Julian Stockwin - Tenacious

Next to Kydd Renzi stirred with interest. "Farrugia! What a coup! In opera buffo the finest in all Naples—which is to say the world."

A short, dark man in an extravagantly rich costume strode out and bowed low, then fixed his audience with a fierce gaze. A cascade of notes on the harpsichord concluded with entry of the violin continuo and the piece began. It was magnificent: the effortless power of his voice infused every note with its full charge of emotion and significance. Kydd had never heard anything like it.

The singer retired to a storm of applause. Hamilton rose and turned to the guests. "Equally fortunate is it that the noted soprano Bellina Cossi is delaying her return to Vienna to perform for us tonight. She sings about a shepherdess at the banks of a river who does not feel inclined to waste herself on a lukewarm lover ... Of course this is the Scarlatti cantata 'Su'l margine d'un rio.'"

The beauty of the crystal clear notes, their passion and tenderness moved Kydd and he felt detached from his hardy sea life. The music, just as it had in Venice, lifted him into an untouchable realm of the spirit. In a warm haze he heard Hamilton announce a duet—a scene from a recent Cimarosa opera, Le Astutzie Femminili. He let the music wash deliciously over him, and was sincerely sorry when it was over.

"An intermission," Hamilton announced, "but do not despair. We shall shortly have our own particular entertainment for you ..."

The scraping of chairs and murmured conversations were muted under the lingering spell of the music, but livened as the guests partook of sweetmeats and Lachryma Christi. They returned to stand informally about the front of the room.

"Are you prepared?" called Hamilton. "Then—Act the first!"

First one, then another black man in turban and baggy trousers came through the door. Naked from the waist up they carried between them a long scarlet curtain on brass rods. Intrigued, the guests watched as the men took position; they bowed and when they rose, so did the rods, suspending the curtain in a creditable imitation of a miniature stage.

"Ah! I believe I know what is to come," said Renzi. Mysterious bumps and scrapes sounded from behind the curtain. Urgent whispers could be heard, and then Hamilton emerged. "Ecce!" he called—and swept aside the curtain.

At first Kydd could not make out what was happening, but then he saw that it was Lady Hamilton in a theatrical pose, standing motionless before a large upright seashell in a flowing classical Greek robe, all composed within an empty picture frame. Candles were held artfully by the ambassador to throw a dramatic light upon her. Kydd was astonished at the diaphanous material of her gown, which left little to the imagination, and a decollete that would be thought risque even at the theatre. At the same time he saw that the chubbiness had not extinguished a very real beauty—an expressive and angelic face raised to heaven that was the quintessence of innocence.

"Aphrodite rises fr'm the waves!" Several shouts vied with each other. They were rewarded with a smile from the enchantress and then the curtain closed. It opened again to a different pose: an ardent, lovelorn entwining around the branch of a tree, beseeching an unseen figure, and still in the filmy gown.

"Glycera frolicking with Alcibiades!" A slight frown appeared while protracted but jovial disputation took place.

"Cleopatra and Antony receive the news!" called Renzi at length, to be thrown a dazzling smile. Kydd looked to see how Nelson was receiving the entertainment and was startled to see the gallant admiral wildly applauding each manifestation, always gracefully acknowledged by Lady Hamilton.

Places were resumed for the second half, Dorabella and Guglielmo from Cost Fan Tutte. Kydd had seen Lady Hamilton sit with Nelson again, her arm laid on his and not removed. He glanced about: no one seemed to have noticed except possibly Troubridge, who stared forward stonily.

The plot of the scene was whispered brokenly by Renzi. It seemed to be nothing but unlikely disguises and trifling complications following a wager, but the music carried Kydd along once more.

At the end, Hamilton thanked the performers and added, "Our entertainment is concluded for tonight, my friends and honoured guests. The hour is late, but for those who wish to indulge there is a faro table in the next room."

The guests rose in a babble of excited talk as Hamilton and his lady escorted Nelson to the next room. "What do we do now, Nicholas?" Kydd whispered.

"At this hour we have the civilised choice: to linger or depart immediately," Renzi replied. "Nothing will be imputed from our actions."

"Would it be at all curious, should we desire t' see a faro table without we play?"

"I don't think so, brother," Renzi said. They moved into the next room where already a large card table was set out. Lady Hamilton stood behind Nelson, urging him excitedly. A footman offered iced champagne, which Kydd found most acceptable in the heat of the night.

Feeling happy and expansive, Kydd remarked to Renzi, "Y'r foreign cant is all pedlar's Greek t' me, Nicholas, but the music! I have t' say, it leaves me with th' hot shivers."

Renzi nodded. "Of the first rate. The pity is to escape it in Naples. In the nursery, your tradesman in the street, all are singing from the heart wherever they be. A truly gifted people."

It seemed there were others who wished to linger, some at the gaming table, others promenading before the inattentive hero of the Nile. Kydd accepted another glass of champagne while he looked about the room. "Have ye noticed? We're the only l'tenants," he said proudly, discounting the indeterminate Neapolitan army officers. It was an agreeable observation and he sighed with the sheer joy of the moment.

"So it seems," said Renzi, turning to see the origin of raised voices.

It was Nisbet. The young commander had approached the faro table and confronted his step-father, red-faced, his cravat hanging askew. From their distance it was impossible for Kydd and Renzi to make out the words, but the reaction of bystanders was eloquent enough.

There was a scuffle and more shouting, and in a room suddenly quiet Troubridge and another officer frogmarched Nisbet past them and into the night. The room burst into horrified talk; Lady Hamilton stared after them, her face chalk-like.

A colonel lurched towards Kydd, telling everyone he could find of what he had heard. "Damme, but his own son near calls him out—dishonouring his mother's name—tells his own admiral where his duty lies! Who could conceive of it?" he bellowed gleefully.

Houghton held up his hand for silence. "And so it will be hard for me to take my leave of Tenacious, a ship we have all grown to love and respect, but the needs of the Service must rise above all."

"Hear him! Hear him!" The wardroom resounded to the thump of hands on the table, the rattle of glasses.

"But who can say, gentlemen? We may meet again—at sea." Knowing growls indicated that it was not lost on the officers at the table that Houghton was going on to the command of a powerful 74, the mainstay of the line-of-battle, and it would be remarkable if he so much as noticed the humble Tenacious if they did sight one another.

"Now, before I sit down, there is one concern that is of particular satisfaction to me. And that is in the matter of promotions." The table fell instantly silent. "As you must be aware, my own removal into a seventy-four might have been expected, but following a successful action it is the custom of the Service to bring forward deserving officers."

Kydd's pulse quickened: was his star now ascending to take him onward and upward?

"It has been difficult to choose which among you, but as of this morning I received word from Sir Horatio that he has graciously acceded to my recommendation." He paused, surveying his officers gravely. "I therefore selected an officer who to me appears particularly forward, one whose ardent spirit in the face of the enemy has been so often remarked. I know you will all join with me in congratulating ... Lieutenant Bryant!"