Tenacious

Renzi bit his lip. 'Then how will you set up for signals without you provide a mast and halliards?'

'I'll find a way. Pass the lashing, if y' please.'

Renzi tried another tack. 'If you are taken, you can expect no mercy. There are tales told of the Spanish treatment of prisoners that make ugly—'

'Enough! I have t' be ready by six bells. If you can't help, be s' kind as to stand clear.' Kydd tested the lashing round a small seaman's chest. Inside was a full set of naval signal flags and tack lines that would allow the sending of any message in the book. And all the while Tenacious cruised ever closer to Minorca's east coast for a secret night rendezvous with the revolutionary group.

'What is your plan, brother?'

'Not so rarefied, m' friend. After we get ashore it's just four an' a bit miles to Monte Toro through scrub 'n' a few farms. We've got good charts o' the island from when we were here in 'eighty-two. I've copied a track from them. There's a path up to th' top where the ladies used to go for the view an' up there is just a nunnery. I'll not disturb 'em if I set up on their roof, I believe.'

'And you can see the Spanish from there?'

'A prime position! Fornells t' the north, five miles, turn about to the nor'east to Addaya, four miles. An' with a height of eye up there close t' a thousand feet there's nothing that moves I can't see.'

Renzi murmured words of general unease as he helped bring the chest on deck.

'Sir, ready in all respects,' Kydd said to Faulkner.

'Very well. You have no qualms at this stage, Mr Kydd? It is not too late ...'

'Ready, sir,' Kydd said stoutly.

'Then we will proceed. Lookouts to your stations! Mr Pearce?'

'Aye aye, sir,' said the boatswain, and the darkness was suddenly split by the ghostly blue of the light of a flare reflected on sails. It sputtered and fizzed, sending dark shadows dancing about the deck, illuminating the faces of the men. In a few minutes the flare died to red sparks and blackness clamped in once more.

'Absolute silence!' Long minutes passed. Nothing could be heard but the easy creak of the ship in the placid seas and the distant cry of a seabird. Kydd clutched a rope tightly. Tenacious was his true home, where he had been formed as a king's officer, faced death and destruction, crossed whole oceans: now he was leaving her warm security for the unknown perils that lay out in the darkness.

A faint cry came out of the night and was immediately followed by a hail from the foretop. 'Deck hooooo, an' it's three points t' larb'd.'

'Mr Pearce!'

'Sir.' He took his speaking trumpet and roared into the night, 'God save King George!'

An answering cry came and minutes later a small fishing-boat appeared. The boatswain gave a signal for it to come alongside and Kydd prepared to board. Bowden was standing close. 'Bear a hand with m' chest, Mr Bowden,' he asked, trying to keep the tension from his voice.

Upturned faces in the boat watched as Bowden passed a hitch round it and went down the side to the boat to receive it from the seamen lowering away.

Kydd turned for a farewell sight of his ship and a handshake from the captain. Renzi waited until last—his grip was tight. No words were spoken.

'Good luck t' ye, sir,' came a low cry from the anonymous darkness forward, and a lump formed in Kydd's throat. He lifted an arm in response and went into the boat.

A jabber of nervous Spanish greeted him and a woman's voice cautioned, 'Pons he say as 'ow we must not waste th' time.'

Taken aback, Kydd muttered something and took the chest from Bowden. 'Away y' go, m'lad,' he said, 'an' thank ye.'

'Can't do that, sir,' Bowden said quietly. 'I'd be disobeying captain's orders!'

'Wha—'

'He asked me to accompany you, sir.' Kydd realised that this was probably not the way it had happened, but already the anonymous figure in the bows had poled off and the comforting bulk of Tenacious was receding into the blackness.

'Y'r a rascal, Bowden, but I thank ye all the same.'

'Pons ask you, do not spik—he listen for danger!' In the sternsheets the woman was close enough for him to be aware of her female scent.

A darker mass loomed and the boat stopped in the water. The fitful half-moon laid a fragile luminosity over the water, revealing a third figure, whom Kydd presumed to be Pons. He was listening with rigid concentration. At length he signalled to the rower, who skimmed the boat about and glided in to the shore.

There was just enough light to make out a rickety landingstage. The boat bumped against it and the rower went forward to secure the painter. Pons stood and made his way clumsily up behind him while Kydd prepared to land on enemy soil.

There was a flurry of movement in the dimness forward—and in a sudden chill of horror Kydd saw the flash of moonlight on an arc of bright steel and heard a gurgling cry, then a dull splash echoing in the tiny bay.

'Wh-why did—'

'Is th' only safe way,' the girl said flatly. 'Even if he want, he can tell no tale now.'