Tenacious

Kydd lifted his glass with a civil inclination of the head. 'Votter santay,' he responded gravely.

Houghton had risen above his objections to his fifth lieutenant's humble origins after a social coup had established Kydd's connections with the highest in the land. Unaware of her identity, Kydd had invited Prince Edward's mistress to an official banquet—to the great pleasure of the prince.

'I c'n well recommend th' ruffed grouse, sir,' Kydd said. A seaman picked up the dish and carried it to the captain, who acknowledged it graciously.

Tall glasses appeared before each officer, filled with what appeared to be a fine amber fluid. The captain was the first to try.

'By George, it's calf's foot jelly!' he said. 'Lemon—who's responsible for this perfection?' he demanded of his steward.

'Lady Wentworth's own recipe, sir. She desires to indicate in some measure to His Majesty's Ship Tenacious her sensibility of the honour Lieutenant Kydd bestowed on her by accepting her invitation to the levee.'

'I see,' said the captain, and flashed a glance at Kydd.

The third lieutenant, Gervase Adams, shifted in his chair. 'No disrespect intended, sir, but it gripes me that we wax fat and indolent while our country lies under such grave peril.'

Houghton frowned. 'Any officer of honour would feel so, Mr Adams, but the safeguarding of trade and securing of naval supplies is of as much consequence to your country as the winning of battles. Pray bear your lot with patience. There may yet be a testing time ahead for us all.'

Houghton motioned to his steward and the last dishes were removed, the cloth drawn. Decanters of Marsala and port were placed at the head and foot of the table and passed along, always to the left, as custom dictated. When all glasses had been filled, Houghton nodded almost imperceptibly to Bryant, first lieutenant and president of the mess, who turned to Kydd as the most junior lieutenant present. 'Mr Vice—the King.'

Kydd lifted his glass and paused for quiet. 'Gentlemen, the King.'

The words echoed strongly around the table. The simple ceremony of the loyal toast seemed to Kydd to draw together all the threads of his allegiance to king and country, and with others he followed with a sincere 'God bless him.'

The solemn courtesies complete, other toasts were made: 'Foxhunting and Old Port'; 'Our brothers at sea'; and the heartfelt 'A willing foe and sea room!' Red faces testified to the warmth and the wine, and when the brandy had circulated Houghton called, 'Captain Pringle, might we press you to honour us with your flute?'

'Should I be joined by our excellent doctor, I would be glad to, sir.'

The marine was a proficient and sensitive player, and a lively violin accompaniment from the normally acerbic Pybus set the mood of the evening. Adams was persuaded to render a creditable 'Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill' in his light tenor, and Renzi delivered a reading from his new copy of Lyrical Ballads:

It is the first mild day of March;

Each minute sweeter than before,

The red-breast sings from the tall larch

That stands beside our door.

There is a blessing in the air

Which seems a sense of joy to yield

To the bare trees, and mountains bare,

And grass in the green field ...

Houghton rose to his feet. He raised his glass and said softly, 'To

Tenacious

.'

'Tenacious,' came the reply, with more than one murmured 'Bless her!' There were no ready words to describe the affection that the old 64-gun ship-of-the-line had won in the hearts of her officers, and Kydd felt a lump in his throat. He could see the others were affected, too.

In the quiet, a sudden knock at the wardroom door sounded overly loud. With rainwater streaming from his grego, the duty master's mate awkwardly handed over an oilskin packet. 'Cap'n, sir—urgent from Flag.'

It was unusual to the point of disquiet that the admiral had seen fit to act immediately instead of waiting for the usual morning postal round, and all craned towards the head of the table.

Houghton scanned the covering letter, then looked up gravely. 'Gentlemen, you should be advised that the situation in Europe has intensified. Therefore we are to be recalled from this station to join that of Admiral the Earl St Vincent before Cadiz—we sail with the utmost dispatch.'

Taking the deck for his first sea-watch since leaving Halifax, Kydd strode to the ship's side and looked down with satisfaction at the busy wake forming and spreading in a hiss of obedience, slipping astern to join the other side in a lazy track that stretched far into the distance.

He returned to the binnacle: the ship's heading was within a whisker of east by south. His eyes rose to meet a look of reproach from the helmsman and he concealed a smile. He had no right to usurp the quartermaster's responsibility for the course and knew only too well the irritation of a meddlesome officer-of-the-watch.

But these were momentous times. Since Houghton had received his orders from the admiral, he had been unsparing in his drive to get Tenacious to sea. Whatever additional information he was privy to had lined his face and he had issued each officer-of-the-watch stern instructions to clap on every stitch—but woe betide all should it cost even a single spar.

As he paced the quarterdeck, Kydd's thoughts turned briefly to another matter: Gibraltar was less than a day's sail away from Cadiz. It would serve his purpose well if they touched on that fortress port. It would give him great satisfaction to conclude a particular task there. He had decided on it after parting with his uncle in a remote settlement in the Canadian Maritimes.

Kydd stopped to feel the ship's motion. Under all plain sail in the brisk, quartering south-westerly, Tenacious heaved and rose over the long Atlantic rollers in a strong and compelling