Seaflower

'It's - that's impossible, Miss Cecilia,' said Kernon, scandalised.

'Nonsense! I will accompany his lordship — you know that I must, if he is to be of use to any on whatever mission this is that requires so much urgency.'

Lady Charlotte clasped Cecilia and began softly, 'My dear ...'

Impatient, Cecilia told her quietly, 'I know we are in the very best hands, Lady Stanhope, do not concern yourself any further on our behalf. We will be quite safe.' She hesitated a moment, then said gently, 'You see, Kydd is my brother Thomas, Lady Stanhope ...'

Arrangements concluded, stout hands were applied to the gunwales and the boat entered the still white-dashed waters, rearing and bobbing. Cecilia was handed aboard, Doud heaved himself into the bows and Kydd and Renzi took their places aft.

A signal to Doud had the foresail soaring up the stay and while Kydd setded in the sternsheets with the tiller, Renzi cautiously showed main canvas to the brisk wind. A lurch to leeward and the boat started seaward, a bumpy, swooping scurry until they crossed the outer breakers, then the sea winds took hold and they lay to the blow, heading for the open sea.

Kydd thought only then to look astern, to see the dots of people lining the diminishing shore, the scattered waving, the forlorn bulk of Seaflower in the midst of the battered palms. He held up his hand in farewell and saw a flutter of kerchiefs in return, then turned forward, his face hardening in resolution.

Cecilia was doing something for Lord Stanhope, and Renzi was busy tying off on the lines. Doud stepped carefully around them. At his approach Kydd steeled himself for bad news, but Doud grinned down at him from a midship thwart, hanging on to one of the shrouds. He gave an exulting whoop, and began singing,

'Farewell and adieu, to you, Spanish ladies!

Farewell and adieu, you ladies of Spain;

For we've orders for England, you bold-eyed and lovely

But we know in a short time we'll see you again!'

To Cecilia's evident delight all the sailors took up the refrain:

'We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors;

We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt seas;

Until we strike soundings in the Channel of England,

From Ushant to Scilly 'tis thirty-five leagues.'

At noon Cecilia, by unspoken concession, took charge of provisions, and each in the boat received a ship's biscuit surmounted by cold tongue and a pickle. The wine was recorked after a splash of Bordeaux flavoured the water ration agreeably, and a morsel of seed-cake completed their noon meal.

An overcast sky still prevented a noon sighting, but a steady south-easterly course was not hard to sustain, and with the winds coming more abeam they made good speed. Towards evening the sea had moderated, the sun finally emerged and the wearisome jerking motion settled to a regular swelling surge.

Cecilia made Lord Stanhope as comfortable as was possible and the boat sailed on into the night. The seamen aboard, used to regular watches, had no difficulty in falling in with the rhythm, but a pale dawn revealed a hollow-eyed, plank-sore Cecilia.

Without a word, Renzi reached for the awning. He loosened its end, lifted it up and secured each corner to an opposite shroud. 'Milady's toilette,' he murmured, and clambered aft followed by a suddenly understanding Doud.

'Sir, you are too kind,' Cecilia croaked and, without meeting anyone's eye, vanished behind the improvised screen; the plash of water showed that she was making good use of her privacy.

Later in the morning a cultured cough from amidships drew Cecilia to Lord Stanhope. 'Should you be so good as to tighten these bandages? I am certain I may sit, which would give me the greatest satisfaction since it has always been my practice to look the world in the eye.'

At noon, to Kydd's gratification, the sun was bright and beneficent. He took a sighting carefully and, after due consultation with the tables, he turned to the chart with Renzi. 'Here, somewhere along this line o' latitude, that's where we are of a surety, Nicholas.'

Cecilia could not contain her curiosity. She crowded into the sternsheets with them, her eyes searching eagerly for meaning in the chart. 'Pray where are we, Tom? You are so clever, it looks a perfect conundrum to me.'

'Well, sis, we are somewhere here,' he said, with a sweep of his hand across the chart along the known line of latitude.

'Oh,' she said.

Kydd added, 'If only we'd a longitude, we c'd tell exactly where we was.'

'Yes we must not be accounted lost,' added Renzi. 'We have but to extend our south-easterly heading and we shall be quite certain to end our voyage on the coast of South America.'

Cecilia looked at him with round eyes. 'Are the natives fierce there?' she asked fearfully.

'I rather think they have been tamed by the Spaniards by now? dear lady,' Renzi replied.

The low, rambling coastline of the continent emerged out of the haze of noon the next day, sending the seamen feverishly to their chart, but it would be no easy fix, and they closed the coastline with some trepidation.

'My lord, you see that we have made landfall at an unknown point,' Renzi explained, 'and, should we be too far east, we will encounter the Dutch ...'

'Wi'out our longitude, sir, we cannot know,' Kydd added.

Cecilia was in no doubt. 'Yes, you can, and very easily!'

The men looked at her incredulously.

'So simple. You go *and ask where we are — from one of your natives.'

It was simple. The boat kissed the sand of the unknown land on a small rock-strewn beach, raw red cliffs leading up to a profusion of greenery alive with the noise of animals and birds. Cecilia and Lord Stanhope were helped out, staggering around at the change of sensation.

'And where, then, will we find an accommodating native of these parts?'

Renzi's answer came.from further up the beach, in the form of a barking dog belonging to a figure standing watching them.

'I shall speak with him,' said Lord Stanhope.

Kydd waved and hailed with a foretopsail-yard-ahoy bellow. 'Hoay — ahoooy there!' The man approached. As he moved a small boy hiding behind him became apparent, dressed almost as a miniature of himself, with a wide straw hat and a gaily coloured poncho.

Cecilia was entranced. 'I do believe he has never seen the English before.' His dark brown weathered features were a mask of uncertainty. The man's black eyes flicked from the boat to the two well-built seamen and then to Cecilia, the little boy clinging fearfully to his cloak.

'Buenos dias, senor.' The eyes swivelled to Lord Stanhope. 'Por favour puede informarnos donde nos encontramos. ..' The others waited impatiently while the exchange continued, at one point the man pointing along the line of foreshore to the right.

'Ah, that settles it,' said Stanhope. 'We are within Spanish territory, and Cuerda Grande lies just four milliaria beyond . . .'

The two sailors dived for the chart. "There!' exclaimed Kydd, his finger jabbing victoriously at the spot. The others came over, agog to hear the news. 'Hmm, quite a way further east than I thought,' said Kydd. 'See, this is Barranquilla, an' here we have your Hollanders,' he added, indicating islands not so very far away.

'Perhaps this man can say if war is declared,' Cecilia asked.

'He has no knowledge of any war,' Stanhope replied, 'but, then, I doubt he knows of much beyond his village - I cannot take the risk. We must confer, gentlemen.'

The men clustered around the chart; Cecilia sat down on a rock and luxuriously splashed her feet in the clear sea.

'Kindly show me the essentials of our position, if you please.'

'Aye, m' lord. Here we are, near half-way along th' Caribbean coast o' South America. Port Royal is here,' he indicated to the north-west of the chart, 'an' Barbados here to the east.'

'And how far to return to Port Royal?'

'In the longboat, m' lord?'