The Admiral's Daughter (4 page)

He got up quickly, passed through the wardroom and emerged on to the broad mess-deck. There were surprised looks from the seamen but his hat was firmly under his arm, signifying an unofficial visit, and he crossed quickly to the tiny cabin adjoining the surgeon's that extended into a corner of the mess space.

It was new, the thin panels still with the fragrance of pine and with a green curtain for a door. It had cost him much debate with the dockyard but
Teazer
now had a cabin for her captain's clerk, an unheard-of luxury for one so humble. Kydd tapped politely. After some movement the curtain was drawn aside and a dishevelled head appeared.

“Nicholas, is this at all to y'r liking or . . .” Renzi pulled back inside and Kydd could see into the tiny compartment. The forward bulkhead was lined with books from top to bottom as was the opposite side, with each row laced securely; in the middle a very small desk stood complete with a gimballed lamp, and a cot was being triced up out of the way. It was definitely a one-person abode but if the sea-chest could be made to suffer duty as a chair, and movements were considered and deliberate, there were possibilities.

Renzi gave a rueful smile, grateful that his years of sea service had prepared him for the motion here. “Should we meet with a seaway of spirit, it may require our stout boatswain to exercise his skills in the lashing of myself to my chair, but here I have my sanctum, thank you.”

The contrast with Kydd's own appointments could not have been greater, but this was all that Renzi had asked for.

“Er, should ye be squared away b' evening, m' friend, might we sup together?”

“Nicholas, dear friend, it does m' heart good t' see ye aboard.” The cabin was bathed in the cosy glow of twin candles on the table.

“
Your
chair, Nicholas,” Kydd said pointedly, pulling forward one of an identical pair of easy chairs.

Renzi gave a half-smile but said nothing.

“Who would've thought it?” Kydd went on. “As ye'd remember, come aft through th' hawse an' all.”

Renzi murmured something and reclined, watching Kydd steadily.

Tysoe filled the glasses and left noiselessly. “And now we're shipmates again,” Kydd concluded lamely.

Renzi unbent a little. “This is true and I'm—gratified that it should be so, you must believe, brother.”

Kydd smiled broadly and handed him a glass. “Then I give ye joy of our friendship, Nicholas!” He laughed. “If it's t' be half o' what it was when we were afore the mast, then . . .”

“Yes, dear fellow. Here's a toast to those days and to that which lies ahead,” Renzi answered softly.

But Kydd realised in his heart that there was no going back. In the years since they had been foremast hands together too much had happened: his elevation to the majesty of command, Renzi's near-mortal fever and subsequent striving for significance in life— and all that had passed which had seen them both pitched into bloody combat and fear of their lives. They were both very different men. “Aye, the old days.”

“More wine?” Renzi said politely. “I can only applaud your taste in whites. This Portuguee is the gayest
vinho verde
this age.”

“Yes—that villain in town can't stand against Tysoe,” Kydd said shortly. “Nicholas, may I know if ye've set course ready for y'r studies?”

“There may
be
no studies,” Renzi said, his face taut.

Kydd's stomach tightened. “No studies?” Did Renzi see the great gulf in their situations as a sick reversal of the relationship that had gone before?

“We gull ourselves, brother,” Renzi said evenly, “if we believe that the world will abide by our little conceit.” He shifted in his chair to face Kydd squarely. “Consider: you are captain and therefore lord over all, and may direct every soul in this ship as you desire. But that is not the same as the unthinking obeisance of your redcoat or the sullen obedience of the serf in the field. Our Jack Tar famously has an independence of thought.”

He smiled thinly. “You might set me at an eminence and sup with me. I may pace the quarterdeck in your company and be seen to step ashore with you. This is all within your gift—you are the captain. Yet what will our honest mariner perceive of it? And your new lieutenant—”

“T' arrive t'morrow.”

“—what construction will he place on our easy confidences, our privy conversations? Am I to be in the character of the captain's spy?”

Renzi was right, of course. The practicality of such a relationship was now in serious question: any interpretation might be placed on their conduct, from the bawdy to the felonious. Kydd's position was fast becoming untenable and it would seem he risked his ship for the sake of an innocent friendship.

“Nicholas.” To have the prospect of resolution to the loneliness of command snatched away was too much. “Answer me true, m' friend. Are ye still resolved on y'r achievin' in the academic line? For the sake o' Cecilia?” he added carefully.

“Were it possible.”

“Then it shall be so, an' I'm settled on it,” Kydd said firmly. “It is th' world's perceivin' only,” he added, “an' the world must know how it is.”

He paused, framing his words with care. “The truth is always th' safest. In society you shall be introduced as a learned gentleman, guest o' the captain, who is undertaking interestin' voyages f'r the sake of his studies, an' who f'r the sake of appearances in the navy takes on himself th' character of clerk—secretary—to th' captain.”

This should prove the easiest task: it would be assumed in the time-honoured way that Renzi would not, of course, be expected to sully his hands with the actual clerking, which would be handled by a lowly writer.

“In the navy, we take another tack, which is just as truthful. Here we have th' captain takin' pity on an old sea-friend, recoverin' from a mortal fever and takin' the sea cure, who spends his hours wi' books an' worthy writin'.” He paused for effect. “I spoke with th' admiral,” he continued innocently, “who told me directly that he sees no objection to Mr Renzi shippin' as clerk in
Teazer.
”

“You discussed my health?” Renzi said acidly.

