14-Caribbee: A Kydd Sea Adventure

by Julian Stockwin

  He remembered her gentle smile, quiet dignity and old-fashioned politeness, which had stayed even as the insanity of revolution and bloodshed had reached out to engulf her world.

  Her teaching rooms were near the waterfront, a small but tidy house with a neat garden, her sign discreetly in the front window. As he walked to the door he paused, hearing a sturdy masculine voice chanting irregular verbs, then soft encouragement from her.

  For a long moment he remained standing there, unwilling to have the memory of years stripped away to a harder present.

  The chanting stopped, there was a murmur of voices and the door opened to let out a young redcoat officer, who flashed an embarrassed smile at Renzi and left quickly.

  ‘Is there anything I can do for you, M’sieur?’ Louise Vernou asked softly.

  She had hardly changed. She was wearing a modest but elegant blue dress, and the touch of grey in her hair he’d remembered had barely advanced. That direct, almost intimate gaze held his without recognition.

  She waited politely.

  ‘Madame Louise Vernou, I believe,’ he said gently, in French.

  It came to her then. Her hand flew to her lips, and her eyes opened wide. ‘Mon Dieu – can it be …? It is! M’sieur Renzi!’

  She swayed for a moment before Renzi caught the glitter of tears. Then, with a sob, she flung herself at him.

  He let the emotion spend itself, holding her slight body tenderly as she connected once again with the fearful events of years before.

  She pulled away, dabbing her eyes. ‘I do apologise,’ she said in English. ‘I forget your country does not value the open expression of feeling as do we. Please to come in, M’sieur.’

  As soon as he entered Renzi caught the same subtle fragrance that he had first met when he and Kydd had shared a bedroom that had belonged to her. It touched him; the madness of war had spared this gentle soul.

  ‘Tea?’ she enquired, her voice tight with emotion.

  They sat side by side in the drawing room while the maid brought refreshments.

  Louise looked at him intently, then said quietly, ‘You never were the simple sailor, Mr Renzi, were you? What do you now?’

  ‘Je vais vous expliquer à un autre moment,’ he answered. Her English was greatly improved but his French was better.

  She hesitated. ‘I’m not sure if I want to know the answer, but could you tell me this? What became of the young sailor, Tom Kydd, your friend? He gave up his own place in the boat for me,’ she added, with a catch in her throat. ‘Such a fine man and true.’

  ‘You may not believe me if I told you, Madame.’

  ‘Do, please!’

  ‘In English Harbour dockyard there lies a smart frigate, her name L’Aurore. Her commander is … Captain Thomas Kydd.’

  ‘Vraiment? Quelle merveille!’ she squealed, her hands working together. ‘What happened? You must tell me.’

  ‘Dear Madame, I rather feel that it were better told within the civilities of a dinner perhaps. Do you—’

  ‘This very evening. It shall be here, and I will prepare it myself. Do you object, sir, if it were we two alone?’ she added, with a coy smile in her eyes.

  The fish was exquisitely cooked in a delicate sauce and the little dining room touchingly feminine with its carefully chosen pieces and faultlessly draped hangings in the soft gold of the candlelight.

  Their converse was intelligent and attentive; they relished the courtly exchanges, the courteous deferences and gallantries of the old order.

  Renzi recounted the epic adventures that had led to Kydd’s rise to eminence in his profession and his own calling of scholar, while Louise told a poignant tale of being wrenched from her homeland, her brother’s suffering under the guillotine and her quiet waiting existence in exile.

  It called for a vin d’honneur and a promise that she would be allowed to meet Kydd once again at the earliest opportunity – and then Renzi knew it could not be put off any further.

  ‘Louise, ma chère, what do you know of the current perils that face us in the Caribbean as we dine together here so elegantly?’

  She looked puzzled. ‘Surely the tyrant is now vanquished in these parts. He makes imperial decrees as he struts in the Tuileries, but they cannot affect us here, not with your great navy that prevails over all.’

