'You might remark on it that since my lands are at the moment in occupation by Bonaparte's soldiers, and as the great hall of the castle of Navarre is unavailable to me, I must rest content with Mont Orgueil. This I cannot deny, sir, and it does explain my ready sympathy with the royalist
'It—it must do, sir.'
'Then let us pass on to other matters. Such as yourself, Mr Renzi.'
'Er?' Renzi said uncertainly.
'Quite. I do now require my curiosity to be satisfied as to why such an evidently well-educated patrician comes to me in the character of the ship's clerk of a brig-sloop—if, indeed, this be so—seeking a form of employment with me. You may speak freely, sir.' He regarded Renzi dispassionately.
'And I, sir,' Renzi said, firmly now, 'am in a state of some wonder as to why you have seen fit to offer me a position without the least comprehension of my circumstances.'
D'Auvergne smiled thinly. 'I believe myself a tolerable judge of men and in your case I do not feel I am mistaken. Your story, sir, if you please.'
To Renzi's own ears it seemed so implausible. Going to sea as a foremast hand in a form of self-imposed exile as expiation for what he considered a sin committed by his family, later to find its stern realities strongly appealing after the softness of the land. Finding a friend such as Kydd and their adventuring together, which had ended with Renzi's own near-mortal fever—but then the revelation of a life's calling in the pursuit of a theory of natural philosophy that in its rooting in the real world could only be realised by taking ship for distant parts, in Kydd's command, to be his clerk as a device to be aboard. 'And unfortunately he has been, er, superseded and at the moment is without a ship,' Renzi added. There was no need to dwell on the circumstances.
D'Auvergne did not reply for a moment and Renzi began to think he was disbelieved. Then, with a warm smile, the man said, 'A remarkable history, sir. I was not wrong in my estimation—and I would like to hear more of you, sir. One evening, perhaps.'
The chophouse was busy, noisy and welcoming after Kydd's morning exertions walking the streets in search of clues regarding his situation. He drew his grego clear of the sawdust floor and eased himself into one of the communal tables, nodding to slight acquaintances. 'Bean Jar, is it, then?' a waiter asked, swiftly disposing of the remains of a meal in the empty place next to him. His customary order of the local dish of lentils and pork, along with bread and beer, would be his only hot meal of the day.
'Aye.'
'Mutton chop is prime—c'n find yer one f'r sixpence?'
'Not today, thank 'ee,' Kydd said. He had felt his dwindling stock of coins before he entered and mutton was not within reach.
He blessed the fact that, while he was known to the commanderin-chief and other potentates of Guernsey, the common people would not recognise the shabby figure keeping to himself in the street as a naval commander so he could pass about freely in the town. But he had found not the slightest lead to help in his investigations, and time had passed. He had to face it. Renzi had been right. The trail had gone cold, his chances of discovering, let alone proving, the deed now vanishingly remote. It was time to call a stop. He would give it just a few more days, to the point at which his means of sustenance came to an end. Then—then he would go home.
Having made this resolution, he felt more at ease with himself, and in a fit of bravado tipped the waiter a whole penny, then marched out into the street. The autumn sun was hard and bright, and on a whim he headed to the harbour where ships were working cargo, seamen out on the ran-tan, and the rich aroma of sea-salt and tarry ropes pervaded all.
On the broad quay he stopped to watch a handsome barque discharging wine; her yardarm and stay tackles worked in harmony to sway up the cargo from her bowels to a growing pyramid on the wharf. No Customs reckoning here: the great barrels would be rolled directly into the mouths of the warehouses, probably for trans- shipping later by another hull to a British port, given that she flew the American flag, a neutral.
A young man stopped his empty man-hauled cart and waved to him. Kydd stepped across and instantly recognised the face. 'Mr Calloway!' he said, in astonishment. 'What are ye doing?'
Calloway doffed his battered cap respectfully, an unexpectedly touching gesture in the surroundings, and said shyly, 'Mr Standish had his own young gennelmen he wanted t' place on th' quarterdeck an' offered t' me as whether I'd be turned afore the mast or be put ashore, sir.'
It was a mean act, but in the usual course of events when a captain left his command the midshipmen and 'followers' would go with him, allowing the new captain to install his own. And Calloway had chosen the honourable but costly move of retaining his nominal rank instead of reverting to seaman and staying aboard. Midshipmen were not entitled to half-pay and thus he had rendered himself essentially destitute.
'An' so ye should have done, Mr Calloway,' Kydd said warmly. The thought of others who had served him so well now under an alien command wrenched at him. 'Er, can I ask how ye fare now?'
'Why, sir, on Mondays an' Wednesdays I'm t' be ballast heaver. Tuesdays an' Thursdays I'm cart trundler to Mr Duval, the boatbuilder.'
Kydd hesitated, then said stoutly, 'Y' has m' word on it, Luke, in m' next ship I'll expect ye there on th' quarterdeck with me. Won't be s' long, an' m' name'll be cleared, you'll see.'
'Aye aye, Mr Kydd,' Calloway said quietly.
'An' where c'n I find ye?'
'Ask at th' Bethel, sir. They'll find me when y' has need o' me.'
A floating church in harbour, the Bethel was a refuge for seamen seeking relief from the sometimes riotous behaviour of sailors raising a wind in port.
'I'd—I'd like t' invite ye t' sup wi' me a while, but—'
'I thank ye, Mr Kydd, but I must be about m' duties,' Calloway said, with the barest glance at Kydd's ragged appearance. 'Good fortune t' ye, sir.'
Renzi had not found the work onerous and, in fact, it was not without interest: d'Auvergne seemed to have a wide circle of royalist acquaintances and was in receipt of
