Quarterdeck

black breeches of a headmaster. 'Er, is that you, son?'

'It is, Walter!' his mother said, as the old man moved uncertainly towards Kydd, holding out his hand. Kydd took it, then hugged him.

'Walter, Tom is an officer!' She looked anxiously to Kydd for confirmation—the idea was so enormous.

'Aye, Mother, it's 'Lieutenant Kydd, Royal Navy' you must call me now, or I'll clap ye all in irons!' He spoke loudly so his father would make no mistake about what he was hearing.

'Carry on, sir?' Perrott said to Kydd, touching his hat.

'Er, please do,' said Kydd.

'Ship's comp'ny, ahoy! I'll have yez in two lines afore the mast—let's be havin' ye!' he bawled at the children. They shuffled eagerly into line. 'Now, we dips our colours t' a pair o' 'eroes 'oo has jus' come back 'ome fr'm such a battle as never was, an' we're going t' show how much we admires 'em!'

Lieutenants Kydd and Renzi stood solemnly to attention as 'God Save The King' and 'Rule Britannia' were sung enthusiastically by the wide-eyed youngsters.

A piercing squeal on the boatswain's call brought quiet, and the colours were dipped reverently to half staff. With great dignity Perrott turned to face Kydd, removing his hat. Taken by surprise, Kydd raised his own cocked hat, at which the colours rose again.

'Silence!' Perrott thundered at the awed children. 'Now, Lootenant Kydd will talk t' you about y'r dooty.'

Kydd managed to splutter a few words: 'Y'r duty is . . . steadfast in all weathers . . . courage at the cannon's mouth . . . King and country.'

It seemed to be enough. An eager child broke ranks and held up his hand. 'Please, sir, I want t' be a sailor— how do I be a sailor?'

Soon a pink-faced Kydd was mobbed by shouting boys.

'Pipe down, y' scurvy crew, 'n' listen to the l'tenant!' growled Perrott happily.

Kydd glanced across at his mother, who was bursting with pride, and knew there was only one thing to do. He turned to his father and touched his hat. 'Cap'n, sir, permission f'r liberty ashore t' both watches!'

'Oh, er, liberty?' his father stuttered. 'Yes, yes, er, Lieutenant Kydd. A half-holiday to, er, all hands!' The children screamed with delight and poured out of the school, leaving a dazed, happy Kydd family standing in the quadrangle.

'I shall withdraw at this point, if I may,' Renzi said quietly.

'No, no, Mr Renzi,' Mrs Kydd insisted. 'You must stay an' tell us where you have been on the sea—you'll both have such tales, I do declare!' She turned to Kydd. 'Now, I'll ask Mr Partington to spare us his room for you—he can stay with his friend Jonathan. For Mr Renzi . . .' She trailed off. Then she resumed stiffly: 'But, then, now Thomas has a reputation, he'll want t' have his own establishment.'

His mother's words could not hide the essence of the matter, the brutal truth, and Kydd felt a chill at the passing of his simple life. He saw her colouring: she had understood that her son was no longer hers. From now on, society events and invitations would firmly distinguish between the Kydds.

'We shall stay at the Angel,' Renzi said softly. 'Then we will take modest lodgings in town.'

Kydd mumbled agreement.

'Well, then, that's settled,' his mother said bravely. 'It's for the best, o' course. Come inside an' take a posset —you must be frozen after y'r journey.'

*  *  *

As he cradled a mug of hot curdled milk at the kitchen table Kydd listened to the flow of prattle from his mother, felt the quiet presence of his father and caught the curious flash of the maid's eyes. His own kept straying down to his uniform, the blue and gold so striking. Who could guess what the future might hold now? A deep sigh escaped him.

He heard the approaching tap, tap of footsteps. His mother smiled. 'Ah, that must be Cecilia—she'll be so surprised to see you!'

The last time he had seen his sister was in a wrecked boat in the Caribbean. He recalled her mortal terror as they had fought for their lives against the sharks. What would she think of him now?

'She's done very well with Lord an' Lady Stanhope, Thomas. Quite the lady companion she is now,' Mrs Kydd said proudly. 'And don't go quarrellin' with her, if y' please, you know how it upsets your father.'

The outside door rattled, and Cecilia's voice echoed down the passageway. 'Father—what is going on? I saw quantities of your boys on the street and . . .' Her voice died away as the two men rose to their feet. She looked from face to face, incredulous. 'Thomas? You . . . you . . .'

Kydd awkwardly held out his hands. 'Ye're doin' well, Mother says—'

Suddenly her expression softened to a deep tenderness, and she seized her brother in a fierce hug. 'Oh, Thomas! I've so missed you!'

He felt her body heaving, and when she looked at him again he saw the sparkle of tears. His own voice was gruff with emotion as he said, 'Sis—y' remember in th' boat—'

She stopped him with a finger on his lips and whispered, 'Mother!' Then she let him go, crossed to Renzi and placed a generous kiss on both his cheeks. 'Dear Nicholas! How are you? You're still so thin, you know.'

Renzi replied politely, and Cecilia turned back to her brother. 'Thomas and Nicholas are going to take chocolate with me at Murchison's and tell me all their adventures, while you, Mother, prepare such a welcome for this wandering pair!' she announced. Her eyes widened. 'Gracious me—and if I'm not mistaken in the particulars— Thomas, you're a . . .'

'L'tenant Kydd it is now, Cec,' he said happily.