  Renzi let his expression sadden. ‘Dear lady, there has recently arisen a threat that is even now wreaking ruin all over the Caribbean. I would not trouble to mention it, save it is causing the gravest anxiety to Captain Kydd and his fellow officers. It is such a scourge as bears on all our spirits.’

  ‘How can this be, Nicholas?’

  It was easily told, the ruinous losses, all unexplained – then, after he had extracted a promise of secrecy, the probability that it was the result of a clandestine naval operation by numerous small craft, which had to be centred and directed from French territory.

  ‘And you believe this to be in Guadeloupe?’ she asked shrewdly.

  ‘Just so.’

  ‘Then …’ she began uncertainly.

  ‘Louise, do you have family still in Pointe-à-Pitre? Or friends you may still talk with in other parts of the island?’

  ‘You want to learn if anything is known of this port de guerre there,’ she replied quickly. ‘And I have to tell you that, no, to communicate with them, ce n’est pas possible.’

  ‘There is no way you can get word to them?’

  ‘I know why you ask, and if it were possible I would try, but you must understand this war is like no other. Revolutionaries and islanders both live together in suspicion and hatred, and if by any means I could get through to any in Guadeloupe they would pay for it with their lives.’

  There was no way forward – except one. Even before he spoke Renzi despised himself. ‘Louise … this leaves only one alternative. To land someone on the shores of Guadeloupe to see if such a base exists.’

  Her eyes on him were still and luminous.

  ‘I wish with all my heart it could be me,’ he said, ‘but I am known to them and would not survive to bring back the information.’

  ‘And you want me to go there and be a spy. Now I know what it is you do. Is this why you came to me tonight, Mr Renzi?’

  The sudden chill in her manner struck him to the heart.

  ‘There is none other I could think to turn to. Please believe me.’

  She put down her napkin and spoke coldly: ‘Sir, I’m astonished – no, I confess amazed at what you’ve been saying. I thought you a gentleman of reputation, of learning and discernment, and I find you speaking of spying. And, what is more, to a lady!’

  He couldn’t meet her gaze.

  ‘No, sir, I will not do it. I cannot abide dissimulation and deceit. You will find another.’

  There was one last throw – one that had been used successfully before. By spymaster d’Auvergne on himself.

  ‘I’m grieved to hear it, Madame,’ he said softly. ‘Especially since it is impossible another will be found in time …’

  She said nothing.

  ‘And therefore I have to beg you will consider the future.’

  A candle guttered in the stillness.

  ‘When you must be obliged to recall that a grave duty to your country was presented that only you may perform – and you chose to turn your back.’

  He raised his eyes to meet hers.

  ‘These are not words to use to a woman, sir,’ she said levelly. ‘If by them you seek to shame me into complying with your scheme, you have failed.’

  ‘Then for me, for the sake of Tom Kydd, who saved you from the revolutionaries?’

  ‘Not even for him – or you.’

  Nothing could be read from her expression. She sat rigid and unyielding.

  ‘Then …’

  Unexpectedly she smiled. ‘Nicholas, I have the strangest feeling.’

  He blinked.

  ‘I cannot believe you are a spy at all. You are too gentle – you care about the old things. And … and you’re
an honourable man.’

  ‘In truth, I am not, ma chère.’

  ‘It must have cost you much to come to me with what was in your heart.’

  A lump rose in his throat.

  ‘It will have been a great matter that weighs so much on you.’

  He nodded dumbly.

  ‘Very well, I will save you. From yourself, that is to say.’

  ‘Er …’

  ‘Yes. I will not do this thing for you – that you must accept.’

  ‘I do, Madame Louise.’

  Paradoxically he felt relief that now she would not know the terror and degradation that was the lot of the spy.

  ‘Then you will understand when I say that it is for la belle France that I will do it.’

  Renzi realised she was sparing him the pain of having her on his conscience. He reached across, took both her hands and kissed them. ‘Madame,’ he said quietly, ‘do believe me when I say I am truly humbled.’

  The moment hung until she withdrew her fingers and rose, turning away for a space before she came back brightly, ‘Then, mon brave, we should be started.’

  An Argand lamp was lit and brought to the table while the maid was summoned to remove the dishes and dismissed for the evening.

