Orders passed, Standish returned to stand by Kydd. "Um, might it be accounted true, sir, what they are saying—please forgive the impertinence if it were not—that, er, you have made conquest of the admiral's daughter?"
Kydd looked at him sharply, but saw only open admiration. "Miss Lockwood has been handsome enough t' visit," he said, regretting his pompous tone but finding it hard to conceal his feeling otherwise. "In company with her parents, o' course."
"And if my sources are correct—and they're all talking about it—also the highest in the land."
Now it was to be hero worship. "That is t' say I knew the marquess before as Lord Stanhope, but his particular friend the foreign secretary Lord Grenville . . ." This was only making it worse. Kydd glanced aloft. "Is that an Irish pennant I see at the fore-topsail yard, Mr Standish?" he growled, and while it was being attended to, he made his escape below.
"Nicholas." He sighed as he sat to stare moodily through the stern windows at the dissipating wake. "It seems th' whole world knows. What will I do?"
Renzi put down his papers with a half-smile. "It is what I shall do that preoccupies my thoughts, dear fellow. In a short space you will be joined to a family of consequence, be in receipt of a fair dowry that will, in the nature of things, have your lady casting about for an estate of worth."
Kydd beamed. The thought of himself as one half of two was new and wonderful.
"I rather fear," Renzi continued, "my arcadia in urbes at number eighteen will be a lonely one, even supposing I am able to find the means to—"
"Nicholas," Kydd interrupted warmly, "y' will always find a place with us, never fear."
"I thank you, brother, but I am obliged to observe that when the head of the house proposes it is always the lady who disposes . . ."
They sat in companionable stillness, until Renzi asked, "May I be informed of the progress of your attachment? Have you made her a proposition?"
Kydd eased into a deep smile. "There will be time enough f'r that after we return, Nicholas—an' I'll be glad of y'r advice in the detail, if y' please."
"It will be my pleasure. You will follow the polite conventions, of course—first to seek a private interview with your intended to secure her acceptance, followed by a formal approach to her father requesting approval of the match. There will be some . . . negotiations, at which various matters relating to your post-nuptial circumstances will be—"
Suddenly Kydd felt restless with all this talk. He could contain himself no longer and got to his feet. "Belay all that, m' friend. I have a cruise t' command. Where's that poxy boatswain?"
That night, under easy sail from the south-west, Kydd crawled into his cot and composed himself for sleep. He tried to shut out the crowding thoughts but they kept coming in different guises, different urgencies.
It was now clear he would wed soon—Persephone had made plain that her father had always approved of him and Lady Lockwood would come round to it, given time. Therefore in the next few months his life would change to that of a married man with a defined and highly visible place in polite society.
Cecilia would be so proud of him. And when he visited his parents in Guildford it would be in a carriage with footmen and a bride of such character and quality—it was such a dizzying prospect that his mind could hardly grasp it.
But what about Persephone? Would he match up to her expectations, be a proper husband with all the trappings of dignity and wisdom, refined tastes, ease of manner in high society? Damn it, was he good enough for her?
It had happened so quickly. Was he ready to exchange self-reliance and the freedom to choose a course of action that had been his way of life until now for the settled certainties of an ordered, prescribed daily round?
Would living graciously and the delicacies of polite discourse begin to pall and he to harbour a secret longing for the plain-speaking and direct pleasures of his old way of life? Would Persephone understand? Or would she be wounded by the betrayal?
He slept restlessly.
Their task was clear and unequivocaclass="underline" find and destroy the privateer. It would involve a slow cruise westwards, searching thoroughly as they went, while Bazely in Fenella sailed in the other direction, east from Plymouth.
Staying close in with the land would be tricky work: each night they would remain resolutely in the offing and resume in the morning. There would be no crossing of bays headland to headland, only a long tracking round, keeping as close inshore as prudence would allow.
With Rame Head left astern, there was now the sweeping curve of Whitsand Bay under their lee and with all plain sail they set to work. They passed the occasional huddles of dwellings whose names Kydd now knew well, Trewinnow, Tregantle, Portwrinkle: all would have their sturdy fisher-folk, their reckless smugglers and local characters who, one day, would be worthy of Renzi's ethnical study.
Towards the afternoon they had raised Looe; Kydd toyed with the idea of going alongside in the harbour overnight so that Renzi could see the medieval sights there but decided to keep to sea for freedom of manoeuvre; besides which the Admiralty frowned on captains incurring unnecessary harbour dues.
Checking on Looe Island just offshore, he shaped course to continue along the coast: the Hore Stone, Asop's Bed, Talland Bay—a wearisome progress with the ship cleared and half the company at the guns at all times.
Polperro, Udder Rock, round the questing Pencarrow Head and to anchor in Lantic Bay. It was going to be a long haul. In the early morning they weighed and proceeded once more; Kydd sent Standish in to Fowey for news, but there was none.
St Austell Bay saw them in a slow tacking south to the Dodman; Mevagissey, Gwineas Rocks—all had such meaning now. Mile after mile of rugged coastline, lonely coves, rock-bound islets. Inshore coasters, luggers and yawls wended their way between tiny ports, each vessel a potential enemy until proved innocent. Occasional flecks of sail out to sea could be any kind of craft, from a deep-sea merchantman inward-bound to a man-o'-war on her way to a rendezvous off the enemy coast.
At Falmouth Kydd went ashore to see if there was word, but again it seemed that Bloody Jacques had an uncanny knowledge of suitable bolt-holes and had simply vanished between pillagings.
Wearily he put back to sea, down in long tacks towards the famous Lizard. He decided to wait out the night in its lee for if there was one place more likely than any other for a privateer to lurk it would be at the end of England, where shipping bound up-Channel diverged from that making for the Irish Sea and Liverpool.
The next day, however, the summer sunshine had left them for a grey day and whiffling, fluky winds backing south, and a dropping barometer—sure signs of a change in the weather. After rounding the Lizard, Kydd was troubled to find the seas far more lively and on the back of an uneasy westerly swell; he had no wish to make close search of Wolf Rock and the outlying Isles of Scilly in thickening weather.
Penzance knew of the privateer but could contribute little to the search. Kydd had half expected Parlby in Wyvern to be there for he had been sent to the northern coast and might well have put into Penzance. Kydd had his duty, however, and pressed on instead of waiting, dutifully heading for Wolf Rock, Teazer taking the seas on her bow in bursts of white and an awkward motion.
In the gathering misery of greying skies Teazer found the lonely black menace set amid seething white, cautiously felt her way past and onward into the wastes of the Atlantic. Kydd was determined to clear the Isles of Scilly before the blow really set in.
It was getting more serious by the hour; the wind was foul for rounding the Isles of Scilly from the south, which had the sloop staying about twice a watch in the difficult conditions, but this was not the worst of it. They could not set a straight intercepting course for the islands and because of the resulting wide zigzags against the wind they lost sight of them for most of the time with the danger of an unfortunate conjunction on the next board.