At first Kydd didn't reply. Then he gave a small smile and, still gazing at the copper ball of the sinking sun, said, 'But ye have other things in y' sea life, Nicholas.'
'A sight better than town or country alike, these troubling times.'
'Aye,' said Kydd, his eyes still on the majesty of the sunset 'Nicholas, I've been thinkin' over what y' said before,' he said slowly, 'about betterin' m'self.' He eased himself to a more comfortable position. 'I own that it would be very agreeable t' see m'self in a gunroom as master's mate, an' in course o' time to take m' ticket with Trinity House as sailin' master — is that idle dreamin', do ye think?'
A master in the Royal Navy was as high as it was professionally possible for a seaman to go: he had his own cabin and advised the Captain himself. Kydd was a natural seaman, having the skills and rare combination of moral courage in a decision with an instinctual understanding of the sea. Yet he was only a few years into the sea-service — but that, by fortunate coincidence, in some of the most testing regions of the globe. It would not be impossible. 'Indeed it is not, given the time and opportunity, dear fellow.' Renzi smiled. 'Who knows? This war is spreading like a canker over Europe and its dominions. Soon England will be wanting every man of skill and enterprise to man its fleets. Your course is set fair for the greatest things.'
Kydd's secret smile did not escape Renzi.
'You may find it happens sooner than you expect,' he added.
Shifting uncomfortably, Kydd hesitated, then said, ‘Rattlin' good news from Cecilia, she meetin' this Lady Stanhope an' being rated companion. D'ye think she'll make a good 'un?'
In turn Renzi paused. 'Inasmuch as she values politeness above all things, a quality her brother is only now achieving, yes, she has the vivacity, or we might say the liveliness of wit,, that the position requires . ..' he said drily.
When the smoky blue of Aruba island rose grand and distant in the shimmering sea the next day, Seaflower shortened sail and altered away to stand off and on until night stole in. 'Mr Jarman, I will not risk the vessel by closing on Oranjested,' Kernon announced.
Jarman looked uncomfortable. This was taking caution to the limit: a cutter like Seaflower had reconnaissance as one of its main purposes, and risks had to be taken. The harbour might well have a larger warship ready to put to sea in chase, but this was an acceptable part of their duty.
'I have it in mind to despatch the longboat to oversee the port,' Kernon continued. This was hard on the boat's crew but would reduce the risk to Seaflower. 'I will need a steady hand to command, one with the sea knowledge and the skill to navigate the boat there, and back to the rendezvous.'
Kydd stepped forward and touched his hat. 'Sir, I have m' figurin' an' can do this.'
Kernon said nothing, ignoring Kydd, and continuing to regard Jarman gravely.
'It'll be me who takes th' boat, o' course, sir,' Jarman said calmly. 'You'll have y'r chance in good time, lad -please be s' good as to assist the Captain. Sir, Kydd is a fine quartermaster and knows his charts. I leave him with ye.'
'Thank you, Mr Jarman, I knew I could rely on you. Kydd, please to wait on me presently with the charts. We approach the island at dusk.'
The reality was more perturbing than Kydd had imagined: the sea details to be won from the austere lines of a chart — the bearings, tide sets, implied wind variants inshore - were exercises in imagination compared to the reality on deck: a moonless night, the longboat bobbing alongside being boarded by Jarman and four men, who must push off into the blackness and trust that Seaflower would be in exactly the same position for their return. The quiet faith of others in his powers — this was the true end of his sea learning.
A barricoe of water was passed down: they would be holed up for a day in the craggy hills overlooking the port and would rendezvous the next night. There was little chatter, and when Jarman was ready, he climbed into the boat, settled his hat and ordered, 'Bear off for'ard — give way together.'
The boat slipped into the darkness and out of human ken; Kydd's farewell wave faltered when Jarman did not look back. Seaflower's sheets were taken up and she surged ahead, safely out to sea on a fixed course. At a calculated time, she would reverse her heading and run down the line back to this position - in theory. The wind dying or freshening, and her speed over the ground would be different. An unsuspected current in these heated tropical seas, roiling to the surface at right-angles to their course, would displace her bodily from her intended track — even the shape and strength of waves at different aspects of the hull would result in a deflecting.
Kydd watched intently as the watch prepared to launch the logship. This triangular float would be cast astern with a log-line to measure the ship's speed. Kydd himself held the twenty-eight-second sand-glass, and when the logship had exactly reached its mark he instantly inverted it and stared at it by the small light of a dark-lanthorn. The log-line whipped away from the roller held above his head by a seaman until Kydd saw the last sand grains slipping away. 'Stand by!' he growled. The glass emptied. 'Nip!' he bawled, and the point reached by the log-line was noted. The number of knots tied at equal distance that passed out with the line would give the speed directly. While his crew hauled in the wet log-line, Kydd chalked in the speed on the slate, and set about worrying over the wind direction.
Kernon was cautious, but considerate: he treated Kydd like a master, consulting and discussing, allowing Kydd's concerns but meeting them with his greater experience. The next day wore on, and the evening drew in. Now was the testing time, whether the miracle could take place of a conjuncture in the dark out at sea of the two craft.
In the last of the light as they headed in once more, Kydd yet again took bearings of the headland and single islet that he had selected as his seamarks, additionally using Jarman's octant to determine their angle laterally, fixing their position by triangulation. The geometry was not onerous, but still intimidated Kydd, and he was grateful for Renzi's easy way with the formulae. He was only just beginning to see them not as some kind of machine that took in raw ingredients and out the other end came a neat and finished product; now he could, with Renzi's insights, dimly discern the elegance and fine reasoning behind them.
The moonless night was impenetrable, the soughing breeze and shipboard noises reducing awareness to a narrow circle of perceptions. The boat might be either in their path - or passing blindly by. 'Mr Merrick,' said Kernon, consulting his fob watch. There was fumbling in the gloom and sparks flew in the wind. A red glow and fizzing, then a blinding blue light issued from a wooden tube held aloft by a seaman. The acrid smoke caused Kydd to choke, but the ghostly blue radiance shone out into the night in a goblin splendour, and threw the vast mainsail into a stark, pale relief. The tube spluttered busily and hissed, pouring towers of cloud downwind, each man on deck motionless and bathed in the unearthly light.
'Deck hooo!’ The cry from forward was quickly followed by the challenge, 'Booooat ahoy!' and a faint cry from out in the blackness. Seaflower altered course - and her company was made whole once more.
Their welcome at Port Royal was puzzling: a lowly cutter returning from her servile duties, yet before she had taken up her moorings her number was hung out importantly on the flagship summoning her captain, and a pinnace pulled energetically from the shore.
'Barbados - an' not a moment t' be lost!' the dockyard functionary said with relish. 'Lord 'n' Lady Stanhope an' one other.'
Kydd recognised the name with a start, and before Captain Kernon returned from the flagship, Cecilia was aboard, gazing warily about her, something about her manner repelling Kydd's greeting. .