Artemis

'The French Captain, Maillot,' Renzi said quietly.

Kydd remembered the gory corpse, the manic biting. 'What about him?'

'The papers he was destroying.'

'Yes?'

'It was his commission.'

'But all officers carry theirs on them in battle - in case they're captured.'

'Parry found it amusing,' Renzi said drily. 'Said it was a fine time to find it a worthless Jacobin scrap of paper, that he must destroy it.'

'But—'

'Exactly. I do not believe a man in his last minutes would think to commit such an act.' 'Then why—'

Renzi looked away. 'It was an act by the bravest man I know’ he said softly.

Kydd sighed with exasperation. 'Why so?' he said.

Renzi opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind. 'You will forgive me, but at times my philosophies lead me down strange paths.' He picked up his splice and continued his work.

'Damn strange, if y' asks me.' Kydd snorted.

Renzi's face lifted — it was troubled. 'Would you have me take the last mortal act of a gallant man and turn it to ashes? Or do I honour his memory and remain silent?'

There was no doubt in Kydd's mind. 'If it is a matter touching on the safety of England then y' have no choice - y'r logic will say, you are overborne by the higher.'

'Yes.'

'Would you be so timid, were you to make the decision under stress o' battle? You would not — the matter is not decided till the flag is down.'

'You are in the right of it, dear fellow.' Renzi stared down for a moment. 'Come,' he said.

He went to the shrouds, pretending to be passing a line. Kydd joined him, understanding that Renzi needed to be away from the ears of others.

'His commission, he would not destroy it — but he would if in his final agony he believed it to be some other paper, one that was of vital urgency to the security of his nation. I believe that in one of his other pockets we shall find this paper, whatever it might be.'

Kydd stared at him. 'We must tell this.'

'And have Parry admit his contempt was misplaced? I think not. We find it ourselves, if indeed it is there.'

* * *

The body of Captain Maillot was laid out in the orlop, on the main-hatch. It would be given a funeral with full honours when they reached England in one or two days, but meanwhile it would rest below, sword and cocked hat laid carefully upon it.

A single lanthorn shed a soft light on the still form, and on the marine sentry loosely at attention at the foot of the shroud.

They approached and the sentry snapped awake. 'Gerroff!' 'This the Frog captain?' Kydd asked. 'Yeah - now yer've clapped peepers on 'im, bugger off!'

Kydd sauntered up to the sentry. 'Last chance we gets, y'know. Seein' his face an' that,' he went on. The sentry didn't reply, stiffening his posture.

Renzi glanced meaningfully at Kydd, who tried again. 'It was we who got to him first, you knows,' he said. 'There he was, all gory an' all, we were the ones who saw him, there dyin'.'

The sentry shifted slightly and said from the corner of his mouth, 'Saw yez do yer boardin'. That wuz a plucky do — bad luck to me if it ain't.'

'Then let's see his face, pay our respects like,' Kydd wheedled.

The man looked nervous. 'Me sergeant catches me . . .'

Kydd eased a black bottle from inside his waistcoat. He started, as though noticing the sentry for the first time. 'Why, there's m' bad manners. You've been down here, looking after his Nobbs, with never a drop — here, take a rummer while we have a quick peek.'

The sentry offered his musket to Kydd to hold, and took a long pull. Renzi quickly undid the lacing at the head of the shroud to reveal the pale face and staring eyes of Maillot. A sickening odour drifted up.

'Ere, yer can't do that!' The sentry had noticed Renzi move the sword and hat and continue unlacing down the length of the corpse.

'Have another pull if ye likes,' Kydd urged.

Renzi found nothing in the pockets. If there had been an alternative paper it was not there any more. He knew that if they were found, any explanation would be futile. It would be assumed they were robbing the corpse — a hanging offence. He threw a despairing glance at Kydd, then clamped his kerchief to his face and burrowed deeper into the dead Captain's inner clothing. He tried to ignore the coldness of death.

'Hey, stop that, yer thievin' sod!' The sentry had come to his senses, and tried to pull Renzi off the body. Kydd held him back, and at that moment Renzi froze. His hand withdrew. In it was a single sheet of closely written paper. He held it to the light, and Kydd could see his eyes gleam. 'Set him to rights, Tom. We have it.'

The paper was stuffed back and the body restored to a state of proper reverence.