Julian Stockwin - Tyger

He made his way towards the larger construction, knowing from the row of empty gun-ports that this was his ship- his ship!

Out of uniform, nobody paid him any attention and he guessed that the yard would be a local sight-seeing attraction. He strolled as close as he dared to the rearing colossus. He would never again have the opportunity to see the vessel like this but, oddly, it felt like an intrusion, much like catching a lady half undressed and not at her best.

He walked slowly along. The squared-off hances, so typical of British construction, the no-nonsense sheer and the fat bow. But everywhere there was naked wood, raw gaps at timber edges, giving a curious disappointment-betraying that this was merely a work of man, not a divinity. He tried to shrug it off, then realised it was a consequence of the sailor’s belief that his ship was a living being, with all her likes and dislikes, humours and fierce loyalty, and that she would bear him in her bosom to far places and return him safely to the place of his birth.

This before him was only an “it,” not yet a “she.”

“What can I do for you, Captain?”

The soft-spoken voice made him wheel around. A man of years gazed at him shrewdly.

“How do you know I’m to be her captain?”

“As you’re alone and the smack o’ the sea about you,” the man replied. “Those who’s just a-looking always comes in families an’ so.”

“You’re in the right of it. Captain Sir Thomas Kydd, appointed to this ship.”

“Edward Adams, shipbuilder, as this is my yard, as was my father Henry’s.”

They shook hands.

“The Admiralty has a good opinion of your work, sir.”

“When it suits ’em,” Adams said, with a small smile. “Still an’ all, we’ve given satisfaction, I believe. You know the Lord Nelson’s favourite ship?”

“ Agamemnon? A very fine sixty-four.”

“From this yard, over yonder slip. And his frigate captain, Blackwood?”

“ Euryalus . He often spoke of her-I knew both men, Mr Adams.”

“The same. Her keel was laid at that very slipway over there. And Swiftsure? ”

“The seventy-four-gun ship-of-the-line?” This was impressive work for a small private yard. “I had the honour of seeing all three ships at Nelson’s last battle,” Kydd added.

“So you were at Trafalgar, Captain?”

This prompted an invitation to a charming house near the water. Over a flavoursome local ale, Kydd spent an agreeable few hours discussing the qualities of the oak of Old England, the fitting of iron tanks for water in place of the traditional leaguers, the merits of seasoning on the stocks.

But he also learned there was no possibility that the completion date could be advanced. This was the way it was done and always had been.

“THOMAS! YOU’VE COME!” Cecilia squealed delightedly, running down the steps of Eskdale Hall to hug her brother.

“M’ lady,” Kydd said, with an exaggerated bow.

“How long can you stay-or is your ship lost without her brave captain?” she asked breathlessly.

“A sennight at the least, Cec.”

As his baggage was swung down Kydd looked up at the noble edifice. The coach had come along a driveway a full quarter-mile long, through spacious formal gardens and tree-studded green lawns. “A rattlin’ fine mansion you have, sis,” he murmured, impressed to the point of astonishment at its seemingly endless windows and imperious ornamentation.

“Why, thank you, Captain,” she answered demurely, then looked back and said happily, “And here’s Nicholas!”

Renzi emerged, accompanied by footmen, and hurried down to greet him. “My dear fellow,” he blurted, “welcome! Welcome, indeed!”

Inside, in a small, intimate drawing room, they caught up with Kydd’s news over tea.

“A stout thirty-eight, then,” Renzi enthused. “And eighteen-pounders all. Enough to give pause to the finest Boney possesses. English-built, too. Your first, then, as I’m obliged to remark.”

“True,” Kydd agreed. His initial command, Teazer , had been Maltese and L’Aurore was a French prize. “And at over a thousand tons, it’s spacious enough for the most dainty sybarite,” he reflected with satisfaction.

“It?” Renzi asked.

“Oh, doesn’t have a name yet,” Kydd replied defensively. His friend, it seemed, still had the blood of a mariner. “And you, old trout, dare I ask if you’re settled in at all?”

“Of course he is, silly billy!” Cecilia chided. “As this is his ancient family seat. But, Thomas, there’s always a welcome for you here, at any time-”

“I do thank you-”

“-recollecting that it’s customary among our station to send ahead before you arrive,” she teased.

“I’ll try to remember, sis.”

“Now, dinner is at five sharp. You’ll want to refresh after your journey and-”

“Thank you, but first I beg to ask Nicholas to give me a sight of his grand estate.”

“Farndon has a meeting with his tenants this afternoon,” Cecilia said, “as cannot be put off.”

Kydd shot a look at Renzi, who gave a saintly smile.

“Therefore it shall be myself who will take you around. Like you did for me over your Artemis , Thomas,” she added softly.

There was a warm rush of remembrance. “And so far have we come since then-the both of us.”

They sat down to dinner in the blue dining room, en famille , just the three of them. It was, nevertheless, at a substantial polished table with silver and adornments, Renzi taking his place at the head. Purvis the butler stood solemnly behind him, footmen nearby.

The candlelight was soft, its tawny gold barely reaching the richly decorated ceiling, with its goddesses and painted satyrs, but throwing the sculpted picture frames and bas-relief into high contrast.

“I think a hock?” Lord Farndon suggested. “The ’ninety-four Rheingau, if you would, Purvis.”

He’d brought to mind a time when they’d all been together at sea, long ago in a place far away, in the little cutter Seaflower -Renzi had served this same hock to an important passenger, Lord Stanhope, whom they were urgently transporting to Barbados to take ship for England on a matter of high diplomacy.

Cecilia picked up his meaningful glance and laughed delightedly, turning to her brother. “You were steering the boat, Thomas. You couldn’t have any!”

It set the tone, and by the time the venison arrived they were in a full spate of reminiscence.

“Oh, Thomas. It nearly broke my heart to tell you of Papa’s sight failing, that we needed you to leave the sea and return to Guildford …”

“And there and then, sis, on this heathen beach in Van Diemen’s Land, a thousand miles from anywhere, Nicholas wept to think he was letting you down …”

“All the time I thought he’d run away with a loose woman …”

“… then we threw out the euphroe and the driver took up, would you believe it? We had steerage way before the hurricanoe and … Why, what’s wrong, Cec?” Kydd asked, in sudden concern, seeing the glitter of tears in her eyes.

“It’s nothing, Thomas. I’m just so happy, that’s all. Do continue with your story.”

Kydd finished his tale and, in a warm glow, turned to Renzi. “I’m thinking you’re main pleased to be atop such a splendrous pile, Nicholas.”

“As it must be, dear chap. Like you-do you question your elevation to the great cabin at all, to rue the day that sees you as lordly seigneur over some hundreds of doughty souls-which is more than I can claim to, old fellow?”

“But you’ve got-”

“I may have land and tenants, but nary a one may I put to the lash, as I’ve seen my captain do on occasion.”