Julian Stockwin - Seaflower

Stanhope's face cleared. 'Nothing, m' dear,' he said lightly.

Under the interested gaze of the watch on deck a table was brought up from the master's cabin to be lashed into place next to the main gratings and both cabins were deprived of chairs so supper could then be spread.

'Could I suggest the veal and ham pie and cold tongue, m' lady?' Cecilia said, standing by, eyeing Luke's efforts with the cloth and cudery doubtfully. 'And the orange custard will not keep, of course.'

'Charlotte?' Lord Stanhope extended an arm to his wife, and politely helped her to her place, which in keeping with other sea-service furniture was compact and neat.

'Oh, Mr Renzi, would you be so good as to open a hock for Lord Stanhope?' said Cecilia, looking at him through her eyelashes.

Lady Charlotte watched the evening sea hiss past from her chair and sighed. 'How wonderful, Frederick, just we two again.' She turned to Cecilia and smiled sweetly. 'My dear Cecilia, on this small boat we simply cannot stand on ceremony - be so good as to join us at supper.'

Blushing, Cecilia took her seat to the side and glared secretly at the grinning Luke.

'A glass with you, my dear,' said Stanhope. She accepted graciously, careful not to look at the waiting Renzi, standing silently in the shadows abreast the fore windlass.

Lady Stanhope leaned forward, her face alive. 'Don't look now, dear girl, but I do believe that you've made a conquest of that handsome sailor at the back of the boat.' Unable to resist, Cecilia snatched a glance — and saw Kydd looking at her along the length of the deck from the helm.

'I - I shall beware, milady,' she stammered.

They made good time, and before noon the next day had shaped course eastwards to Barbados, the trade winds coming comfortably from the beam.

Jarman came on deck with a serious expression. 'Sir, th' glass is dropping - one-eighth inch since Port Royal, an' still going.'

Kernon considered, his brow furrowing. 'The reading now?'

'Twenty-nine an' three-fourths. I'm not happy, sir.'

'But is this not your usual for these waters?' Kernon seemed unwilling to face the implication. 'Lord Stanhope will not look kindly on any delay, Mr Jarman.'

'Sir.'

But Kernon's face was troubled as he returned to his guests. Lady Charlotte and Cecilia thrilled at their leaping passage. They were standing right in the bows gripping a stay, mesmerised by the rush of glittering sea. Lord Stanhope, near the helm, remained preoccupied.

'Should the weather turn out for the worse, we may have to delay, m' lord,' Kernon said, hesitating.

Stanhope turned, but did not speak.

'That is, we face a blow of sorts across our path, which could be .. .'

'You will make the right decision, of course, Captain — bearing in mind the urgency of my mission, which I now feel obliged to point out is of the utmost moment for the safety of England.' As if to underline the point, he drew out his fine watch and consulted it.

'I understand, my lord.' Kernon's grey features set in worry, and he trudged off along the deck.

Within the hour the horizon across their path subtly changed in character. To the low band of silver and dark grey of the familiar rain curtains there was now added a trace of menace - a tingeing of the clouds with tiny, subliminal amounts of copper verdigris. Kydd had seen this before, and reacted at a primal level.

'Sir! We must return t' Port Royal!' Jarman's forceful plea beat at Kernon's resolve while Seaflower plunged on gaily with her sails flat, the taut rigging harping musically. 'We must put about now, sir!'

Anxious looks were now being directed aft by seamen who knew of the animal savagery of sea scourged by giant winds. Kydd stole a look at the helmsman, and was comforted by his stolid performing of duty.

'We put back to Port Royal,' Kemon announced. It was a measure of his worry that he omitted first to consult Stanhope. 'Ease sheets, and we take in the topsail — bear off t' leeward and set course, um, nor' nor' west.' He seemed easier, having made a decision.

Seaflower's speed fell off and the ladies looked aft curiously. 'If you please, ladies,' Kernon called. He explained to the group what had to be done. Lord Stanhope frowned but said nothing, and Cecilia darted a quick look at her brother.

Kydd spoke quietly to Jarman: 'In Trajan we could never outrun a revolvin' storm. We worked out its position, an' then it was tear away in the safest direction f'r us.'

Jarman nodded. 'Aye, but in such a cockleshell we needs to go further. These tropic storms are monsters an' go at such a gallopin' pace — it's not only th' centre we needs to worry about, it's where they're headed. We plots the centre every hour, an' works out a path where it's going, an' hope t' God to outwit the infernal beast.'

The ugly skies loomed frighteningly quickly. The ladies stopped their marvelling and stared soberly at the massing hideousness astern. Fear struck at the sight of what nature was bringing out from its sack of terrors.

On deck seamen secured as best they could. The cutter was dead before the wind and slashed ahead at an insane rate, like a hunted animal trying to flee a carnivore. But the bearing shifted, slowly but surely, about the starboard quarter. A rain-spot spattered the folded chart that Jarman had brought from below. The tiny dots inside circles were their plot of the path of the storm marching across from the east - and curving north. "This is th' worst f'r us,' Jarman murmured. His face had a strange, detached calm that struck a shaft of icy fear through Kydd. "That devil will go between us an' Port Royal. There's no returning there now.'

They struck south, every sail drawing, then south-west into the vague direction of the reef-strewn interior of the western Caribbean, anything to keep from the path of the rampaging monster. By the dog-watches the vast dark roiling masses of cloud had reached overhead and the wind had turned edgy and fitful.

A presentiment forced itself on Kydd's mind, born of his sea knowledge, his increasing empathy with the deep. This was going to be the time when it would claim its price for that understanding, a hard price that he knew might be his life — and then he thought of Cecilia, and felt a hot misery.

'Sir, if you could go below it would ease our worries at this time,' Kernon said, distracted. Lord Stanhope looked about to demur, but Lady Stanhope took him by the arm. 'We are together, Frederick, never forget that. We will see this through with each other, my love.' She kissed him. 'Come! You shall read to me. Captain, any news . . .'

'Of course, my lady.'

They turned away, arm in arm. Cecilia paused for a moment, looking into Kydd's eyes. He felt helpless in the face of emotions that women seemed to meet with such nobility. Her eyes dropped and she went to him, clinging soundlessly for a long time. 'Tell me ... when ...' she said, in a muffled voice. The lump in his throat prevented Kydd answering, but he squeezed her hard. The cutter lurched under a spiteful gust.

'Haaands to shorten sail!' They could not run any more.

'Cec—' He could think of nothing to say, and she pulled herself away and staggered over the deck to the after hatchway; one last long look, and she disappeared below to face whatever unseen madness was in store.

Lifelines rigged fore and aft, square sails struck, lines prepared for trapping, pumps checked — there was not much they could achieve in their little ship. Kydd remembered the violence of a hurricane from the decks of a ship ten times the size. In this they would not survive, but they could meet their fate with courage and dignity.

They lost dead reckoning when the horizon closed about them in a welter of white: from now on they might be anywhere, flying endlessly from nowhere into nothing in the cruel and uncaring storm.