Quarterdeck

Gervase,' Pringle said to Adams, as they sat down. He tasted his wine. 'Quite a tolerable claret.'

Adams helped himself to a biscuit. 'I wonder if Canada rides to hounds—'t would be most gratifying to have some decent sport awaiting our return from a cruise. They've quite fine horseflesh in Nova Scotia, I've heard.'

'Be satisfied by the society, old chap. Not often we get a chance at a royal court, if that's your bag.'

'Society? I spent all winter with my cousin at his pile in Wiltshire. Plenty of your county gentry, but perilously short of female company for my taste.'

Conversation ebbed and flowed around Kydd. As usual, he kept his silence, feeling unable to contribute, although Renzi had by degrees been drawn up the table and was now entertaining Bryant with a scandalous story about a visit to the London of bagnios and discreet villas. Pringle flashed Kydd a single veiled glance and went on to invite Bampton to recount a Barbados interlude, leaving him only the dry purser as dinner companion.

The afternoon stretched ahead. Kydd knew that Renzi had come to look forward to dispute metaphysics with the erudite chaplain and had not the heart to intervene. Having the first dogwatch, he took an early supper alone and snapped at Tysoe for lingering. Melancholy was never far away these days.

He went up on deck early, and approached the master. 'Good day to ye, Mr Hambly.'

'An' you too, sir.'

'Er, do you think this nor' easterly will stay by us?'

'It will, sir. These are the trades, o' course.' Hambly was polite but preoccupied.

'I've heard y' can get ice this time o' the year.'

The master hesitated. 'Sir, I have t' write up the reckonings.' He touched his hat to Kydd and left.

At four he relieved Bampton, who disappeared after a brief handover. Once more he took possession of the quarterdeck and the ship, and was left alone with his thoughts.

An hour later Renzi appeared. 'Just thought I'd take a constitutional before I turn in,' he said, 'if it does not inconvenience.' He sniffed the air. 'Kydd, dear fellow, have you ever considered the eternal paradox of free will? Your Oriental philosopher would have much to say, should he consider your tyrannous position at the pinnacle of lordship in our little world . . .'

Kydd's spirits rose. There had been little opportunity so far to renew their old friendship, and he valued the far- ranging talks that had livened many a watch in the past. 'Shall ye not have authority, and allow a false freedom to reign in bedlam?' he said, with a grin, falling into pace next to Renzi.

'Quite so, but Mr Peake advances an interesting notion concerning the co-existence of free will in the ruled that requires my disabusing the gentleman of his patently absurd views.' He stared out pensively to leeward.

Kydd stopped dead. Bitterness welled and took focus. Renzi stopped, concerned. 'What is it, brother? Are you —'

'Nothing!' Kydd growled, but did not resume his walk.

'May I—'

'Your ven'rable Peake is waiting—go and dispute with him if it gives you s' much pleasure!' Kydd said bitterly.

Renzi said softly, 'There is something that ails you. I should be honoured were you to lay it before me, my friend.'

It was not the time or place—but Kydd darted a glance around the quarterdeck. No one was watching. He looked across to the conn team at the wheel and caught the quartermaster's eye, then pointed with his telescope up the ladder to the poop-deck. The man nodded, and Kydd made his way with Renzi up on to the small deck, the furthest aft of all. It was not a popular place, dominated as it was by the big spanker boom ranging out from the mizzen mast and sometimes activity in the flag-lockers at the taffrail. They were alone.

Kydd stared out over the wake astern, a ragged white line dissolving to nothing in the distance, ever renewed by their steady motion and the noisy tumbling foam under their counter. His dark thoughts were full but refused to take solid form, and he hesitated. 'Nicholas. How c'n I say this? Here I stand, an officer. A King's officer! More'n I could dare t' dream of before. And it's—it's not as it should be . . .'

Renzi waited patiently, gazing astern.

Kydd continued weakly, 'Y' see, I don't feel an officer—it's as if I was playin' a role, dressin' up for the part like a common actor.' The frustrations boiled up and he gulped with emotion. 'I know th' seamanship, the orders an' things but—Nicholas, look at me! When the others talk t' each other, they're talkin' to the squire, the gentry—their father is lord o' the manor of some fine family, they talk of ridin' with the hounds, calling on the duke in London, what's the latest gossip . . .' His voice thickened. 'And me, what can I talk about at table without I open m' mouth and be damned a yokel?'

Renzi murmured encouragement. Paradoxically, this made it all the worse for Kydd, and his frustration took a new path. 'It's easy enough f'r you. You've been born into it,' he said bitterly, 'lived that way all y'r life. This is why you can talk y'r horses an' estates 'n' politics with the others. And have you thought how it is f'r me? I sit there sad as a gib cat, hearin' all this jabber and feelin' as out of it as—'

The carpenter interrupted them with his report and Kydd processed the information mechanically. Twenty-four inches in the well: if he left it, the night watch would have to deal with it, manning the big chain pump with all its creaking and banging, rendering sleep impossible for the watch below. He'd see to it before he left the deck.

Renzi spoke quietly: 'Tom, do you consider awhile. We all have had to learn the graces, the manners and ways of a gentleman. It's just that we've had much longer than you to learn. You see? You will learn in time, then—'

'Be damned!' Kydd choked. 'Do ye take me f'r a performing monkey? Learn more tricks and bring 'em out in company? Is this how to be a gentleman?'

Renzi's face set. 'You're being obnoxious, my friend,' he said softly.

'An' I'm gettin' sick o' your word-grubbin' ways! You're no frien' if all you can say is—'