Julian Stockwin - Seaflower

He felt the first stirrings of alarm but suppressed them. 'An' I got word that you will be hearin' wedding bells y'rself, Miss Jane.'

She bit her lip and replied, 'For two months hence.' An awkward silence developed, and Kydd glanced at Renzi, who sat opposite. His expression had that frustratingly impenetrable quality, which Kydd knew concealed his understanding of a situation that he himself could not grasp.

Tea arrived, the china rattling on the tray. They sipped decorously, in their sea rig the little graces seeming incongruous. Kydd caught a furtive look from Jane, a look of frank curiosity, and he wondered what the girls had discussed concerning him. There was, however, something about the present situation that was not right.

A rattling at the front door had Jane recovering her poise. 'This is your sister, I believe,' she said brightly, and rose to her feet. 'Oh, Cecilia!' she called. 'You have guests, my dear.' Footsteps sounded along the passage, and the door opened.

Kydd advanced to meet her — and faltered to a stop. It was Cecilia, but the pale, drawn face, the black dress and veil? His smile faded. Uncertain how to continue, he hesitated.

'Thomas!' Cecilia seemed to wake, a small smile breaking through as she threw back the veil. 'How wonderful!' A little of the old spirit came through. 'My, you look so handsome in your sea costume!' Her eyes strayed to the livid bruise on his head, 'Oh!' she said faintly.

'Jus' a wound o' battle,' he said. She approached and hugged him with controlled passion, the wound on his back making him gasp. 'Cec — what is it?' he blurted out.

'Oh, I declare, I'll be late for my dancing lesson,' Jane said. 'Please excuse me, I must rush.'

Cecilia noticed Renzi, standing unmoving in the background. 'Oh, Nicholas,' she said warmly, 'how good to see you!' Renzi inclined his head, but stayed where he was. Impulsively, Cecilia crossed to him and embraced him as well. 'Nicholas, your complexion is like a Red Indian's, not the thing at all at home,' she said.

When Cecilia turned back to Kydd, her expression was rigid, brittle. 'It is only the ten days I have been here in Jamaica, Thomas, but . ..' Kydd pulled her towards him, and held her tight while sobs racked her. Neither noticed Renzi slip from the room.

'It's so — so unfair!' she wept. 'He was so happy to see me, and a week later he's in his grave!'

'Er, what. ..'

'On Wednesday he had dreadful pains and sickness, and by Sunday .. .' The tears were all the harder to bear for their brevity and harsh depths. 'I was with him until

'I'm so sorry f'r it, Cec, truly I am.' If it were the yellow fever, and she was involved in his nursing, then the end would have been unspeakably hard to bear.

Cecilia dabbed her eyes and looked away. There was now only the emptiness of destroyed hopes.

Kydd released her and said, gently, 'Cec, you're here in Jamaica with nothin' any more. Have ye any means?'

'Of course,' she said, but would not look at him directly. Kydd was stabbed with pity: he knew his sister was strong and independent, and would rather die than admit to any weakness. But a single woman without substance far from home . . .

'Have ye any plans? There's nothin' t' keep you here.'

She glanced at him. 'If you mean, what do I next, then ... I will attend on Jane for her nuptials, of course.'

Kydd's mouth opened in amazement. 'But ...'

She looked at him with fondness. 'That is to say, my dear brother, that I crave time to think, to put this nightmare from me — you do understand?'

Kydd let a small smile show. There was time enough for brother and sister to get together later. He felt doubtful, but blurted out, 'Nicholas an' I, we were on our way t' kick up a hullabaloo on account of our success in Seaflower — I know "ft not feelin's' spry, but if ye'd like to ...'

"Thank you both — I hope you'll forgive me, but I need to be alone for just a little while.' Her sad smile touched him deeply.

Then he remembered. 'Here, Cec, if y' please.' He brought out his prize-money ticket. 'Do ye see? Y'r Jack Tar is a foolish wight ashore. They say, "Sailors get money like horses, 'n' spend it like asses." I'd take it kindly if ye could look after this f'r me - takes th' temptation away.'

She.looked at him steadily, then kissed him.

'Y' presents it at the prize agent when he's got word fr'm the Admiralty — sign on th' other side an' be sure the mumpin' rogue doesn't chouse ye.'

Renzi was waiting outside, and they fell into step as Kydd told him of the conversation. Renzi listened, and nodded gravely. Cecilia was right, she needed time to herself for the moment to settle her feelings. Therefore there was no reason why they shouldn't carry on with his original plan. 'Brother, there is someone that it would give me the greatest of pleasure that you should meet.' Kydd looked at him curiously. 'And it requires that we go up-country in a ketureen.'

On Broad Street they found one, the driver at first disbelieving that two sailors wanted to head away from the delights of the port. 'On'y dese sugar pens dere, nuthin' else, kooner-men!'

They made Spanish Town before noon. The ketureen waited on the Grand Parade while Renzi impressed Kydd with the sea splendours of the Rodney Memorial, the noble portico of the King's House and the Rio Cobre of Columbus. They dined at a roadside stall on rich yellow akee, salt fish and bammy bread before resuming their journey. By late afternoon they had reached May Pen where they took the road north.

Renzi felt that the time had come, could no longer be deferred. 'My dear friend . . .' His hand lay on Kydd's arm. 'Do you listen to what I say.'

Kydd looked at him.

'The personage we will stay with tonight is - my brother, Richard.'

Kydd kept his silence.

'He is a gentleman of some consequence in this island, I may say, and is an ornament to the family.' Renzi stared into the distance. 'He knows of my — resolve in the matter of my moral judgement, and respects it. Dare I ask it, it would infinitely oblige, should you feign ignorance of my true position.'

Kydd agreed solemnly.

'Then I will touch on another matter, one which is perhaps the more delicate of the two.' Renzi glanced at him before speaking. 'Do you not take offence, dear friend, if I point out that in the article of polite formalities, you are as yet ... untutored, natural.' He watched Kydd's expression tighten. 'But these, of course, are an accomplishment obligatory only on those with pretensions to genteel society,' Renzi continued carefully.

'Ye're saying I'm goin' t' shame you to y’ brother?' Kydd growled.

'Not as who would say’ Renzi muttered.

The ketureen clattered on over the sandy, rutted road and Renzi thought perhaps he had gone too far. In fairness it had to be said that it was really for Kydd's sake that he had felt it proper to bring up the subject, in order that Kydd himself would not feel uncomfortable in polite company rather than for any selfish motive of his own. Cecilia had rapidly acquired a natural affinity with the formalities of gentility, as was the way of women, but her brother, while absorbing the deep-sea mariner's fine qualities of courage, humour and sturdy self-reliance, had also absorbed their direct speech, and impatience with soft shore ways. In many ways it would not be a kind thing to do to him . ..

Kydd glowered, staring obstinately away. But then he recovered. 'Y'r in the right of it, Nicholas.' He sighed. 'F'r you only. But what . ..'

'It will be very agreeable to me if you keep station on myself, mark my motions and do the same, and you will not be so very far from success.'

'Aye’ Kydd said briefly. In the sugar field they were passing there were women with baskets on their heads, gay in red and yellow, some weeding, others scouring the stubbled ground. A snatch of singing came floating over the distance. Kydd looked out, brooding. Then he turned to-Renzi and said firmly, 'Be s' good as t' give me a steer on y' manners when it's time f'r vittles, Nicholas.'