At first Kydd could not make out what was happening, but then he saw that it was Lady Hamilton in a theatrical pose, standing motionless before a large upright seashell in a flowing classical Greek robe, all composed within an empty picture frame. Candles were held artfully by the ambassador to throw a dramatic light upon her. Kydd was astonished at the diaphanous material of her gown, which left little to the imagination, and a decollete that would be thought risque even at the theatre. At the same time he saw that the chubbiness had not extinguished a very real beauty—an expressive and angelic face raised to heaven that was the quintessence of innocence.
"Aphrodite rises fr'm the waves!" Several shouts vied with each other. They were rewarded with a smile from the enchantress and then the curtain closed. It opened again to a different pose: an ardent, lovelorn entwining around the branch of a tree, beseeching an unseen figure, and still in the filmy gown.
"Glycera frolicking with Alcibiades!" A slight frown appeared while protracted but jovial disputation took place.
"Cleopatra and Antony receive the news!" called Renzi at length, to be thrown a dazzling smile. Kydd looked to see how Nelson was receiving the entertainment and was startled to see the gallant admiral wildly applauding each manifestation, always gracefully acknowledged by Lady Hamilton.
Places were resumed for the second half, Dorabella and Guglielmo from Cost Fan Tutte. Kydd had seen Lady Hamilton sit with Nelson again, her arm laid on his and not removed. He glanced about: no one seemed to have noticed except possibly Troubridge, who stared forward stonily.
The plot of the scene was whispered brokenly by Renzi. It seemed to be nothing but unlikely disguises and trifling complications following a wager, but the music carried Kydd along once more.
At the end, Hamilton thanked the performers and added, "Our entertainment is concluded for tonight, my friends and honoured guests. The hour is late, but for those who wish to indulge there is a faro table in the next room."
The guests rose in a babble of excited talk as Hamilton and his lady escorted Nelson to the next room. "What do we do now, Nicholas?" Kydd whispered.
"At this hour we have the civilised choice: to linger or depart immediately," Renzi replied. "Nothing will be imputed from our actions."
"Would it be at all curious, should we desire t' see a faro table without we play?"
"I don't think so, brother," Renzi said. They moved into the next room where already a large card table was set out. Lady Hamilton stood behind Nelson, urging him excitedly. A footman offered iced champagne, which Kydd found most acceptable in the heat of the night.
Feeling happy and expansive, Kydd remarked to Renzi, "Y'r foreign cant is all pedlar's Greek t' me, Nicholas, but the music! I have t' say, it leaves me with th' hot shivers."
Renzi nodded. "Of the first rate. The pity is to escape it in Naples. In the nursery, your tradesman in the street, all are singing from the heart wherever they be. A truly gifted people."
It seemed there were others who wished to linger, some at the gaming table, others promenading before the inattentive hero of the Nile. Kydd accepted another glass of champagne while he looked about the room. "Have ye noticed? We're the only l'tenants," he said proudly, discounting the indeterminate Neapolitan army officers. It was an agreeable observation and he sighed with the sheer joy of the moment.
"So it seems," said Renzi, turning to see the origin of raised voices.
It was Nisbet. The young commander had approached the faro table and confronted his step-father, red-faced, his cravat hanging askew. From their distance it was impossible for Kydd and Renzi to make out the words, but the reaction of bystanders was eloquent enough.
There was a scuffle and more shouting, and in a room suddenly quiet Troubridge and another officer frogmarched Nisbet past them and into the night. The room burst into horrified talk; Lady Hamilton stared after them, her face chalk-like.
A colonel lurched towards Kydd, telling everyone he could find of what he had heard. "Damme, but his own son near calls him out—dishonouring his mother's name—tells his own admiral where his duty lies! Who could conceive of it?" he bellowed gleefully.
Houghton held up his hand for silence. "And so it will be hard for me to take my leave of Tenacious, a ship we have all grown to love and respect, but the needs of the Service must rise above all."
"Hear him! Hear him!" The wardroom resounded to the thump of hands on the table, the rattle of glasses.
"But who can say, gentlemen? We may meet again—at sea." Knowing growls indicated that it was not lost on the officers at the table that Houghton was going on to the command of a powerful 74, the mainstay of the line-of-battle, and it would be remarkable if he so much as noticed the humble Tenacious if they did sight one another.
"Now, before I sit down, there is one concern that is of particular satisfaction to me. And that is in the matter of promotions." The table fell instantly silent. "As you must be aware, my own removal into a seventy-four might have been expected, but following a successful action it is the custom of the Service to bring forward deserving officers."
Kydd's pulse quickened: was his star now ascending to take him onward and upward?
"It has been difficult to choose which among you, but as of this morning I received word from Sir Horatio that he has graciously acceded to my recommendation." He paused, surveying his officers gravely. "I therefore selected an officer who to me appears particularly forward, one whose ardent spirit in the face of the enemy has been so often remarked. I know you will all join with me in congratulating ... Lieutenant Bryant!"
There was a moment's pause as the news sank in, then the wardroom broke into good-natured shouts of envy and felicitation.
"He has been made commander into Dompteur sloop-of-war and late prize, to join Earl St Vincent before Cadiz."
Kydd was startled by the intensity of his reaction to this news: envy was turning unworthily to jealousy. As a commander, Bryant was now lifted out and above them all to a different and higher plane of existence as captain of his own ship. Kydd forced a smile as he looked across at Bryant, who was red-faced with pleasure, loudly admitting his good fortune. Independence, prize-money, the prospect of leading a ship's company to honour and glory in his own name ... Bryant had it all now.
Then the feeling passed. No doubt Kydd's turn would come— he couldn't be the junior for ever, and there was still a chance that there would be further promotions after the Nile. Kydd's natural generosity of spirit returned and he leaned across to shake Bryant's hand. "Give you joy of y'r step, sir," he said, with a broad smile. "We shall wet y' swab afore ye leave!" On his plain lieutenant's uniform Bryant would henceforth ship a golden epaulette to larboard for all the world to see and know by it that he was now the captain of a ship.
Captain Houghton left his command in the morning of the following day. As was the custom the officers rowed him ashore in his barge, still leaving unanswered the all-important question of who would succeed.
"Ah, yes," said Adams, reflectively, in the wardroom afterwards. "This is all very well, but it's who they'll find for premier that I'd be more concerned with. Stranger coming in, doesn't know our ways, a new first luff can be a deuced awkward party."
Kydd agreed—the first lieutenant was responsible for so many vital domestic arrangements, from apportioning the watch-and-station bill of the hands to ensuring before the captain that the appearance of the ship was taut and seaman-like. There was plenty of scope for tyranny or slackness, both equally dismaying within the confines of a man-o'-war.