Humiliation tore at Kydd. He shot to his feet and faced Tyrell, fists clenched, his chair crashing down behind him as he fought to keep control.
‘Well? It’s true, ain’t it?’ Tyrell grunted.
Kydd’s mind scrabbled to hold on to reason. The captain of the ship had ordered the lashes, Tyrell only the first lieutenant, but in its essence it was quite correct. He had been found out – he had been a former common sailor and, not only that, evidently a bad one who had been convicted of criminal conduct and punished.
He tried to speak but it came out only as a hoarse croak. He knew if he stayed he was perilously near an act that would damn him for ever – he blindly swung about and stalked from the room, desperate for the clean night air.
Outside he stood unseeing, chest heaving with emotion.
He felt a hand on his arm. ‘Steady, old chap, it’s not the end of the world.’ Lydiard had followed him out. ‘Shall we go somewhere?’
He felt himself urged away from the gaping onlookers and around the side of the house into the garden.
‘Pay no mind to Tyrell. He’s a disappointed man. Everyone knows it.’ He hesitated, then said, with deliberate concern, ‘Now, m’ friend, you’ll not be thinking of anything rash as you’ll regret later, are you?’
The words penetrated: Lydiard was referring to a challenge to a duel.
Kydd’s mind seized on the chance of a focus for his rage and wounded feelings. He would have choice of weapons, and it would be man-hacking cutlasses and-
An inner voice intervened. And it told him that in polite society under no circumstances could a gentleman ask for satisfaction if in fact the offending statement was true.
His shoulders slumped. ‘No,’ he said dully. ‘I can’t.’
‘This is to mean, er, what was said was substantially, um, correct?’ Lydiard said carefully.
‘Yes,’ Kydd spat wretchedly. ‘An’ may his soul roast in Hell!’
Lydiard looked around, then said softly, ‘They’ll understand if you leave now. Might I offer you the hospitality of my cabin in Anson? I’m thinking a restorative brandy might answer, dear fellow.’
‘No! That is, I thank you kindly but I’ll find my boat and get back aboard.’
There was one he desperately needed to talk to now, and he was in L’Aurore.
Renzi quietly told Tysoe to leave them and listened with the gravest attention to Kydd’s account of the evening.
‘May I know who was in attendance?’
‘All the world!’ Kydd hissed. ‘And Miss Amelia, God rot his bones!’ He took a savage pull at his drink. ‘I’ll – I’ll slit his gizzard, the whoreson shicer!’
‘That is not to be considered,’ Renzi said quickly. ‘More to the hour is what is to be concluded from the whole.’ He stood up and began pacing about the cabin. ‘We are obliged to say that your precipitate withdrawal was unfortunate. It tells the gathering that not only is the substance of what was said not to be denied, but that apparently you left before further damaging disclosures could be made.’
‘No! No! Be buggered to it, I’ll not-’
‘Dear fellow, do allow that it happened. The question now is rather what should be done about it.’
‘If that stinking scut crosses my hawse again-’
‘Tom, do forgive if I lay it before you as no doubt it appears to those present.’
‘If you must.’
‘Er, by its nature the gentility is limited in size, not to say modest in numbers. It is not uncommon for them to observe persons with pretensions beyond their standing who do attempt to inveigle-’
‘Good God!’ exploded Kydd. ‘If you’re-’
‘-their way into company to which their quality does not entitle them. Their ready response is to close ranks against the interloper.’
At Kydd’s dangerous look, Renzi hurried on: ‘You see, they are not accustomed to the Navy’s worthy practice of advancing in society such officers as do merit it, and cannot be blamed for confusion and dismay in your case.’
‘I’ll not-’
‘Therefore I can counsel only one course of action.’ He resumed his chair and waited.
‘So – what am I to do?’
‘You ride out the storm, as it were. This is a matter for them to resolve. You can do nothing.’
Kydd balled his fists.
‘Dear Tom,’ Renzi continued softly, ‘you do have my utmost sensibility of your position, but I have to point out that it is past and to repine is futile. You will take a round turn and face the day with fortitude and composure, as is your calling as a gentleman.’
It hit home. Kydd breathed deeply. ‘As always you have the right of it, Nicholas,’ he said raggedly. ‘I’m to go forward and damn any who point the finger.’
A mirthless grin spread. ‘After all, am I not a post-captain? They can’t take that away.’
‘Stout fellow!’ Renzi said, ‘It’ll pass, you’ll see.’
‘Nicholas.’
‘Yes, brother?’
‘You’re forgetting one thing.’
‘Oh? What’s that?’
‘Tomorrow I will see the bastard – and must take his orders. How is that to be borne, my friend?’
Chapter 12
It was a morning like any other. But before the day was out Kydd knew two things would have occurred: L’Aurore would have met the enemy in battle – and he would have come face to face with Tyrell.
Tense and uneasy, he left his cabin to make his way to the captains’ conference in Hannibal for orders in the taking of Marie-Galante.
The watch was securing for sea but at Kydd’s appearance on deck furtive glances and a sudden need to occupy themselves left no doubt as to what they were thinking. Kydd’s face burned.
‘My barge,’ he snapped at Curzon, whose studied blankness was just as revealing.
His boat’s crew were paragons of behaviour but over his shoulder Kydd saw faces at L’Aurore’s gun-ports, others at the rails and more in the tops, watching.
He forced down his emotions. This was an operation against the enemy and he had to keep cool. His duty was to his men and no personal antagonisms must be allowed to deflect him.
Yet as they approached Hannibal his resolve wavered. Would Tyrell be waiting to greet each captain, and there in front of everybody expect him to shake his hand?
He couldn’t do it, nor look him in the eye.
Telling the boat to hang back, he allowed Lydiard of Anson to board while he wrestled with his feelings. Then there was no more time.
The pipes pealed as he mounted the side and stepped aboard, but Tyrell was not on deck. Trying not to let his relief show, Kydd followed the first lieutenant to be introduced to the waiting captains, who stood together by the main-mast. But as he approached, the talking died away and they turned to face him warily.
‘A good day, gentlemen,’ he said, with a brittle lightness.
There were muttered acknowledgements and then they turned back to their conversations. Kydd flushed with anger at the intolerable behaviour but then it dawned on him that they were probably hiding their embarrassment.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bowden standing some yards away; the young man smiled awkwardly at his old captain.
The first lieutenant cleared his throat. ‘Er, gentlemen? Captain Tyrell will welcome you in the great cabin now.’
They began to file into the space, Kydd standing aside until they were all before him, then following. At the last minute he hesitated at the door and the marine sentry’s eye swivelled to him in apprehension. There was no more delaying the moment so he stepped inside.