considered, his brow furrowing. 'The reading now?'
'Twenty-nine an' three-fourths. I'm not happy, sir.'
'But is this not your usual for these waters?' Kernon seemed unwilling to face the implication. 'Lord Stanhope will not look kindly on any delay, Mr Jarman.'
'Sir.'
But Kernon's face was troubled as he returned to his guests. Lady Charlotte and Cecilia thrilled at their leaping passage. They were standing right in the bows gripping a stay, mesmerised by the rush of glittering sea. Lord Stanhope, near the helm, remained preoccupied.
'Should the weather turn out for the worse, we may have to delay, m' lord,' Kernon said, hesitating.
Stanhope turned, but did not speak.
'That is, we face a blow of sorts across our path, which could be .. .'
'You will make the right decision, of course, Captain — bearing in mind the urgency of my mission, which I now feel obliged to point out is of the utmost moment for the safety of England.' As if to underline the point, he drew out his fine watch and consulted it.
'I understand, my lord.' Kernon's grey features set in worry, and he trudged off along the deck.
Within the hour the horizon across their path subtly changed in character. To the low band of silver and dark grey of the familiar rain curtains there was now added a trace of menace - a tingeing of the clouds with tiny, subliminal amounts of copper verdigris. Kydd had seen this before, and reacted at a primal level.
'Sir! We must return t' Port Royal!' Jarman's forceful plea beat at Kernon's resolve while Seaflower plunged on gaily with her sails flat, the taut rigging harping musically. 'We must put about now, sir!'
Anxious looks were now being directed aft by seamen who knew of the animal savagery of sea scourged by giant winds. Kydd stole a look at the helmsman, and was comforted by his stolid performing of duty.
'We put back to Port Royal,' Kemon announced. It was a measure of his worry that he omitted first to consult Stanhope. 'Ease sheets, and we take in the topsail — bear off t' leeward and set course, um, nor' nor' west.' He seemed easier, having made a decision.
Seaflower's speed fell off and the ladies looked aft curiously. 'If you please, ladies,' Kernon called. He explained to the group what had to be done. Lord Stanhope frowned but said nothing, and Cecilia darted a quick look at her brother.
Kydd spoke quietly to Jarman: 'In Trajan we could never outrun a revolvin' storm. We worked out its position, an' then it was tear away in the safest direction f'r us.'
Jarman nodded. 'Aye, but in such a cockleshell we needs to go further. These tropic storms are monsters an' go at such a gallopin' pace — it's not only th' centre we needs to worry about, it's where they're headed. We plots the centre every hour, an' works out a path where it's going, an' hope t' God to outwit the infernal beast.'
The ugly skies loomed frighteningly quickly. The ladies stopped their marvelling and stared soberly at the massing hideousness astern. Fear struck at the sight of what nature was bringing out from its sack of terrors.
On deck seamen secured as best they could. The cutter was dead before the wind and slashed ahead at an insane rate, like a hunted animal trying to flee a carnivore. But the bearing shifted, slowly but surely, about the starboard quarter. A rain-spot spattered the folded chart that Jarman had brought from below. The tiny dots inside circles were their plot of the path of the storm marching across from the east - and curving north. 'This is th' worst f'r us,' Jarman murmured. His face had a strange, detached calm that struck a shaft of icy fear through Kydd. 'That devil will go between us an' Port Royal. There's no returning there now.'
They struck south, every sail drawing, then south-west into the vague direction of the reef-strewn interior of the western Caribbean, anything to keep from the path of the rampaging monster. By the dog-watches the vast dark roiling masses of cloud had reached overhead and the wind had turned edgy and fitful.
A
