_{Line wall and bastions, counterguard and casemates, innumerable heavy gun positions and watchful sentries everywhere. Gibraltar was nothing if not a mighty fortress. The garrison even had its barracks, Town Range, in the centre of the town, which was itself behind massive walls and ramparts.}

_{'We gets a ride on th' ration wagon, you'll see somethin'll make ye stare.' Hotham flagged down the small cart pulled by mules. They sat together on the back, legs dangling, and the cart wound slowly up a steep zigzag track.}

_{The view rapidly expanded, an immense panorama of misty coast, dusty plains and sea. Kydd was fascinated.}

_{The cart stopped at a gate, which was neatly set round a large hole in the side of the Rock. Hotham dropped to the ground briskly and, nodding to the curious sentry, motioned Kydd inside.}

_{Coolness, a slight damp and the peculiar odour of unmoving air on old stone enfolded him as they strode into the bowels of the Rock of Gibraltar.}

_{'Watch yer bonce,' Hotham warned, his own tall frame stooped, but Kydd was used to the low deckhead of a man-o'-war. The tunnel drove on, then widened, and suddenly to the left there was a gallery with bay after bay, and in each a twenty-four-pounder gun facing out of an aperture in the rock. The gaUery was bright with daylight, and a cheerful breeze played inwards.}

_{'See 'ere, cully,' said Hotham, edging towards the opening on one side of the first gun. Kydd stared out at a dizzying height from the sheer face of the north aspect of the Rock. Far below was a flat plain that issued from the base, curving around until some miles further on it dissolved into mainland.}

_{'Spain, cully!' Hotham declared, waving outwards.}

_{'Where?' These guns could fire far, but not to the hills.}

_{Hotham grinned. 'There!' He pointed directly down to the flat plain. No man's land, and only some half a mile away. So close — an enemy in arms against Britain, continuously ready to fall upon them if there was the slightest chance. Kydd tried to make out movement, figures on the hostile side of the lines, but to his disappointment could not.}

_{'We got a hunnerd 'n' forty like this'n,' Hotham said, patting the twenty-four-pounder, 'an' thirty-twos, coehorns, even our own rock mortars. Nothin' ter fear, really, we ain't.' Kydd wondered what it must be like to look up at the sheer heights of the Rock, knowing the fire-power that could be brought down on any with the temerity to test the impregnability of Gibraltar.}

_{Kydd was no more than half-way returned to his ship when he heard the first gun, a low crump, from somewhere above him. He craned to look, scanning the skyline, but there was only dissipating smoke. Suddenly, below him, there came the heavier thud of an answering gun. Kydd hurried on. Within minutes there were signs of agitation, shopkeepers emerging to look about nervously, water-carriers halting their donkeys in confusion. A young seaman acknowledged Kydd, just as the measured thump of a minute gun started from somewhere in the harbour. Guns opened up in other parts of the Rock and the sudden soaring of a rocket from below was quickly followed by others.}

_{Achilles, It could be nothing less than an urgent general recall. Kydd had to make it back: there was peril abroad and his deepest instincts were with his ship. At the Ragged Staff gate there was a scrimmage for boats; Kydd and others quickly packed into the launch. Bedlam erupted all along the Rock — guns, church bells, shouting and confusion.}

_{'What's th' rout, then?' one sailor demanded.}

_{'Spanish. Sighted t' the east, mebbe a dozen or more sail-o'-the-line, comin' on like good 'uns an' straight for us!'}

_{The Spanish Mediterranean battle fleet was usually skulking far away in Cartagena but they had heard of the English evacuation of the Mediterranean and knew Gibraltar was at the moment defended only by an old 64, a handful of unrated ships and local craft. Were they now going to take revenge for nearly a century of humiliation — and finally liberate the Rock?}

_{Achilles was frantic with activity: she couldn't go to quarters until sail had been bent to the yards as she was still in refit. But a single ship? The enemy fleet would now be in sight from the point, a sinister straggling of tiny sail spreading over half of the eastern horizon.}

_{Kydd's battle quarters was on the main gundeck, but for now he was at the foremast, frantically driving men to send up the long sausages of sails to seamen on the yard. The new hands, landmen all, were pale and frightened at the prospect of battle and needed hard pressing. Kydd grew hoarse with goading. 'Haaands to unmoor ship!'}

_{The boatswain's mates pealed out their calls, but Kydd knew they had two anchors out, which would take time to buoy and slip — it was a race against time.}

_{From his station at the catheads, Kydd kept an eye on the point: the eastern side of Gibraltar was sheer and inaccessible, and any invading force must come round to this side, sweeping aside with concentrated cannon fire the single ship of significance before beginning their landing.}

