Julian Stockwin - Seaflower

Kydd agreed. 'No chance o' this one gettin' a promotion out o' Seaflower, he added. The probability was that he had been given the command of a lowly cutter to satisfy some Byzantine relationship of obligation, knowing that he would not be put to the test so easily. Seaflower would gradually decay from within, her heart and spirit wilting and fading under the disinterest and neglect of her captain. It was intolerable that the willing and exuberant soul of their vessel was to be wasted so.

A discordant sound — it might have been a muffled shout, thumping — jarred Kydd's ear against the general noises. It seemed to originate from on deck. If the lookouts had failed to see an approaching attack in time . .. Kydd scrambled to his feet. 'Somethin' amiss on deck.'

Renzi did not move, but looked up with a dry smile. 'I can conceive that Toby Stirk may well be a trifle restless!'

No one else seemed to have noticed as he forced his way aft. Kydd had no idea what would he would see on deck, and his mouth went dry as he mounted the ladder. It was dark, and he stopped short of emerging on deck while he blinked furiously, trying to pierce the murk. It had stopped raining, but the deck was wet and slippery. He caught movement around the stern but could not detect any other as he climbed out on to the upper deck.

He hurried aft, to where bumps and thuds sounded, and nearly fell over the lookout, who was on all fours trying to pick himself up. Kydd looked around hastily. In the longboat were Patch, Alvarez and two others. Patch had his knife, was sawing at the painter. Kydd shouted, and the chorus of snarls and laughter from the boat as it fell away left no doubt as to what they intended. The oars came out and it disappeared quickly into the night.

'What is it?' puffed Merrick, appearing next to him.

'Deserters,' Kydd replied. 'Skelped th' lookout an' took the longboat.'

'Who?'

'Patch, Alvarez 'n' a couple of others.'

Desertion was a continual worry for the navy - a good seaman could greatly improve his wages in the merchant service, or do even better by shipping out in a privateer. Theoretically, it could be punished by death or, worse, flogging around the Fleet, but practical considerations usually led captains who recovered men to treat the offence lightly rather than lose a good hand. But Swaine . . .

'Get below an' tell the Captain,' Merrick muttered. Without another boat there could be no pursuit.

Kydd went down by the after companion, and knocked at the door. 'Cap'n, sir!' he called.

There was movement inside, and the unmistakable clink of glass. 'What is it?' came a hoarse reply through the closed door.

'Sir, the longboat's been taken b' deserters.'

At first there was no response, then Swaine's angry face appeared. 'Deserters? Did y' say deserters?' He pulled on his coat. The thick odour of drink in the tiny cabin turned Kydd's stomach.

'Vile set o' lubbers, I'll have y'r livers at the gangway t'morrow, try me like this!' The diatribe continued until Swaine had made the upper deck, where he staggered upright. 'Poxy crew, this's an aggravated offence an' I'll see you all at th' yardarm, so I will!' he shrieked into the darkness.

To his disgust Kydd saw that Swaine had on his naval officer's coat, but no breeches. Lurching along the deck forward Swaine continued until he came to Stirk, still shackled to the main-hatch grating. 'Don' ye dare cross my bows li' that, y' scowbunkin' brute,' he snarled, kicking viciously at Stirk, who recoiled against the blow. It threw Swaine off-balance — he flung out an arm to seize a shroud batten, but missed, and fell headlong into the sea.

The current carried him swiftly down the side of Seaflower, splashing and choking. A line was thrown but Swaine was in no condition to snatch it, and within seconds he was disappearing into the dark astern. The knot of men stood paralysed. There was no boat to go to the rescue, and nervous eyes turned to the boatswain. 'We has to get under way an' go after him,' Merrick said, shaken.

Jarman appeared, drawing on his shirt 'No! We have blashy weather an' coral under our lee, no time t' be standing in t' the land in the dark—'

'Y' misses m' point!' Merrick said, in a stronger voice, and with a peculiar emphasis . 'I says we have t' get under way, Mr Jarman.'

Jarman stared at the boatswain. Then his face turned mask-like, and he replied, 'O' course we must.' It was madness - but there was a chilling reason for the dramatic play. Each of the warrant officers was acting a part, knowing that every word and action would replay at the court of investigation that was certain to come.

'Haaands to unmoor ship!' Stiles' pipe was made in a complete and appalled silence, the deck filling with apprehensive men. No good would come of this night, that much was clear, but they would go through the motions all night if need be.

At noon the next day Seaflower sombrely reversed her course after spending all night and the following morning searching for her captain. His body was never found. At Port Royal Jarman and Merrick both went to the flagship; they swiftly returned, and with them a lieutenant and file of marines. Seaflower was effectively under arrest.

The court of inquiry was over almost as quickly as it was convened — the overwhelming number of witnesses made it so, and it became clear that their evidence concerning Swaine came not as a complete surprise.

Kydd felt a pressing need to be out of Seaflower, ashore and somewhere different, and when it was learned that the new captain would not be appointed for some time, he lost no time in suggesting that he and Renzi call on Cecilia.

The housekeeper's disapproving look was just the same, but when Cecilia hurried to the door Kydd was amazed. 'Thomas, my dear!' she cried gaily. 'How sweet of you to call!' She kissed him soundly, then noticed Renzi with a bob and dropped eyes.

'Cec, you look so, er, in rousin' trim!' Kydd said awkwardly. And, indeed, there was colour in her cheeks, her eyes held their usual sparkle and the warm vivacity of her nature shone through.

'Yes, dear, life must go on, must it not?' she said quickly. 'And you, Thomas, are you not the picture of good health?'

It was established that the men would stay for an evening meal. Cecilia quickly took charge. 'I shall invite Jane, of course, and I want you to meet her betrothed — it's so exciting!' Dinner would be in the front parlour due to the unexpected number of guests, and Kydd helped the frosty housekeeper with the table.

As Cecilia laid places and bustled about, she told Kydd and Renzi her news. 'Lady Charlotte — that's the wife of Lord Frederick Stanhope - met me at Mrs Burchell's rout!' The idea of a Kydd meeting a noble lady socially was astonishing. 'It's the very place to meet people, here in the colonies, you know, Thomas. It would never do in Guildford, would it?' Her infectious laugh made Renzi smile.

Then she went on, her manner a fetching mix of youth and sophistication, 'And you'd never guess, she wants me to be her companion when they go travelling.' Kydd said the expected, and Renzi murmured encouragement, and she concluded, with what looked suspiciously like a pout, 'Who knows who I may meet on our travels? Why, there are gentlemen in this part of the world worth millions.'

They sat down to table with only the barest discussion as to seating; Jane's intended was a young ensign of Foot in regimentals and quite at a loss when confronted, with a requirement to sup with a brace of thoroughbred sailors. 'Wine, er, gentlemen?' he said stiffly.

'Thank you,' Renzi said. He twirled the glass elegantly before a candle. 'I do find the Margaux a martyr to travel - this colour has a pallid quality, perhaps not your foremost era.'