his features. Kydd had been present at both the Nile and Trafalgar, the defining battles of the age, but through ill luck Popham had never seen a grand fleet action. ‘And now . . . here we are,’ he concluded softly.
‘I’m sorry, sir?’
‘I meant to say that we’re safe here in Cape Colony, are we not? But lacking the one thing that a naval officer craves above all else . . .’
‘A chance for distinction?’
‘Just so. We’re both in like state – you’ve a fine start to your career but unless something happens you’ll moulder away your best years here at the Cape. And I – well, shall we say that unless I can distinguish myself while I still have my mighty fleet then I shall join you in sliding from the consciousness of their lordships?’
‘Will we not soon be recalled?’
‘Why so? We’re doing a sterling job, holding the Cape for King George. Why disturb it? We’ll put down the occasional privateer or even a loose frigate but nothing to stand against the exploits of others who are adding to our empire by the month.’
That gave Kydd pause: it made disturbing sense – yet . . .
‘We’re at a strategic position here, sir. Who’s to say the French may wish soon to dispute these seas in force?’
‘They won’t now, m’ friend. Their squadrons are scattered, defeated and gone home. The Channel Fleet blockade will take care of their sorties in the future. No, we’re to remain at rest foreseeably, I fear.’
‘Is there nothing . . . ?’
‘I’m giving it some high thought,’ Popham replied mysteriously, ‘as may yet yield a possibility.’ He stared out into the wild darkness with a strange expression, then resumed briskly, ‘Meanwhile, do stand down your ship for a week or two. You’ve deserved it. We’ll share a dinner on another occasion.’
‘Quite set me aback, Nicholas.’ Kydd laughed, shaking out his wet clothing. ‘Here we have the commodore confiding he’s bored, to me, a junior frigate captain – a prickly gullion in the past, as I remember. You don’t suppose he’s a reason for it?’ he added awkwardly, noticing Renzi wore an odd, hunted look.
His friend brightened a little. ‘The reigning flag officer? I’d rather think he’s more pleased at your success that rids him of a pressing anxiety.’
‘Well, whatever, he’s given us leave to stand down for a brace of weeks. Do you fancy a time of it ashore?’
‘Er, not at this time, Tom.’
Kydd was not to be dissuaded. Only a short while before, his friend had been the colonial secretary of Cape Colony with hopes of tenure before being unexpectedly replaced by a civil-service appointee sent out from England. Now he was staying aboard, unable to face the imagined stares of the townsfolk. ‘I have to say it’ll be quite necessary, I’m afraid, dear chap. I’m resolved this ship is to be fumigated and sweetened while she lies idle and no man may stay on board.’
With the urgency of the situation there had been little opportunity since leaving England the previous year for attending to the needs of his ship. And she had now been through a tropic summer – and, besides, Kydd had ideas about her appearance. ‘I’ll be staying at my club for the duration, the Africa on the Heerengracht,’ he said, with relish. ‘Capital roast game, wines a supernaculum. I’d be honoured to have you as my guest, dear fellow.’
‘That’s civil in you, right enough . . . On a point of some delicacy,’ Renzi murmured, ‘would it be impertinent of me to enquire in what manner you’ll introduce me?’
Kydd snorted. ‘Why, this is a gentlemen’s club. Should I introduce you as my friend then that is all that need be said, old trout.’
‘Then perhaps I will accept your kind offer.’
The news of a fumigation was well received by
L’Aurore
’s company, with its prospect of enforced shore leave, and even more so when it became known that a contractor would be engaged for the unpleasant business.
Next day the bad
‘I’m sorry, sir?’
‘I meant to say that we’re safe here in Cape Colony, are we not? But lacking the one thing that a naval officer craves above all else . . .’
‘A chance for distinction?’
‘Just so. We’re both in like state – you’ve a fine start to your career but unless something happens you’ll moulder away your best years here at the Cape. And I – well, shall we say that unless I can distinguish myself while I still have my mighty fleet then I shall join you in sliding from the consciousness of their lordships?’
‘Will we not soon be recalled?’
‘Why so? We’re doing a sterling job, holding the Cape for King George. Why disturb it? We’ll put down the occasional privateer or even a loose frigate but nothing to stand against the exploits of others who are adding to our empire by the month.’
That gave Kydd pause: it made disturbing sense – yet . . .
‘We’re at a strategic position here, sir. Who’s to say the French may wish soon to dispute these seas in force?’
‘They won’t now, m’ friend. Their squadrons are scattered, defeated and gone home. The Channel Fleet blockade will take care of their sorties in the future. No, we’re to remain at rest foreseeably, I fear.’
‘Is there nothing . . . ?’
‘I’m giving it some high thought,’ Popham replied mysteriously, ‘as may yet yield a possibility.’ He stared out into the wild darkness with a strange expression, then resumed briskly, ‘Meanwhile, do stand down your ship for a week or two. You’ve deserved it. We’ll share a dinner on another occasion.’
‘Quite set me aback, Nicholas.’ Kydd laughed, shaking out his wet clothing. ‘Here we have the commodore confiding he’s bored, to me, a junior frigate captain – a prickly gullion in the past, as I remember. You don’t suppose he’s a reason for it?’ he added awkwardly, noticing Renzi wore an odd, hunted look.
His friend brightened a little. ‘The reigning flag officer? I’d rather think he’s more pleased at your success that rids him of a pressing anxiety.’
‘Well, whatever, he’s given us leave to stand down for a brace of weeks. Do you fancy a time of it ashore?’
‘Er, not at this time, Tom.’
Kydd was not to be dissuaded. Only a short while before, his friend had been the colonial secretary of Cape Colony with hopes of tenure before being unexpectedly replaced by a civil-service appointee sent out from England. Now he was staying aboard, unable to face the imagined stares of the townsfolk. ‘I have to say it’ll be quite necessary, I’m afraid, dear chap. I’m resolved this ship is to be fumigated and sweetened while she lies idle and no man may stay on board.’
With the urgency of the situation there had been little opportunity since leaving England the previous year for attending to the needs of his ship. And she had now been through a tropic summer – and, besides, Kydd had ideas about her appearance. ‘I’ll be staying at my club for the duration, the Africa on the Heerengracht,’ he said, with relish. ‘Capital roast game, wines a supernaculum. I’d be honoured to have you as my guest, dear fellow.’
‘That’s civil in you, right enough . . . On a point of some delicacy,’ Renzi murmured, ‘would it be impertinent of me to enquire in what manner you’ll introduce me?’
Kydd snorted. ‘Why, this is a gentlemen’s club. Should I introduce you as my friend then that is all that need be said, old trout.’
‘Then perhaps I will accept your kind offer.’
The news of a fumigation was well received by
L’Aurore
’s company, with its prospect of enforced shore leave, and even more so when it became known that a contractor would be engaged for the unpleasant business.
Next day the bad
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