Artemis

leather despatch case.

Powlett began to descend the stone steps to the boat when Kydd pushed forward. 'Sir!' he called. Powlett looked up irritably, without pausing in his motions. 'Sir — you remember me?'

The Captain stopped and glanced up in surprise. 'Ah, yes — one of the Royal Billys' His eyebrows contracted in an effort of remembrance. 'And one of the first boarders,' he added, in satisfaction.

'Sir, we want t' ship with you.'

There was a hiss of indrawn breath from the Captain's coxswain.

The moment hung. The pair's travel-worn appearance and something about Kydd's intensity moved Powlett. 'Very well. Get forrard, then.'

The scandalised coxswain glared, the bowman grinned and shifted over, but Kydd obstinately remained standing. 'We both, sir.'

Powlett glanced at Renzi. 'The odd one, but quick with a blade — through the gunport, was it not?' he asked. 'Sir.'

'Then we can find a place for them both, Mr Fairfax?' Powlett said to the lieutenant, with an unmistakable edge. 'Aye aye, sir,' the man said.

'So yez had enough o' them 'long shore ways,' Petit rasped.

'Couldn't stomach the shoreside scran,' grumbled Kydd, fighting down a grin.

'A bag o' guineas says yer did jus' manage to get outside a dark ale or three.' This was Billy Cundall. He had moved into their mess in place of Adam, who had decided for no special reason to move across to another mess.

Kydd's smile was broad and open, his white teeth showing in the dim gold light of the lanthorn above the table. He raised his grog can in salute and swallowed. While in port, the small beer was quite acceptable, brewed specially in the dockyard for the fleet. It was only after weeks at sea that the sourness and metallic aftertaste became apparent.

Luke came with a mess kid of steaming pottage. He still had the hollow eyes and withdrawn air that he'd had since the battle.

Quashee broke off his conversation with Petit. 'What ho, Luke, is it to me exactin' standard, or shall we have ter send it back?' There was no answer from the boy, and Quashee glanced at Petit.

'Leave 'im be, mate,' Petit muttered.

Renzi made a characteristic deprecating gesture, and the mess knew that he had something to say, and waited expect-antiy. 'We shall within this week be outward bound — to the far side of the world.' He drew himself up and intoned

'On burning coasts, or frozen seas, Alike in each extreme The gallant sailor's ere at ease, But floats with fortune's stream . .

'Clap a stopper on it!' 'Avast th' jabber, shipmate!'

The good-natured chorus drowned Renzi's attempts, and in mock disgust he drank noisily from his pot. 'What's y'r meaning, Nicholas?' Kydd prodded.

'Well, if you will allow me,' he said, and leant back. 'Get on with it, damn you for a shab!' Kydd's eyebrows contracted at Cundall's ill-judged words to his friend.

Renzi seemed not to have heard. 'It will not have escaped your notice that the officers are laying in stores, a good deal. This voyage will not be a simple one.' The table exchanged looks. It was widely believed that Renzi had second sight, such had been the accuracy of his predictions in the past.

'What do ye mean?' Petit said carefully.

'That mayhap we should follow suit — in our little way, of course.'

'We?'

'Can you conceive a span of six months at sea, nothing new, always the same food, the same company? We will rue it, I believe, were we not to take a precaution.'

The thought had clearly not entered their heads.

'Only one kinda stores we better 'ave - an' if the kegs run out, then it'll have ter be bottles.' Cundall had a handsome face: he took care to flare his side-whiskers to frame it.

'Aye, but ye knows that in th' Indies it's like to be arrack - made outa rice. It'll bowse up yer jib in a brace o' shakes right enough, Billy boy.' Eyes turned to Petit who leant back innocently.

'Come on, mate, you've bin out there afore, ain't yer?' Quashee said.

'Yair, but I wanta hear what Renzi is a-sayin',' Petit said.

Renzi continued, 'Only little things, I grant, but I have the feeling they will be deeply appreciated in the future. I say that we empower Quashee to step ashore to make purchases for the mess in general as he sees fit, some condiments, some—'

'Some 'oo?' Cundall said.

'Conweniences!' said Quashee happily. 'He means conwen-iences! A rub o' ginger, dried 'erbs, a jar o' molasses, that's the ticket.'

'Just so,' Renzi said. 'But we also need amusements. I have made my preparations, but could I suggest it be taken under general consideration?' The concept of preparing for recreation was a novel matter: it caused the table to go quiet.