"I'm no stranger to privateering, you may believe," Job said smoothly. "I find the chief objective is to secure a captain of daring and acumen, the second to ensure he has the ship and men he needs to perform his task. This is essential and must always stand above considerations of expense. Spoiling the ship for a ha'p'orth of tar is false economy, so by not sparing the quality of ship and man, the enterprise does maximise its chances."
"An' increases th' capital risk," Kydd said.
"It does, but those considerations you should leave to the prudent investor who, you can be sure, does take full measure of his exposure." He went on, "For myself, I will increase my own determination in the venture by one simple means. I intend to take the majority shareholding."
"Sir, I c'n see how this might be of advantage t' me . . ."
"Might I correct you in the particulars, sir? I do this not for you but in the cause of profit and gain to accrue to myself. I would not do it unless I saw due opportunity, and having witnessed at the first hand your daring and clear thinking when you apprehended the pirate villain Bloody Jacques, then it's my estimation that the investment is as sound as any now open to me."
"Go on."
"Besides which," Job continued, "I will naturally take reasonable measures to safeguard my position, the first of which is to state that I will in no wise set to hazard my capital without I have a formal proposal from yourself.
"This shall include details of your intended cruising grounds, particulars of the vessel you desire to employ, the crew consequential on its size, the length of voyage—all the usual considerations in matters of this kind, which I'm sure you understand—and each most carefully costed."
Kydd held his elation in check. "Then you shall be the armateur?"
"By no means, sir. There are many such available in Guernsey. I shall be content to remain chief investor, should your proposal prove acceptable."
Playfully, Kydd added, "An' if I find such will be sufficiently advantageous as will allow me t' delay my return to England."
Blinking, Job leaned forward. "Return to . . . ? Sir, that would be to discard a particularly fine business opportunity. Surely you wouldn't—"
Kydd saw his moment. "I've had m' taste of privateerin' an' if I was t' consider another cruise there's t' be changes."
"Oh?"
"Y' mentioned there'll be no spoilin th' ship f'r a ha'p'orth o' tar. Is this t' mean I can select a ship of size as can go up against a big Indiaman man t' man?" "Ah, yes. This is the very point that encourages me in the whole business. As you will allow, a five-hundred- or thousand-ton vessel is an extremely expensive proposition to set a-swim. With you as captain, however, a more modest-sized craft might well be manoeuvred with daring and resource to achieve what in lesser hands would certainly require a larger."
"You'll grant me, Mr Job, that a grand Martinico-man will never strike t' a squiddy cutter an' must always resist. I should need m' choice o' armaments."
"Of course."
"An' men enough t' swarm aboard when th' time comes."
"Undoubtedly."
"Articles I'll draw up m'self of a character as will grant me full powers o' discipline."
"I'm sure that will be possible."
"I say where we cruise."
"As long as it is a blue-water venture I'm certain that will be acceptable. The usual clause runs something like, 'shall cruise in waters to the west to take such ships as you shall fall in with' or similar."
"Well . . . that could be agreeable," Kydd mused, rubbing his chin.
"If you should decide to take this up," Job said earnestly, "then news of my firm and sizeable commitment will of a surety excite interest and speculation that will not leave us shy of subscribers to follow in the enterprise."
"Aye. I see that."
"West of the Azores is a famous place for deep-water privateering, Mr Kydd. Those of an age will recall Talbot of the Prince Frederick in those waters taking two Spanish in fine style. From Bristol to London the bullion took forty-five armed wagons to send it safely to the Tower of London."
"Well . . ."
"Can I expect your proposal?"
Kydd beamed. "Aye, ye can, Mr Job."
He needed a brisk walk along the foreshore to regain his equilibrium while he contemplated the sudden change in his prospects. He had another chance—could he make a success of it? There was rich trade coming in from the Atlantic, but the French were canny and made much use of neutral bottoms. Their allies were largely driven from the seas as well, while the other ships plying the trade routes would be sure to have a vexatious quantity of protective documents. The fabulous Spanish treasure ships were off-limits with the peace still holding, and while there were multitudes of ships afloat, there were millions of square miles of open sea.
But an ocean cruise was a different game altogether from his earlier foray into privateering: a single fat Caribbean trader in sugar could repay their outlay many times over. Two could make him rich. Or none could—He cut short his doubts: this was an opportunity he would take with both hands, all or nothing. However, the proposal needed expertise he did not have, finely judged costing arguments that he would later have to live with.
"Mr Kydd!" Robidou grunted in astonishment. "What can I do for ye? If it's about y'r settlement then I'll tell you—"
"No, Mr Robidou. It's about what I can do f'r you." Kydd knew his man and got to the point. Straight talking, no tacking and veering, simply that if he was given assistance with a proposal he would see to it that Robidou was appointed armateur for the venture.
The name of Zephaniah Job was sufficient to get him a fair hearing and Kydd found himself back in the Three Crowns tavern. He ransacked Robidou's experience: the best area for serious cruising was indeed beyond the Azores—close enough to be at a reasonable sailing distance and far enough that receiving convoys and their escorts would not have formed up. There was stirring talk of cargoes: sugar, coffee, cotton inbound—and outbound exotics like mercury destined for the mines, luxury items for the colonies, bullion. And their chances. French, Batavian, Ligurian, all for the taking, but ready for a fight and disinclined to heave-to at the order of one half their size.
The discussion turned to their ship. Kydd's instinct was for the manoeuvrability of square rig but with the high pointing of fore and aft. Both men agreed on the type of vessel that best fitted the description: a topsail schooner. Robidou knew of one, just laid up for the winter.
As soon as Kydd clapped eyes on the Witch of Sarnia he knew he had to have her. She had been designed and built on speculation as a privateer with a fine-lined hull that took no account of any need for cavernous cargo holds. Low and rakish, there was no mistaking her purpose, but an innocent approach would not be practical with wary deep-water merchantmen, and sailing qualities alone would decide the issue.
She was recently out of the water, propped at the top of the slip and Kydd walked slowly round her, taking in the tight seams, true curves and obviously new construction. This was a sound, well-built and altogether convincing craft as a privateer. His pulse quickened.
A rope-ladder hung over her neat stern and Kydd hauled himself aboard. With most of her gear stored and decks clear of ropes it was possible to take in her sweet lines, leading forward to a bowsprit fully half as long again as the main hull.
As she was bigger than Bien Heureuse his cabin was roomier— narrow, but longer. There were two cabins a side for officers and a pleasant saloon, which would later double as an examining place. Forward, a modest hold was followed by a magazine and store cabins, a galley well and finely contrived crew accommodation.