_{First one or two then a dismaying cloud of heavy men-o'-war appeared from beyond the point, keeping well out of range, however, of the guns perched high up on the Rock. Kydd's heart beat fast. The last cable-buoy splashed into the water: they were now free to sail out to meet the enemy.}

_{The ship cast to larboard and, under all plain sail, stood out from the harbour. The urgent thundering of the drum to quarters sounded, and Kydd snatched a last look at their opponents, then closed up on the main deck, briefly regretting having to face the battle in his best rig. Gun-crews with unskilled landmen, shot not brought up to the garlands from the lockers, gunner's party sewing cartridges like madmen: it was the worst conceivable timing for a Spanish descent, with Admiral Jervis and the fleet far in the north, but Kydd accepted that the sacrifice of their ship had to be made. They could not stand aside meekly and allow Gibraltar to fall.}

_{'They've hauled their wind!' the voice of the forward midshipman shrilled, withdrawing from a gunport. 'Headin' north!'}

_{Kydd brushed a gun-crew aside and peered out. The Spanish had not completed the turn into the Bay of Gibraltar: they had simply braced up and headed north, past - and away. After the urgent recall to his ship, Kydd felt a sense of frustration. But then the lieutenant of the gundeck, staring hard at the enemy ships, said coldly, 'They're making for Cadiz. Together they will outnumber even Jervis, heaven help us!'}

_{The cro'jack was got up into the mizzen very satisfactorily. Kydd's party in the tops took care of the chain sling and, his suggestion being adopted, additional cleats were secured out on the yard through which the truss-pendants could be led to their own thimbles. By this neat solution, the wicked swing of the cro'jack in any kind of beam sea would be effectively damped without the need for rolling tackles from the deck.}

_{Idly he watched his seamen passing the rose-lashing, which fixed in place the cushioning dolphin underneath the spar, and relished a sense of satisfaction in a job well done. He had personal experience enough of fine seamanship as a life-preserving imperative never to take the short path.}

_{Cockburn dismissed the deck party and waited for Kydd to descend the shrouds. 'Tell me, in what character will you be attending your assembly?'}

_{Taken aback, Kydd hesitated. 'I should—'}

_{'You will have noticed "'masquerade" on the invitation, of course.'}

_{'But ...' Kydd had no idea of the oddities of polite society, and could only wait for the elucidation that Cockburn was clearly looking to provide.}

_{'This means that your assembly is in the nature of a fancy-dress, I fear.'}

_{'I -1—' Kydd struggled for words.}

_{Four days later, at three bells in the first dog-watch, Mr Kydd and Mr Cockburn were logged as stepping ashore. What was not noted was the capacious sea-bag carried by Mr Kydd, and the haste with which they hurried to a small taphouse in King's Yard Lane.}

_{Minutes after, at a side entrance, the astonishing sight of King Neptune emerged furtively, holding his crown and trident self-consciously, but looking a striking picture with his muscular torso exposed.}

_{'Best o' luck!' Cockburn chuckled, Kydd's sea-going rig safely in the bag.}

_{'Be damn'd!' Kydd growled, but an impish delight was building in him.}

_{The first measures of the dance were as fearsome a trial as bringing in topsails under the eye of the admiral, but the same skills that made Kydd a fine seaman out on a yard came to his rescue and he stepped out the rest of the dance with increasing confidence.}

_{His partners, an improbable wood-nymph, a well-nourished Britannia, a shy young swan and a stout milkmaid, all enjoyed dancing with Neptune. The candlelight did well for Kydd's sea-darkened complexion, and he attracted many thoughtful female glances.}

_{He dared a look round the long room: great chandeliers cast a golden light that picked out the sparkles of ladies' jewellery and gentlemen's quizzing glasses. The smell of candles and perspiration was swamped in a generous cloud of fragrances, but there was an unmistakable air of living for the moment. With a stab, Kydd remembered the grave threats out in the wider world that might bring all of this to an end.}

_{Uneasily aware that he could be thought a trespasser socially if the gentlemen around him knew his status, he held firmly to the fact that he had been personally invited. And in the happy chatter around him he could perceive that there were others who in England's polite society could not expect an invitation to such an evening as this. How kind of Emily to invite him. She was a striking woman: tall, self-possessed, she had the disturbing trick of letting her voice change to a low purr in the intimacy of a personal conversation.}

_{Kydd smiled and waved at a laughing mermaid sweeping by.}

_{Emily, thinly disguised as a Spanish temptress, approached him at refreshments. 'Do I see you enjoying yourself, Mr Kydd?' she asked lightly, flourishing a large, colourful fan.}

_{'Aye, Mrs Mulvany,' Kydd said, although his oakum beard was itching and his cardboard crown drooping in the heat.}

_{'Do call me Emily,' she protested. 'May I, er .. .' 'Thomas it is, er, Emily,' Kydd said. 'Your husband?' 'Sadly, he cannot be with us tonight. A sweetmeat, Thomas?'}

