'Are they not our friends?' Kydd remembered hazily that the United Provinces had been one of the first to declare an alliance with Britain in the feverish times in the days following the guillotining of the French king.
'I believe not,' Renzi said.
'Ah, so chance o' plunder,' Stirk growled,
'Not as who would say,' Renzi continued. 'If you remember, the French invaded last year and we now must call their country the Batavian Republic'
'So it's French.'
'Again, we cannot say. I saw recently that William the Fifth, who is your Stadtholder of Holland, has crossed the Channel seeking refuge at King George's court. He still rules — or so we must accept. I think it an imprudent commander who makes the assumption that his possessions are for their plundering.'
'They are our allies?' asked Kydd, in disbelief.
'It is safe to say that they are neither our friends nor our enemies. I rather fancy that our enterprise is one of prudent enquiry.'
'Spying,' said Kydd.
'Judicious reconnaissance.'
The ship sailed on, knifing through the slight swell southward, and Kydd felt contentment build. Seaflower seemed to realise this, and lay more snugly to the quartering wind, the hiss of her passage always at the same eager pitch but rising and falling in volume. Kydd sent the helmsman below for an early supper and took the helm himself, letting the recurved tiller press against his hip with the slight weather helm.
Out to starboard a fine sunset promised: he and Renzi would probably sit on the main-hatch gratings and see out the dog-watches in companionable conversation. Muffled laughter eddied up from below as supper was served at the mess tables. The watch on deck sat forward, little to do but spin yarns and watch the night steal in.
Reluctantly, Kydd gave up the tiller to the relief helmsman and murmured the hand-over mantra to the quartermaster's mate relieving him, together with the slate of course details. Luke arrived with a plate of supper and he joined Renzi forward. The golden sunset spread gradually and silently to a vast scarlet spectacle, an unfolding heavenly splendour perfectly unobstructed to the far bounds of the darkling seas. It was not a time for idle talk and the two friends took their victuals in appreciative silence.
When Luke came with their grog pots, Renzi took out his clay pipe and prepared it, letting the fragrance of the smoke drift away until it was whisked into nothing by the higher stream of air above the bulwarks. 'Little enough chance of a prize,' he said idly.
At first Kydd didn't reply. Then he gave a small smile and, still gazing at the copper ball of the sinking sun, said, 'But ye have other things in y' sea life, Nicholas.'
'A sight better than town or country alike, these troubling times.'
'Aye,' said Kydd, his eyes still on the majesty of the sunset 'Nicholas, I've been thinkin' over what y' said before,' he said slowly, 'about betterin' m'self.' He eased himself to a more comfortable position. 'I own that it would be very agreeable t' see m'self in a gunroom as master's mate, an' in course o' time to take m' ticket with Trinity House as sailin' master — is that idle dreamin', do ye think?'
A master in the Royal Navy was as high as it was professionally possible for a seaman to go: he had his own cabin and advised the Captain himself. Kydd was a natural seaman, having the skills and rare combination of moral courage in a decision with an instinctual understanding of the sea. Yet he was only a few years into the sea-service — but that, by fortunate coincidence, in some of the most testing regions of the globe. It would not be impossible. 'Indeed it is not, given the time and opportunity, dear fellow.' Renzi smiled. 'Who knows? This war is spreading like a canker over Europe and its dominions. Soon England will be wanting every man of skill and enterprise to man its fleets. Your course is set fair for the greatest things.'
Kydd's secret smile did not escape Renzi.
'You may find it happens sooner than you expect,' he added.
