Inferno

Chapter 5

The evening had been a sovereign remedy for his hurry of spirits – and the next morning Kydd borrowed a gnarled stick and set off for the cliff-tops to take his fill of the fine views.

It was a steep climb out of the village but he soon found his stride.

Four or five miles ahead in the glittering sea a pair of islands stretched across his vision. They were effectively the guardians of Dunlochry, a rampart against the open Atlantic beyond, that would throw a lee to all but a south-westerly.

Kydd breathed deeply. The Outer Isles – no more distant and lonely place could be conceived.

In winter, with howling gales and lashed by storms, it would be a very different place but now it reached out to him. There was not a thing of man in sight – and he was utterly on his own with his thoughts, which returned to what he had so recently gone through aboard Tyger.

He stopped walking. A lump grew in his throat and he sat on a flat rock to look out on the limitless sea through fast misting eyes as emotion took hold. His head dropped and he surrendered to the feeling invading his soul, a long, racking and consuming passion born of that experience of carnage and heroism, peril and desperation – what might so easily have been and what triumphantly was. It swept over him like a torrent, cleansing and scouring, leaving him shuddering and weak with the unstoppable force of it all.

Then as if in a dream of long ago he heard a voice. Infinitely kind and gentle, one that his reason had clung to in the gulf of years that separated the famous frigate captain of now from a young seaman in his first skirmish against the enemy, a voice that had then seen him through to the other side. ‘How’s this, Tom, m’ old shipmate? Somethin’ has ye by the tail, then?’

Low and concerned, just as it had been so long ago.

But the hand on his shoulder was real enough. He rubbed his eyes, looked up and saw Stirk’s seamed face drawn in care. It brought on another bout of uncontrollable feeling and he reached for control.

‘I – I’m s-sorry, Toby, j-just came over me.’

It sounded foolish but he couldn’t help it.

‘Don’t be sorry, cuffin. Things in life, well, they’s natural an’ we has t’ see ’em through ourselves and be buggered to any who says else.’

The same patient, practical good sense.

‘Why … why did you come here?’

‘Someone said as how you’re heading up these ’ere cliffs an’ I came to warn ye off ’em. So easy t’ slide over the edge – it gets a sousing from th’ rain.’

‘Thanks, Toby. It’s right … oragious in you, cully.’ The words he had used in a past existence.

The hand patted his shoulder awkwardly. ‘Look, mate. How’s about we two duck down to the kiddleywink and sink a jar or three? Right handsome lot they is in the Lion.’

With rising feeling Kydd realised Stirk had seen him in difficulties and reacted as he would with a messmate. Kind, understanding words and the extending of the rugged mateship of the foremast jack.

There was no need for pretence: he was being treated as any other shipmate – in a man-o’-war that was home to half the races of the world, quirks of character and origin were passed over.

Kydd pulled himself together. ‘Toby. Can I talk straight with you?’

‘Tom, mate, it’s a sad thing if ’n ye thought ye couldn’t.’

‘We’re … we’re talking here as if … all those years … well, as if nothing happened.’

‘Aye. An’ I figured as that’s how it should be, youse bein’ set hard a-weather, like.’

‘It is. Toby, I’d take it very kindly should you stay that way for me for a space. I’ve had a – a grievous lot to take in lately as a whole parcel o’ gentlefolk could never understand. Could you?’

‘In course, matey. Could be we c’n bear a hand f ’r each other,’ he murmured. Then, in a stronger voice, ‘Right then, cully. We’s for the Lion?’

‘I’ll be with you presently, Toby. Just want to be on my own for a while.’