_{He had become aware that he was the centre of attention for several other ladies and turned to address them, but a disturbance at the entrance to the room resolved into the arrival of an imperious young officer, his tall hat tucked under his arm.}

_{The hubbub went on, so he bent impatiendy to the resting string quartet, who obliged by sounding a single strident chord. The talking died in puzzlement, and the officer strode to the centre of the room. 'News!' he declared dramatically. An animated murmuring spread among the guests. 'The descent on England . ..' He waited for silence; the last news anyone had had was of the French fleet's sudden sally past Pellew's frigates towards England; all else was speculation. '. . . has been scattered, destroyed!'}

_{Excited chatter burst out and Kydd exclaimed. The soldier turned to face him. 'They didn't attempt England — Irish traitors ready to rebel welcomed 'em over there, but it was a gale o' wind from the north, and the troops couldn't land.' He took a hurried breath. 'Our fleet missed 'em, but the storm sent 'em all ahoo and they're back where they came from, the knaves.'}

_{'Ye mean—'}

_{'No invasion, no great battle.' The officer flashed a boyish grin at Kydd, bowed to the ladies and left.}

_{In the babble of agitated comment that broke out Emily took Kydd's arm. 'This is Mr Kydd, and he's mate o f the Achilles she announced loudly. 'He shall explain it all to us.'}

_{It would be of no use to protest the subtleties of naval rank and rating at this time: a rapidly gathering group of dryads, harlequins and nondescripts were converging on him wanting reassurance. But what were the full circumstances? Did 'destroyed' mean the French were lost in the weather? 'They're back where they came from' implied the invasion fleet was still intact and therefore a mortal danger. What if—}

_{'Ye'll understand a storm o' wind at sea can't be commanded b' any admiral. If it blows, y' can't just—'}

_{'A gale from the north?' The willowy faun had perfect white teeth and a remarkably well-turned ankle.}

_{'Why, this is y'r worst news if you were a Frenchy,' Kydd began, to general interest, 'a foul wind f'r Ireland, right in y'r teeth—'}

_{'What's it like in a storm, Mr Kydd? Do tell!' The young swan, fetchingly accented in blue, simpered under her eyelashes. Kydd blushed at the attentions from the attractive young women all around him. Emily frowned and stood closer, her hand still on his arm. Kydd felt it grip him hard.}

_{Instinctively, Kydd knew he had been a success. Cockburn had pressed for details, and he had obliged, entertained by his friend's visible envy. He knew, however, that if Renzi had attended, his natural patrician urbanity would have assured him a place at the centre of things. Almost guiltily Kydd found himself grateful he had not been there.}

_{His thoughts turned to Renzi's situation: he had heard that Admiral Jervis and his fleet were in the Tagus, Lisbon, encouraging the Portuguese, but they were the only force in any way able to meet the French, should they put to sea again. What would happen if both the French and the Spanish should simultaneously emerge and combine did not bear thinking about. And Nicholas was there . . .}

_{Aboard Achilles, life settled to a dull routine. Most seamen had seen their means dissipated quickly. As the days turned into weeks their prospects for diversion were not large, and a disquieting pattern asserted itself: cheap wine and quarrels with soldiers ashore led to meaningless fights in the frustration of endless inaction. Aboard, 'hands to witness punishment' was now almost a daily feature, and the atmosphere in the mess decks was turning ugly. The officers found things to do ashore and were seldom aboard at night.}

_{Kydd was restless too, but he found himself thinking more and more of Emily. Was he imagining it, or did she like him? He reviewed his attendance at the assembly—he was certain he had not let her down, and he was positive she had spent more time with him than with any other; in a glow he remembered her alabaster complexion, the startling blue-green eyes and delicate hands — Emily really was an attractive woman. She hadn't mentioned her husband much . .. Did that mean -}

_{His eyes snapped into focus: the first lieutenant was coming aboard and looking at him curiously as he mounted the brow to the quarterdeck. Kydd touched his hat.}

_{'Ah, Mr Kydd, I'm desired to give you this.' The officer fumbled inside his waistcoat and drew out an envelope, which he passed across, watching for reaction. It was in a hand Kydd recognised. He took it, and placed it carefully inside his jacket without comment.}

_{In the absent master's sea cabin aft Kydd pulled out his letter and hurriedly broke the wafer.}

Dear Thomas,

My dear friend Letitia and I usually spend an enjoyable day on Thursdays sketching at Europa Point. Letitia thought that perhaps you might like to join us one time, should you feel so inclined. The prospects to be had of Africa and Europe together do entrance and would exercise the skill of a Girtin or Cogens but we will have such enormous fun.

If this appeals, would you signify to the above address at your convenience . . .

