Command

Kydd was beginning to see where it was all leading and eased into a smile.

'. . . therefore, sir, they're requesting you take aboard a—a ship's cat.'

'Ah. Well, that is, I may have omitted t' bring the complement completely up to strength in this particular. I see I must send a hand ashore to press a suitable cat—' There was a shuffling, eyes were cast down. Kydd saw and went on '—that is unless a volunteer c'n be found, o' course,' and waited.

Glances were exchanged and then the seamed old sailmaker, Clegg, was pushed forward. Nearly hidden in his horny hands was a scrap of fur from which two beady black eyes fixed themselves solemnly on Kydd.

Kydd's eyebrows rose. 'Seems a hard thing t' put such a morsel up against a prime ship's rat, I believe.' At the sullen silence this brought he hastened to add, 'But, o' course, he being new t' the sea he'll have a chance to show something of himself later.' After the ripple of relieved murmurs faded, he snapped, 'Volunteer, this day rated ordinary seaman.' Grins appeared and Kydd continued, 'Er, what name goes in th' muster list?'

Clegg gave a slow smile and, in his whispery voice, said softly, 'It's t' be Sprits'l, sir, on account we being a brig we don't have such a one, an' now we does.'

*  *  *

Kydd spread out the best chart they had of the area, a copy of a French one, and pondered. The Sicily Channel was the only pass between the east and west of the Mediterranean, discounting the tiny Strait of Messina. Through this hundred-mile-wide passage streamed the tide of vessels heading for the rich trading ports of the Levant, among them neutrals with contraband, and French trying to slip past to supply their hard-pressed army in Egypt. But with a hundred-miles width of open sea, what would be their likely track?

It was important to make the right choice. How long would it be before a senior officer arrived to put a stop to his independence? He emerged restlessly on deck and caught the flash of sails as a cutter rounded the point into the inlet.

'She's our'n!' Work on deck ceased as every man gazed out at the new arrival come prettily to her mooring.

'Mr Purchet, get th' men back to work this instant!' Kydd snapped. A few minutes later an officer got into a boat, which stroked across to Teazer.

The visitor was of a certain age, with shrewd eyes and a strong manner. Removing his hat he said, 'L'tenant Fernly, in command Mayfly cutter.' It was naval courtesy for an arriving junior to call upon the ranking officer and this was due Kydd as a full commander.

'Shall we step below, L'tenant?' Kydd said. In his great cabin glasses were brought and respects exchanged.Mayfly was with Army dispatches and material from Gibraltar for General Pigot, with a side voyage to Alexandria in prospect later.

'An' you, sir?' Fernly asked politely.

'I shall be puttin' t' sea shortly on a cruise, but not before I have time to beg y' will take dinner with me,' Kydd said.

'That's right kind in you, sir,' Fernly answered, easing into a smile. 'I don't often find m'self able t' sit at table with a new face, as you'd understand, sir.'

*  *  *

Kydd certainly did understand. He warmed to the prospect of a convivial evening and, with a light heart, he set Tysoe to his preparations. The gunroom decided to hold an evening of their own, and as the sun dipped in the west the first seamen from Mayfly arrived to claim their age-old right to ship-visiting while in port.

'You're right welcome,' Kydd said warmly, holding out his hand as Fernly came aboard again. Forward, lanthorns were being triced up in the fore shrouds and groups of men below were gathering in noisy groups until the first hornpipes began. Later it would be sentimental songs at the foremast and well-tried yarns to capture and enthrall.

It was a good sign, and with the length of the ship separating them it would not be a trial for them in the great cabin. The table was laid; Tysoe had contrived another easy chair to complement Kydd's own and the two naval officers sat at the stern windows, taking their fill of the fine evening view of Malta.

The candles cast a mellow gold about the cabin and set Kydd's new pieces of silver a-glitter. The local Maltese wine, chirghentina, was cool and delicious, and Kydd felt a spreading benevolence to the world take hold. 'Ye would oblige me extremely, sir, if we might talk free, as it were,' he said, hoping the officer's courtesy would give way to the forthright character he suspected lay beneath.

'By all means,' Fernly replied, perhaps picking up on Kydd's mood. 'It's a damnably lonely profession, in all.' He set down his empty glass, which Tysoe noiselessly refilled. 'May I ask ye a question?'

Kydd looked up, surprised.

'Forgive me if I'm adrift in m' reckoning, but y' have the look o' the fo'c'sle about ye.'

'Aye, this is true,' Kydd admitted. He saw no reason to hide it.

'Then c'n we raise a glass together—we're both come aft th'

hard way.' There was brittle defiance in his tone.

Cautiously, Kydd raised his glass in agreement. 'T' us.' It was rare for a King's officer to have crossed the great divide from the fo'c'sle to the quarterdeck and Kydd had come across few of the breed. 'Do ye not find it an advantage in command?' To Kydd, it was of considerable benefit to be able to know the mind of the seamen in his charge, to understand the motivations and simple but direct elements of respect that so often differed from those of the quarterdeck.

'Of course. I flatter m'self that I'm at least two steps ahead of the lazy buggers. Let 'em dare t' try any o' their slivey tricks in my watch, is what I say.' Fernly grinned mirthlessly and pushed out his glass to Tysoe.

Kydd did not reply. He knew of hard-horse tarpaulin captains who used their familiarity with the seamen to make life difficult for them. He was also aware that there was an ocean of difference for the foremast hand between obedience and respect, which the older man seemed to have forgotten.