The Privateer's Revenge

my name is not unknown in these islands.'

Renzi took in the fashionable adornments of the drawing room. 'Mr Vauvert, it would gratify me considerably to know how it is that a distant island, barely five miles across, can display such wealth and success, when others . . .'

'The reason is simple. We are left to our own devices, Mr Renzi. Parliament in London plays no part in our affairs and our loyalty is not to the English King but to the Duke of Normandy.'

'I'm astonished to hear it,' Renzi murmured uneasily.

'This is so,' Vauvert said firmly. 'Our islands were anciently in the fiefdom of Normandy and we see no reason to shift our allegiance to the Crown of England.'

Renzi held still. In the face of the revolutionary madness sweeping Europe, savage laws had been forced through by the prime minister William Pitt with swift and dire penalties for illegal and treasonable association. If—

'Therefore our loyal toast will always remain to the Duke of Normandy—who, since his subsequent conquest of England in 1066, now occupies the throne in the person of His Majesty King George.'

At Renzi's expression he continued smoothly, 'Which confers considerable benefits, chief of which is an independence in matters of trade and law—for instance, we are outside the remit of English Customs and Excise . . .'

'I have heard the term 'smuggling' used in that connection,' Renzi said delicately. 'Teazer's days of guarding the Cornish coast were still fresh in his memory.

'Never in these islands!' Vauvert said stoutly. 'We are the suppliers of goods only. If our clients choose to evade payment of duty on subsequent import then this cannot be our concern. It has served us well over the centuries, in truth.'

'And privateering, I've been led to believe.'

'And privateering. It must be confessed that many fine houses along Grange Road here were raised on the profits therefrom. But, pray, do not be deceived. It is our trading that has made us what we are. That and our independence. You will want to hear of our Bailiff and Constable who in this land hold powers higher than a prime minister, our jurats, States and Royal Courts—but I fear you will not wish to be delayed.'

Renzi gave a polite bow and murmured a farewell.

'It is, however, an unlettered place,' Vauvert added. 'I would very much like to hear of the progress of your studies here, Mr Renzi, perhaps at a later date . . .'

CHAPTER 3

AS RENZI ENTERED THE CAPTAIN'S CABIN, Kydd threw him a dark look. 'Th' ship in th' state y' see her, and y' step ashore on the ran-tan like some jackanapes wi' not a care in th' world? I'm surprised at ye, Nicholas!'

'It was ship's business,' Renzi replied, 'and there being no boat going inshore after dark, as you'll recall.' He had spent a cold night on the foreshore, waiting for 'Teazer's milk-boat at dawn, and did not need a lecture.

'There's some who'd say as ye're guilty of being absent fr'm place o' duty,' Kydd said hotly. 'How c'n I keep discipline if'n you're straggling ashore as it pleases ye?'

Renzi paused. 'I feel you're not yourself, my friend. Perhaps you should—'

'Don't y' understand me?' Kydd said harshly. 'You're ship's clerk an' have a duty t' the ship. Y' know, I c'n have ye in irons f'r breaking out o' the ship—desertion!'

Angry now, Renzi took a moment to control himself. 'My dear fellow, your words cannot help but strike me as somewhat intemperate, not to say provocative, and hardly justified. You've been under strain lately, I know, and —'

'Ye're not t' go ashore again without I say so.'

'As you wish,' Renzi said, 'Yet I'll have you know that I understand and have much sympathy for you in your loss . . .'

'F' give me f'r sayin' it,' Kydd said sarcastically, 'but I don't see how y' can. Until y' cares enough f'r someone, loves 'em as I do—did . . .' he said thickly. He faced away suddenly, then turned back with a wooden expression. 'But, then, it's of no account to you, o' course.'

Renzi felt his control slipping. 'Confound it, man—do you think you're the only one who's loved and lost? Death is part of life, and others find ways to deal with it.' He was breathing deeply. 'You're not the same man I knew, Tom. It's knocked you askew, touched your human judgement—where's your spirit? You've changed— and not for the better.'

Kydd did not respond and stared down at his hands. Then he said, 'You're in th' right of it. I'm changed.' With a heavy sigh he went on, 'I'm now empty—quite empty, y' see, an' there's only duty now in m' life.'

Renzi bit his lip. 'This won't do, Tom. You must come up with a round turn—see yourself, what you're becoming. Do I need to lay it out before you? Be a man, for God's sake!'

Kydd stiffened. 'An' you're th' one t' tell me? If you were a man you'd not have run off fr'm Cecilia to New South Wales.'

With a deadly ferocity, Renzi swept Kydd's papers off his desk. He leaned down, inches from his face. 'How dare you?'

Kydd did not flinch, staring back with equal intensity, and said slowly, 'Pick up th' papers—or leave my ship now!'

Renzi bit off what he was about to say and made to walk away, then turned back abruptly to face Kydd again. 'I will not leave the ship. You don't realise it but, at this moment, there is not a soul whom you may call friend. And I solemnly warn you, as surely as the sun will set this day, very soon you will most certainly need one.'

'Do try the buttered crab, Mr Kydd,' Lady Saumarez pressed, 'You really should—Guernsey is not to be outshone in the article of fruits of the sea.'