Artemis

other concerns. 'Could do with somethin' t' eat other than hard-tack, somethin' that sticks to y' ribs.'

There was a dry chuckle, surprisingly from Haynes. 'Yer'll get yer meat soon enough,' he said.

The others looked up in curiosity. 'How so?' said Crow.

'Why,' said Haynes, 'th' hard-tack will be manned b' bargemen.'

Kydd grinned. 'Let's tell ye how we used to clear the bread o' bargemen in Royal Billy'

He had their attention. Every sailor was interested in ridding the hard-tack of bargemen, the weevils and other life, particularly the large pale maggots that infested old ship's stores.

'Well, when we starts a bread cask in th' hold, we sets on it a plate - with a ripe fish aboard. Bargemen, they wait till it's quiet, then they swarm out t' get a taste o' the fish. All ye do then, is t' heave the fish over the side 'n' set another in its place until you've cleared the cask o' the vermin.'

The cheery response and the spreading comfort of the rum was gratifying. Kydd's spirits rose.

Artemis sailed steadily north. The sun's warmth swelled, grey seas became tinged with blue, and as the frigate ranged out into the Adantic rollers it was almost possible to put from mind past dangers and harsh times. But the ship and her company were sadly worn by the long voyage, tired by the interminable movement, jaded and soul-weary.

It was seen in so many ways. Powlett appeared on deck in the morning, but then retired to his cabin soon after, his interchanges curt and monosyllabic. On one night Kydd had gone to Merrydew, the boatswain, in his cabin to ask for some gear and had found him quite incapable with drink. The surgeon, who had no particular friends that anyone could name, was acting oddly, shutting himself away in the noisome gloom of his quarters, his meals sent to him. And the bickering between Parry and Rowley took a bitter edge, a sarcastic and barely concealed animosity.

The pleasant north-east trade winds petered out into fitful flurries all too soon after they reached the tropics; the sun was now hot and aggressive, humidity making movement a trial. Merrydew rarely appeared. He seldom spoke, his red, sweating face suffused with suffering. Kydd remembered the sun-blasted sea from the last time they had passed this way and prayed that their passage would not be protracted.

'Aye, both on 'em!' The little purser's steward anxiously awaited Kydd's response. Kydd was quartermaster's mate and was therefore among those responsible for stowage in the hold. It was shattering news: two or three of the remaining ground tier of water casks had run afoul of each other, probably as a result of their upset at the time of the monster wave, and had chosen this time to split a stave each at the point of contact. Precious water had quietly seeped into the bilge and at a stroke Artemis’s sea endurance was curtailed. There was no longer any question of her reaching England.

'Have y' told the mate o' the hold?' Kydd asked, but as he spoke he remembered that the old man was still lying helpless with broken ribs. Leaving the fetor of the hold he hurried up the hatchway — the Master himself would have to be informed.

Mr Prewse was at the lee hances, in troubled conversation with Powlett. Raised voices could be heard, and Powlett's jutting chin and flinty manner augured ill for the news that Kydd was bringing.

'If y' please, Mr Prewse,' he said, holding his hat respectfully in his hands. The Master turned his calm gaze to Kydd. Unsure of whether the Captain should know from him, he paused, but Powlett's clear impatience decided him, and he made his report.

'God blast it! God damn it!' Powlett's rage shook Kydd, its intensity out of character. Powlett regained control. 'The nearest watering?' he shot at Prewse, who thought carefully, rubbing his chin.

'Well, I—'

'We cannot go to east'd, the Spanish are probably now at war with us, we can only fall back on Brazil - true?' 'Aye, sir,' said Prewse neutrally.

'Then set our course in accordance,' snapped Powlett. 'Closest point agreeable to the wind's track.'

* * *

The closest point, thanks to the favourable south-easterly, was but two days away. It turned out to be a scrubby plain, sandy and characterless, through which a brown-stained river wound listlessly. The air was still and enervating, and with a hand-lead swinging in the chains it took hours for the frigate to work in. The watering party pulled ashore and began work; the country was unattractive and had a persistent reek as of a long-dead creature lying heavily on the air. Insects made their way out even as far as the ship, the sudden maddening sting a disagreeable surprise after so long at sea.

As soon as the boat had been hoisted in, Artemis shaped course seawards, but within a day there was good news. 'Glory be!' said Crow. 'A sou'-easter!' It was true, they would have the unseasonally early good fortune of a wind in just the right quarter to see them past Cabo de Sao Roque, and on past the doldrums to the northern trade winds. Every weary heart aboard lifted at the news. This would carry them into the north half of the world, and they would then set course directly for home.

'Cape Sao Roque,' breathed Kydd. It was the last land they would see before England. An undistinguished blue-grey tongue, far to larboard: their long-awaited farewell to far-off lands and unknown perils. Soon they would be in familiar waters. 'Do y' not feel it in y'r bones we are homeward bound?' he added, looking at Renzi.

Renzi looked thoughtful. 'I am in two minds on the matter,' he said. 'On the one hand we have had the felicity of adding to the breadth of our intellects by our voyaging to the far side of the world — but I have to confess, on the other there is nothing in compass that appeals to my spirit more at this moment than the prospect of surcease, a cessation of striving, the quiet land at last. 'In thy green lap was Nature's darling laid.''

Kydd saw his friend's face take on an enigmatic cast, and suppressed his response. His eye noted the worn ropes and frayed canvas, then wandered over the vista of glittering blue sea ahead. Seven bells sounded distantly from the fo'c'sle, and they swung out on the futtock shrouds and descended to the deck.

'Only a few weeks, then, Isaac,' Kydd offered to the silent table.

'An' not a minute too soon,' Haynes grated. 'I got such a pain in me back 'n' legs after Cape Horn '11 take months ter shake orf.'

'An' you, Jeb?' Kydd asked Mullion. The loss of his shipmate was taking its toll: Mullion seemed to have lost all