_{Kydd let out his breath. What could he read into this? With increasing elation he decided to consult with Cockburn as to the correct routine at a sketching party.}

_{Never having ridden a donkey before, Kydd straddled the beast nervously; its round belly and knobbly spine felt utterly strange. Fortunately its grey ears flicked nonchalantly back and forth without resentment at his gawky mounting, and he perched on its back, feet nearly touching the ground. Feeling a fool, Kydd smiled tentatively at Emily.}

_{'Well, then!' she responded, and tapped her donkey with a polished rattan. The little party wound off southwards: Letitia, Emily, Kydd and a weatherbeaten old Moor leading a donkey piled with easels and paraphernalia.}

_{'So good of you to come,' Emily said. She was riding side-saddle, swaying in time with the clopping of the animal's hoofs.}

_{'My pleasure, er, Emily.' He was aware of Letitia's covert gaze on him; she was a studious, quiet soul without much conversation - might that be due to his presence?}

_{Within half a mile they had left behind the flank of the Rock and emerged on to the flat area at its tip, which Kydd knew, from the navigation charts, was Europa Point, and which he had fixed by bearing as they had approached from seaward.}

_{They made their way to the rocky end of the land where there was a convenient flat ramp, and dismounted, Kydd's rump sore and aching. The ladies in their comfortable white exclaimed at the scene. At their feet, stretching to an immensity, was the deep blue of the sea, but straight ahead in the distance was the purple and grey-blue bulk of a mountain at the side of the spreading width of another coast. 'Africa!' announced Emily, with a dramatic flourish.}

_{The Straits of Gibraltar to the left was the Mediterranean, and the primordial birthplace of civilisations; on the other side was the Atlantic Ocean and the pathway to the rest of the world. Kydd glanced to his right, at the nearby coastline angling away into the distance in a series of bays and headlands. 'Spain - Algeciras an' Tarifa,' he offered.}

_{Emily turned briefly to check on the silent Arab, patiendy spacing out three easels to face the scene, then came to stand next to Kydd, shading her eyes to look over the glittering sea. 'And the mountain on the other side,' she said softly, 'is Jebel Musa in Morocco, which in ancient times they thought was the other Pillar of Hercules.' She looked up at him, almost searchingly. 'The end of the known world.'}

_{Kydd felt an awkwardness, an almost adolescent clumsiness at her closeness, then she moved away to the easels. She sat at the middle one, delicately perched on the three-legged portable stool, making a business of unpacking her kit. 'Have you brought anything with you, Thomas?' she asked, in a brisk, practical manner.}

_{'My silver-lead pencil of course,' Kydd said, with only a twinge of guilt that it was actually Cockburn's treasured possession, 'and a quantity of y'r common run o' Cumberlands.' The graphite from that county provided the whole world with fine black-lead pencils.}

_{Emily had out a curious tray of colours, which she fastened to the easel. 'I have favoured cake water-colours,' she said, sounding to Kydd's ears suspiciously professional, 'since I saw what Captain Cook's artist did with those breathtaking views of Otaheite.' She poured water into a small well, and slung a selection of well-used brushes in a quiver to one side of the easel. She adjusted her wide-brimmed sun-hat and addressed her paper with purpose.}

_{Kydd had a sketch book, unused, that he had acquired from a young midshipman in exchange for the loan of two clean white stockings. He set it up on the easel and selected a Cumberland; he would do the fine work with the silver pencil. Aware of Letitia's furtive glances, he sized the view.}

_{It was not difficult — he had executed innumerable sea perspectives for the master of Artemis in the South Seas for inclusion on the margins of sea charts and knew the discipline of exactitude in representation.}

_{With a light breeze and the occasional sound of gulls, it was pleasant work, and their surroundings were conducive to artistic expression. Kydd had soon finished the African coast, and began on the irregular Spanish landscape. This demanded care, for their height-of-eye at this elevation could cunningly deceive, turning square perspectives into slants.}

_{'Oh, my goodness! You are good, Thomas! Look at this, Letitia — he has a very fine hand.' He had not heard her approach, and felt the heat of a blush at her words. She bent to admire his work, her femininity briefly enclosing him, then turned to him without drawing away. 'You will think my piece so amateur.' She giggled.}

_{Taking his cue, Kydd rose and sauntered across to her easel, trying to look at ease. The watercolour was bold, using clear tints not perhaps justified by the hazy wash of sun over far objects, but had a vibrancy that he had not the experience to identify. But the coastlines were sadly out of proportion, the vertical dimension, as was always the way with beginners to a seascape, greatly exaggerated.}

_{'It's — it's wonderful,' he found himself saying. Behind him Emily stifled a giggle. Kydd couldn't think what else to say and stared woodenly ahead.}

