The Admiral's Daughter

'And why you have seen fit to throw over without thought a gentlewoman of such incomparable quality as Miss Lockwood, with all it means for your hopes of entry into society, I simply cannot conceive.'

Kydd glared at Renzi. 'Have y' finished?'

'That is all I wish to say.'

'Then hear me now, f'r Tll say this only th' once.' He tossed back his brandy in one. 'I don't expect ye to reckon on it, but when I came up wi' Rosalynd, all m' world has gone like—like a dream, a wonderful dream.' He saw Renzi wince at the return of his old ways of speech but didn't care.

'I—I love th' girl.' He gulped, 'I didn't know love would be like this'n. It's wonderful—an' so terrible!' He grabbed the bottle and splashed more into his glass. 'An' this I'll tell ye today, it's Rosalynd an' no other, so help me!'

Renzi spoke in an icily neutral tone: 'Then there seems no point in continuing this conversation. You are besotted of the moment and will take no advice from anyone. We are of different minds on the issue and I, for my part, can see no reason to change my view of your unfortunate situation.'

He took a long breath. 'Therefore I offer the termination of my services aboard Teazer. If you so desire, I shall shift my berth out of this vessel tonight.'

Kydd felt stifled by the ship. He knew the signs, the sly looks, seamen listless in their duties, the lack of respect in their eyes—his men had taken against him.

It could be anything: there would be lofty criticising on the mess-deck, arguments. But counting heavily against him from the point of view of the seamen before the mast was Teazer's conspicuous lack of victories in battle. Was he unlucky? A Jonah?

But the real reason, he knew, was deeper. He had had the chance of marrying into the world of the aristocracy, with all the prestige it would have given the ship, and had somehow botched it, settling for a simple country lass. It brought into question his judgement as a man—and, by implication, as their commander.

Two more had gone over the side as they were getting in the masts, knowing that no one could be spared to chase after them. Teazer would be putting to sea in the next few days and she was falling apart. Standish was cool and aloof, and the master had retreated into monosyllables. Even Tysoe was reproachful and distant, clearly put out because his hopes of a prestigious situation in the future had been dashed.

It had cost Kydd dignity and patience to beg Renzi to remain, and there was no guarantee that it would last. But with Renzi set against him he had now not a single friend or confidant to whom he could turn.

He burnt with the injustice of it all, but he was helpless. Forbidden to sleep ashore, there was, however, nothing to stop him setting foot on land for a little while so he ordered his boat.

At the hard he saw two lieutenants in conversation. On seeing Kydd they stopped, then deliberately turned their backs to continue their exchange. It would demean him to take them to task, and he passed them, wounded. Were the officers of the fleet now taking sides?

A casual naval acquaintance, in plain clothes, stopped and looked at him with frank curiosity, and a pair of ladies in Durnford Street passed him primly enough but then broke into excited chatter.

Number eighteen was no longer a snug haven. His estrangement from Renzi cast a pall over their lodging, and when Mrs Bargus came in to find whether to set the fire it was with a disapproving air.

But there was one who would understand, Kydd hoped. His spirits returned as he summoned the housekeeper. 'Here, Mrs Bargus, find a boy an' tell him t' deliver a note this hour.' A reply came back by return:

Dear brother,

I have to get this off, so please do forgive if I'm short. I'm so truly sorry to hear of your trouble, but right at this time I don't think I can be seen with you, Mrs Mullins taking on so. You will understand, won't you? And I don't think I want to go on board your ship and see Mr Renzi there until things are settled. Do keep well, and next time I see you I hope it will be with Rosalynd.

Kydd felt the world closing in on him. The only thing now in his universe that had any meaning was Rosalynd. Her softness, the clear sweetness of her voice—only she mattered. He sat back and let warm thoughts of her take him away.

It was getting towards dusk, and as he readied himself to return to the ship there was a hesitant tap at the door below and voices as Mrs Bargus answered.

'I, um, was passing.'

'Bazely! S' kind in ye! Please draw up a chair—brandy?'

'Not now, thank 'ee,' he said, without his usual breeziness. 'I can't stop for long. Fenella puts out on the morning tide. To the east'd,' he added.

'Well, now . . .' Kydd tried to think of talk, but Bazely cut him short. 'I came, er, to see if there's anything I can do for ye,' he said uncomfortably.

'Do for me?'

'Now you've come up against things, an' all. You'll know what I mean.'

Kydd was touched beyond measure. Bazely had risked the admiral's displeasure and his career by visiting him. 'That's so good of ye, Bazely. It seems there's not s' many wish t' stand as my friend. I'm sorry we didn't find time ever f'r a ran-tan ashore.'

'One of us has to keep the seas while the other sports it in harbour, m' old cock. It's the way of it. I recall y' took a hammering off Whitsand while we was snug at two anchors in Tor Bay.'

'Aye. Well, it's right good of ye t' call. I might yet have a need.' A soft look spread on Kydd's face as he added, 'An' I'll have ye know, wherever Rosalynd and I fetch up, you'll be first across th' threshold, m' friend.'

HMS Teazer's orders were waiting for her captain when he returned aboard. A single page, delivered by a lieutenant under signature. It was far from elaborate; the 'special service' was nothing more than the instruction to resume smuggler-hunting, to remain on station without leaving, at his peril.

It was a cynical move: by one easy stroke, and appearing to be in earnest about a serious problem, Lockwood had ensured that Kydd would find neither glory nor notice; it was a sentence of sea toil and drudgery, flogging up