerate: he treated Kydd like a master, consulting and
discussing, allowing Kydd's concerns but meeting them with his greater experience.
The next day wore on, and the evening drew in. Now was the testing time,
whether the miracle could take place of a conjuncture in the dark out at sea of
the two craft.

In
the last of the light as they headed in once more, Kydd yet again took bearings
of the headland and single islet that he had selected as his seamarks,
additionally using Jarman's octant to determine their angle laterally, fixing
their position by triangulation. The geometry was not onerous, but still
intimidated Kydd, and he was grateful for Renzi's easy way with the formulae.
He was only just beginning to see them not as some kind of machine that took in
raw ingredients and out the other end came a neat and finished product; now he
could, with Renzi's insights, dimly discern the elegance and fine reasoning
behind them.

The
moonless night was impenetrable, the soughing breeze and shipboard noises
reducing awareness to a narrow circle of perceptions. The boat might be either
in their path - or passing blindly by. 'Mr Merrick,' said Kernon, consulting
his fob watch. There was fumbling in the gloom and sparks flew in the wind. A
red glow and fizzing, then a blinding blue light issued from a wooden tube held
aloft by a seaman. The acrid smoke caused Kydd to choke, but the ghostly blue radiance
shone out into the night in a goblin splendour, and threw the vast mainsail
into a stark, pale relief. The tube spluttered busily and hissed, pouring
towers of cloud downwind, each man on deck motionless and bathed in the
unearthly light.

'Deck
hooo!’ The cry from forward was quickly followed by the challenge, 'Booooat ahoy!'
and a faint cry from out in the blackness. Seaflower altered course - and her
company was made whole once more.

Their
welcome at Port Royal was puzzling: a lowly cutter returning from her servile
duties, yet before she had taken up her moorings her number was hung out
importantly on the flagship summoning her captain, and a pinnace pulled
energetically from the shore.

'Barbados
- an' not a moment t' be lost!' the dockyard functionary said with relish.
'Lord 'n' Lady Stanhope an' one other.'

Kydd
recognised the name with a start, and before Captain Kernon returned from the
flagship, Cecilia was aboard, gazing warily about her, something about her
manner repelling Kydd's greeting. .

The
boatswain called tersely for Kydd as the senior hand responsible for stowage of
the hold. 'Do you consult Miss, er, Cecilia, concernin' the passage o' the
noble gennelman,' he ordered.