_{'I say—I have a most marvellous idea!' He swung round at the sudden energy in her voice. 'We shall combine our talents — you have the strong structure, I shall add colour — and together we will produce a masterpiece.' She didn't wait for a reply, but ran over to his easel and abstracted his drawing, brought it back and clipped it over her own.}

_{'There! Now we shall see!' Emily selected a broad brush and mixed a quantity of pale blue from the squares of colour in the ingenious wooden box. She soon had a colour wash in place, and set to with finer brushes on his coasts. Her cunning use of ochre and light purple had his pencil hatching underneath take on a sinister, distant quality, which undeniably brought a dramatic quality to the original.}

_{Engrossed, she persevered at the fine work, her dainty hands perfect for the task. Kydd cast a glance at Letitia, still at her picture; their eyes met, but there was no answering smile.}

_{At last, Emily leaned back and gazed critically at the result. 'There!' she said, and stared at it, motionless, for a space. She turned and looked up at Kydd with large eyes and said seriously, 'It's really very good, is it not, Thomas? We make quite a pair, I believe.'}

_{Kydd felt heat rising, but before he could speak, Emily had snapped shut the box and stood. 'I think we have earned our picnic, don't you?'}

_{'God blast ye, Mr Kydd, what d'you think you're about? You've not overhauled y'r clewlines.' The master was choleric: the times for the topsail setting evolution were sadly delayed by Kydd's failure to see that the clewlines were loosened at his mizzen-mast at the same rate as the sheets were hauled in.}

_{It seemed everyone was in a state of enervation. Attempts to stir the ship's company to life with harbour exercises were met with sullen lethargy. The Achilles of the Caribbean was becoming a fading memory, the cruises to sweep the seas of the enemy, the landings to wrest yet another rich island from the French all in the past. Below, mess-decks were aligning themselves between the real seamen and the unfortunates of the quota.}

_{Kydd could feel the resentment — and the broken-down pride. To be left to rot in port was hard for a good seaman to take, especially when England was menaced by as great a danger as she had ever been.}

_{Evening drew in and, with it, more tiresome carping in the gunroom and petty quarrelling on the lower deck. Kydd made up his mind to take a turn along the streets of Gibraltar to get away.}

_{It was impossible to avoid the wine shops at the lower levels of the town, and Kydd pushed past hurriedly, but at one angry shouts climaxed with the ejection of a thick-set seaman, who skidded angrily in the dust then staggered to his feet. It was a common sight and Kydd moved to go round the spectacle - but something about the build of the man made him hesitate.}

_{It was Crow - Isaac Crow of the Artemis, the hard and fearless captain of the maintop who had been so much a part of Kydd's past — become a wine-soaked travesty of his former self. Kydd steadied him and leaned him against a wall. 'Isaac, where—'}

_{'What - well, if it ain't me ol' shipma' Tom Kydd!' Crow chortled. His clothes were musty and ragged, probably all he had left after selling the rest for cheap drink, Kydd guessed.}

_{His expression changed. In an instant his overly cheery features grew pinched, suspicious. 'A master's mate, our Tom Kydd, doin' well fer 'isself. Still know yer frien's, then?' He pushed away Kydd's steadying hand and drew himself up. 'Th' blackstrap they sells 'ere is worse'n goat's piss.'}

_{'What ship, Isaac?'}

_{Crow looked at him for a moment.' Weazle brig-o'-war.' It was an unrated minor warship, in Gibraltar for lengthy repair. 'Gunner's mate, but broke fer fightin' out o' turn.'}

_{So now he was a common seaman, disrated no doubt for a frustrated flaring on the mess-decks while his ship was interminably delayed.}

_{Crow stared at Kydd, his face hardening into contempt. 'It's gone ter rats — the whole fuckin' navy's gone t' rats. Shite off th' streets is gettin' seventy pound ter be a sailor, while we gets the same less'n a shillin' a day the buggers got back in King Charles's day. What sort o' life is it ter offer a younker t' go to sea?'}

_{There was no answer to that, or to the unspoken loathing of professional seamen with pride in themselves having to share a mess room with the kind of men Kydd had seen. 'Isaac, mate, y' knows that a ship o' war can't be sailed b' the likes o' those shabs. It takes real seamen — like us!' Kydd felt the rise of anger. 'They'll always need us, an' just when are they going t' wake up to it?'}

_{Crow turned on him slowly. 'Yer messin' aft wi' the grunters — why should yer worry yerself about us foremast jacks?' He held Kydd with his hard black eyes, then swayed back into the pot-house.}

_{Kydd was taken aback by his words. He wandered for a time, then made his way back aboard before evening gun. Cockburn looked at him curiously, but Kydd did not feel like confiding in him: his origin was as a volunteer and midshipman and presumably, in the fullness of time, he would attract interest and gain a commission as an officer; he had never slung his hammock with the men, and could not be expected to know their true worth and particular strengths. It was something that he would give much to reflect on with Renzi: he could bring things to order in fine style.}

