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In due course there would be hard-fought regattas and other competitive outlets but for now all could revel in as trim and saucy a frigate as any that swam.
    ‘You’ve, um, not received anything from Cecilia, at all?’ Renzi asked offhandedly, twiddling his quill as Kydd opened a packet of ship’s mail from England.
    Renzi’s plans to invite Kydd’s sister Cecilia to visit him in Cape Town and offer his hand in marriage had been dashed when his position as acting colonial secretary had not been ratified. Previously he had written her a letter pouring out his most tender admiration and love for her but delayed sending it until things were fully settled. When the blow came, he’d torn the letter up. Cecilia had known of his
tendre
for her for some time but the latest communication she’d had from him was a stiff letter of release he’d sent before Trafalgar, citing his lack of prospects. Who knew what her feelings towards him were now?
    Kydd pushed his papers to one side. ‘No, Nicholas, and you shall be the first to know of it should I get a letter from her,’ he said impatiently. ‘This Cape enterprise being in the nature of a secret expedition, I can well see it will have any letter chasing all over the ocean till it catches up with us – which it will, in course.’
    ‘Yes, no doubt you are correct,’ Renzi said, with a troubled look.
    Kydd sighed. ‘You know you now stand in a fair way of losing the woman?’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘There’s every prospect that, having conquered and held the place, the Admiralty will see fit to keep us here indefinitely, we doing such a sterling job.’
    Renzi’s expression turned bleak. He had sworn to Kydd he would go down on his knees and seek Cecilia’s hand the same day that they reached the shores of England. That time now distant, would she still be free?
    ‘I’d suggest you write to her this hour, m’ friend.’
    ‘Believe me, I’ve tried, but—’
    ‘Then I’d think it wise to consider your position, old horse.’
    A half-smile appeared. Kydd knew the signs and waited for his friend to speak.
    ‘Dear brother, in logic, as I see it, there are three alternatives. The one, that she is already taken by another, which at the moment I cannot know; the second, that she is not, but will nevertheless decline my suit; and the third that . . . that she will listen favourably to that which I shall propose.’
    After a moment’s reflection he said, ‘So it seems my course is clear. No dilemma, no equivocation or foolish agonising.’
    ‘Oh?’
    ‘On the one, I am helpless to alter the dictates of Fortune, likewise the second, neither requiring either action or decision. As to the third – this must presuppose I should prepare for the day. Now, in the absence of intelligence to the contrary, each condition bears an equal probability of being the outcome, the odds of one in three. I accept those odds, but you see it makes no difference – in the event of the first two, no prior intervention will affect matters while for the third it will. Therefore, irrespective, I am obliged to assume the last . . . that I am to marry.’
    ‘Well done, old trout!’ Kydd applauded. ‘Therefore, for both your sakes
write to her now
! There’s a mail to close tomorrow on
Bombay Castle
.’
    ‘It’s impossible. I cannot trust that I could write without betraying my true feelings and I abhor pity. Therefore I ask a boon – that you write to her as a brother and enquire of her personal circumstances.’
    Kydd frowned, then nodded reluctantly.
    ‘Meanwhile, in this far region there is one, and one only, contribution to my future with Cecilia left open to me.’
    Kydd waited. It would come out logically, as it always did.
    Renzi took a deep breath, looked skyward, then slammed both fists on the table and choked, ‘That novel! I’m going to write my novel – for Cecilia’s sake!’
    To see Renzi so taken with emotion shook Kydd. ‘Er, why, to be sure – I know you’ll