with a jarring smash, numbing his arm. But he was not intimidated: such a heavy weapon was unwieldy and slow— the fight would be over soon.
However, it had been a blind—Bloody Jacques held a smaller blade in his other hand, which swept round in a savage thrust to Kydd's groin. He parried awkwardly, the action bringing them close, and caught the other man's rank stench. He became aware that the fighting round him had become general. Clashes of weapons, cries of pain. But he dared not lose concentration. He tried to turn his parry to a tierce, but it was savagely deflected.
More sounds of fighting, blade on blade, pistol shots. Kydd felt his opponent's desperation but what if the lugger crew reached them before . . . ? However, Calloway had kept a cool head, and when Bloody Jacques had been flushed out he had done his duty. With a sudden hiss and whoosh, Kydd heard their signal rocket soar skyward.
There was a groan of pain, more shrieks. From his men? It was only the fine balance and superbly tempered steel of his weapon that enabled him to withstand the savage battering that followed, the demented onslaught with which Bloody Jacques was trying to overwhelm him.
But suddenly the tide seemed to have turned: cheers and jeering broke out, strengthening as the sounds of battle diminished. Clearly the privateersmen had realised the significance of the rocket—that a King's ship was in the vicinity. They were throwing down their weapons, which, no doubt, were swiftly snatched up by Kydd's men.
'If ye'd stand clear, sir.' Kydd could not afford to take his eye from his opponent but he knew what Stirk intended to do. However, a musket ball to the throat was too easy an end for this man.
'Belay that,' he called breathlessly, between blows. 'He's t' pay . . . at th'end . . . of a rope!'
That goaded Bloody Jacques into a furious, reckless assault that sent Kydd stumbling, then falling full-length backwards. In an instant the man threw himself forward, but Kydd had sensed this coming and thrust out with his foot. Bloody Jacques fell— squarely on to Kydd's waiting blade. It was all over in seconds. Kydd drew himself to his feet and looked around breathlessly. In the melee the men of
'Well, Mr Job, and as you've been of such rousin' assistance to us, I'm sure that—'
'Ah, Mr Kydd. I've been meaning to talk with you about this. You see—and please forgive if I'm brief in the article of explanations—there may be reasons why it should be more expedient for you to set me at liberty, as it were.'
Kydd slumped back, amazed at the man's effrontery. 'Pray why should I do that?' he said.
'I'm sure this will go no further, Mr Kydd? Then I should inform you that my business interests are near—and far.'
'If you're thinkin' t' offer me—'
'Sir, I shall speak more clearly. In my trading ventures—'
'Smugglin'!'
Job allowed a pained expression to appear. '—in which it is plain I have made my mark and thereby gained the respect and trust of many disparate parties, which necessarily includes the French authorities, it would appear that His Majesty's government has found me of some utility in actions of a clandestine nature. These might include the passing of agents and others into and out of France in the character of smuggling crew—do not, I beg, press me for details.'
'Go on.'
'I cannot go further, apart from suggesting that your admiral in the strictest confidence consults a Mr Congalton at the Foreign Office as to whether, in fact, it is a good idea that I be taken up as a common smuggler. If I am unsupported, I may of course be instantly taken and cast into prison.'
His confident smile implied there was little danger of that.
'And, dare I mention it, sir, your reputation with your admiral afterwards will be as high as if this were public knowledge.'
To put before Lockwood that not only had he laid hold of the smuggler-in-chief but that he was privy to secrets at the highest level would be sweet indeed. 'I'll need y' word on it.'
'You have it, Commander.'
'Then I'll take ye back to Polperro while we check th' details.'
Kydd chuckled drily. 'I may be wrong in th' particulars, but I have th' feeling that this day I may have destroyed Bloody Jacques, but I've also got rid of a business competitor for ye.'
Renzi sat in the boat next to Kydd. On the other side Job was serene and confident. Renzi had agreed to come to Polperro only because Kydd was in such fine spirits and had begged that he pay his respects to Rosalynd. He did not dislike the girl, it was not her fault that Kydd had been so hopelessly lovestruck: it was simply such a waste and one that, so obviously, Kydd would come later to regret.
They reached the fish quay. Renzi stood back while Kydd helped Job up and sent him on his way.
'Lay off an' wait,' Kydd ordered the boat's crew and, with a broad smile, added, 'We won't stay, Nicholas, don't y' worry.'
They stepped off briskly for the Landaviddy path. Instinctively Renzi felt uneasy: it was peculiar that so few people were about. They walked on and even the few seemed to be scurrying off. Did they think Kydd was looking for someone else?
A fisherwoman stopped, a set expression on her lined face.
Then she turned and hurried away. It was deeply unsettling. In a low voice Renzi said, 'There's—something afoot. I don't know . . .'
Kydd looked about with a frown. 'Where's th' people?'
They were both unarmed: should they return immediately to the boat? Had there been a French landing? It could be anything.
