Invasion

the small of his back, which he released. Hoarsely, he panted, 'They hauls 'em out b' this rope. Cribben's in a rare takin'—but them others'll be good 'uns.'

The light line was handed rapidly along as an endless loop until a heavier line arrived and, with a piece of timber for flotation, the rescue was rapidly made complete.

'S' then, Mr. Hoveller, where's our Luke Calloway?' Kydd demanded. Cribben was at the head of the beach with his arms folded, watching Daisy May hauled out of the surf and up the shingle in the fading light.

'Where's m' seven guineas?' snapped the man, keeping his eyes on the straining capstan crew.

'You'll get 'em by sunset t'morrow,' Kydd replied tightly.

Then Cribben turned to him with a smile. 'I don't rightly know who you is, Mr. Tom, but youse a right taut man o' th' sea as ever I seen, an' I honour ye for it. Follow me.'

'I'll go, Toby—no need f'r you,' Kydd said.

Cribben stamped up the shingle and into the maze of alleyways. He stopped at the gaunt old edifice of a deserted maltster's and gestured contemptuously. 'I know they's got their heads down in that there loft. Take him an' be damned to the shab.'

Kydd eased open the ancient double doors and entered into the smelly darkness, the wind covering the noise of his entrance. As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom he saw dust-covered mash-tubs, long planked floors and, to the side, a flight of rickety steps leading up to the blackness at the top of the building.

Kydd tiptoed to the stairs ears a-prick for any sound.

Halfway up he heard muffled giggling. He completed the climb, arriving at what appeared to be an overseer's office. Within it, he heard furtive movement and beneath the door saw dim light.

He crashed it open. 'Mr. Midshipman Calloway! Y'r duty t' your ship, sir!'

With a horrified shriek, a naked girl snatched for covering. Calloway sat up groggily, and glared resentfully at him.

'T' break ship is a crime and an insult t' your shipmates, Luke. Why . . . ?'

'Er, me 'n' Sally, um, we're—'

'Y'r country lies under such a peril as never was. Are ye going t' tell me you're comfortable t' leave the fighting to others while ye cunny burrow with y' trug?'

Calloway reddened and reached for his clothes. 'I'm done with roaming,' he said stubbornly. 'I want t' cast anchor next to m' woman, an' she won't be found in a poxy man-o'-war.'

'Leave my Luke be!' screeched the girl. 'Him 'n' me's gettin' spliced, ain't we, darlin'?'

Kydd ignored her. 'Your duty calls ye, Luke,' he said remorselessly.

'I—I'm not . . .'

'I c'n have you taken in irons and haled aboard as a deserter.'

The lad stiffened.

'But I won't. I'm leaving—now. And if y' follows me, it's back aboard, no questions asked, all a-taunto. And if y' don't, then you'll have t' live with y'r decision for the rest o' your life . . .'

CHAPTER 6

RENZI CONTEMPLATED THE WIND-TORN SEAS of the Downs through Teazer's salt-encrusted stern windows. Years in Neptune's realm had inured him to the motion and he knew he would miss the honest liveliness and daily challenges of the elements if ever he was obliged to go ashore for good.

For now, though, that was not in question and he blessed his luck in securing a situation that ensured food, board and the company of his friend while he pursued his scholarly quest. It was proceeding well: he had settled back into his studies after the catastrophe of the failed plot against Napoleon and, just recently, had reached a delightful impasse in his careful building of the edifice of support of his central hypotheses: the Nomological Determinist position was threatening the entire substructure of his 'Economic Man,' but once again the sturdy pragmatism of Hobbes, two centuries earlier, was coming to the rescue. In fact, conflated with the naturalistic philosophies of Hume, the so-called 'Compatibilists' had—

The distant wail of the boatswain's call sounded. Kydd was being piped aboard after his enforced delay ashore. Voices echoed in the tiny companionway to the great cabin, then Kydd poked his head in, shaking water everywhere.

'I'll be with you in a brace o' shakes, old chap,' he said, and disappeared to change, then returned quickly to down a restorative brandy. 'A tolerably divertin' time of it yesterday,' he said expansively, 'and one young fussock back aboard as is considering his position.' He wedged himself in his chair against Teazer's jerking at her moorings, which was her way of indicating her impatience for the freedom of the open sea. Eyeing the canvas dispatch bag, he added, 'I see the boats are running again—is that the mail?'

Guiltily, Renzi emptied the contents on to the table. Only one item seemed at all official; any concerning officers would be conveyed personally by a midshipman or lieutenant, so this was probably in regard to a member of the crew or yet another routine fleet order that Teazer, still awaiting repairs, would be unable to comply with. He passed it to Kydd.

'Why, I do believe you're found out, Renzi. Listen to this: 'The ship's clerk, HMS Teazer, to attend at the flag-officer's . . . forthwith'' Kydd laughed, 'Don't worry. I'll send along a hand to bear a fist with all your workings.'

The trip out to Monarch was uncomfortable, wet and not a little irksome. The order had not specified which papers were due for a surprise vetting so Renzi had been obliged to take along as many as he could manage, carefully protected in two layers of oilskin.

His irritation increased when no one seemed to know why he had been sent for. Finally, the first lieutenant appeared and regarded him curiously. 'Ah, yes. It is Renzi, is it not?'

'Sir.'

'Then my instructions are to convey you to Walmer Castle with all dispatch. They're expecting you, I believe.