Command

would race across the Atlantic with mails and even chests of gold to the New World, again with rich pickings for the captains. Was it worthwhile to make the long trip to Falmouth on the off-chance that he, among so many in like circumstances, would be able to break into such a sea community and secure a command? Probably not. London was, however, the premier maritime centre of the kingdom and if he could not achieve something here, then . . . The heart of this activity was just downstream of the Tower of London, at the final resting place of the ceaseless stream of vessels from all parts of the world. The factors, agents, owners and others all had their offices nearby. He tried to remember company names, any who would favour a naval officer as captain. That was it—Burns, Throsby and Russell; they had been the prickly owners, he remembered, of the brig once chartered for a cartel voyage to the Mediterranean. He set to work to prepare an approach that would persuade them to take on a new captain.

The Burns, Throsby and Russell building was set back from the noise and stench of the Ratcliffe Highway, a haughty paean to the empire of trade. It seemed that Mr Burns was unavailable but Mr Russell would be in a position to accept Kydd's calling in half an hour.

Kydd sat in a high-backed chair and tried not to appear too obvious as he looked about the great hall. The entire floor was populated with scores of identical raised desks, each with its clerk and scratching quill. An overpowering musty odour of old paper and ink pervaded the air in much the same way as the fug of a frigate's berth deck but here there was no sound other than an echoing susurrus of half a hundred pens.

'Cap'n Kydd?' A kindly old clerk hovered in front of him. 'Mr Russell can see you now.'

Russell was old-fashioned in appearance, punctilious, his small pince-nez glittering as he peered at Kydd. 'Well, Captain, it is certainly not every day we are able to receive such a distinguished sea officer as your own good self, sir.'

'You know of my action with La Fouine?' Kydd said, in surprise.

'La Fouine? I'm not sure I follow you, sir. I was simply referring to your remarkable sagacity in devising a stratagem to preserve a convoy off Sicily from depredation. Our agent in Malta speaks highly of you, Mr Kydd.'

Kydd looked down modestly. Was he right to hope . . . ?

'And now, sir, of what service may we be to you?' Russell said mildly, taking off his spectacles to polish them.

'Mr Russell, as ye will be aware, with th' late peace, the King's service is less a place f'r an enterprising officer. As a mariner of ambition I see that th' merchant service may provide me more of a future, an' I ask if ye will consider me as suitable f'r your ocean-going trade—' he took a deep breath '—as a master.'

The polishing stopped. At first Kydd thought that Russell had not heard, but then he answered, with no change in his expression: 'You'll be sound in your nauticals, I will believe,' he said, 'Pray tell me, sir, your notion of the monetary risks the master of a merchant vessel incurs on behalf of the owner under a charter party voyage.'

Kydd shifted uncomfortably.

'Or the rule for calculating per diem demurrage should a particular freight require re- stowage by cause of the consignee? The bottomry premium if calculated on . . .'

At Kydd's embarrassed silence he stopped, then resumed gently, 'You will see, Commander, our ways are different, we have other concerns. You will understand if I say that I do wish you well for your future, but at the moment there does not appear to be a marine post now open with us that would be suitable for a gentleman of your undoubted quality.'

'I do understand,' said Kydd, meekly, 'an' I thank ye for your time, sir.'

He had come full circle: now there was nothing more. With a polite bow he turned and left, joining the streaming bustle of the street. He felt light-headed and detached; in a way he was relieved that it was all over, no more pretence, no more futile hoping.

Stepping round a pair of drunken, brawling sailors he made for the river but became aware of someone distant calling his name. He looked back and saw the old clerk hurrying after him. 'Sir, Cap'n, Mr Russell begs you will grant him a further minute of your time, should you be at liberty to do so.'

Russell sat Kydd down and did not waste time. 'Mr Kydd, my junior partner has just informed me that, indeed, we may well have a position vacant such as you describe. Due to an illness, one of our senior masters is unable to take post and we stand embarrassed in the matter of our obligations. Is it at all possible that you may consider taking the situation, bearing in mind that this will be an ocean voyage of some months and at short notice to sail?'

Kydd fought to appear calm. 'Er, could ye tell me more of th' ship, Mr Russell?'

'The Totnes Castle. A fine barque of four hundred and twenty tons, fully rigged and lying now at Deptford. I should think you will find yourself well satisfied with her.'

Trying to hide his soaring hopes, Kydd asked, 'Th' cargo? As y' know, I have no experience in cargo handling.' He was dimly aware that cargoes such as textiles and rice were stowed differently from exotics like joggaree and Prussian blue.

Russell leaned back expansively. 'She's under government contract for the far colonies, so you will have nothing to worry about there—in any case you will have the first mate, Cuzens, to assist you,' he added smoothly.

On a long voyage Kydd knew he would have plenty of time to learn the ropes before they made port to discharge. And, glory be, he would be back at sea—as the captain of a ship once again. Elation flooded him. 'I'll take her!' he blurted.

'Splendid!' Russell purred. 'Then there's just the matter of the formalities, Captain. We are a business, you know.'

Papers were sorted, presented and signed. Kydd sighed deeply. He was now master of a ship in the employ of Burns, Throsby and Russell, expected to step aboard and take command directly.

'Er, what will be m' first voyage?' he asked tentatively.

'The Totnes Castle will probably call at Tenerife before sailing south. You're familiar with the Atlantic? Then it would be usual to touch at the Cape before dropping to forty south until you feel able to bear up for New South Wales.'

'New Holland!' The other side of the earth—four, five months at sea. And then, at the end of it, what in