open, a stream of people entering and leaving while he and his clerk sat behind a desk of papers.
'Kydd, sir?'
A flustered, battle-worn Essington looked up briefly. The redness in his face had turned to a bruising, and he had not yet changed his clothes. 'Go to Monarch, they're expecting you.'
'Sir?'
'Now, if you please, sir,' said Essington irritably.
'Aye aye, sir,' Kydd said hastily, wondering what his mission could be.
The boat joined others criss-crossing between other ships. Close to he could see that the sea was speckled with pieces of wreckage, some as big as spars, some smaller unidentifiable fragments. His eyes lifted to the loose cluster of men-o'-war ahead, every one showing where they had endured.
Monarch was the flagship of Onslow, vice admiral of the other division. Kydd went up the pockmarked side of the big 74 and, touching his hat, reported.
The officer looked at him curiously. 'Come with me.' He was escorted to the admiral's Great Cabin. 'Mr Kydd, master's mate, Triumph, sir.'
Onslow put down his pen and came round his desk. The splendid blue and gold, the stars and epaulettes — all the grandeur of naval circumstance — brought to Kydd a surge of guilt and apprehension.
'Ah, Mr Kydd.' He looked appraisingly at Kydd, who stuttered something about his tattered, smoke-grimed appearance. 'Nonsense, my boy. All in th' line of duty. Well, now, you must be feelin' proud enough that your captain speaks s' highly of ye.'
'Sir?' To his knowledge there was no reason that Essington could have even to mention his existence to such an august being.
Onslow's eyebrows rose. 'You don't know why ye're here?' He chuckled quiedy. 'Then I'll tell you. Since Admiral Duncan is entertainin' the Dutch admiral, he's left certain jobs to me. An' one of 'em is this. In the course o' such a day, sadly there's some ships have suffered more than others. Your captain was one o' those asked to spare a suitable man t' fill vacancies in these. He seems t' think you're suitable, so by the powers vested in me by the flag-officer-in-command, I order that, as of this moment, ye're to be known as Lieutenant Kydd.'
'S-sir, I -1—'
It was staggering — it was marvellous! It was frightening! It was—
'Unusual name, that — Kydd. Don' come from Guildford, b' any chance?'
'Sir—' He couldn't speak. Feeling his face redden with pleasure, the broadest of smiles bursting out, he finally spluttered, 'Aye, sir.'
'Related t' the Kydds who opened the navy school not so long past?'
'M-my father, sir,' he said, in a near delirium of emotion.
'A fine school f'r Guildford. Like t' pay my respects to y'r father at some time.'
Speechless, Kydd accepted the precious letter of commission and turned to go.
'And, Lieutenant, might I have the honour of takin' your hand? It gives me a rare pleasure to know that Guildford can still produce fightin' seamen. Ah — do ye not wish t' know which ship?'
'Sir?' Any ship that swam would do.
'Tenacious sixty-four. Good fortune to ye, Mr Kydd.'
His heart full, Kydd tried to concentrate in the boat on its way to the battle-worn Tenacious. But he was a lieutenant! An officer! A — gentleman! His universe spun as he attempted to readjust his world-view; stricdy, his father should touch his forelock to him, his mother curtsy when introduced — and what would they say in Guildford?
But what about Renzi,
