Command

It was a commonplace sight, yet this plain-looking craft was shortly to leave the colony for regions of the south that had been unknown to man just six months previously, and on a mission contending for dominance with a foreign power.

Kydd's written orders had just arrived, with what could be gleaned from the maps and observations of explorers down the years: from the Cook of thirty years ago through to the recent discoveries of Flinders. And it would be Thomas Kydd, former wigmaker of Guildford, who would navigate in those same nameless waters.

Lost in reverie he did not notice at first the familiar figure on the jetty. 'Nicholas! Ahoy there—step aboard. Ye're very welcome!' Remembering his friend's vow of separation Kydd wondered what Renzi was doing there, then noticed, with concern, the sun-darkened complexion, the worn clothing, the deep lines in his face.

Renzi made his way up the gangplank. 'Mr Kydd—Thomas,' he said, but did not offer to shake hands. Kydd's heart tightened. Something was wrong. He remembered the doctor's words in Guildford about a tendency to depression after the fever, leading some to suicide.

'Why, Mr Renzi—Nicholas. Is there aught I c'n do for ye?' He kept his tone as neutral as he could.

'There is, sir. I have a request of you,' Renzi said awkwardly.

'Name it!'

Renzi looked away quickly, and when he turned back, his face was unnaturally set. He fumbled for words. 'Er, you will know that the colonial government sets great store by the securing of a staple, a sure source of income for the colony as would allow it to stand alone.'

'Aye, but you would know more o' this, Nicholas,' Kydd said warmly, trying to encourage his friend to relax a little.

As if following a set speech Renzi continued, in the same tone, 'And being consonant with my diversifying of agrarian interests it occurred to me that an opportunity exists to combine the two with advantage. In fine, it would oblige me exceedingly should I be able to investigate the seal fisheries of Bass Strait at the first hand with a view to an investment.'

Kydd was taken by surprise. 'Er, is it—' 'I will be plain. Do you see your way clear to providing me passage south to learn of the fisheries? You may be assured of any payments involved,' he added, with a trace of pathetic defiance.

There was no room in Suffolk for any passenger—and in any case, as far as Kydd knew, he would not be touching at any lawless seal-catching islands. 'Dear friend, d' ye understand that there's nothing I'd like more, but m' hands are tied. This is t' be a government voyage o' grave importance an' these concerns must come first.'

'I—have heard. All New South Wales knows of what is being planned. It so happens that yours is the only vessel this six weeks that is venturing south,' Renzie said coldly, then added, 'It might be said, however, that my mission falls not far short of it in importance for the longer term of this colony.'

'Nicholas. If it's known as I've taken advantage o' my position as master to offer passage to a friend . . .' He stopped. For some reason of his own Renzi needed desperately to reach the sealers; he had to help and he racked his brain for a solution. 'Mr Renzi, it gives me th' greatest pleasure t' offer ye th' post of official interpreter to the Suffolk mission. The wages are, er, a penny a day an' all found.' Faultless French would be indispensable when it came to the delicacies of a confrontation—and, damn it, they had to water the vessel, why not at a sealers' island?

'That will not be necessary,' Renzi said stiffly. 'You may rely upon my duty, should it come to a meeting with the French.'

'Ye shall berth in my cabin,' Kydd said. It was all of eight feet long and five broad but they could take turns in dossing down. 'Shall we have y' baggage?'

Suffolk left Sydney Cove in a fine north-westerly, the schooner leaning to the wind before rounding Pinchgut Island for the run down to the harbour entrance, careful to leave the ugly boiling of white water that was the Sow and Pigs reef well to starboard.

The first deep-sea swell lifted their deck as they shaped course to pass between the Heads, the open ocean spreading in a vast expanse ahead, the vivid blue of the sea and the vaulting white of the cheerful clouds washing away the memory of the dross and dirt of the land.

Safely out to sea the tiller went down and Suffolk headed southward. She was plain but sturdily crafted, and took the seas on her bow with a willingness that resulted in a lively pitch and roll. Kydd let Boyd conn the vessel; he guessed that the other man was the usual master of Suffolk.

He had last crossed these seas in Totnes Castle but shortly they would reach Bass Strait. Its very existence had been unknown to him then: he had brought his ship south about Van Diemen's Land, through the high seas and gales of the Southern Ocean. Now he was to enter largely uncharted waters; if they were shipwrecked they might lie undiscovered for years—it would be prudent to consult again the notes and charts he had brought.

The tiny cabin was not occupied: Renzi was standing by the foremast looking shoreward. On impulse Kydd came up to him but his light words died before they were spoken: Renzi had shown no sign that he was recognised. Kydd left quietly.

They reached thirty-nine degrees south in a streaming northeasterly and it was time: instead of continuing south past the mass of Van Diemen's Land Suffolk angled south-westerly directly into the strait, heading as fast as she could for a point just half-way along the remote north coast, Port Dalrymple, so recently surveyed by Flinders.

If the French were to be anywhere this was the most likely place. Reputed to be the finest sea sanctuary for five hundred miles, with a capacious river longer and wider by far than the Thames at London, it would make an excellent place for a settlement.

However, a hundred and fifty miles of rock-and-island-strewn sea lay ahead and all that Kydd had was a chart of generalities compounded from those who had hazarded their ships there, and the tracks of the few explorers who had been this way. Anything out of sight of their line of advance would not appear on a chart. Only the most strict vigilance of the lookouts would preserve Suffolk.

The north-easterly, however, veered into the east and freshened; the schooner plunged and bucketed in seas that had turned gun-metal grey and Kydd's anxieties increased. If the winds veered much further towards the south they would be headed, and he had no wish to be tacking about in the darkness of these waters.