Julian Stockwin - Tenacious

Renzi laid down his Reflections on the Culture and Antiquity of Iberia. "It is said that the western Ciudadela is of quite another character," he mused, nursing his brandy. "Suffered cruelly from the Turks but still retains splendid edifices—but the people are of the Castilian Spanish and have no love for an Englishman."

Kydd picked up a dog-eared newspaper and settled into his high-backed chair. "An' I heard fr'm one o' the midshipmen that t' take away a boat and sail around the island would be prime— there's snug coves an' beaches all up the coast."

"Where, then, is your warlike ardour, your lofty aspirations to laurels?"

"With our ship in dock? Little chance t' find such ... but there are compensations," Kydd said, with a private smile and raised his paper again.

"Oh?" Renzi said.

"Nicholas, I saw Love's Labour's Lost is t' be staged tonight. Do ye fancy t' attend at all?"

"Well, if we—"

"Unfortunately the captain wants t' sight m' journals, I must complete 'em. But do go y'self, I beg!"

"Actually, this volume is an engrossing account of your Hispanic in all his glory. I rather fancy I shall spend a quiet evening here."

"Nicholas, m' friend, you will do y'r eyes a grievous injury with all this readin'. In th' big church they're presentin' a concert o' music especially t' welcome the English. Why not go an' enjoy this? There's all y'r favourite composers, er, Pergylasy and—"

"I see I must," Renzi said flatly, and Kydd coloured. Later, leaving for the concert, he nearly collided with someone walking in haste. He had last seen her at the lace counter.

Kydd had to admit the forced idleness was not altogether an imposition. He was seated at a table in a small taberna with Renzi, enjoying a good bottle of red wine and the fine view from their position at the top of the cliff-like edge of the town into the glittering emerald length of the harbour. "Y'r good health, Nicholas," he said complacently, raising his glass.

"A most underrated and priceless gift," Renzi murmured, lifting his glass and staring into it.

"Er, wha—?"

"Robust health, in course, brother. Worth more than diamonds and rubies, this can never be bought with coin—it is always a gift from nature to man, which never asks aught in return."

"Just so, Nicholas. But do you mark that barque comin' around th' point? She's English." This was a welcome sight in the Mediterranean that, before Nelson's victory, had been cleared of English flagged vessels. "A merchantman," Kydd said lazily, and pulled out his little spyglass. "Cautious master, fat 'n' comfortable—wonder what she's carryin'."

The vessel went into the wind, brailing up and coming to a standstill. Lines were carried ashore by boat and in one movement the ship was rotated seaward again and brought alongside the landing-place near the customs house, just below where they sat.

Curious, Kydd focused on a colourful group on her after deck. From attentions given they must be passengers, and important ones at that: the brow was quickly in place for their disembarkation before the sailors had even begun snugging down to a good harbour furl.

Something about one of them, however, caught his attention: unconscious cues in the way she walked, the movement of her hands, which he knew so well ...

"Nicholas—I'd swear ... It must be!" He jumped to his feet. "I'm goin' down. It's Cecilia!"

A narrow inclined pathway zigzagged to the water and Kydd hurtled down it, then finally emerged on to the busy wharf.

"Cecilia, ahoy!" he shouted, waving furiously, but an open-topped carriage drove away just as he came close.

He stared after it foolishly but a woman's voice behind him squealed, "Thomas! Is that you?" He turned to see his sister flying towards him. "My darling brother!" she said happily, embracing him. When she released him, her eyes were glistening.

"Cec—what are y' doing here?"

"We're to establish in Minorca, Thomas. Lord Stanhope is to treat with the Austrians to—But why are you here?"

Kydd pointed across the harbour to where the ugly bulk of Tenacious's hull lay on its side. "This is now th' home of the Royal Navy in the Mediterranean, Cec, and Tenacious is bein' repaired."

A disgruntled wharfinger touched his hat with one finger. "Where'm they ter take yer baggage, then, miss?"

"Thomas—I have to go. Where can I see you again?"

"An' it's a shillun an hour ter wait for yez." The arms were folded truculently.

"Here, sis." Kydd pulled out one of his new-printed calling cards. "Tonight it's t' be a rout f'r all hands—an' you're invited."

The evening promised to be a roaring success—other than Renzi, no officer had met Kydd's sister and all were bowled over. He had to admit it, Cecilia was flowering into a real beauty, her strong character now veiled beneath a sophistication learned from attending many social events in her position as companion to Lady Stanhope. But what really got the occasion off to a splendid start was the discovery that Cecilia had been in London when the news of the great battle of the Nile had broken. "Oh, you cannot possibly conceive the noise, the joy! All of London in the streets, dancing, shouting, fireworks—you couldn't think with all the din!

"There were rumours for weeks before, it's true, but you must know we were all in a horrid funk about the French! All we heard was that Admiral Nelson had missed the French fleet and it was taking that dreadful General Buonaparte to land an army on us somewhere—you cannot imagine what a panic!

"Then Captain Capel arrived at the Admiralty with dispatches and the town went mad. Every house in masses of illuminations, bells ringing, cannon going off, Lady Spencer capering in Admiralty House, the volunteers drilling in Horseguards firing off their muskets—I can't tell you how exciting it was."

Under the soft touch of the candlelight her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes hushed the room and had many an officer looking thoughtful.

"Lord Stanhope would not be denied and we left England immediately for Gibraltar, for he had instructions to establish in the Mediterranean as soon as it was practical. It wasn't long before we heard that Minorca was taken—and so here we are!"

"And right welcome y' are, Cec—ain't that so, Nicholas?"

His friend sat back, but his eyes were fixed on Cecilia's as he murmured an elegant politeness. She smiled sweetly and continued gaily, "Thomas, really, it was quite incredible—in every village we passed they had an ox roast and such quantities of people supping ale and dancing on the green. In the towns they had special illuminations like a big 'HN' or an anchor in lights and several times we were stopped until we'd sung 'Rule Britannia' twice!"

It was strangely moving to hear of the effect of their victory in his far-distant home country. "So, Jack Tar is well esteemed now, sis," Kydd said lightly.

Cecilia looked at him proudly. "You're our heroes now," she said. "Our heroes of the Nile! You're famous—all of you! They're rising and singing in your honour in all the theatres. There's poetry, ballads, broadsheets, prints—there's talk that Admiral Nelson will be made a duke and that every man will get a medal. There's been nothing like it this age, I swear."

Kydd hurried into their drawing room. "Nicholas! We've been noticed, m' friend. This card is fr'm the Lord Stanhope, expressin' his earnest desire t' hear of the famous victory at th' first hand—that's us, I believe—at afternoon tea at the Residency on Friday."

"So, if this is a species of invitation, dear chap, then it follows that it should contain details of our expected attire, the—"

"An' here's a note from Cecilia. She says Lady Stanhope will be much gratified should we attend in full dress uniform ..."