The Privateer's Revenge

'Tell him to step in—lively, now.'

Renzi entered; his features were grave.

'You are ship's clerk of HMS Teazer?'

'I am, sir.'

'Have you the original orders for the voyage just concluded? Quickly, man!'

Renzi unlaced the folder and handed them across. Kydd craned to see but Saumarez snatched them and scanned them. 'What's this? I see here no reference whatsoever to any secret dalliance, Mr Kydd,' he said sarcastically. 'Pray tell by what means you are able to place such a wild construction on these perfectly straightforward instructions?'

'Sir,' Kydd gulped, 'there were sealed orders as well, an' they—' 'I have heard from my flag-lieutenant that your master's mate Prosser duly signed out on these orders. You, Renzi, were you not responsible for their registering into the ship?'

'Sir.'

'You signed them in directly from Mr Prosser, did you not?'

'I did, sir.'

'And did you see them contain any sealed orders?'

The room echoed its silence.

'Did they? Answer me, sir.'

If Renzi admitted to seeing them it would be to betray Kydd as having allowed him, a mere ship's clerk, access to the highest level of confidentiality. And if he did not, Kydd would have not a single witness to testify to their existence.

'Sir, I signed for the packet but immediately locked it into the captain's confidential stowage,' Renzi said quietly, his face pale.

'Sir—'

'Mr Kydd?'

'Sir. I find it monstrous that I'm being treated in this way. I did m' duty t' th' best o' my—'

Saumarez bowed his head and held up his hand. 'Clear the room,' he said. 'I've heard enough. You will remain, Mr Kydd.'

When they had left Saumarez looked at Kydd for a long moment before he spoke. 'You! Of all the men of promise in my command—to stoop to venal acts as shabby as any.'

Kydd tried to say something but it came out as a mumble.

'And you think to obfuscate and temporise with wild tales that do you no credit whatsoever. I have to tell you, sir, I'm both shocked and greatly saddened by what has passed.' He sighed deeply and rose slowly from his chair. 'And now I have to decide what to do with you.' He paced to the end of the room, then turned. 'In view of your recent valour and service to my squadron I will not proceed in law, Mr Kydd.'

'Th-thank you, sir.' There seemed nothing else to say.

'However, I see no other course than to relieve you of your command as of this hour, Mr Kydd. You are not to return to your ship. Your effects will be sent ashore at your convenience. I will not have you as an example to my fleet. Good day to you, sir.'

CHAPTER 8

KYDD WAS VERY QUIET, unheeding of the hubbub that eddied around the inn's taproom. The candle guttered, throwing the lines on his face into deep relief. Renzi felt uneasy. Would this sudden catapult into shame and an unknown future tip him back into unreality?

'Ye didn't have t' do it, Nicholas,' he said eventually, his beer still untouched in the pewter tankard.

'With Teazer in an uproar and all ahoo? Not as this would assist in a scholard's ruminations.'

Kydd raised his head. 'Who is . . . ?'

Renzi saw there was no point in prolonging it. 'Kit Standish is made captain and Prosser an acting lieutenant.' The light died in his friend's eyes and his head dropped. Renzi's heart was wrung with pity. That a man could suffer two such blows in succession was grievous. That neither was of Kydd's doing was so much the worse.

'Did they land y'r books in good shape?' Kydd asked unexpectedly, breaking into Renzi's thoughts. He had found an old sail-loft near the boatbuilders in Havelet Bay as a temporary store for their possessions, the familiar objects of a score of voyages on a dozen seas now hidden under drab canvas, waiting for . . . who knew what?

'They did, bless them. Stirk made the boat's crew bear them the full way, then insisted in making a seamanlike stow of them.' He hesitated, then added softly, 'And wishes I might make known to you the true feelings of the ship's company on your cruel and unjust treatment.'

Kydd gave a tired smile. 'You worry I'm ready t' slip m' cable, go astray in m' wits—I know ye too well, ol' friend.'

His head drooped once more—but then he looked up suddenly and, with an appalling crash, both of his fists smashed on to the table. He held Renzi's eyes with cold ferocity. 'If it takes th' rest o' m' life, I'm going t' get revenge o' this. I don't know what it's about, but y' have my oath—someone's t' pay for it.'

Renzi was taken aback. At first he could think of nothing to say; he had his suspicions but it was not the time to air them. He sought refuge in his glass, then said, 'Perhaps we should give thought as to our future.'

Kydd breathed deeply and forced himself into control. His knuckles were still white, and Renzi felt a fleeting pity for the perpetrator when his friend finally found him.

'Er, what do ye suggest?'