_{Brought on deck by a general rush, Kydd saw from out of the early morning haze the 38-gun frigate La Minerve sailing into the anchorage.}

_{Even the arrival of a single frigate was a noteworthy event, and there were few in Achilles who weren't on deck and interested in the smart ship coming to anchor. As she glided in, sharp eyes picked up a most unusual state of affairs: this frigate was wearing the swallow-tail broad pennant of a commodore, Royal Navy, in place of the usual sinuous length of a commissioning pennant, placing her notionally senior to Achilles.}

_{The first lieutenant's telescope was steadily trained on the frigate's quarterdeck. 'I see him — Commodore Nelson! A firebrand if ever I heard of one.'}

_{Another lieutenant gave a bleak smile. 'I know him -cares only to add to his reputation at the cannon's mouth whatever the cost to others, a vain soul, very vain.'}

_{The master's stern face relaxed slighdy as he murmured, 'Aye, but he cares f'r his men as few does.'}

_{The frigate's anchor splashed down and the vessel glided to a stop close enough for them to see every detail aboard, the sails vanishing from the yards in moments, the disciplined rush to each point of activity. The sharp orders and crisp flourishes of the boatswain's calls carried over the water. Even as the admiral's barge pulled strongly shoreward, a-glitter with gold and blue in the sternsheets, the launch and cutter were not far behind.}

_{'Seems in an almighty pelt.' Cockburn grinned. It was in stark contrast to their own indolence. Recently Kydd had noticed the first green shimmer of weed below the waterline of Achilles also appearing on the anchor cable. But that didn't concern him today: Emily had offered to show him the top of the Rock.}

_{It was donkeys again, but this time the party consisted only of Emily, Kydd and the quiet but watchful Letitia. They wound up a long path set at an incline to the face of the Rock. Emily kept up a pratde about the view and the history, all of which enabled Kydd to take his fill of her looks without pretence.}

_{From the top, a rocky spine and smooth parts, the view was every bit as breathtaking as claimed — at this height the ships were models, the town buildings miniatures, but Kydd was more aware of the rosy flush on Emily's cheeks as she pointed out the sights. 'Ah, look there, Thomas!' Far below, Nelson's frigate was getting under way, her commodore's pennant lifting in the fluky breeze and with all sail set. 'What a picture it is, to be sure.' Impulsively, she laid her arm on his.}

_{The frigate was smart in her actions, but was having a hard time in the uncertain wind eddies in the lee of the Rock, paying off in the light airs but nevertheless slowly gaining ground to the northwards.}

_{'And are the others coming, too?' Emily added innocently, taking out her dainty ladies' pocket telescope.}

_{Kydd frowned; the faraway ships she had seen were moored across the bay, in Spanish Algeciras — and they were sail-of-the-line. 'No doubt about it — but if y' would allow ...' She offered him the telescope with no comment, and two mighty enemy vessels leaped into view. If they caught up with the lone frigate, they could blast her to splinters.}

_{'They're Spanish battleships, I'm grieved t' say,' Kydd said. Achilles had her bowsprit in for survey and was not in any condition to come to the frigate's aid. The Spanish ships had a steady wind in their favour, and had picked up speed; the English frigate's wind was still in the thrall of the huge Rock, and she could not beat back against the south-easterly to escape.}

_{Kydd clenched his fists. This fire-breathing Nelson would not surrender tamely: the pretty frigate would be a shattered, smoking wreck even before he and Emily had had chance to spread their picnic.}

_{'Thomas?' Emily's voice was edged with concern. Kydd stared through the telescope at the spreading drama. The larger Spanish three-decker was stretching away ahead of the other in her impatience to close with the frigate and, as Kydd watched, her guns were run out.}

_{Then, unaccountably, the frigate slewed round into the wind and came to a stop. Kydd could find no reason for the action. A small boat ventured out from behind her, her crew pulling energetically. It was carried forward by the current toward the Spanish, but stopped half-way. At last he understood: La Minerve had come aback while the jolly boat attended to a man overboard.}

_{The leading Spanish battleship shortened sail, slowing to drop back on her consort Cleariy she thought the move preposterous: there had to be a reason for the doomed frigate to round confidently on her pursuers. Could it be that she had sighted the English fleet coming to her aid?}

_{Kydd could only watch in admiration as the frigate picked up her boat and made off in the strengthening breeze. The Spaniard clapped on sail, but he was too late — the frigate was well on her way.}

_{Kydd punched the air in pent-up excitement. 'That was well done, blast m' eyes if it weren't!' he roared, too late remembering the ladies' presence.}

_{*      *      *}

_{Cockburn was uncharacteristically blunt. 'She is a married lady. It's unseemly to be seen so much in her company.'}

