Julian Stockwin - Seaflower

A pause and a significant look between Gardiner and the clerk showed that the point had in fact been caught. 'As quartermaster?' The voice was now sharply alert. 'Acting quartermaster, sir.'

'Very well.' Gardiner stared at him for a while, the grey eyes somewhat cruel. His musty wig reeked of law, judgement and penalty. 'Would it be true or untrue to state that you were in a position to understand the totality of events on the quarterdeck that night?'

Kydd paused as he unravelled the words. The junior clerk's quill hung motionless in the dusty air. Kydd knew that any common seaman who found himself afoul of the system would be lost in its coils, hopelessly enmeshed in unfathomable complication. Renzi, with his logic, would have known how to answer, but he had been asleep below at the time and had not been called as a witness.

Looking up, Kydd said carefully, 'Sir, the duty of a quartermaster is th' helm, an' he is bound to obey th' officer-o'-the-watch in this, an' stand by him f'r orders. That was L'tenant Rowley, sir.'

Lines deepened between Gardiner's eyes. 'My meaning seems to have escaped you, Kydd. I will make it plainer. I asked whether or not you would claim to be in a position to know all that happened.'

It was an unfair question, and Kydd suspected he was being offered the option to withdraw gracefully from the hazard of being a key witness open to hostile questioning from all quarters. He had no idea why.

'I was never absent fr'm my place o' duty, sir,' he said quietly.

'Then you are saying that you can of a surety be relied upon to state just why your ship was lost?' The disbelief bordered on sarcasm.

'Sir, there was a blow on that night, but I could hear L'tenant Rowley's words — every one!' he said, with rising anger.

Gardiner frowned and threw a quick glance at the clerk, who had not resumed scratching. 'I wonder if you appreciate the full implications of what you are saying,' he said, with a steely edge to his voice.

Kydd remained mute, and stared back doggedly. He would speak the truth — nothing more or less.

'Are you saying that simply because you could hear Lieutenant Rowley you can tell why your ship was lost?' The tone was acid, but hardening.

'Sir.' Kydd finally spoke, his voice strengthening. 'We sighted breakers fine to wind'd,' he said, and recalled the wild stab of fear that the sudden frantic hail there in the open Atlantic had prompted. L’tenant Rowley ordered helm hard a'weather, and—'

Gardiner interjected. 'By that I assume he immediately and correctly acted to turn the ship away from the hazard?'

Kydd did not take the bait. 'The ship bore away quickly off th' wind, but L'tenant Parry came on deck and gave orders f'r the helm to go hard down—'

Gardiner struck like a snake. 'But Parry was not officer-of-the-watch, he did not have the ship!' His head thrust forward aggressively.

'Sir, L'tenant Parry was senior t' L'tenant Rowley, an' he could—'

'But he was not officer-of-the-watch!' Gardiner drew in his breath.

Kydd felt threatened by his strange hostility. The lawyer was there to find the facts, not make it hard for witnesses, especially one who could explain it all.

'But he was right, sir!'

Gardiner tensed, but did not speak.

The truth would set matters right, Kydd thought, and he had had an odd regard for the plebeian Parry, whom he had seen suffer so much from the dandy Rowley. He was dead now, but Kydd would make sure his memory was not betrayed. 'Ye should put the helm down when y' sees a hazard, that way th' ship is taken aback.' He saw a guarded incomprehension on Gardiner's face, and explained further so there would be no mistake on this vital point. 'That way, the ship stops in th' water, stops fr'm getting into more trouble till you've worked out what t' do.'

'And you allege that Lieutenant Rowley's act — to go away from the hazard — was the wrong one?' Gardiner snapped.

'Aye, sir!' Kydd's certainty seemed to unsettle Gardiner, who muttered something indistinct, but waited.

'We sighted breakers next to loo'ard, an' because L'tenant Rowley had come off the wind, they were fast coming in under our lee an' no time to stay about.'

There was a breathy silence. Gardiner's face hardened.

'You are alleging that the loss of Artemis was directly attributable to this officer's actions?'

There was now no avoiding the issue. He must stand by his words, which he must repeat at length in court, or abjectly deny them. 'Yes, sir!' he said firmly.

Gardiner leaned back slowly, fixing Kydd with his hard eyes. Unexpectedly, he sighed. 'Very well, we will take your deposition.'

There was a meaningful cough from the clerk. Gardiner turned slightly and something passed between them that Kydd was unable to catch. Resuming his gaze Gardiner added, 'And in your own words, if you please.'

Concentrating with all his might Kydd told the simple story of the destruction of the crack frigate, from the first chilling sight of breakers in mid-Atlantic to her inevitable wrecking on an outer ledge of rock on one of the islands of the Azores.

But he said nothing of the personal heartbreak he felt at the death of the first ship he had really loved, the ship that had borne him round the world to so many adventures, that had turned him from tentative sailor to first-class seaman and petty officer. He also omitted the story of the nightmare of the break-up of the wreck during the night and his desperate swim for his life among the relentless breakers, the joy at finally finding himself alive. Those details would not interest these legal gentlemen.

'Thank you,' said Gardiner, and glanced at the clerk, whose hand flew across the paper as he transcribed Kydd's words. 'It seems complete enough.' His detachment was a mystery after the savage inquisition of before.

The clerk finished, sanded the sheet and shuffled it in together with the rest 'Yell need to put y'r mark on each page/ he said offhandedly.

Kydd bristled. He had debated Diderot and Rousseau in the Great South Sea with Renzi, and never felt himself an unlettered foremast hand. He dashed off a distinguished signature on each page.

'You may return to your ship,' said Gardiner neutrally, standing. Kydd rose also, satisfied with the catharsis of at last telling his tale. 'We will call upon your testimony as the court decides,' Gardiner added. Kydd nodded politely and left.

Renzi sat on the sea-chest he shared with Kydd. They had lost everything in the shipwreck, nothing to show for their great voyage around the world. His friend was fashioning a trinket box from shipwright's offcuts and bone inlay to present to his adoring sister when he finally made his way up the London road to the rural peace of Guildford.

'Nicholas, you'll be right welcome at home, m' friend, y' know, but have ye given thought t' your folks?'

Renzi looked up from his book, his eyes opaque. 'I rather fancy my presence will not be as altogether a blessed joy as yours will be to your own family, dear fellow.' He did not elaborate and Kydd did not pursue it. The sensibilities that had led to Renzi's act of self-exile from his family were not to be discussed, but Kydd was aware that in becoming a common sailor Renzi could only be regarded as a wanton disgrace by his well-placed family.

Renzi added casually, 'If it does not disoblige, it would give me particular joy to bide awhile chez Kydd.' He didn't find it necessary to say that this would renew his acquaintance of Cecilia, Kydd's handsome sister.

Kydd sighed happily. 'I told 'em everything Nicholas — I say my piece afore the court, an' we're on our way home!' His keen knife shaved a thin sliver from the lid, rounding the edge.

Renzi looked at his friend. Kydd's account of his questioning was disturbing. In his bones he felt unease.