  ‘No brandy until we have completed our business,’ Louise said firmly. ‘Now, what is it we have to do?’

  The essentials were simple: to discover by any means if there was unusual activity inside blockaded Guadeloupe consistent with Renzi’s theory.

  He took pains to detail to her what might most betray its existence but emphasised it was only the vital secret of its being that was necessary; the rest was out of her hands.

  That settled, there was the conceiving of a story to account for her presence there, one that could stand against any question and would be credible to all as she moved about, observed and listened.

  It was all progressing much faster than Renzi had expected, and it was Louise who came up with her story.

  ‘A sad tale. I ran from the war, fearful of my fate. I was taken to St John’s by a kind naval officer’ – Renzi bowed politely – ‘who took me into keeping. He tired of me and turned me out for a younger woman. Cast down and yearning for the sound of le français about me and craving food that was civilised, I paid a fisherman to return me to Guadeloupe, where all I care for now is a quiet life.’

  ‘Bravo!’ Renzi exclaimed in admiration. ‘Worthy of Manon Lescaut!’

  It was certainly credible and her dignity of bearing would deter all but the most determined enquiries.

  She would take a bundle of what treasured possessions she could carry and, understandably, have her small means in English currency.

  Now all that was needed was for the landing and rendezvous to be made.

  ‘There’s a quiet little village, Petit-Bourg, on the left of the bay before Pointe-à-Pitre. Leave me there, and I’ll make my way into town.’

  ‘You must be so careful,’ Renzi implored.

  ‘Why? I’ve nothing to hide. They may search me, question me – I’m a ruined woman and all I wish is to end my days on the soil of France, M’sieur.’

  There were other details. How long would she need? There would have to be devised a plan of signals for when she was ready to to be picked up, a thorough understanding of the tides and moon by date …

  And would L’Aurore be available to them for the vital landing?

  Renzi explained what had happened leading up to Curaçao, his humiliation and the likelihood Kydd would refuse to be involved in yet another theory.

  ‘I understand. Then we shall invite Captain Kydd to a cosy dinner, we three, hein?’

  ‘The evening went well?’ Renzi asked at breakfast.

  ‘Why, yes. The admiral keeps a capital table and the Antigua people were most civil in their appreciation of our late action.’ He reached for the plate of salt fish and ackee. ‘Saving their anxiety about their shipping, which is serious and vexing to them. And yourself? Something of an old acquaintance you were dining with, you said.’

  ‘Um, yes. You may recall her – Madame Louise Vernou,’ Renzi said off-handedly, pouring more coffee.

  It didn’t register at first. Then Kydd dropped his bread roll and rounded on him. ‘You didn’t say, you sly beggar! She’s here – in Antigua still? I must see her, Nicholas!’

  ‘Well, yes. She asked to be remembered to you, of course, but do recollect, old fellow, that she recalls you as a young and unlettered seaman of somewhat direct manners and speech. You will not alarm her at all?’

  The door was flung open. Louise ran to Kydd and hugged him tightly, then held her arms outstretched, her eyes sparkling. ‘My brave sailorman! To see you again – looking so handsome and commanding!’

  Kydd blushed with pleasure, then performed an extravagant bow, protesting in his best French that not only was he enchanted to meet her once again but that the honour was to be accounted entirely his.

  Her astonishment melted to delight and the evening promised to be a wonderful reunion.

  ‘When I saw you on the land, those wicked people all around you, I cried so much to leave you. And now you tell me you were in no danger at all and went off to Jamaica.’

  ‘Er, that’s true enough. But afterwards …’

  ‘Have you found an amoureuse at all, Thomas? It’s not seemly that a man of such distinction and élégance should toil alone.’

  ‘Er, not at this moment, Madame Louise. My sea duties do claim me, I find.’

  ‘I’m desolated to hear this. But you will have seen sights inconceivable to we land creatures.’

  The dinner passed off in great style. Then, as the Armagnac was produced, Louise casually said, ‘Oh – before I forget this thing. I have it in mind to visit my cousin very soon. We were very close and I so worry about her in these … douloureux times.’