_{Kydd glowered. 'An' have I been improper in m' actions?' he said. 'Do I press my attentions? Is she unwilling?' He challenged Cockburn with a stare. 'She's invited me t' see so many of her friends, right good of her—'}

_{'She is a married woman!'}

_{'So I'm to refuse her? I think not!'}

_{Cockburn paused. He leaned back and said, in an odd voice, 'Do ye know her husband?'}

_{Kydd's face hardened. 'She's not discussed him wi' me at any time — must be a poor shab, he doesn't keep station on her more. Mr Mulvany is—'}

_{'The town major.'}

_{A shadow passed over Kydd's face. 'Acting town major only,' he replied stubbornly. Cockburn kept his silence, but the pressure of his disapproval was tangible. 'An' I regret I cannot be aboard t'night. The bishop is receivin' an' I'm invited,' Kydd added.}

_{The news of the climactic battle of Cape St Vincent broke like a tidal wave on Gibraltar. The anxieties of the past months, the hanging sword of an invasion and devastation, the flaunting of enemy naval power just a few miles away, as they passed in and out of the Mediterranean — their sea now — needed a discharge of emotions.}

_{Over the horizon, on St Valentine's Day, two great fleets had clashed: fifteen British ships-of-the-line and a handful of frigates met the enemy's twenty-seven of-the-line and a dozen frigates, and had prevailed.}

_{Admiral Jervis had been reported as saying, 'A victory is very essential to England at this moment,' and had gone on to achieve just that. Details of the battle were sketchy, but wild rumours made the rounds of the daring Commodore Nelson disobeying orders and breaking the line to fall on the enemy from the rear. Apparently he had then personally led a boarding party to the deck of one enemy battleship and from there to yet another in a feat of arms that must rank alone in its bravery.}

_{Gibraltar went berserk with joy - bells, guns, excited crowds flooding into the street and, finally, an official feu de joie ordered by the governor. Six regiments stood motionless on the Alameda parade-ground in tight-packed rows, small field pieces at each corner. At twelve precisely, artillery thudded solemnly, then by command the redcoats presented their muskets — and a deafening running fire played up and down the ranks, beating upon the senses until rolling gunsmoke hid the soldiers. The noise stopped, the smoke cleared, and the spectacle was repeated twice more.}

_{On the water, every ship replied with thunderous broadsides; even the smallest found guns to mount and fire. The sailors dressed their ships in flags and there were wild scenes that night in the grog-shops.}

_{Kydd responded warmly, but this was tempered by the realisation that he had missed what must have been the defining battle of the age. With a stab of dread he realised that Renzi might have been struck down, mortally wounded, thrown overboard in the heat of battle. He fought down the thought, then turned his mind to other things. Emily.}

_{At their last meeting, she had shyly offered a little package, neatly finished with a bow. It was a pair of gloves - kidskin, probably Moorish, but of obvious quality. There was no conceivable need in his station for gloves, but Kydd's imagination grew fevered with conjecture. A gift from her to him: what did it mean?}

_{He found Cockburn with a slim book. 'Tarn, I'd be obliged f'r the lend of a clean waistcoat, if ye please. That scurvy gunroom servant's in bilboes after a spree ashore.' Cockburn looked up, but said nothing. 'I have t'go somewhere tomorrow,' explained Kydd.}

_{Cockburn laid down his book. 'Tomorrow, it seems, I shall need my waistcoat,' he said, his face hard.}

_{This was nonsense: without means, he was spending all his time on board. 'Then y'r other one — I know you have 'un.'}

_{'Strangely, it appears that I shall need that also,' Cockburn said evenly.}

_{Kydd breathed hard. 'An' what kind o' friend is it that—'}

_{'A friend who sees you standing into perilous waters, who fears to see you play the cuckold without—'}

_{'She cares f'r me, I'll have ye know.'}

_{'Oh? She has told you? Pledged undying love when not free to do so?'}

_{Kydd clamped his jaw shut.}

_{'I thought so. You are naught but a fool,' Cockburn said, in measured tones, 'treading a path where so many poor loobies have gone before.' He sighed and returned to his reading. 'I can only grieve for your future.'}

_{'Be damned t' you 'n' y'r prating,' Kydd snarled, and stormed off petulantly.}

*      *      *

_{They started in the cool of the morning, Emily mysterious as to their destination. 'It might be Africa - or the bowels of the earth. Or the very summit of the Rock ... or perhaps all three.'}

_{Kydd grunted in bafflement, but was much taken by Emily's outfit; instead of the wide morning dress, it was a more close-fitting garment. Letitia followed behind, leaving the conversation to them.}

_{They emerged on to the upper spine of the Rock, a stretch of rifted rock layers, covered with furze and pungent with goat smell. Emily descended daintily from her donkey and pointed to an irregular small peak. 'The highest point of the Rock,' she declared.}

