Free Mutiny by Julian Stockwin

their
feet.
    'Utterly peaceful — the
work of man, yet supernal in its effects.' Renzi sat and stared at the view,
then closed his eyes. Kydd's mind was alive with distractions of the present.
Was Emily's letter a delaying tactic while she reviewed her feelings? Should he
press his case more clearly, perhaps?
    'A lady?' Renzi's lazy
murmur cut through his rush of thoughts.
    Kydd glanced suspiciously at him, but
Renzi's eyes were still closed. 'Er, y'r in the right of it - but I beg, tell
me of y'r battle. I heard it was a thunderin' good drubbing f'r the Dons.'
    Renzi
opened his eyes and stared into space. 'Little enough to say. It was a
hard-fought encounter and they had overweening forces, but we prevailed.' He
looked at Kydd with a sardonic smile. 'You would have been diverted by the
sight of their Santissima Trinidad — a four-decker of a hundred and thirty
guns, a leviathan indeed.'
    As far as Kydd knew,
the largest ship in the Royal Navy only had a hundred guns and three decks, so
such a monster a third bigger should have made a devastating impact. 'Did she —
who should say — get among our ships—'
    'We
took her.'
    Kydd's
eyes gleamed.
    'Then we forgot about her, so she
rehoisted her colours and retired from the field.' 'But Nelson, did he not—'
    'The man is a genius of
the sea war — daring and courageous with it. He will either die young or find
great glory, nothing less.'
    Kydd fell silent. While
great deeds were happening on the open sea, he was wasting his life in port,
going nowhere.
    Renzi shifted position awkwardly.
'Somethin' pains you?' Kydd asked.
    'Only a pinking from a splinter across
my chest.' He turned to Kydd. 'You made mention of a lady.. .'
    'Er,
yes. Her name's Emily.'
    'A
fine name,' said Renzi drily.
    'She's
very beautiful.'
    'I have no doubt she
has shining parts,' Renzi prompted.
    'There
is somethin' that is stoppin' her showin' her true feelings.'
    'She
believes you are from an inferior station in life?'
    'No. That's to say,
this is not where the problem lies.' He struggled with what had to come next,
feeling a chill of doubt for the first time. 'You see, Nicholas, right at th'
moment. .. she is married.' Kydd blushed, then muttered protestations of love.
    Renzi's expressionless
mask did not change. Then, suddenly, he came to his feet, and paced round the
small garden with his hands behind his back, once, twice, then returned to Kydd
and stood before him. 'It seems to me the lady does not appreciate your true
worth, my friend. She probably has cognisance only of the army life, never the
navy.' He paused for effect, then announced gravely, 'I have a plan.'
    'Yes,
Nicholas?'
    'You shall be known for
a daring, dangerous and romantic sea feat that will have the whole of Gibraltar
talking. She will regard you as her adoring hero, her Galahad.'
    ' Ye're chousin' me!
Achilles is not goin' to sea, there's no chance o' that.'
    'No, but Bacchante is,
and she needs men.' Renzi leaned forward. 'I'm quite certain that the frigate
is bound for the eastern Mediterranean. It is not talked about, there is a
smothering secrecy, but the application of a little logic suggests much. The
master has taken in certain charts of the area, the vessel is under some kind
of Admiralty orders, we are a private ship. The Mediterranean is now without a
single English sail — why would the Admiralty risk a single valuable frigate in
a sea so hostile?' Renzi paused. 'It is because they wish to rescue someone, a
grandee, perhaps, but one of some consequence.'
    The romantic
possibilities of an audacious rescue of a notable were easy to see.
    Renzi went on, 'We have
abandoned our ports and bases and retreated to Gibraltar, the princes,
governors and such ilk long retrieved. No, this is somewhere that is lately
under threat, and for that we can discount the petty fiefdoms of the Levant,
the decadent Ottomans, the Barbary coast — none would rate any personage of
importance. Italy — now, the French have been pressing them