Julian Stockwin - Seaflower

A torrent of weeping and beseeching from the women greeted the sight of Monsieur Vernou in his ensign of reserves uniform. He made an impassioned speech, then marched out, head held high. The ladies clutched one another. 'The royalists go to preserve their very lives now,' said Renzi quietly.

Kydd wandered out of the house in a daze. If there was anything in what Renzi had said, the Vernous were in grave danger. He tried to suppress the image of Louise's gentle face. His steps led him to the waterfront, and as he turned the last corner he saw soldiers.

'Hey now!' said the sergeant, coming out from behind a beached boat. 'Jack Tar on land still.'

'Still are,' replied Kydd. 'An' you, Sar'nt Hotham, you on y'r way t' stoppin' the Frogs at th' landing?'

Hotham did not reply at first. He looked about, then stepped up to Kydd and spoke quietly. 'No, mate, we're not. Nobody is. See, we just ain't got the numbers to face 'em, so many bein' away in Santa Domingy, so we're fallin' back on the town.'

'C'n you hold 'em if they attack?'

'Yeah, don't worry.'

'An' don't ye worry y'rself,' Kydd said stoudy. 'Navy'll be sendin' their fleet soon, an' that'll settle their account.' Trajan and the others would make short work of whatever ships the French had — if they were alerted and could make it back in time.

The new day developed into its usual tropical grandeur. The royalist force marched out with English soldiers to meet the revolutionaries, and that night the Vernou family sat up late, debating events. Kydd lay awake for a long time, haunted by an image of Louise strapped to a guillotine, looking up at the blade.

He was awoken in the dark early hours by sounds from below. There was a scuffle outside followed by a furious hammering on the door. He leaped from bed and hurried below, aware that he and Renzi were the only men in the house. Cautiously he unbarred the door.

'Que Dieu nous aide, nous sommes condamnes; a middle-aged lady in mob cap cried as she pushed inside. Renzi, close behind Kydd, tried to pacify her. She thrust a paper at him.

Renzi took a candle from Louise, who had just appeared, and read. The flickering light lit up his face from below. 'The worst!' he said, his expression as grave as Kydd had seen. 'The political leader of these revolutionaries, whose name is Victor Hugues, has made a proclamation, which he has secretly posted throughout the town under cover of night' Kydd felt his bowels tighten.

'He has stated, in effect, that the glorious revolution promised liberty, equality and fraternity, which applies to the slaves of this island. All slaves are now free and owe no obedience to any béké from this moment on.'

'C'est la fin de noire societe telle que nous la connaissons? the woman moaned. Louise stood stock still, pale and staring.

'What does it mean?' Kydd said, but he knew the answer already. He had no specific feelings about slavery - he hadn't any experience of it — but the effect of uncontrolled freedom on those who had been enslaved would have the situation spinning out of control.

Renzi spoke quietly. 'It means that with a single move of diabolical genius, this Victor Hugues has turned the tables on us. A large slave population now loose and in disorder is something no military commander can have in his rear. We are finished.'

There was a horrified silence.

'As far as we know—'

From the shop came the sudden sound of splintering glass and low animal growls. Kydd pushed open the door, and in the breaking dawn saw figures clambering through the wreckage of the front window.

'Get back! It's not safe!' Kydd called, slammed the door and shot the bolt. The terrified ladies hurried up the stairs while Renzi searched for arms.

There were more sounds of breaking glass, then quiet.

Kydd eased open the door and saw that the shopfront was in ruins. He crossed to the door and looked out into the street. It was deserted — but a plume of smoke billowed skyward a street away. Irregular, sinister sounds broke the peace.

'We'd better stay with the ladies, Nicholas,' Kydd called.

Renzi joined him. 'Hark!' he said sharply, holding up his hand.

Kydd couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard a sharp squeal against the silence. It chilled his blood. 'I thought—'

'Shut up!'

Then, from the top of the street, came a boatswain's call.

'Hands to muster!' exclaimed Kydd. He ran into the middle of the street and waved his arms.

The boatswain's mate looked him over with a lopsided smile. 'You, Kydd, get yer men 'n' their gear over to th' town square. We needs ev'ry man c'n carry a musket.'

At Kydd's reluctance, he snapped, 'Sharpish like! Lootenant ain't waitin' fer any wants ter dally.' He glared at Kydd and left.

Kydd looked back at the old shop, the front sad and threatening. How could he abandon the women at this time? He stole a glance at Renzi. His friend was looking steadily at him, his arms folded. He looked away. Perhaps there was time to get Louise and Madame Vernou away - but the schooner was still unfit for sea and .. . What was he thinking? Who was there to man any craft he could find? And how would it be seen by others? That he was running away from a hopeless situation to save himself? There was no alternative: he had his duty. He stiffened. 'What are ye waitin* for, Nicholas? Let's get our dunnage.'

Their room seemed a fragile relic of gentler times, Louise's fragrance soothing and poignant. Their sea-bags were stuffed in a trice, but the two women were at the door, the maid nowhere to be seen. At the sight of their set faces, Madame Vernou broke into weeping and Louise simply stared — neither accusing nor forgiving.

'We - that's t' say - we have t' go,' Kydd said awkwardly. To his consternation Madame Vernou fell to her knees and clutched at him, sobbing. Her words had no need of translation. Gently he disengaged her. Louise stood like a statue and, on an impulse, he tore off a button from his short blue seaman's jacket and pressed it into her hand. She took it, raised it to her lips and kissed it. Kydd saw her eyes glisten. 'We go now, Nicholas,' he said.

'Good. Just in time — you go with Mr Jowett.' The lieutenant was harassed and fretful, but his brow cleared at the sight of Kydd and Renzi. The square was crowded with men, milling about in anxious groups.

Jowett turned out to be a master's mate of uncertain temper. His men, including Kydd and Renzi, were formed up and the little band moved out They marched swiftly, Jowett eyeing the streets warily for trouble. Only the four marines had muskets.

'Where 're we headed?' Kydd asked the tattooed sailor next to him.

The man shifted the tobacco quid in his mouth and said, with satisfaction, 'Ter th' wharf, ter get the brig t' sea.'

Kydd hefted his sea-bag, a dawning thought lifting his hopes. Yes, they were turning into the last street — and would pass the Vernou shop!

'Mr Jowett!' called Kydd. 'C'n I check on m' billet, as was, when we pass?'

Reluctantly, Jowett halted the band. Kydd knew he would be inclined to trust that a petty officer had good reason to delay the party. Now Jowett would find he had two women passengers on the brig. Kydd called out to the family, but no one emerged. Jowett hailed him peremptorily.

Kydd went in hastily. When his eyes became accustomed to the dark interior he noticed the charring on the steps to his room, tiny wisps of blue smoke still spiralling — then the blood, trickling over the edge of the floor above. The door darkened and Jowett's angry face swam into his vision. 'Well, spread some canvas an' let's be goin'!'

Kydd stumbled out and, seeing his appalled expression, Renzi grabbed his arm. 'Too late!' Kydd muttered. He was too shaken to look Renzi in the eye. They trudged on, Kydd in a haze of grief.