Seaflower (44 page)

'It
may happen that I am able to reach England - Deo volente - but if not, then I
do require that you make known your intelligence to Mr Congalton at the Foreign
Office by any means you can contrive.'

'I
will.'

He
coughed once and lay back. 'Every day lost racks at my soul. What are our
chances of an early return to civilisation, do you think?'

'Sir,
this is something for Captain Kernon to disclose, but I should not be hopeful
of a speedy resolution.'

Stanhope
groaned, whether in frustration or pain it was difficult to know.
'Nevertheless, do you please attend. Now, the essence of this Spanish plot is ..
.'

Satisfied
with his immediate steps in the situation, Kernon strode across the clearing to
Lord Stanhope's shelter, to see Renzi emerging. 'Is Lord Stanhope at liberty to
see me?' he asked.

'I
do believe he will be more than happy to do so, sir,' said Renzi, 'but you will
be aware that he is considerably out of countenance owing to his
indisposition.'

Kernon
entered, removing his hat. 'Sir, do you wish a report on our situation?'

'Thank
you.'

'I
have good news,' Kernon began. 'We have found two springs of water and there
are goats on the island. We shall neither starve nor suffer want of water. In
large, this amounts to an inconvenience only, my lord.'

'But
our chances of rescue, Captain?'

'Equally
good, I'm happy to say. The master believes us to be somewhere in the
south-western Caribbean. This means that we are on the sailing route taken by
the logwood traders of Campeche and also the hide droghers of Honduras. It is
only a matter of time before we are sighted and Port Royal alerted of our
plight. In any event at this moment I have no doubt they are combing the seas
for you. Our vessel is unharmed and we have only to wait'

Tor
how long, sir?'

Kernon
considered. 'I am confident that within a very few weeks we shall be found — a
month or two at the most.'

'Damnation!'
The vigour of his response brought a flinch at the pain. 'Captain, I have every
reason to desire an early return, you must believe. Can we not use the boat?'

Kernon
looked shocked. 'I do not recommend such a course of action at all, my lord.
The hazards are many, and here we may comfortably await our rescue without
risk.'

'What
hazards?'

'Why,
sir, where would we go without we know where we are? If we sail north in the
expectation that Jamaica is there and miss it, we face a hard trip to Cuba. If
to the north-east we may fetch up against San Domingo and a French prison—'

'Yes,
yes, but it is possible?'

'But
most inadvisable.'

'Captain
Kernon, I want you to understand that I must make the attempt.' 'My lord—'

'Prepare
the boat, sir, I will not be denied.' 'If you insist.' 'I do.'

'You
will need seamen to navigate. I shall myself command—'

'You
must remain with your ship. And so must your only other officer. Is there no
other who can figure a course?' The effort was draining his strength, he grew
pale.

'There
may be,' Kernon said reluctantly, and passed the word for Seaflower’s quartermaster.
When Kydd appeared, he said, 'I cannot order you to do this, Kydd, but are you
able to undertake to navigate in a boat voyage to the nearest inhabited place,
as determined by Mr Jarman?'

'I
am, sir,' Kydd replied seriously.

The
decision taken, it was short work to manhandle the longboat to the sandy
foreshore. The seas were still up, but would almost certainly be navigable in
the morning. The longboat was eighteen feet in length and could carry fourteen
men with its eight oars. On the sand it seemed large and commodious enough, but
Kydd knew that launched into the vastness of the sea it would magically shrink.

It
would be rigged for sailing, a common practice for wide harbours and brisk
winds, sloop-rigged with a single mast and runner backstays, but with an
extensible bowsprit that would allow it to hoist the two headsails of a cutter.

As
seamen padded down with the equipment and began erecting masts, tightening
shrouds and shipping rudders, Kydd looked thoughtfully at his first 'command'.
At the very least he would heed navigating gear. Jarman and he had held
conclave for a long time, reasoning finally that the safest assurance of a
civilised landfall was to the south-east, the coast of the continent of South
America, a guaranteed unbroken land-mass across their path that had a
scattering of Spanish settlements continuously along it. Renzi had been
unusually positive that in his opinion the Spaniards had not opened
hostilities, and that the high status of their passenger would compel immediate
assistance.

A
boat-compass would suffice to keep a straight track, but Jarman pressed his
cherished octant on Kydd. 'Ye could be grateful t' run a latitude down,' he
said. 'You'll be able t' return it when y'r done.'

Stores
for a voyage of up to a week were found. Renzi came down the beach with a small
package. 'We need food for the spirit as well,' he said, packing it up under a
convenient thwart.

'You're
coming?' Kydd said, with pleasure.

'And
why not? To leave you to enjoy the wonders of the new continent while I remain
idle? This is asking too much.'

Kydd
grinned, suspecting that Renzi's motives came at least in part from the
knowledge that Kydd would need a watch-keeping relief at the tiller. Doud had
volunteered to work the sails, and could always sleep between activity, but
there would be no rest for the man at the helm. More than that, he knew he
would be thankful for real intelligence and cool thought to assist him if it
came to decisions that might mean life or death.

'Could
we perhaps contrive an awning for Lord Stanhope? We can take our rest sitting
athwart,' Renzi suggested. The beam of the longboat was nearly six feet, and
with sails as padding they could lie quite comfortably braced around the sides
of the boat.

At
first light Kydd was down at the longboat, checking every line and fitting. The
awning sewn during the night was tried and declared a success, as was the
sliding stretcher hanging below the thwarts.

