Kydd strolled back to the quarterdeck and saw the little frigate. She was making a cautious approach, probably to warp alongside the New Mole. Lines were passed, capstans manned, and she was neady brought in.
Distracted, Kydd went below to rouse out a crew for cleaning down after the caulkers, but his mind was not on the job. When he returned to the upper deck he caught a glimpse of a boat rounding under the stern of Achilles. It was probably from the frigate, and he watched the bulwark to see who would come over.
With unbelieving eyes, he saw Renzi hoist himself awkwardly aboard, touch his hat to the officer-of-the-watch, and look round. Kydd crossed over to him rapidly and held out his hand. 'Well met, Nicholas!' he said happily, but saw that things were not as usual with his friend. There were dark rings round his eyes and the handshake clearly gave him pain. 'You're in a frigate now,' Kydd offered.
'I am — Bacchante twenty-eight, a trim enough daughter of Neptune.' A smile cracked through. 'Quite fortuitous. Glorious was sadly knocked about in the rencontre before St Vincent and lies under repair at Lagos. I act temporarily in the place of a wounded mariner in the frigate, having the duty but never the glory, I fear.' He sighed. 'Yet here you lie in the same berth, topping it the sybarite while the world is in a moil - and I took such pains to come here of the especial concern I have for my friend.'
Kydd coloured, but the pleasure at seeing his best friend was profound, and he didn't rise to the gende gibe. 'You were there in th' great battle, wi' a mort o' prize money t' come, I suspect.'
Renzi looked away. 'I was, but. .. You shall have your. curiosity satisfied, should you be at liberty to step ashore this afternoon, I have a consuming desire to be at peace. Do you know of such a place we can—'
'O' course! We c'n—' Kydd stopped. If a favourable message came from Emily and by his absence he did not respond ... It was unfortunate timing but—
'Er, Nicholas, I've just remembered, I have an arrangement f'r tonight. It's very important, y' know,' he mumbled. Renzi's face fell. 'With a lady, y' see,' Kydd added hopelessly.
'Then we shall rendezvous on the morrow, and you shall hear my tale then,' Renzi said softly.
Kydd watched him leave, with a pang of guilt.
There was no reply by noon, and the afternoon hours passed at a snail's pace; Kydd had donned his best rig, in case Emily wanted to take up his invitation immediately. The ship was in harbour routine. After dinner at noon, those who were allowed, and had the means; quickly made their way ashore, the remainder settled down restlessly.
By the dog-watches he was torn with doubt. Had he been deceived by her manner, mistaken in his conclusions? But there could be no mistaking the need and urgency of that kiss.
The evening had turned into a study of scarlet and orange, the sea darkling prettily, with Thomas Kydd, master's mate, still to be found on deck. Then, after the evening meal, a message came. The coxswain of the gig's crew brought it to him, apologetically mentioning that due to being called away to attend the captain, he had not had a chance before to pass it along — and this from early afternoon.
Kydd ground his teeth and clattered below to the gunroom. The master had returned, so his cabin was no longer available. Savagely, he sent the midshipmen to their berth and, silently cursing the impossibility of getting privacy in a warship, settled to open the message under the eye of the sallow surgeon's mate and his bottle.
He inspected the inscription — 'Mr T. Kydd, HMS Achilles' — then split the wafer and hurriedly unfolded the sheet.
He reread, and again, slowly, so as not to miss any subtle clues. An initial wash of disappointment was replaced by logic: of course she would be otherwise engaged, it had been kind of her to fit him in before. 'Mr Kydd': cold or cautious lest the message fall into the
