supposing they ever met again? Would he accept him as a gentleman? Would they . . .
His sea-bag and chest lay between his legs. When he had returned to Triumph to fetch them, Essington had cut short his thanks. 'We were signalled for a suitable man. Do you wish to dispute my choice, sir? I know something of your history. Pray you will live up to your step — and the best of luck, Mr Kydd.'
This was absolute evidence for Kydd that the Admiralty held nothing against him over his support for the seamen; there could be no doubt now, no more feelings of guilt, betrayal or ambivalence. Now he was a naval officer, with all the rights and privileges. It was altogether incredible.
Tenacious loomed. 'Boat ahoy!' came the distant cry.
'Aye aye!' their bowman roared. Kydd started — but then, of course, be was the naval officer they carried! A long sigh came from the depths of his being.
The boat hooked on, and Kydd sprang for the handropes. Impatiently he mounted the side, passing by an open-mouthed boatswain's mate at the entry-port. Embarrassed, he retraced his steps down and across to the entry-port. He entered the carved portal, the silver call pealing out to all concerned that a naval officer was boarding Tenacious.
'Sway aboard my dunnage, younker,' he told a duty midshipman.
'Aye,' the youngster said.
'What was that?' Kydd snapped.
'Er, aye aye, sir,' the midshipman corrected himself, stiffening and touching his hat.
'Very well.' Kydd remembered too late that he still wore his master's mate plain coat, and grinned at the discomfited lad. There would be time to find a uniform later. 'Where's the captain?' he asked.
'Dead,' the boy said. 'So's the first and third lootenant. We're getting replacements, o' course,' he confided, then added a hasty, 'er, sir.'
Kydd went up the main hatchway to the upper deck, marvelling at the ruin on all sides. There were overturned guns, beaten-in bulwarks, broken spars hanging from aloft - and a tattered figure hobbling about, using a broken rammer as a makeshift crutch.
He stopped, staring keenly. It was - it couldn't be -Renzi? 'Nicholas! You're - you're wounded!'
'I fear so, old fellow. It is but an inconvenience, the doctor assures me that I shall be made whole in some weeks.' A warm smile stole over his face. 'Thomas! You have survived our day of trial!' He held out his hand. Kydd gripped it, the events of the day threatening to unman him.
The midshipman appeared. 'Shall I stow your gear in the third's cabin for now, sir?' 'Please.'
He turned back to Renzi, but the cat was out of the bag. 'You — you have been—'
'I have,' said Kydd, in the purest happiness. 'Ye have t' call me sir, now, Nicholas.'
'Oh. I'm afraid that's not possible.'
'Er, may I know why not?'
Renzi looked down for a moment, and when he looked up again, Kydd could see he was struggling for control. 'Because, Thomas, you will be grieved to hear that as senior master's mate, I also have been elevated to the quarterdeck. And, given recent promotions, you will be fifth, and I the fourth, so it will be you who are obliged to render the honorifics to me.'
Their heartfelt laughter brought grins from the others on deck.
Kydd had just one question. 'Nicholas, does this mean that - y'r intent, you know, t' leave the sea . .. ?'
A half-smile showed briefly. 'It rather appears, dear fellow, that I may have to revisit that decision ...'
