Julian Stockwin - Tenacious

A pleasant two miles of open country lay ahead. Wearing plain clothes in deference to the sensibilities of the inhabitants, they passed through Es Castell, a relic of past English occupation, still with its parade-ground four-square in the centre, and found the road west to Mahon.

"So grateful to the spirit," Renzi mused. At sea there was a constant busyness; even in the most placid of days the flurry of waves, the imperceptible susurrus of breeze around the edge of the sails and the many random sounds of a live ship were a constant backdrop to life aboard. It was only on land, where a different quietude reigned, that its absence was noticed.

Kydd's naturally happy temperament bubbled to the surface. "S' many windmills—you'd think it Norfolk or Kent."

"Yet the soil is poor and difficult of cultivation, I think," said Renzi, as they passed tiny garden-like plots and endless dry-stone walls. A little further on the wafting scent of orange groves filled the air. "But there could be compensations ..."

In front of each white stone farm there was a distinctive gate of charming proportions, an inverted V, probably made from the ubiquitous wild olive wood. The road wound round the end of a deep cleft in the cliffs, a sea cove a quarter of a mile deep with buildings on the flat ground at its head. Kydd recognised it as the chief watering-place, Cala Figuera—English Cove. The English ships, Tenacious among them, were clustered there.

Mahon could be seen ahead, past a racket court in use by two rowdy midshipmen, the houses by degrees turning urban and sophisticated. The two nodded pleasantly to local people in their pretty gardens; Kydd wondered how he would feel if conquering officers passed his front door. Nevertheless there was more than one friendly wave.

Several paths and avenues led from the one they were on and it became clear that they needed directions. "Knock on th' door?" Kydd suggested.

After some minutes they heard, "¿Que quiere?" A short man wearing round spectacles emerged suspiciously.

"Ah, we are English officers, er, inglese," Kydd tried.

Renzi smiled. "Your Italian does you credit, my friend, but what is more needed now—"

"Goodness gracious me!" Both turned in astonishment at the perfect English. "So soon! But—dare I be as bold—your honourable presence is made more welcome by your absence, these sixteen year."

Kydd blinked. "Er, may we ask if this is th' right road f'r Mahon?"

"Ah! So many years have I not heard this word! Only the English call it Marn —the Spanish is Ma-hon, but we Minorquin call it Ma-o, you see."

"Then—"

"You are certainly on the highway to ciudad Mao —forgive me, it has been many years ... Sadly, though, you will now find Mao in the comfortable state we call siesta. "

He drew himself up. "But, gentlemen, it would be my particular honour to offer you the refreshments of the road."

"You are too kind, sir," Renzi said elegantly, with a bow.

They were soon seated in an enchanting arbour in a small garden at the front of a Mediterranean white house, all set about with myrtle, jasmine and vines and with a splendid view down into the harbour. The man withdrew and they heard shrill female protests overborne with stern male tones before he reappeared.

"My apologies. I am Don Carlos Pina, a merchant of oil of olive."

The officers bowed and introduced themselves. A lady wreathed in smiles appeared with a tray, murmuring a politeness in what Kydd assumed was Mahon-ese. On the tray he recognised Xoriguer and there were sweetmeats that had him reaching out.

"Ah! Those are the amargos. If they are too bitter, please to try the coquinyales here." Pina spoke to the woman, who coloured with pleasure. "My wife remember what you English like."

The crunchy anisette indeed complemented the gin and lemon cordial but Kydd had to say what was on his mind: "D' ye please tell me, sir, why you are not offended at our bein' here?"

Pina smiled broadly. "Our prosperity is tied to the English— when you left in 'eighty-two our trade suffer so cruel where before we trade with the whole world. Now by chance it will return."

"I'm sure it will," Renzi contributed.

Pina flourished the Xoriguer. "I toast His Majesty King George —King George th' Three! I hope he enjoy good health?" he added anxiously.

"He is still our gracious sovereign," Renzi replied.

"Please! Gentlemen, you may toast to the return of Lady Fortune to Minorca!"

Renzi asked earnestly, "Sir, this is such an ancient island. The Moors, Romans, Phoenicians—surely they have left their mark on the land, perhaps curious structures, singular artefacts?"

"There is no end of them," Pina said brightly, "but there are also the navete of the Talaiot—before even the Roman, they build boats of stone! No man know what they are. We never go near." He crossed himself fervently, bobbing his head.

"Excellent!" said Renzi.

"And if you are interested in Minorca, good sir, I recommend to your attention the town of Migjorn Gran, in which you will find many learned in the ancient ways of our island."

Kydd put down his glass. "And Mao is not far ahead?"

"I'm delaying you!" Pina said, in consternation. "Before you leave, the abrazo!" To Kydd's embarrassment he was seized in an embrace. "So! Now you are for us the hermanito, our ver' good friend!"

Mahon bustled with excitement. It seemed a declaration of open trade was to be gazetted immediately by the English, and merchants scurried to prepare for prosperous times. The dignified but sleepy town was waking up and the purposeful hurry of the population was in marked contrast to Kydd and Renzi's leisured pace.

Noble churches stood among a maze of busy streets; an ancient archway glowered at the top of one, and there were shops of every sort between lofty residence with balconies. Kydd was charmed by the little town, which had in parts an almost English reserve. On impulse, he stopped as they were passing a handicrafts shop. "Nicholas, I'd like t' take something o' Minorca back to m' mother as a remembrance. A piece o' lace?"

They entered the quiet interior of the shop. It took a few seconds for Kydd's eyes to adjust to the gloom after the glare of the sun but then he saw the girl behind the counter. "Er, can I see y' lace—for m' mother ..." He tailed off, seeing her grave attention.

But she gave a delighted squeal. "You are Engliss? Que suerte haberte conocido! I always want to meet an Engliss gentleman, my mother she say—"

"If we are to make the cloisters by angelus we must step out," said Renzi, sharply.

"Cloisters?" said Kydd, distracted.

"We have much yet to admire, brother."

Tenacious was first to be warped across the harbour to the dockyard for survey: she had suffered at the Nile with her lighter framing, and a worrying increase in bilge pumping was possibly the result of a shot taken between wind and water.

It did not take long to find the cause: two balls landing not far apart below the waterline had damaged a run of several strakes.

They would have to be replaced. With the ship canted to one side by capstans to expose her lower hull she was barely inhabitable and, with the prospect of possibly months at the dockyard, her officers quickly realised that lodgings ashore would be much more agreeable. The best location was evident: Carrer San Roc in the centre of Mahon, where fine town-houses in the English style were to be readily engaged.

A small but comfortable establishment with quaint furniture from the reign of one of the previous Georges met the bill, and Kydd and Renzi moved in without delay. It was a capital headquarters for further exploration of the island.