“Not in s'many details,” Kydd replied, and hurriedly made much of Tysoe's reappearance signalling dinner. “Rattlin' fine kidneys,” he offered, but Renzi ate in silence. Even a well-basted trout failed to elicit more than grunts and Kydd was troubled again. Was Renzi finding it impossible to accept their new relationship, or was he appalled by the difference in their living accommodation?

Kydd tried to brighten. “Why, here we lie at anchor in Devonshire, th' foremost in the kingdom in the article of lamb. Our noble cook fails in his duty, th' rogue, if he cannot conjure some such meat.”

The cutlets were indeed moist and succulent and at last Renzi spoke. “I can conceive of above a dozen matters that may yet prove insuperable rocks and shoals to our objectives.”

Kydd waited impatiently for the cloth to be drawn, allowing the appearance of a salver of marzipan fruits. “Crafted y'r Chretien pear an' Monaco fig damn well, don't y' think!”

“Just so,” Renzi said, not to be distracted. “You will want to be apprised of these preclusions, I believe.”

“If y' please, Nicholas.”

“The first is yourself, of course.”

Kydd held silent: there was no point in impatient prodding, for Renzi would logically tease out a problem until a solution emerged—or proved there was none.

“Very well. Some matters are readily evident, the chief of which is that this scheme requires I be placed in a condition of subjection to you, which the rule and custom of the sea demands shall be absolute. You shall be the highest, I . . . shall be the lowliest.”

“Nicholas! No! Not at all! I—I would not . . .” Kydd trailed off as the truth of his friend's words sank in.

“Exactly.” Renzi steepled his fingers. “I journey on your fine bark as a member of her crew—if this were not so there would be no place for me. Therefore we must say that the Articles of War bear on me as scrupulously as upon the meanest of your ordinary seamen and with all the same force of law.”

Kydd made to interrupt but Renzi went on remorselessly: “As captain you cannot make exception. It therefore necessarily demands that I should be obliged to make my obedience to you in all things.” There was a finality in his tone.

“Does this mean—”

“It does. But, my dear fellow, it is the most logical and consequently most amenable to sweet reason of all our difficulties.” A smile stole across his features. “To leave issues unsaid, to be tacit and therefore at the mercy of a misapprehension is pusillanimous, thus I shall now be explicit.

“I do not see fit to vary my behaviour by one whit in this vessel. I see no reason why I should be obliged to. Do you?”

At a loss for words, Kydd merely mumbled something.

“I'm glad you agree, brother. Therefore from this time forth I shall render to the captain of HMS
Teazer
every mark of respect to his position in quite the same way as I allowed the captain of
Tenacious, Seaflower, Artemis . . .
”

“Aye, Nicholas,” said Kydd, meekly.

“Splendid! In the same vein I shall, of course, discharge the duty of captain's clerk in the fullest sense—any less would be an abrogation of the moral obligation that allows me victualling and passage in
Teazer,
as you must surely understand.”

“Y'r scruples do ye honour, m' friend—but this at least can be remedied. Cap'n's attendance take precedence: ye shall have a sidesman o' sorts, a writer, fr'm out of our company.” Even before he had finished the sentence he knew who. Luke Calloway, who had learnt his letters from Kydd himself in the Caribbean would be completely trustworthy and on occasion would not object too strenuously to exchanging the holy-stone for the quill.

“But then we must attend to more stern questions.” These had to wait as the table was cleared and the brandy left, and the captain and his visitor had resumed their easy chairs.

“Stern questions?”

“Some might say of the first martial importance. You wish to be assured of the conduct of every member of your company in the event of a
rencontre
with the enemy, including that of myself. This is your right to ask, and I will answer similarly as before. As a member of
Teazer
's crew I have my duties in time of battle as has everyone aboard.”

“As a clerk? This is—”

“As a clerk, my quarters are strictly specified, and these are to attend upon my captain on the quarterdeck for the period of the engagement. I shall be there—this you may believe,” he said softly.

Kydd looked away, overcome.

“And if
Teazer
faces an assault upon her decks from without, I shall not feel constrained in defending myself and my ship. This also you may believe.” He paused. “But in any affair that calls for noble leadership, the drawn sword at the head of a band of warriors—there you will see that, by our own devising, we are denied. I am a clerk, not even a petty officer, and no man can thus be made to follow me. As bidden, I might carry a pike or haul on a rope but otherwise . . .”

Renzi was laying down terms for his continued existence in
Teazer,
or more properly defining limitations that tidied things logically for his fine mind. Kydd hoped fervently that there would be no situation in the future that tested the logic too far.

He found the brandy and refreshed their glasses. “Ye spoke of—preclusions, m' friend. Here is one!” Renzi regarded Kydd steadily. “How can it be
right
f'r a man o' letters, sensible of th' finer points, t' be battened below like a . . . like a common fore-mast jack?”

It was said.

To Kydd's relief Renzi eased his expression. “Do you not remember my time of exile in the company of Neptune's gentlemen? It was my comfort then to remark it, that the conditions were to be borne as a necessary consequence of such a sentence.

“I now take notice that there is a similarity: in like manner to your monk or hermit scratching away in his cell in his sublime pursuit of truth and beauty, there are conditions contingent on the situation that may have to be endured as price for the final object. Should I not have the felicity of voyaging in
Teazer
then I fear my purse would not withstand an alternative course, and therefore I humbly accept what is so agreeably at hand.

“Fear not, dear fellow, I have years at sea that will inure me and, besides, this time I have a
sanctum sancti
where at any time I may take refuge to allow my thoughts to run unchecked—I need not point out to you that the keeping of sea watches now, mercifully, will be a memory for me.”

“That's well said, Nicholas—but you, er, will need t' talk out y'r ideas, try out some words or so . . .”