_{Silently cursing his clumsiness, Kydd staggered off his beast.}

_{'Governor O'Hara wishes to build a tower on it, which he swears will allow him to look into Cadiz bay,' Emily said, idly twisting her muslin scarf. 'The surveyor calls it "O'Hara's Folly", but he will not be dissuaded.'}

_{Her cheeks appeared rosier at this height, wisps of hair framing her face under the wide straw hat, and Kydd felt desire build. He glanced behind. There was Letitia, still on her donkey, her unblinking eyes gravely on him.}

_{'They call him "Cock o' the Rock",' Emily said, with a giggle, then dropped her eyes. To cover his embarrassment, Kydd bowed gallantly to Letitia and offered to help her down, but she shook her head mutely and slipped easily to the ground.}

_{From nowhere a dark-complexioned Iberian appeared, taking the donkey bridles and fixing Kydd with glittering, unfathomable eyes. Kydd hastily caught up with Emily, Letitia as usual falling behind.}

_{'This is our destination, then,' Emily said. *I do hope you think it interesting.'}

_{'Africa? Th' bowels of the earth?' It was nothing more than an undistinguished cleft in a jutting crag.}

_{Emily stepped forward confidently, Kydd at her side. It was a cave of sorts, the outside light dimming the further they entered, their footsteps changing from a tap into an echo as the light died and mysterious vertical shapes appeared from out of the Stygian blackness.}

_{She stopped to let the Iberian catch up. He produced candles in colourful pottery holders, and got to work with flint and steel. As each flame leaped and guttered, the golden light spread to reveal a huge vaulted cavern, a magnificent palace of gilded stone.}

_{Emily's candle illuminated her face from beneath in an unearthly radiance, and for a long moment Kydd was lost to her beauty.}

_{'St Michael's cave. Such a spectacle - you'd never know that the Rock is hollow from the outside,' she said softly, her eyes wide. The cavern smelt of damp soil, and tiny drip sounds were amplified all around.}

_{Letitia shivered, and stepped back, pulling her shawl close.}

_{Emily pointed forward: the path trended down, then reached a lip of rock. 'We must climb down there.' It continued as another chamber beyond, untouched by their candlelight.}

_{'I — I shall wait here, Emily,' came Letitia's small voice. 'I have no stomach for these places. Do let's return now.'}

_{'Nonsense, Letitia. I mean to show Thomas the inner chambers.' Carefully she laid her candle-holder on the stone, and slid over the lip to the blackness beyond. 'Come along!' she called imperiously to Kydd.}

_{The inner cave was smaller, longer, much colder. The path dipped sharply, and as they plunged out of sight Letitia's plaintive voice echoed, 'Please hurry back - I'm frightened.'}

_{Kydd kept up with Emily, the candlelight casting startling shadows that continually moved as if alive. They entered a vast chamber, the sounds of their steps and voices dissipating into the cold, breathy stillness..}

_{Emily stood still, gazing upwards, enraptured. She moved further in, found a broken-off stalagmite and placed her candle on it, letting the tiny golden light lose itself in the distance, as it did, hinting at fantastic shapes in the gloom. 'Isn't this the most splendid sight you have ever seen?' she breathed.}

_{Kydd's heart was thumping: this was the first time they had been alone.}

_{Her eyes roamed upwards, and Kydd added his candle to hers. The combined light beamed out strongly and grotesque shapes were illumined on all sides. But Emily's face was brushed with gold.}

_{'We're now in the centre of the Rock! No one has ever reached the end of these caverns — it is said that they stretch all the way to Africa . ..' Her voice was a whisper of awe.}

_{A swell of emotion surged in Kydd — a wellspring of feeling that could not be stopped. It found focus in the soft loveliness of Emily's face. He closed with her, held her, and kissed her in silence.}

_{Her lips were formless with surprise, but she did not resist: his kiss grew deep with passion and she responded avid and strong, her body pressing against his. They broke apart, hands clasped, staring into each other's eyes.}

_{'M' dear Emily! You - you're . . .' Kydd was shaken with the power of his feelings.}

_{She did not speak; her face was flushed and taut. Kydd still held her hands, and their warmth and softness triggered another passionate upsurge. He pulled her close, but she turned away her face, yet not resisting him.}

_{Baffled, he let his arms drop. 'Emily, I—'}

_{'Thomas, please.' Her voice was shaky. She disengaged from him, and half turned away. Kydd was unsure of what was happening; he felt gauche and adolescent.}

_{'We — we must return, Letitia is on her own.' She avoided his eyes, but did not try to move away.}

_{Kydd sensed he would lose all if he pressed his attentions now. He picked up his candle. 'Yes, of course.'}