It
was time. Kernon and Lady Stanhope accompanied Lord Stanhope down to the boat,
their faces set and grave. Cecilia followed with last-minute comforts for the
men, while Stirk carried the heavy water barricoes himself.

'My
darling .. .' Charlotte bent to her husband and whispered to him while others
averted their eyes.

Stanhope's
reply was sad but resolute. 'No, my dearest, grant me this only, that of all
things I will have the confidence that you are safe from harm. I must go alone
and, with God's grace, we shall prevail.'

Her
hands squeezed his — then let go.

'We
must put you aboard now, my lord,' said Kernon, sounding choked.

The
boat was drawn up at the water's edge. The tumbling seas looked colder and more
inimical, and glances seaward showed that Kydd was not alone in his feelings.
Stirk came up, shuffling his feet in uncharacteristic awkwardness. 'Y'ere a
chuckle-headed sawney as ever I saw, Tom, but I honours yez for it,' he said,
in a low voice. 'Keep lucky, cock, an' we'll step off on a spree some time ...'

It
seemed that the whole ship's company of Seaflower was gathered as Lord Stanhope
was placed tenderly in his stretcher. His wife stood motionless, her stricken
eyes fixed on her husband.

Cecilia
pushed forward. 'I shall go with him,' she declared firmly. 'He needs care.
Kindly wait while I fetch a few necessaries.'

'It's
- that's impossible, Miss Cecilia,' said Kernon, scandalised.

'Nonsense!
I will accompany his lordship — you know that I must, if he is to be of use to
any on whatever mission this is that requires so much urgency.'

Lady
Charlotte clasped Cecilia and began softly, 'My dear ...'

Impatient,
Cecilia told her quietly, 'I know we are in the very best hands, Lady Stanhope,
do not concern yourself any further on our behalf. We will be quite safe.' She
hesitated a moment, then said gently, 'You see, Kydd is my brother Thomas, Lady
Stanhope ...'

Arrangements
concluded, stout hands were applied to the gunwales and the boat entered the
still white-dashed waters, rearing and bobbing. Cecilia was handed aboard, Doud
heaved himself into the bows and Kydd and Renzi took their places aft.

A
signal to Doud had the foresail soaring up the stay and while Kydd setded in
the sternsheets with the tiller, Renzi cautiously showed main canvas to the
brisk wind. A lurch to leeward and the boat started seaward, a bumpy, swooping
scurry until they crossed the outer breakers, then the sea winds took hold and
they lay to the blow, heading for the open sea.

Kydd
thought only then to look astern, to see the dots of people lining the
diminishing shore, the scattered waving, the forlorn bulk of Seaflower in the
midst of the battered palms. He held up his hand in farewell and saw a flutter
of kerchiefs in return, then turned forward, his face hardening in resolution.

Cecilia
was doing something for Lord Stanhope, and Renzi was busy tying off on the
lines. Doud stepped carefully around them. At his approach Kydd steeled himself
for bad news, but Doud grinned down at him from a midship thwart, hanging on to
one of the shrouds. He gave an exulting whoop, and began singing,

'Farewell
and adieu, to you, Spanish ladies!

Farewell
and adieu, you ladies of Spain;

For
we've orders for England, you bold-eyed and lovely

But
we know in a short time we'll see you again!'

To
Cecilia's evident delight all the sailors took up the refrain:

'We'll
rant and we'll roar like true British sailors;

We'll
rant and we'll roar all on the salt seas;

Until
we strike soundings in the Channel of England,

From
Ushant to Scilly 'tis thirty-five leagues.'

At
noon Cecilia, by unspoken concession, took charge of provisions, and each in
the boat received a ship's biscuit surmounted by cold tongue and a pickle. The
wine was recorked after a splash of Bordeaux flavoured the water ration
agreeably, and a morsel of seed-cake completed their noon meal.

An
overcast sky still prevented a noon sighting, but a steady south-easterly
course was not hard to sustain, and with the winds coming more abeam they made
good speed. Towards evening the sea had moderated, the sun finally emerged and
the wearisome jerking motion settled to a regular swelling surge.

Cecilia
made Lord Stanhope as comfortable as was possible and the boat sailed on into
the night. The seamen aboard, used to regular watches, had no difficulty in
falling in with the rhythm, but a pale dawn revealed a hollow-eyed, plank-sore
Cecilia.

Without
a word, Renzi reached for the awning. He loosened its end, lifted it up and
secured each corner to an opposite shroud. 'Milady's toilette,' he murmured,
and clambered aft followed by a suddenly understanding Doud.

'Sir,
you are too kind,' Cecilia croaked and, without meeting anyone's eye, vanished
behind the improvised screen; the plash of water showed that she was making
good use of her privacy.

Later
in the morning a cultured cough from amidships drew Cecilia to Lord Stanhope.
'Should you be so good as to tighten these bandages? I am certain I may sit,
which would give me the greatest satisfaction since it has always been my
practice to look the world in the eye.'

At
noon, to Kydd's gratification, the sun was bright and beneficent. He took a
sighting carefully and, after due consultation with the tables, he turned to
the chart with Renzi. 'Here, somewhere along this line o' latitude, that's
where we are of a surety, Nicholas.'

Cecilia
could not contain her curiosity. She crowded into the sternsheets with them,
her eyes searching eagerly for meaning in the chart. 'Pray where are we, Tom?
You are so clever, it looks a perfect conundrum to me.'