Free Betrayal by Julian Stockwin

do it, Nicholas,’ he said, with concern. It was clear his friend’s so recent cruel fall from fortune and prospects for marriage had affected him more than he had revealed.
    Renzi took control, then said evenly, ‘I shall dedicate my heart and soul to
Portrait of an Adventurer
, Tom. Never doubt it for one minute.’
    ‘Yes, Nicholas.’
    Writing a novel had been Kydd’s idea, a suggestion to which, until now, Kydd had never given much more thought, but he knew that it was probably the only thing Renzi could do that had any promise for the future. The public seemed to crave such works, and Renzi had had a number of adventures around the world that might inspire such a book. But, most importantly, it would keep his friend occupied until they returned and he could resolve matters with Kydd’s sister.
    ‘Damme – whatever it takes out of me, this is the only thing I can positively do for the both of us,’ Renzi said defiantly.
    ‘I quite understand, m’friend.’
    ‘Not forgetting, mark you, what I said about Cecilia.’
    Kydd smiled: a natural philosopher turned writer of novels? Of course she should never hear of it! He clapped his hand on the desk and gave a mock frown. ‘So, what do you know of novels, ever?’
    ‘Ah. Not much – I confess I’ve yet to read one, my father railing against them so vehemently. I’ve taken some first steps, however, which persuade me that it may not be as plain-sailing a task as first I’d conceived.’
    ‘You’ll do it, Nicholas, never fear.’
    ‘I enquired in our worthy gunroom if there was by chance a reader of novels who might lend me a volume, but it seems there was not. Yet mysteriously by evening a pair lay on my cot. Such noble fellows!’
    He fumbled in his pocket and drew out two well-used pocket editions and passed them across. Curious, Kydd opened one.
The Castle on the Rhine; or; The Fatal Warning
was its title, and lower down it went on breathlessly to declare that it was the harrowing tale of the fate of Reginald de Vere, who dared pierce the deathly walls of a deserted castle in pursuit of a ghostly love.
    ‘Um, you’ve experience of ghosts at all, Nicholas?’ Kydd asked doubtfully.
    ‘We have an ancestral phantom but I’ve never met it,’ Renzi said apologetically, ‘and never a spirit, of the ghostly sort that is, have I seen at sea.’
    Kydd turned to the second book. ‘Then this other one, “
Quentin Dandy
, being an account of the peregrinations of a scoundrel and his dreadful end”, in five volumes – but this is the third only, damn it.’
    ‘It must serve, I fear. We need all the research matter we can lay hands on.’
    ‘
We?
’
    ‘My dear fellow! You don’t imagine I shall exclude my most particular friend from this literary adventure, surely.’
    ‘But I’m a sea officer, fit only to write a log or beg favour of my admiral, Nicholas. What do I know of romance and plotting?’
    ‘Tom, dear fellow, you have a crucial role, one suited only to a clear and strong mind as will not be swayed by fashion and sorcery. In fine, dear friend, you shall be my audience.’
    ‘Oh. To make critical remarks, review your meaning and similar?’
    ‘Er, yes.’
    ‘Then shall I be telling the truth or will I be losing a friend?’ Kydd asked slyly.
    ‘I’ve yet to write a word,’ Renzi said stiffly. ‘There’s a mort of work before then.’
    Gravely, the commodore paced slowly along the assembled divisions, asking a question here, commending an appearance there. Kydd followed:
L’Aurore
was at her best and he could vouch for her fighting spirit. Some senior officers insisted on a faultless appearance, others fell back on pedantry in the matter of ceremonials, but he knew Popham prized intelligence and audacity above all else – and who on this station had shown more than
L’Aurore
?
    Concluding his tour, Popham stood genially on the quarterdeck and addressed Kydd loudly: ‘A splendid turn-out, Captain! And as fine a King’s Ship as any