Tenacious

'L'tenant Kydd, HMS Tenacious, an' I have yet t' make His Excellency's acquaintance,' Kydd replied, remembering what he had been told: Acton was the English-born prime minister of Naples, known afar as a master diplomatist.

The room filled with more blue and gold, the champagne came round again, and Kydd found himself being politely addressed by the general, who was arrayed in a handsome embroidered uniform, complete with a sash at the waist. Kydd had taken the precaution of having Renzi move through the line before him, so his civil inclination of the head and his polite notice of the austere woman at the general's side was a model of urbanity.

Others arrived: one Italianate officer, improbably in black leather buskins, had a large scimitar hanging from a broad belt, his moustache working with the effort of conveying his emotions at the magnificent victory.

A short peal of trumpets in the next room summoned all to dinner. Kydd knew his duty, and as a junior officer obediently entered the banquet hall among the first, and was ushered to a table far from the place of honour awaiting its hero. A small ensemble in sordina delicately picked its way through 'Rule Britannia' while the purple and gold banquet hall filled with sea officers trying hard to appear unaffected by the magnificence.

'Boyd, third o' the Alexander.' The cherubic officer on Kydd's right introduced himself.

'Kydd, fifth o' Tenacious. An' proud t' take the hand of any out o' the ship I saw so handsomely take th' admiral under tow in that blow off Corsica.'

Boyd broke into a grin, which widened when the officer opposite Kydd leaned over to offer his hand as well. 'Aye, that was clean done indeed,' he rumbled, his older face creased with memory. 'You should really have been there to see Our Nel in a passion, shaking his fist at Alexander for disobedience in not casting off the tow. Oh—Hayward of Vanguard,' he added.

A lieutenant from the flagship attracted interest immediately, but Hayward deflected it by addressing Kydd. 'Tenacious—was it not an impudence for a sixty-four to lay herself alongside an eighty and have at her?'

Kydd chuckled. 'We saw our chance when one o' the French fell out o' the line. It gave us a berth off the stern o' Franklin an' we didn't waste our powder.'

The conversations died as the orchestra trailed off into silence and all eyes turned to the doorway. Then it burst into a rapturous 'See The Conquering Hero Comes!' as General Acton appeared with Nelson, who looked frail and tired but was clearly enjoying the occasion.

They processed up the room together, each table rising to clap and huzzah the commander as he passed. At the high table Nelson stood in his place for a moment, looking out over his officers, who had achieved so much in his name, then bowed low to left and right. A storm of cheering erupted that continued long after he had taken his seat.

Excited conversation resumed while soup appeared in gold-rimmed bowls; Kydd was now experienced enough at formal dinners not to expect it to be hot.

'Damme, but this is a night to remember,' said Boyd, dipping his spoon with gusto. 'Can't say, however, as I'd know any of 'em up there with His Nibs,' he added, nodding at the high table, which seemed to be populated mainly with Mediterranean-looking notables.

'It's a puzzler t' me,' Kydd said, 'why the King's not here as well t' welcome the admiral.'

'Why, it's not such a mystery,' Renzi said calmly, helping himself to a sweetbread sautie.

The others, not knowing Renzi, raised their eyebrows.

'Our noble host is the prime minister, no less, of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, a certain John Acton—who also happens to be an Englishman employed in that post. The King dare not show his approbation of our late action in too formal a manner with the French at his borders and a treaty in place—but he cannot, of course, prevent a display of natural feelings at such a victory from an English national ...'

'Do ye think we'll meet the King, Nicholas?' Kydd asked.

'I do—but in another place, I believe.'

'And the ambassador, you would say he is diplomatically absent from a private party, will you not?' Hayward said half defensively.

'Indeed. That would serve to avoid adding moment to the occasion.'

Hayward leaned back. 'You seem unusually well informed for a sea officer, Renzi.'

'I was at Naples on—on another occasion, sir. I had reason then to be grateful to the ambassador for his politeness in the matter of accommodation. A charming host of another age: a learned gentleman whose shining qualities and lucid brain mark him out far above the common run.'

He had the table's attention so continued, 'He has served in post since 'sixty-four, and there is not overmuch he does not know about the character of your Neapolitan. A sprightly man, if I might remark it, he is accounted the best dancer in the palace and is greatly esteemed by the Royal Family, thereby being of inestimable value to the cause of Great Britain.'

'But he's of an age, I gather,' Boyd mumbled, through his haunch of lamb.

'Perhaps, but he has married a young wife who keeps him in spirits. Her entertainments are legendary, you may believe. Thirty-five years his younger, but they are devoted.'

'What's his name?' demanded Kydd.

'His name? Sir William Hamilton—his wife, Emma.'

The attention of the officers returned to the food. 'Be sure to accord that dish the homage it deserves,' said Renzi to Boyd, who had begun to address a creamy rice platter with tiny white shavings arranged neatly on top. 'Those are the immortal white truffles of Alba, and will amply reward your delicacy in the tasting.'

The courses came and went; the din of conversation increased with the flow of wine and the need to try to put aside the stark imagery of recent times.