Quarterdeck

o'clock, supper time; aboard ship it was always taken considerably earlier than on land.

Kydd lost Bryant in a swirl of officers as old friends warmly greeted each other and new ones respectfully made themselves known. Renzi was deep in conversation with a plainly dressed man who had a curiously neat and sensitive face. Kydd made to cross to him, but a glass was thrust into his hand, and Adams's pleasant face appeared. 'A tincture with you, m' friend,' he said, leaning back while a seaman politely plied a bottle. The wine was deep and red, and eased Kydd's trepidation.

'Your very good health, sir,' Kydd said. Adams smiled, then turned to an older lieutenant, but before he could speak, Bryant, attended by a steward, took the head of the table, his back to the stern windows.

'We sit now,' warned Adams, and led Kydd quickly to the opposite end of the table, to one side of the thickness of the miz-zen mast growing up at the end. Then he swung round deftly and sat opposite.

A buzz of talk arose. Bryant roared down the table, 'Wine with you, Mr Kydd!'

The table fell quiet and Kydd caught covert glances in his direction. He tried to gather his wits. 'C-confusion to the French!' he called, raising his glass to Bryant. The words seemed weak and theatrical after the hearty oaths of seamen.

The marine captain raised his glass and declaimed drily, 'And to ourselves—as no one else is likely to concern themselves with our welfare.'

'Damn right!' Bryant said vigorously, and drank deeply, then held up his empty glass. Talk began again, but Bryant banged a spoon on the table. 'Gentlemen!' he demanded loudly. 'Today sees Tenacious with her company of officers complete. We're in commission, and we'll be rejoining the North Sea Fleet very shortly. I believe it's not too soon to make our acquaintance of each other.'

Kydd could hear a bottle being opened out of sight as he positioned his glass. He was grateful to the wine for settling his apprehensions.

'I'm your premier. My last ship was Thetis, thirty-eight, in the Indian Ocean, where we saw not much o' the French worth a spit. I hope to see some better sport before long.' He pitched his voice to the older lieutenant. 'Now you, sir.'

'Bampton, second luff, only officer surviving after Camperdown. Served two years with the North Sea Fleet in Tenacious before,' he added drily.

'Ah, was you at the Nore mutiny?' the marine wanted to know.

'Yes.' Kydd froze. 'And no. I was set ashore by the mutinous villains—but had the pleasure later of seeing 'em at a yardarm.' He gave a thin smile and sipped his wine.

Bryant's gaze slipped to Adams, who took up his cue. 'Gentlemen, you see before you one Gervase Adams, relict of the Raven, eighteen, fir-built and cast ashore. Take heed all ye who would place Baltic fir before good British oak . . .'

'And?'

Renzi's manner was perfect: his easy affability brought approving grunts from around the table. He raised his glass in Kydd's direction. 'Might I bring forward my particular friend Thomas Kydd, whom you see before you as junior aboard, but whose shining parts his modesty forbids him to mention. His actions in thwarting a fearful case of barratry while still a child of the sea is well remarked, and I owe my continued existence to his acting forcefully in a curious circumstance on an island in the Great South Sea. He it is who conned the longboat in the Caribbean that preserved Lord Stanhope, and in all, gentlemen, we must conclude that Mr Kydd be truly accounted a favoured son of Neptune!'

Bryant rumbled loudly, 'Hear him!'

Kydd reddened, and mumbled something. The table remained silent.

'That may be so,' exclaimed Adams, 'but be advised, Kydd, it's the custom of the service that if you've been around the Cape of Good Hope you're entitled to one foot on the table. If you've doubled Cape Horn, both feet on the table, but nothing entitles you to spit to wind'd!'

There was warmth in the easy laughter that followed the old saw. Kydd had no idea that there was such a fraternity in the officers in their wardroom, and he longed to be truly one of them.

Introductions continued. The marine turned out to be a Captain Pringle, with a well-polished line in wardroom wit. It seemed that later a brand-new lieutenant of marines would also grace the ship.

Renzi's new friend was a Mr Peake, a quietly spoken and erudite gentleman who would be their chaplain, and completing the company, further along, was one not in uniform but wearing a comfortable green-striped waistcoat. He announced himself laconically as Pybus, the ship's surgeon.

The wardroom dissolved into talk and laughter, and a violin out of sight behind the mizzen mast began a soft piece Kydd did not recognise. At the same time the smell of onion soup filled the air, and silently a bowl appeared before him. Simultaneously, a number of covered dishes arrived.

'Kydd, dear fellow, may I assist you to some of these fresh chops?' Adams said, as Kydd finished his soup. 'Sadly, we shan't see their like again, I fear, before we next make port.'

Behind the chair of each officer stood a seaman or marine to wait at table; Tysoe was at the back of Kydd. Adams waited until he had withdrawn to see to Kydd's glass. 'That old blackamoor you have there, come down in the world since he was valet de chambre to Codrington, who, you might recollect, died of an apoplexy in our very great cabin.' He leaned forward. 'You don't have to stay with the old fellow—ask Pringle for a marine, they know the sea service.'

Kydd looked round at the other servants. There was none who appeared to be above thirty; Tysoe had substantial grey in his bushy hair. Having seen the scrimmages that sometimes took place as servants jostled to see their masters' needs met first, he had his doubts that Tysoe would hold his own. But something about the man's quiet dignity touched Kydd. There were advantages to youth, but different ones with maturity and, besides, were they not both outsiders? 'Er, no, I'll keep Tysoe,' Kydd answered.

He saw the glow of contentment in the others as his eye roved over the animated officers. Eddying talk rose and fell, then lulled. He heard Bampton call down to him, his voice studied and casual: 'Kydd, something or other tells me you're no stranger to the lower deck. Can this be right?'

Bryant frowned. The table fell quiet, and faces turned to Kydd.