The Admiral's Daughter

spirited interchange between two ships-of-the-line, the leeward Frenchman nearly hidden in clouds of powder- smoke. The liveliness and colour of the sea, a deep Atlantic green, was faultless. 'The Glorious First of June, of course,' the man added smoothly, seeing Kydd's admiration.

'You were present at that, were you not, Mr Kydd?' Persephone put in, to the proprietor's evident chagrin.

But Kydd had been a shipwrecked seaman at the time, held in a hulk at Portsmouth. 'Er, not at that action,' he answered shortly.

'Neither was Papa,' she replied stoutly. 'Yet I do believe you were in another battle besides the Nile.'

'Aye—that was Camperdown,' he said.

'Do you have any oil of Camperdown?' she enquired.

Kydd felt relief: the price of the Pocock was alarming.

'A Whitcombe, perhaps?' the man offered.

Camperdown had been a defining moment for Kydd. Soon after the nightmare of the mutiny at the Nore he had found escape in the blood-lust of the battle, the hardest-fought encounter the Royal Navy had met with during the war. It was there that he had won his battlefield commission to lieutenant.

His eyes focused again; his battle quarters had been on the gun deck and the fight had been an invisible and savage chaos outside, away from his sight and knowledge. However, from what he had heard about the engagement afterwards, it was not hard to piece together the point of view of the painting.

'Yes. In the middle this is Admiral Duncan in Venerable right enough, drubbing the Dutchy de Winter in Fryhide here. Y' sees th' signal, number five? It means t' engage more closely.' It had been such a near-run battle, with men who had been in open mutiny so soon before. Raw memories were coming to life. 'There's Monarch—that's Rear Admiral Onslow who gave me m' step. His family is fr'm near Guildford . . .'

Sensing his charged mood Persephone asked softly, 'Is this sea to your satisfaction?'

'It's—it's a fine sea,' Kydd said quietly. 'Short 'n' steep, as ye'd expect in the shallow water they has off the Texel.'

'Then this will be the one. I'll take it.' The proprietor hurried off with it, leaving them alone.

Persephone turned to him with a warm smile. 'So, now I have my painting. That was kind.' She moved to a bench against the opposite wall. 'Do let's rest here for a moment,' she said, sitting down gracefully. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to join her.

'Tell me, Mr Kydd, if you'll forgive the impertinence, I cannot help but observe that you look the very figure of a mariner. Would you tell me, what was it that first called you to the sea?'

Kydd hesitated: any information she would have been able to find about his past would only have covered his service as an officer and he was free to say anything he wished. 'I was a pressed man.'

She blinked in surprise. 'Were you really?'

'Aye. It was only at Camperdown I was given th' quarterdeck.' He looked steadily at her, but saw only a dawning understanding.

'Yet you took to the sea—as though you were born to it.'

'The sea is—a different world, way of living. An'—an' it's excitin' in a way th' land can never be.'

'Exciting?'

'Th' feel of a deck under y'r feet when the bow meets th' open sea—always y'r ship curtsies to Neptune an' then she's alive an' never still. You feel, er, um . . .' he finished lamely.

'No! Do go on!'

But Kydd kept his silence: he wasn't about to make a fool of himself before a lady of her quality, and in any event she would discover the full truth of his origins sooner or later.

'Then I must take it that the sea's mystery is not for the female sex,' she said teasingly, then subsided. 'Mr Kydd, do, please, forgive my curiosity, but there are so many experiences denied to a woman and my nature is not one to bear this easily.'

She looked away for a moment, then turned to ask, in level tones, 'If you are a sailor and have a—a tendre for ships, what is your feeling when you fire off your great cannons into another, which contains sailors like you?'

Was she trying to provoke him? She must know it was his duty as a naval officer . . . Or was she trying to reach him in some way?

'Well, in course, we see this as th' foe who brings an item o' war forward as we're obliged t' remove, like a piece at chess, an' we fire at it until it is removed.'

'And when you are looking down a musket-barrel at another human being?' She regarded him gravely.

The proprietor bustled up with the parcelled work. 'I have it ready, your ladyship, if you—'

'I shall be down presently,' she said evenly.

They were left alone once more and she looked at him expectantly.

'I fire on th' uniform, not th' man,' Kydd responded.

'Your sword. You stand before a man you would pierce with it. Does it not cross your mind that—'

'I have killed a man—several. That I'm here today before ye is because I did.' What was this about?

She smiled softly. 'I was right. You are different. Is it because you won your place in the world the hard way?