The Admiral's Daughter

had deliberately refrained from looking up before. 'Th' mate-o'-the-watch t' inform me how he's to teach this man his duty,' he barked.

In the respectful hush he turned and went down the fore hatchway to the berth-deck. Men were mustered below, in their respective divisions headed by their officers, and stood in patient silence. The swaying forest of sailors filled the space and Kydd picked his way through.

Knowing all attention was on him, he moved slowly, fixing his eyes to one side then the other, looking for a shifty gaze, resentment or sullen rebelliousness but saw only guarded intelligence or a glassy blank stare. He passed along and stopped. 'Why has this man no shoes?' he demanded of Prosser. The sailors went barefoot where they could at sea but mustered by divisions for captain's inspection only shoes would do.

'He doesn't have any, sir,' Prosser answered uncertainly.

'Why doesn't he have any?' Kydd responded heavily. The divisional system of the navy was a humane and effective method of attending to the men's welfare by assigning an officer responsible not only for leading his division into combat but as well concerning himself with any personal anxieties his men might have.

Prosser shifted uncomfortably.

'Tell me, why do y' have no shoes?' Kydd asked the man directly.

'I ain't got m' pay ticket,' he mumbled.

'You're fr'm, er, Foxhound,' Kydd recalled. 'Are you saying that y'r pay due entitlement has still not come t' Teazer?'

'Sir.'

Kydd rounded on Prosser. 'Inform th' captain's clerk that this matter's to be brought t' the attention of Foxhound an' report to me the instant this man's account is squared.'

It annoyed him that Prosser, a master's mate, was holding his men at arm's length like that. Only by getting to know them and winning their confidence would he be of value to them—and, more importantly, be in a position to make good decisions when at their head in action. It was no secret that Prosser had been hoping for a bigger, more prestigious rate of ship, but if he was looking for an early recommendation from his captain then this was not the way to gain it.

Aft was where the petty officers berthed; their mess was in immaculate order, and on impulse Kydd asked that the rolled canvas that would screen them off from the rest should be unfurled. As he suspected, it was richly painted on the inside with a colourful pastiche of mermaids and mythical sea-beasts.

He lifted his eyes and saw Stirk looking at him across the deck; it had been so many years, but some of Kydd's happiest times at sea had been spent with Stirk in a mess such as this. He fought to control a grin and contented himself with a satisfied nod.

The cook's domain was spotless, the morning's salt beef standing by for the coppers. The boatswain's store was trim and well-stowed, and in the sailmaker's tiny cuddy Kydd found a miniature hammock slung snugly fore and aft and in it the lazy-eyed ship's cat, Sprits'l, looking sleek and assured.

Emerging from the cloistered depths of Teazer to the more civilised upper realms, Kydd pronounced himself satisfied. As a ship-of-war there was little to complain of and he turned to Standish. 'Rig f'r church, if y' please,' he ordered, and went to his cabin to allow the bedlam to settle that was the tolling of the ship's bell for divine service and the clatter of match-tubs and planks being brought up as pews.

'If ye'd rather . . . ?' Kydd offered to Renzi. The absence of a chaplain meant that the office would normally be carried through by the captain or other officer but Renzi's reputation for fine words would ensure him a respectful hearing.

'I think not,' answered his friend. He added warmly, 'Your good self is much the closer to a divine in this ship.'

The captain's clerk would, however, need to appear in front of the men: on report from Standish, two sailors slowly mounted the main-hatchway and appeared on deck. Every man and boy of the ship's company sat stolidly in a mass facing their captain, who stood by the helm behind an improvised lectern.

Kydd liked what he saw. These were his men, sitting patiently, those who would sail his ship and fight at his word, and on whose skills and courage the success of the commission would directly depend.

He was coming to be aware of several, in terms of their character. Some he knew well, their features strong and comforting, but others were still just faces, wary and defensive. All waited quietly for the ceremony that the Lords of the Admiralty in their wisdom had ordained should take place regularly in His Majesty's ships.

But first Kydd drew himself up and snapped, 'Articles of War!'

'Off hats!' roared Standish.

Heads were bared while the captain's clerk stepped forward and, in a rolling baritone the equal of any to be found on the Shakespearean stage, declaimed the stern phrases to the sea and sky.

''Every person in the fleet, who through cowardice, negligence or disaffection, shall forbear to pursue the chase of the enemy . . . or run away with any of His Majesty's ordnance, ammunition stores . . . either on the high seas, or in any port, creek or harbour . . . and being convicted thereof by the sentence of a court-martial, shall suffer death . . .'' Duty done, Renzi stepped back.

The two men were brought forward, on report for being slack in stays—Standish wanted the job done speedily. Kydd could only approve of his zeal and sentenced them both to fourteen days in Purchet's black book. Cares of the world dealt with, it was time to address the divine.

A respectful silence was followed by a rustle of anticipation.

Kydd knew he was on trial—some commanders would be eager to play the amateur preacher, others flippant and dismissive, but the common run of seamen were a conservative, God-fearing breed, who would be affronted at any kind of trifling with their sturdy beliefs.

'Gissing?' The carpenter's mate stood up with his violin and joined Midshipman Boyd at his German flute. When all was ready Kydd announced the hymn, 'O God, Our Help in Ages Past,' and the ship's company sang heartily together, the old words to the well-known tune sounding forth loud and strong. It was the sign of a ship's company