  ‘I honour you for it,’ Kydd said comfortably, cupping his drink; the Armagnac was magnificent.

  ‘She will be cast down, that poor one, and I wish to take her some comforts. You are a captain of the sea, M’sieur, who may advise me wisely how I might safely travel.’

  ‘Er, where will you visit, Madame?’

  ‘Why, Guadeloupe, of course! Where she has been since—’

  ‘What?’ blurted Kydd. ‘No – this is not possible! Louise, the whole island is under the strictest blockade and … and …’ He tailed off, at a loss to put into words the utter impossibility of what she was asking.

  ‘There are no cartel ships?’ Renzi asked innocently.

  ‘None, and well you know it. Louise, you cannot do this. They’ve a villainous crew in power and you being a …’

  ‘Nonsense. I’m merely returning to the place of my birth for a quick visit. Who can object to that? Besides, I shall keep quiet and no one will notice me.’

  Kydd fell back speechless, then returned strongly, ‘Well, it’s just not thinkable. We have the island under the closest watch and not a sail moves in or out without we know it. Why, L’Aurore herself will sail in two days to be part of the blockade.’

  She brightened. ‘Hourra! Then you will stop and row me in a boat onto the land. I don’t mind where.’

  ‘No!’ Kydd spluttered. ‘This is war, Louise, have you forgotten? And on a King’s ship!’

  ‘A pity,’ she said sadly. ‘Then it must be that I ask a little fisherman to take me. They say they’re most obliging for a silver dollar.’

  ‘A fisherman? Louise, do give up this mad idea, I beg.’

  ‘She does have a point, dear fellow. We’ve nothing to fear of what the French can bring against us, and simply to heave to, a quick landing—’

  ‘Nicholas! This does not concern you, and I’ll thank you to keep your suggestions to yourself. No, Madame, this I cannot do, and that is my final word.’

  ‘All quiet, sir,’ Curzon murmured. The night was inky black but the bay off Pointe-à-Pitre was well known to English ships, used to lying off the buoyed channel that led through the reefs, effectiv
ely sealing it off from all movements.

  ‘Hmmph. Well, get it into the water – we haven’t all night.’

  There was a muffled squeal of sheaves as the gig was lowered and voices aft as Madame Vernou was helped into the boatswain’s chair to be swayed down into the boat. Renzi came to assure Kydd of her safe embarkation but thought better of it and returned to board himself.

  ‘Push off, sir?’ Poulden asked laconically.

  ‘Er, yes, please do,’ Renzi said, distracted by the necessity of trying to read the boat compass in its awkward case. West-by-north would see them past the treacherous Caye Ronde and therefore the reciprocal course would be needed to take them back to L’Aurore.

  The boat’s crew bent stolidly to their oars and all too quickly the frigate was lost in the darkness.

  Louise sat quiet, not inviting conversation. Renzi could only guess at what was going through her mind at this return to her home after all these years and shied from the thought of the danger he was thrusting her into.

  The passage in was not a concern. Nothing would be about – the French had no reason to have patrols out – but once she was ashore …

  He shifted uncomfortably.

  Out of the blackness ahead several lights shimmered dimly. This would be Petit-Bourg – their destination.

  ‘Not far, Madame.’

  She nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on the shore.

  There was a sudden bump and the gig was displaced to one side by some underwater obstacle. Reefs?

  ‘Easy, oars. Bowman, a pole in the water ahead.’

  ‘No matter,’ Louise said softly. ‘We’re past. Go to the right of the lights.’

  They smelt the fish quay well before it loomed out of the darkness.

  Louise went to rise, but Renzi pulled her down again. ‘Doud!’ he hissed.

  The lithe topman sprang for the rickety ladder and, after pausing for a moment to listen, pulled himself up and over. He was soon back. ‘Clear!’ he whispered.

  Her bundle was handed up first, then it was her turn. She did not hesitate and hauled herself up quickly. At the top, smoothing down her dress, she picked up her bundle and, without a single glance back, lifted her head and went off into the black of the night.