Conquest

Between wolfed mouthfuls of mutton cutlets, Renzi told his tale, ending with ‘So when that fearful fog-horn let go, how could I not remember those times off the Grand Banks in Tenacious when the damned thing was going morn to night? And here’s to that old barky, dear fellow!’

‘And here’s to Toby Stirk, the cunning dog, who thought of it!’

‘Which I’ll second – I understand we owe our rapid withdrawal afterwards to the disinclination of our Xhosa friends to venture after us in the darkness where such dreadful spirits must lurk.’

After finishing his food Renzi laid down his knife and fork with a shuddering sigh, and closed his eyes. ‘There were times, my friend . . .’

‘Quite,’ Kydd murmured, in sympathy. He knew better than to go further – Renzi would talk more in his own good time. He toyed with his glass for a moment, then said, with a trace of defiance, ‘You must think me a sad looby to be gulled by Therese. I’m to say I never suspected for a moment, even while she dunned me with all those questions.’

‘Of course not, old trout. There’s others who’ve been deceived by her beauty and mystery, the chief of which must be my own self. And I’m here to tell you that her scheming to prise intelligence from you she considered a waste of effort, but as a man you proved to be . . . diverting.’

‘She said that?’

‘Indeed. Er, might it be hoped that this unholy experience has not soured you on the female race?’

‘Not at all,’ Kydd reassured him, with a wicked grin, ‘although perhaps I shall take a little more care where I set my cap in future . . .’

Two days later, L’Aurore, her prize astern of her, rounded the point into Table Bay. Surprisingly, it was considerably crowded, with more than two score weather-beaten ships moored all along the wide anchorage.

‘A convoy from England, Nicholas!’ Kydd beamed. ‘Our reinforcements have arrived at last, thank God.’ Baird’s dispatches must have done their work, for now not only had Whitehall received tidings of the action at Blaauwberg but had responded with all that was needed to make their presence permanent.

There were transports for garrison soldiers, store-ships with military supplies, merchantmen, no doubt laden with necessaries and luxuries, and stately Indiamen with notables on their way to India, who were now freely touching at their new port-of-call – Cape Town.

‘Well, m’ friend, I think we can say that Cape Colony now exists on the books in London. You’ll no doubt have such a scurrying about, quantities of forms to return, new regulations and laws – not to mention the accounting of it all. I almost feel sorry for you!’

‘Yes, it will be a challenge,’ Renzi said gravely, his eyes on the massive grandeur of the African country before him.

After hearing Kydd’s report Popham not only ordered him to inform the governor directly but insisted on accompanying him, along with the colonial secretary. ‘Good God, Renzi!’ Baird spluttered, aghast as the three were brought into his presence. ‘You’re – you’re alive! We thought you were taken by a leopard!’

Renzi set out the plot and its foiling briefly and succinctly, taking pains to give due recognition to Kydd and his intelligent reasoning, followed by his decision to go forward with the attack in the face of such odds.

When he finished, Baird shook his head. ‘The greatest stroke I’ve come across this age,’ he managed at last. ‘Have you ever heard the like, Dasher?’

‘Never,’ said Popham, warmly. ‘In the best traditions of the Service, Sir David. In particular I’d like to commend Captain Kydd on the moral courage he showed in breaking off the action with Leda to pursue the higher purpose. Captain Honyman was much annoyed as the Frenchy frigate slipped him by, but I shall speak with him on the matter and I’m certain he’ll hear no more of it.’

‘So,’ said Baird, with feeling, ‘here’s a what-a-to-do before me, I must declare. We can’t let it become public property in the colony that we were ever affrighted by the French or a rising by the Xhosa, so how can we decently hail it as a triumph? At the very least, gentlemen, in my dispatches I promise you I shall make it my business that it is not forgotten.’

He held out his hand in sincere admiration.

‘Well,’ Renzi said, with a sigh, ‘after the excitement it’s back to work for me, I fear. My desk under a monstrous pile, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘Ah, as to that, er . . .’ Baird looked uncomfortable ‘. . .  um, there’s someone I’d like you to meet, Renzi.’

He went to the door and called, ‘Ask Mr Barnard to attend me, if you please.’

A studious gentleman, with a careful but intelligent manner, entered.

‘Renzi, there’s no way I can think to break this to you without disappointment, therefore without further scruple, I have to introduce Mr Andrew Barnard, who is to be the permanent colonial secretary for Cape Colony.’

Turning white with shock, Renzi stood for a moment before awkwardly returning his bow.

‘Whitehall has seen fit to ignore my earnest recommendation on your behalf and is insisting on a professional civil servant in post. I’m – I’m truly sorry that this has been denied you, especially after your recent, er, experiences, of course.’

Seeing Renzi’s stricken features, he hastened on, ‘I’m sure Mr Barnard will be kind enough to desire that you remain in your quarters in the castle until your affairs are, um, more settled.’

‘That – that won’t be necessary,’ Renzi said faintly.

‘Ahem. I’d wish it were possible to offer you a lesser post in keeping with your undoubted talents but these have all been taken and I fear that the financials would frown on my creating a sinecure.’

‘I understand, sir.’