Command

'I rather think it is now a matter for the French of treating for the most honourable capitulation they can get— they cannot continue, of course.' Polite words were exchanged with the pasha, who beamed at Kydd, accepting his best bow with an airy gesture.

'It only remains to make a show of strength sufficient to allow Menou to yield honourably,' Smith continued. 'Probably the squadron forcing the harbour entrance with guns run out should suffice.' He took another puff and finished smugly, 'Then the whole of the Levant, north and south, east and west, will be ours. Makes you a mite proud at this time, don't you think?'

'Aye, sir,' Kydd said heavily. 'Should I square away Teazer for th' entering?' At least he would be one of the triumphant ships entering the ancient port.

Sir Sidney came back smoothly, 'Sadly, that will not be possible. I require that you will take my dispatches to Malta. Their secure arrival is of importance.'

Dispatches. While the last grand scenes of a great army of conquest capitulating to one of lesser number were played out, brought about by the unanswerable exercise of sea power of which HMS

Teazer was a proud representative, she would not be present.

Tysoe came in to set the table for dinner but saw Kydd staring through the stern-lights at the ship's wake stretching away on a rapidly darkening sea. He left as quietly as he had entered.

The situation was complex and not at all as Kydd had expected. With the final ejection of the French from the eastern Mediterranean it was probable that this part of the world would revert to a backwater, as far as naval occasions were concerned, but in the hours since they had left Alexandria for Malta he had made a reappraisal of his situation.

It was not Teazer 's fault. Neither was it his. It was, as Renzi would strongly concur, in the nature of her being, that as a brig-sloop she had been designed for humble roles on a larger stage. It was therefore inappropriate and foolish to dream of glory and daring while his ship was faithfully doing the job for which she had been created.

Now that the war had subsided there was never going to be a chance of real distinction. The wise course would be to take comfort and pleasure from her willing performance of these tasks and, while he could, taste to the full the sensations of command. There was only a short time left to him, perhaps a few months, before the commander-in-chief needed to satisfy a situation and he was replaced. His eyes pricked, but only for a moment: he would make the most of the days left to him before it was time to coil and belay his sea-going life.

Tysoe appeared with wine, the glass glittering in the candlelight. Kydd did not make a habit of drinking alone, fearing it might take hold in the solitude of his great cabin, but this night was different.

If it had to finish now there was much he could be proud of: there were precious few in the Navy who had made the awesome step from fo'c'sle to quarterdeck, and even fewer who had gone on to command their own ship. When he settled back in Guildford he would be a gentleman of consequence, one whom the townsfolk would point out to each other. When he settled . . .

The cabin was now as he wished it; his eyes roamed wistfully over the miniature sideboard for his silver and the polished panelling with his pictures and a small framed old sea-chart of Anson's day. He could sit six at the table at a pinch, although no occasion for such entertaining had presented itself, and he had been able to secure a neat little Argand lamp in its own gimbals for reading at night. There were other ornaments, keepsakes and a handsome mercury barometer, but without a woman's touch it retained a pleasing masculine order.

A swell lifted Teazer's bows; as prettily as a maid at a dance she acknowledged with a lissome dip and unhurried rise as it passed down her length. Kydd warmed to the grace and charm that was so natural in these, her native seas. With such a lovely ship it would be brutish not to take pleasure in her embrace.

Suddenly restless, he got to his feet, opened the door and pushed past a surprised Tysoe out on deck. The night had a velvety soft darkness that allowed the stars to blaze in unusual splendour in a celestial vastness so low it seemed possible to touch, while the light north African night breezes brought dry, pungent scents to blend with the comfortable smells of shipboard life.

He became aware that the quiet drone of voices from the dark shapes around the wheel had ceased: the captain had come out on deck.

Kydd moved across to them. 'Good evening, Mr Dacres,' he said agreeably, and sensed the other relax—the captain was not on the prowl. 'All's well?'

'Yes, sir,' Dacres answered cautiously.

As captain, Kydd could expect no light conversation in the night watches; this was one of the crosses he must bear.

Kydd turned to the midshipman. 'Tell me, Mr Attar d, where do I look t' find the Pleiades?'

The lad swivelled and pointed. 'There, sir, the head o' the bull—Taurus, I mean.'

'Just so. Not as we'd use 'em f'r our navigating. And—'

'The Arabs say El Nath, that's 'the one who butts,' sir—and it's the first of their zodiac, which they calls Al Thuraya, 'the crowd,' by which they mean a crowd of camels, and—'

'Thank 'ee, Mr Attard. Ye knows the tongue o' the Moors, then?'

'Sir. Most who are born in Malta know it.' Now abashed before his captain he retreated into silence.

Kydd looked up at the dark splash of sails against the star-field, moving gently, never still. He stood for a precious moment, then returned below.

The next day was bright and clear and Kydd had no doubt of what he wanted. 'A right good scrubbing, Mr Dacres. Brightwork a-gleam an' get some hands aft to point every fall that ends on th' quarterdeck.' He had no idea who his guests would be, but Commander Kydd would be entertaining in Teazer when they arrived in Malta.

He was insistent, nonetheless, that there would be a live firing of the carronades; a round from three guns after loading practice. It was odd not to hear the squeal of gun-carriage trucks or men straining at the training tackle to simulate recoil. The sound of their firing was different as well: deeper-throated, perhaps, even though the powder charge was less. What was most satisfying was the massive plume sent up by the twenty-four-pound ball, but the scant range was still of some concern.