'You saw the consul, did you not, Mr Amati?' the captain asked coldly. The ambassador would have long since departed, and English interests would be served by a consul, a local, probably a merchant.
The single lanthorn illuminated only one side of the agent's face and he shifted defensively. ‘Mi scusi — the city is violent, excited, he is deeficult to fin', Capitano.'
'So you were unable to contact him.'
'I did no' say that,' the Italian said, affronted. He was short, dark and intense, and his eyes glittered in the lanthorn light. 'I send a message. He tell me Signore Lith i' not in Venezia — anywhere.'
'Thank you.' There was now the fearful decision as to whether and for how long they should wait for him to appear or if they should make the reasonable assumption that he had been overtaken by the French. A frigate dallying off the port would inevitably attract notice, no matter which colours she flew, and in the heightened tensions of war she would soon be the focus of attention from ever}' warring power. Then again, if they sailed away, leaving stranded the delayed object of their mission . ..
The captain paced forward rigidly along the whole length of the deck to the fo'c'sle. Men stood aside, touching their hats but unnoticed. He returned, and came to a halt near the wheel, then turned to the waiting officers. 'I cannot wait here, yet we cannot abandon Sir Alastair.
'Lieutenant Griffith, I'd be obliged if you would go to Venice and there await his arrival. When he appears, it is your duty to hire or seize a vessel, and make rendezvous with me at sea. This will enable me to keep the ship well away from the coast. I propose to wait for ten days only.'
Griffith hesitated, but only for a moment. 'Aye aye, sir.'
'The master will furnish you with a list of our noon positions for the next fourteen days. I do not have to impress upon you the importance of their secrecy.'
'No, sir.'
'You will be provided with a quantity of money for your subsistence — which you will account for on your return, together with a sum for contingent necessaries.' He pondered, then said, 'You may find Mr Renzi useful, I suspect. And a couple of steady hands — it would be well to have a care when ashore, I believe. Who will you have?'
'Kydd, sir,' Griffith said instantly. 'Then, after a moment's reflection, 'And Larsson.' The big Swedish quartermaster was a good choice.
'We must rely on Mr Amati to find discreet quarters for you — the place will no doubt be alive with spies of every description, and you must be extremely circumspect.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Then we shall proceed to details.'
At Amati's suggestion, a trabaccolo, a. fat lug-rigged merchant craft, one of many scuttling nervously past in the dark, was brought to with a shot before her bows. Discussions under the guns of the frigate were brief, but English silver was considered a fair compensation for the delay, with the promise of more on safe arrival in Venice.
Bemused and interested by turns, Kydd clambered over the gunwale of the little coaster after Lieutenant Griffith. The crew lounged about the lively deck under an evil-smelling oil-lamp, watching stonily, the stout captain fussing them all aboard with a constant jabber of Italian and waving hands. Sea-bags clumped to the deck, and they were on their own.
Amati was clearly tense, and answered the skipper in short, clipped phrases. 'He say he wan' you to unnerstan' it ays forbidden to enter Venezia in th' night. We wait for day.'
Griffith grunted. 'Very well. Get sleep while you can, you men.' The three seamen found a place under a tarpaulin forward, over the cargo in the open hold. This was a tighdy packed mass of wicker baskets containing lemons, their fragrance eddying around them as they bobbed to the night current.
They awoke to a misty dawn, off a long, low-lying coast stretching endlessly in each direction. They were not alone: nearly two dozen other coastal traders were at anchor or moving lazily across the calm sea, morning sounds carrying clearly across the water.
Kydd rolled over. He saw Griffith waiting for Amati to finish a voluble exchange with the skipper, but Renzi lay still staring upward.
'So we're t' see this Venice, an' today,' Kydd said, with relish.
Renzi's dismissive grunt brought a jet of annoyance. His friend had become vexing in his moods again, dampening the occasion and making Kydd feel he had in some way intruded on private thoughts. 'M' chance t' see if it is as prime as ye say,' he challenged. There was no intelligible response.
Griffith clambered over to them, steadying himself by the shrouds. 'The captain wishes you to be — shall we say? — less conspicuous. Mr Amati says that there's every description of seaman in Venice — Dalmatian, Albanian, Mussulmen, Austrians - and doubts we'll be noticed, but begs we can wear some token of this part of the world.'
He looked doubtfully at Kydd's pea-coat and Larsson's short blue naval jacket. The crew members wore the bonnet-rouge, the distinctive floppy red headgear, and a swaggering sash. The Englishmen paid well over the odds for such common articles, which brought the first expressions of amusement from the crew.
The first diffuse tints of rose and orange tinged the mists when a gun thudded next to a small tower. As one, bows swung round and there was a general convergence on a gap in the coastline at the tower, a cloud of small ships slipping through the narrow opening, the trabaccolo captain at his tiller a study in concentration as he jockeyed his craft through.
It was only a slender spit of land, but inside was the Venetian lagoon, and Venice. The spreading morning vision took Kydd's breath away: an island set alone in a glassy calm some five miles off, fairy-tale in the roseate pale of morning, alluring in its medieval mystery. He stared at the sight, captivated by the tremulous beauty of distant bell-towers, minarets and old stone buildings.
The lagoon was studded with poles marking deeper channels and Kydd tore away his attention to admire the deft seamanship that had the deep-laden trader nimbly threading its way through. The trabaccolo was rigged with a loose lugsail at the fore and a standing lug at the mainmast, an odd arrangement that had the lower end of the loose lug swung round the after side of one mast when tacking about, but left the other on the same side.
As they approached, the island city took on form and substance. A large number of craft were sleepily approaching or leaving, the majority issuing forth from a waterway in the centre of the island. They tacked about and bore down on it and it soon became apparent that a minor island was detached from the main; they headed towards the channel between, towards a splendour of buildings that were as handsome as they were distinctive.
Kydd stared in wonder: here was a civilisation that was confident and disdainful to dare so much magnificence. He stole a look at the others. The crewmen seemed oblivious to it, faking down ropes and releasing hatch-covers; Larsson gazed stolidly, while Renzi and Griffith both stared ahead, absorbed in the approaching prospect. Amati fidgeted next to the captain, visibly ill at ease.
They shaped course to parallel the shore, passing a splendid vision of a palace, colonnades, the brick-red of an impossibly lofty square bell-tower. 'Piazza San Marco,' Renzi said, noticing Kydd's fascination. 'You will find the Doge at home in that palace. He is the chief eminence of Venice. You will mark those two pillars - it is there that executions of state are performed, and to the right, the Bridge of Sighs and the Doge's dread prison.' He spoke offhandedly, and Kydd felt rising irritation until he realised this was a defence: his cultured friend was as affected as he.