In the morning, Kydd excused himself and said he needed to go for a walk alone. When he returned his face was serious. Renzi knew better than to ask; indeed, his own situation was approaching despair, for complete idleness without the solace of his books was difficult.
The day wore on drearily with neither news nor inspiration; eventually, needing to get out, Renzi suggested they head to the tavern where they had shared a dinner before their world had turned demented.
It was a mistake. They had a fine view of the castle islet below, but also a first-class vantage-point to witness HMS Teazer win her anchor and stand out to sea, her long masthead pennant whipping in the brisk breeze. It was proof positive that a new commission had begun for her, a new life under a new captain.
Kydd's face was like stone. Then Renzi saw a glitter in his eyes and he had to turn away. When he looked back Kydd was as still as a statue, following the little vessel with his eyes until she spread full sail and made off southward—to the open sea. With infinite sadness, he said, "I'd be beholden t' ye, Nicholas, should we go back now."
"It grieves me to raise the subject, brother, but we must take stock of our position." Renzi and Kydd sat in their usual spot in the snug, to one side of the fire, teasing out their half-pints of ale for as long as they could. It was now five days gone and they were no further forward.
Kydd said nothing, gloomily lifting his grog-blackened leather tankard.
"In fine, it is to remark that our means are not without their limit—my humble emolument as a ship's clerk ceased the minute I quit the ship, as you would know, and for your own good self."
Kydd shifted uncomfortably. "I'm on half-pay, that's true, but I have t' say to ye, it's spoken for f'r months ahead—I outlaid a fat purse t' those villains in St Sampson t' prettify "Teazer's bright-work an' gingerbread. I doubt as Standish is appreciatin' it now," he added morosely.
Renzi turned grave. "Am I to understand thereby that we are living on our capital?"
"Aye, I suppose it's so."
"Then—then it's time for a decision, my friend."
"Oh?"
"Most certainly. And it is simply to establish at what point we will be constrained to recognise our resources no longer allow us to continue our hunt and retire from hence, wounded but whole."
"I'm not running!" Kydd blazed. "T' return to m' family wi' such a stain? I'd sooner roast in hell."
Renzi gave a half-smile. "Then we must take prudent measures, steps to preserve body and soul through come what may until . . ."
"Someone's going t' talk," Kydd said positively, "spend their vile guineas like water, make a noise in th' taverns. An' then I'll hear about it," he said savagely. "An' God help th' slivey toad!"
"Very well," Renzi said, without conviction. "The first is to secure our living quarters. This fine inn here is no longer within our competence. We must find—"
"Our?" Kydd cut in. "Nicholas, this is not your fight."
"In all conscience the odds against you are high enough. I cannot find it in me to leave you to face alone what you must, dear brother. No, this is now my decision, which you will allow me to make on my own."
"Tak' it or leave 'un!"
The hard-faced woman turned to go but Renzi stopped her. "We'll take it, madam."
"Ten livres on account," she said, thrusting out a hand from under her shawl. "An' I've plenty o' Frenchies as'll sigh for such a one!"
Kydd frowned at Renzi, who whispered back, "The royalists— having fled the Revolution, they're pining in exile here where they can still see their homeland."
The wrong side of Fountain Street, it was a mansion of grandeur that had seen better times. Now the familiar drawing room, dining room and the rest were each partitioned off with their own noisy family; Kydd and Renzi's domicile was the topmost floor, the old servants' quarters.
"Such a quantity of space!" exclaimed Renzi, stoutly, at the two rooms, a clapboard partition dividing the open space of a garret. Their furniture was limited to a bed each, turned up against the wall, a single table and chair under the window and a seedy dresser. There were bare floorboards and a dank, musty smell throughout.
"Fresh air," offered Kydd, eyeing the dirty window. "And a fireplace." The small grate looked mean and still contained the disconsolate crumbled remains of the last fire, but he rubbed his hands, and said briskly, "We'll soon have it shipshape. Um, not as who's t' say, but I don't spy a kitchen a-tall. How . . . ?"
Renzi forced a bright smile. "In course, we as bachelor gentlemen do send out for our victuals, dear fellow. There's sure to be a chop-house or ordinary close by. As to the smaller comestibles there'll be your milkmaid, baker, pieman calling, eager for our trade."
Kydd looked at the small fireplace. "A kettle f'r tea an' coffee?"
"Tea will soon be beyond our means, I'm sorry to say," Renzi said firmly. "Scotch coffee will probably be available." Kydd winced. Childhood memories of scrimping in hard times had brought back the bitter taste of burned breadcrumbs.
They set to, and a seaman-like scrubbing from end to end soon had the spaces glistening with damp, the window protesting loudly at being opened, and a resolve declared that they would invest in more aids to comfort when their affairs were on the mend. Meanwhile another chair was needed, with various domestic articles as they suggested themselves.
When evening fell and they set about their meagre repast, the extravagance of a bottle of thin Bordeaux did little to lift the mood. A burst of ill-tempered rowdiness came up from below. Was the future stretching ahead to be always like this?
The night passed badly for Kydd. In just a few months he had come from contemplating a high-society wedding to regretting the coals for the comfort of a fire. From captain of a man-o'-war to tenant of a dirty garret. It was hard to take, and lurking at the back of his mind there was always the temptation to slink back cravenly to England.
But that would be to accept the ruin Lockwood had contrived and he'd be damned if he would!
The dull morning began with rain pattering on the window and leaks appearing from nowhere. Over the last of their tea, Renzi gave a twisted smile. "I rather think that the occupation of gentleman is quite over for us, brother. We must seek out some form of income—of employment suitable to our character, or it will be the parish workhouse for us."
"I'll never get another ship from Admiral Saumarez," Kydd said glumly, "even supposing he's one in his gift. Er, y' haven't seen my hairbrush? You know, the pearl-backed one Mother gave me."
"I thought it was on the dresser," Renzi said absently.
"No matter," Kydd said. "It'll turn up."
He reflected for a moment. "An' it must be admitted, anything of employment as takes me back t' sea is not t' be considered—I'd then be removed fr'm here an' couldn't find m' man."
Renzi smiled briefly. "As one of Neptune's creatures, there's little enough for you on terra firma, so completely out of your element."
"I shall think on't," Kydd answered stiffly. "May I know, then, what it is you're proposin' to do, Nicholas?"
"It does set a challenge," Renzi admitted, "my qualifications being of the most cursory. I do suggest we devote this day to a reconnaissance of prospects, each being free to follow our independent course and exchange our experiences later tonight."
Kydd headed down to the busy quayside and found the little octagonal building that had been pointed out to him. The genial harbour-master greeted him and made room for him among the charts and thick-bound books. "What is it I c'n do for ye, Mr Kydd?"
"Kind in you t' see me, Mr Collas. Er, I'd have y' know that I've seen m' share o' sea service—"
"Oh, aye?"
"But at th' moment I find m'self without a ship, an' I thought it might be time t' swallow th' anchor an' take employment ashore, if y' see what I mean."