Quarterdeck

'Thank ye, no, I'll take care of it,' Kydd said, with a smile. There was nothing too personal in his possessions, but the thought of a stranger invading his privacy was an alien notion.

'Sir, I can do it,' Tysoe said softly. Something in his voice told Kydd that he should let the man go about his business. Then he realised that, of course, Tysoe needed to know the location of everything if he was to keep his master well clothed and fettled.

'Well, just be steady with the octant,' Kydd admonished him.

'Lieutenant Kydd, I believe!' Renzi chuckled as he entered the wardroom.

Kydd's heart was full, but he was still unsettled by his unfortunate welcome to the ship and could only manage, 'Aye, do I see Lieutenant Renzi before me?'

Renzi dumped a number of well-used order books on the table. 'Well, my friend, it does seem this is a task it would be prudent to begin immediately, if not earlier.'

Regulations. Orders. Directions. Covering every possible situation. Each in careful phrasing ensuring that every subordinate in the chain of command would be in no doubt that if any disagreeable situation arose it would not be the fault of his superior.

From the Admiralty:

Article: The Captain is to demand from the Clerk of the Survey a book, with the inventory of the stores committed to the charge of the Boatswain and Carpenter . . .

Article: If any be heard to curse or blaspheme the name of God, the Captain is strictly required to punish them for every offence by causing them to wear a wooden collar . . .

Article: The Lieutenant is expected that he do provide himself with the necessary instruments, maps and books of navigation, and he is to keep a journal according to the form set down and at the end of the voyage shall deliver copies thereof signed by himself into the Admiralty and Navy Offices...

Article: No commander shall inflict any punishment upon a seaman beyond twelve lashes upon his bare back with a cat of nine tails, according to the ancient practice of the sea . . .

The commander in chief of the North Sea Fleet had his own instructions—from the timing of the evening gun when at anchor, to conduct when in sight of the enemy—all in all a dizzying succession of domestic detail, mixed with grave admonitions to duty.

Kydd sensed movement outside.

'Well, now, if I'm not mistook, here's our fourth and fifth lootenants!' It was a pleasant-faced young officer, rubbing his hands with cold.

'Ah, Thomas Kydd, sir, at your service.'

'Well, then, my dear sir, I am your humble and obedient Gervase Adams, third of this barky—was junior luff in Raven, sadly no more.' Kydd shook hands, grateful for the friendliness.

Adams turned to Renzi. 'Give you joy of your step, Renzi,' he said formally, holding out his hand. Renzi had served for a small time in Tenacious as master's mate: he'd been part of the ship's company at Camperdown. Kydd realised that they assumed his origins to be a senior midshipman promoted, not someone from forward, as he was.

Adams looked over Kydd's shoulder at the books. 'This is what you should be boning up on, m' boy.' He tapped one marked 'Captain's Orders.' 'This owner is new to me, but if he's running to form he'll expect you to have it by heart in a day—'This is the word of the Lord: hear ye and obey!''

There was a knock at the door and Adams crossed to answer it. 'L'tenant Kydd! Seems first luff has need of the solace of your company at this time.'

Kydd hesitated, partly out of concern for the reception he would receive from the captain's deputy, partly out of confusion as to where to go. He knew the first lieutenant's cabin would be here in the wardroom, the largest one to starboard and right in the stern, but it was unoccupied.

'In harbour he sets up shop in the coach next to the captain's cabin, you'll find.' Adams paused. 'Bryant the Beatific. The men call him Bull—last ship a frigate, and he wants his own command so bad it stinks. I'd steer small with him, Kydd, to be sure.'

'Sit, sir.' Bryant finished his scrawling. 'So, Mr Kydd, you're the fifth and junior. I've put you with Mr Bampton as second officer-of-the-watch until you can prove yourself. And I'll have you know, sir, that if you don't—and that damn soon—I'll see you broke. That I promise. Understand?'

'Sir.'

He consulted his paper. 'And you'll take the afterguard, where you're under my eye.' He looked up. 'Heard you came aft the hard way—and heard else—you'll not be shy in a fight an' I like that. Now, you bat square with me, and you'll do. Right?'

'Aye, sir.' Kydd was not sure what he was implying, and answered cautiously. The man, with his aggressive, out-thrust jaw and direct, almost angry manner, unsettled him.

'Ah, yes—and you'll be signal lootenant, o' course.'

'But, sir, I—'

'Then you'll learn, damn it, like we all did!' Bryant snapped. 'You've got a signal midshipman, Rawson, and two steady hands on the bunting. Do y' want a wet nurse as well?'

'I'll do m' duty right enough.' Kydd felt himself reddening.

Bryant eased back in his chair. 'Let's see. You were entered as a landman in 'ninety-three, then shipped in Artemis frigate around the world, did a few years in the Caribbean and came back a master's mate. Earned their lordships' approbation in the late mutiny at the Nore, and didn't disgrace yourself at Camperdown.' He slapped the papers back into their pack. 'I'm sure you'll do your duty, Mr Kydd.' He rose. 'Now, keep station on me—it's a new wardroom, we need to make our number to each other.'

The long table was laid with a starched white cloth and silver was much in evidence. It was close on four