Cecilia pushed forward. 'I shall go with him,' she declared firmly. 'He needs care. Kindly wait while I fetch a few necessaries.'
'It's - that's impossible, Miss Cecilia,' said Kernon, scandalised.
'Nonsense! I will accompany his lordship — you know that I must, if he is to be of use to any on whatever mission this is that requires so much urgency.'
Lady Charlotte clasped Cecilia and began softly, 'My dear ...'
Impatient, Cecilia told her quietly, 'I know we are in the very best hands, Lady Stanhope, do not concern yourself any further on our behalf. We will be quite safe.' She hesitated a moment, then said gently, 'You see, Kydd is my brother Thomas, Lady Stanhope ...'
Arrangements concluded, stout hands were applied to the gunwales and the boat entered the still white-dashed waters, rearing and bobbing. Cecilia was handed aboard, Doud heaved himself into the bows and Kydd and Renzi took their places aft.
A signal to Doud had the foresail soaring up the stay and while Kydd setded in the sternsheets with the tiller, Renzi cautiously showed main canvas to the brisk wind. A lurch to leeward and the boat started seaward, a bumpy, swooping scurry until they crossed the outer breakers, then the sea winds took hold and they lay to the blow, heading for the open sea.
Kydd thought only then to look astern, to see the dots of people lining the diminishing shore, the scattered waving, the forlorn bulk of Seaflower in the midst of the battered palms. He held up his hand in farewell and saw a flutter of kerchiefs in return, then turned forward, his face hardening in resolution.
Cecilia was doing something for Lord Stanhope, and Renzi was busy tying off on the lines. Doud stepped carefully around them. At his approach Kydd steeled himself for bad news, but Doud grinned down at him from a midship thwart, hanging on to one of the shrouds. He gave an exulting whoop, and began singing,
'Farewell and adieu, to you, Spanish ladies!
Farewell and adieu, you ladies of Spain;
For we've orders for England, you bold-eyed and lovely
But we know in a short time we'll see you again!'
To Cecilia's evident delight all the sailors took up the refrain:
'We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors;
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt seas;
Until we strike soundings in the Channel of England,
From Ushant to Scilly 'tis thirty-five leagues.'
At noon Cecilia, by unspoken concession, took charge of provisions, and each in the boat received a ship's biscuit surmounted by cold tongue and a pickle. The wine was recorked after a splash of Bordeaux flavoured the water ration agreeably, and a morsel of seed-cake completed their noon meal.
An overcast sky still prevented a noon sighting, but a steady south-easterly course was not hard to sustain, and with the winds coming more abeam they made good speed. Towards evening the sea had moderated, the sun finally emerged and the wearisome jerking motion settled to a regular swelling surge.
Cecilia made Lord Stanhope as comfortable as was possible and the boat sailed on into the night. The seamen aboard, used to regular watches, had no difficulty in falling in with the rhythm, but a pale dawn revealed a hollow-eyed, plank-sore Cecilia.
Without a word, Renzi reached for the awning. He loosened its end, lifted it up and secured each corner to an opposite shroud. 'Milady's toilette,' he murmured, and clambered aft followed by a suddenly understanding Doud.
'Sir, you are too kind,' Cecilia croaked and, without meeting anyone's eye, vanished behind the improvised screen; the plash of water showed that she was making good use of her privacy.
Later in the morning a cultured cough from amidships drew Cecilia to Lord Stanhope. 'Should you be so good as to tighten these bandages? I am certain I may sit, which would give me the greatest satisfaction since it has always been my practice to look the world in the eye.'
At noon, to Kydd's gratification, the sun was bright and beneficent. He took a
