Seaflower

'An' Toby Stirk is t' be her gunner's mate!' Kydd exclaimed in glee. 'Come an' sup wi' us at the King's Arms.'

Stirk, conspicuous in his usual red kerchief and gleaming earrings, was holding loquacious court at the tavern table, vividly describing the last moments of Artemis to an admiring throng. Kydd's heart swelled at the pleasure in his old shipmates' faces.

The riot of noise was broken by a gleeful shout from the door. 'Tom - Tom Kydd!'

Kydd stood to get a better view over the crowd. To his delight he recognised Doud, the born seaman and pure-voiced singer from Artemis. 'Well met, Ned, m' old shipmate! Warp y'rself alongside, cuffin!' he called.

Doud pushed his way through, closely followed by Elias Peat's seamed old face. They nodded in pleased surprise at Stirk and Doggo, then eased themselves on to a seat.

'What ship?' Kydd asked.

'We're Irresistibles mate,' Doud said, referring to the big 74 out in the bay, 'but the damnedest thing — we've jus' bin turned over inter that squiddy little Seaflower cutter, an—'

Stirk stared at Kydd in amazement. Suspicious, Kydd turned to Renzi, who suddenly found the view from the tavern window over the harbour remarkably absorbing. 'Nicholas, do ye know—'

'The most amazing coincidence this age,' Renzi replied quickly, 'Especially in view of my own somewhat precipitate wrenching from the felicity of Spanish Town to the uncertain delights of this same vessel.'

Kydd reached out and gripped Renzi's hand. 'M' dear friend . . .' Whatever had brought about their reunion he would not question it in the slightest particular.

'Could be a mort interestin', mates,' said Petit seriously.

'How's that, then?' Doud asked. Petit, the hoary old seaman, could be relied on in the matter of sea-sense.

'Seaflower ain't a-goin' ter be swingin' around her anchor fer long. Ships like 'er are off doin' all th' jobs that's goin' — despatches, carryin' passengers, escortin' merchant ships, not ter mention takin' a prize or two.'

Doud frowned. 'But ye'll have ter say she's small, the smallest, an' if we comes up agin even a half-awake brig-o'-war, we'll be in fer a hazin'.'

Leaning forward, Stirk gave a hard smile. 'As a nipper I were in th' trade outa Folkestone.' Knowing looks appeared around the table - there was only one trade of significance so close to the remote fastness of Romney Marsh. And the navy was always keen to press smugglers for their undoubted skills as seamen.

'An' I learned t' have a care when the Revenooers were out in th' cutters, so much sail on 'em, like ter hide the ship. Fore 'n' aft rig, sails like a witch snug up to the wind — you don't 'ave much ter worry of, 'less yer gets under the lee of some big bastard.' His smile twisted. 'An' Seaflower is right sim'lar t' yer Revenoo cutter.'

Petit nodded slowly. 'Just so, Toby. But I reckon as we should get aboard, mates, else we chance t' lose our berths if she sails.'

In the boat approaching Seaflower eager eyes assessed the qualities of the ship that was their future. She was a cutter, single mast with a dashing rake, but an enormously lofty one, and with a splendid bowsprit that was two-thirds as long as the vessel herself. 'Should carry a damn fine press o' sail,' said Kydd, noting the sweep of deck up to her neat stern, her lines all curves and graces. Closer to, there were loving touches: her clear varnished sides were topped by one wale in black; her attractive decorated stern - a whorled frieze of gold on bluish green — looked stylish and brave; on deck the fittings were smartly picked out in red.

'Not s' many aboard,' Doud murmured. Under the awning aft there was a man in shirt-sleeves watching them suspiciously with folded arms. Another was fishing over the side forward of the mast

'Boat ahoy!' hailed the man under the awning. It was obvious they carried no officers