Julian Stockwin - Victory

Kydd managed an amiable reply, then turned to a familiar face that had appeared. ‘Sir?’ the man said expectantly.

Kydd recognised, through a haze of feeling, Dyer, sloop commander of the Downs Squadron. ‘Oh, so kind in you, Dyer,’ he said, allowing his hand to be pumped energetically. He caught himself in time from saying he hoped to see him soon, for as a post-captain his was a higher destiny.

‘We do take it as our own honour, your elevation, sir,’ Dyer said breathlessly.

Others pressed forward to offer their sensibility of the occasion and then it was the marquess with another glass for him, taking him away by the arm to hear for himself the famous action that had resulted in the loss of the plucky brig-sloop Teazer .

Cecilia came up to Renzi and laid her arm on his. ‘Nicholas, do look at him – I’ve never seen anyone in such transports of bliss!’ she whispered, watching Kydd, his face red with pleasure, the centre of admiration, the man whose future had burst in upon him in a cloud of glory.

Chapter 3

As he had done for the previous several days, Kydd rose casually and went over to inspect the morning post placed on the sideboard. Suddenly he snatched up one particular letter. With a quick glance at Renzi, hidden behind his morning newspaper, he hurriedly stuffed it inside his waistcoat, but the movement was noticed. ‘Oh, have we mail, dear fellow?’

‘No. Er, that is to say, nothing to interest us,’ Kydd said hastily.

Renzi lowered his newspaper. ‘Are you not well, old horse? You seem a little agitated.’

Kydd hesitated. ‘Um, I’ll be back soon, Nicholas,’ he said, and fled into the privacy of his bedroom. Feverishly he broke the seal. This was the letter he had yearned for – the impossible dream come true.

A ship. A frigate – newly captured and brought into the Navy, by name L’Aurore d’Égalité and he was, with all possible dispatch, to take on himself the charge and command of the said ship, now lying at Portsmouth dockyard.

His hand trembled as it held the precious paper, his mind spinning . . . A frigate! This was not simply a larger brig-sloop, it was in effect a minor ship-of-the-line, one-decked instead of two- or three-, but with everything from the three-masted ship rig to the make-up of her company simply proportioned down. A frigate was a major warship, an asset of significance in the fleet, and L’Aurore d’Égalité would be commanded by – Captain Kydd!

He took a deep breath. It had happened. Who knew what the future now held for him and his trusty frigate? Gulping with excitement, he tried to compose his features. Damn it – Renzi had made him suffer before he had told him the news. Now it was his turn.

‘You’re looking a mort flushed, Tom, are you sure—’

Kydd turned away quickly. ‘I shall be fine presently, m’ friend.’ He nonchalantly resumed his chair and continued, in an odd voice, ‘Er, shall you be going out this night?’

‘Well, I did wish to see a gentleman who has promised to show me a curious artefact of the Eskimo people, which he—’

‘God rot it!’ Kydd exploded, and Renzi dropped his newspaper in alarm. ‘An’ I can’t do it!’

‘Er, do what, pray?’

‘Nicholas – I have a frigate!’ Kydd burst out. ‘She’s waiting for me in Portsmouth!’ He jumped to his feet and thrust the letter at Renzi. ‘Read!’ he commanded.

Renzi admired it extravagantly. ‘As I’ve always thought, your promotion to the select few was for a purpose,’ he said.

‘The devil with that!’ Kydd spluttered happily. ‘A ship! A frigate! I’m to post down tomorrow, I believe. With all dispatch, it says.’

‘And your new uniform as yet still with the tailor?’

‘Damn it, yes! I’ll go in shore togs – she’s not yet in commission, o’ course.’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘At the earliest hour.’

Renzi paused. ‘You’ll have a great deal to do in a new-found man-o’-war, old friend. Certificating completions, books of account and similar. If you’d wish it, then I’ll—’

‘Nonsense!’ Kydd chuckled. ‘Clerking is not for a gentleman o’ learning such as you now are. I’ll soon find someone.’

‘Er, I would not find it as insupportable as you suppose,’ Renzi said carefully. ‘And do recollect, this is a frigate and of no trivial complexity. If—’

‘Never. Your studies must come before all,’ Kydd said, with finality. ‘Recollect – I will have some hundreds to command and there I will find my ship’s clerk.’

With a set face, Renzi pressed, ‘To have one to trust in such a post is of no small advantage, I’m persuaded. Should you—’

‘No, sir! I will not have you top it the clerk at your eminence. In fine, the post is closed to you, Nicholas.’

Renzi bit his lip. ‘Brother. I’ve no need to confide to you that the sea life is particularly congenial to me, ensuring as it does that a retreat to the scholarly recluse can never tempt, and each morning’s prospect may be relied upon to be different. And the blessed regularity of the sea’s daily round for the reflective is—’

‘No.’

Renzi swallowed and continued in a low voice, ‘It pains me to allude to it at this time but . . . but the attraction of a regular stipend, an income of my own . . .’

‘Ah. Then you’ll need an accommodation of sorts, a gentlemanly loan?’

Renzi drew himself up stiffly. ‘That will not be necessary. I’m sanguine I shall find an employment to keep myself while you’re at sea.’

‘That’s settled, then,’ Kydd said cheerfully, and got up to pace about the room, ignoring Renzi’s dejected expression. ‘A frigate!’ He laughed out loud. ‘Who could conceive . . . ?’

‘I wish you joy of it.’

‘Thank you, Nicholas,’ Kydd said. ‘Tysoe must begin packing immediately. I wonder what I’ll take? I’ll stay at the George, I believe. Ship’s accommodation won’t be ready yet and there’s much to be done.’

‘Without a clerk?’

Kydd turned away suddenly as he was taken by a spasm that left his shoulders heaving. ‘W-without a c-clerk,’ he managed, then turned back, his eyes streaming with laughter.

‘An’ I had you gulled, Nicholas! Admit it – I had you trussed like a chicken!’ he chortled.

‘Th-then the post of ship’s clerk . . . ?’

‘You shall never have, as long as I’m captain!’

‘But—’

Kydd pulled himself together and looked affectionately at his old friend. ‘Nicholas. Do recollect – I’m now post-captain of a King’s Ship, an officer of stature. It would certainly be remarked upon should I neglect to maintain a retinue. And in the first rank of these must stand . . . the captain’s confidential secretary.’

Renzi looked dumbstruck.

‘As must be a gentleman of some learning, one in whom the captain might need from time to time to confide matters of delicacy . . .’

At Renzi’s expression, he continued, more strongly, ‘You’ll have the character of gentleman with a perfect right to the wardroom, Nicholas, your duties questioned by none. There’ll be no more ship’s books of account or your bo’sun’s stores – this is a job for the ship’s clerk, o’ course.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Do accept, old fellow.’

For a moment Renzi did not reply. Then, with a sigh, he answered, ‘And here I stand, my studies about to be crowned with the laurels of imminent publication. How could I desert my scholard’s post at such a time . . . ?’

It was too much, and the friends roared with laughter as they shook hands on it.

‘Tonight we shall wet your swab in bumpers!’ Renzi laughed, then added, ‘But if we’re travelling south tomorrow . . . ?’