"Four volunteers f'r the boat," Kydd snapped, "each with a lifeline t' a thwart." What was the boy thinking, to take such a risk? It was madness, but a noble act for one so young.
It was a fearsome thing to set the cutter afloat with the rocketing rise and dizzying fall of the seas under their stern but at least this was in Teazer's lee and temporary protection. The seaman was out of sight downwind, hidden by the driving combers, but the midshipman could occasionally be seen striking out manfully for him in the welter of seas.
"He's seen our boat," Standish said coldly, watching the lugger. A jib was jerking up in the privateer, and when it had taken the wind, other sails were smartly hoisted. Kydd refused to comment, obstinately watching the cutter as line was paid out and it drew near to Andrews.
"Sir! He's under way and going round our stern. We've lost him."
Kydd glanced once at the lugger as it leant to the hammering south-westerly and made its escape, derisory yells coming faintly over the tumult accompanied by rude gestures from the matelots along the decks.
The privateer was still in sight, driving southwards towards France under all sail possible when the boat was hauled in, half full of water, with a soaked and subdued Andrews. The sailor had not been found.
"Will you follow him, do you think?" Renzi asked softly. Kydd had not seen his friend come up but now Standish had moved away and was standing apart, trying to catch the fast-disappearing lugger in his glass.
"Not today," Kydd said quietly. It was over for the poor wretch who had reached out obediently to do his duty and found instead a lonely death. In an hour or so a dark shape would appear in the line of breakers at the sea's edge, carelessly rolled about by the swash of surf. They would retrieve it and give it a Christian burial in Penzance.
Kydd's eyes pricked: no matter that he had seen so many lose their lives following their profession of the sea—this had occurred on Teazer's first commission in home waters and he as captain. Things could never be the same.
Feeling the need to be alone, he left Standish to lay Teazer to her anchor, went to his cabin, sprawled in his chair and stared moodily out of the stern windows. There was a soft knock at the door and Renzi appeared. "Come in, old friend," Kydd said. Renzi made his way cautiously to the other chair, the lively movement becoming more unpredictable as the ship felt her anchor.
"You would think it fatuous of me should I remark that the sea is a hard mistress."
"Aye, I would."
"Then—"
"But then, o' course, it doesn't stop it bein' true, Nicholas." Kydd heaved a sigh and continued softly, "It's just that—that . . ."
"'They that go down to the sea in ships . . .'" Renzi intoned softly.
"True as well."
Renzi broke the moody silence. "Is the Frenchman to be blamed, do you think?" he asked.
"No," Kydd said decisively. "He has his duty, an' that he's doing main well." He levered himself upright. "What takes m' interest is that not only does he shine in his nauticals but he knows too damn much of th' coast."
He reflected for a moment, then said quietly, "He's goin' t' be a right Tartar t' lay by the tail, m' friend." Pensively he watched the shoreline come slowly into view as Teazer snubbed to her anchor, then added, "But we must account him our pigeon right enough. What will I do, Nicholas?"
There was no reply, and when Kydd turned to look at Renzi he saw his friend with his arms folded, regarding him gravely. "I find I must refuse to answer," Renzi said finally.
"You . . . ?"
"Let me be more explicit. Do you accept the undoubted fact that you have your limitations?"
There was no use in being impatient when Renzi was in logic, Kydd knew, and he answered amiably, "That must be true enough, Nicholas."
"Then you must hold that this must be true for myself also."
"Aye."
"And it follows that since you have advanced so far and so rapidly in the sea profession, you must be gifted far beyond the ordinary to have achieved so."
Kydd shifted uncomfortably. "If ye mean—"
"For myself, I accept this without rancour, that you are so much my superior in the nautical arts. You have the technical excellence, the daring and—if I may make bold to remark it—the ambition that places you at such an eminence, all of which sets my own small competences to the blush."
"Nicholas, you—"
"Therefore the corollary is inescapable, and it is that if I were to venture an opinion in such matters then it will have sprung from so shallow a soil that it may not stand against one cultured to so full a bloom. It would be an impertinence to attach weight or significance to it and from this we must accept therefore that it were better not uttered—I shall not be offering a view on how you will conduct your ship, nor praise and still less blame. Your decisions shall be yours to make, and I, like every one of Teazer's company, will happily abide by them."
So there would be no private councils-of-war, for there was no shifting Renzi's resolve, logically arrived at. But then it dawned on Kydd. Close friends as they were, nothing could be more calculated to drive a wedge between them than the holding of opposite opinions before an action, only one of which would be proved correct to the discomfiture of the other—whoever that might be.
Renzi was putting their friendship before self, Kydd recognised. For the future, the decisions would be his own but unconditional warmth of the companionship would always be there at the trifling cost of some defining limits. "Why, that's handsomely said, Nicholas," he replied softly. He paused, then began again in a different tone: "We have t' put down the rascal, that's clear, but where t' find him? That's the rub."
Renzi waited.
"An' I have notion where we might . . ."
"May I know your reasoning?" Renzi said carefully. Evidently discussion was possible but advice and opinions were not.
"I feel it in m' bones. Our Bloody Jacques is not going home. He's lost not a single spar in th' meeting of us—why should he give it away while he c'n still cruise?" Unspoken was the feeling that, be damned to it, he was going to have a reckoning for his own self-respect.
"So where . . . ?"
"Just as soon as we're able, we clap on sail to th' suth'ard—I mean t' make Wolf Rock b' sunset."
"Wolf Rock?" said Renzi, in surprise. The dangerous single outcrop well out into the entrance to the Channel was feared by all seafarers.
"Aye."
"And, er, why?" Renzi prompted.
"Pray excuse, Nicholas, there's a mort t' be done afore we sail."
There was now just enough time to punish Andrews for breaking ship and hazarding his shipmates, then deal with Standish.
With Penzance under their lee they left Mount's Bay for the south. Kydd had dealt kindly with Andrews, even as the letter of the law judged him guilty of desertion and, what was worse, that his captain had been presented with a situation not of his intending or control. The crestfallen lad was given the thirty-fourth Article of War to get by heart before claiming his supper.
Standish, however, was a harder matter. Clearly quite sure of his opinion, he had become cold and reserved in his dealings and would need careful handling if this were not to turn into something more charged.
Within the hour they had left the shelter of the bay and headed out into the Channel, first to the south and, the winds proving favourable, further towards the open Atlantic. The seas moderated, and as the afternoon continued the sun made an appearance, setting all in their path a-glitter in a last display before dusk.
"Tide'll be an hour earlier'n Falmouth hereabouts, sir," Dowse said laconically.
"Aye."
"It's high-water springs, sir," he added, with more feeling.
"That'll be so, I believe."
Kydd didn't want any discussion about his dash for Wolf Rock, for while his reasons could be explained logically—the rock's position as a fine place of lookout squarely athwart both the east-west and north-south shipping channels—his conviction was based on intuition only. In some way he knew that the privateer captain would head for friendly waters for the night but then turn about and, believing Teazer to be continuing her patrol along the south coast, round the tip of Cornwall to resume his depredations, this time on the north coast. But first he would have to pass within sight of Wolf Rock—and there Teazer would be waiting.