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haze like a crouching lion, dominating the vessels that drew up to its flanks to join the ships-of-the-line and frigates already there. As anchors plunged into a gunmetal blue sea, the thunder of salutes acknowledged the visiting Princess Royal as the flag of a senior admiral.
    The ships came to rest and the slight breeze brought a smell compounded of sun-baked rock, goats, donkey droppings and Moorish cooking, which irresistibly took Kydd back to his service there in Achilles— and the adventures that had followed.
    “I do believe it will now be granted to us to glimpse the grand panjandrum himself,” Renzi said, looking at Vanguard, anchored a few hundred yards away. Kydd held back a reproof: his friend had been at the great battle of St Vincent and witnessed Nelson’s achievements at first hand.
    “Oh?” said Bampton. “Is he so much the swell he must parade before us?”

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Julian Stockwin
    Kydd’s colour rose at Bampton’s tone.
    “Not as I would say,” Renzi replied. “Rather, I have heard he keeps a splendid table and is the most affable of hosts.”
    “Should you have seen him here a year or so ago in Minerve frigate you’d clap a stopper on y’r opinions,” Kydd added, and recounted the daring escape of Nelson’s ship from two Spanish ships-of-the-line. From the top of the Rock, Kydd had watched the whole incident. Nelson had bluffed the enemy by heaving to and, suspecting he was leading them into a trap, the Spaniards had sheered off. But the real reason for his action was that he had lowered a boat to rescue a man overboard.
    The talking died as Vanguard ’s boat was hoisted out and several figures boarded. It stroked strongly for the shore, and was met at Ragged Staff by a file of redcoats, a military band and a reception committee.
    “Making his number with the governor,” murmured Adams.
    “O’Hara,” said Kydd, with a grin. “They call him ‘Cock o’
    the Rock’ on account of him being so . . . amiable t’ the ladies.”
    After a short interval there was a pealing of boatswain’s calls and the captain of Tenacious departed.
    “God knows, Our Nel isn’t one to waste his time lingering in port,” the first lieutenant said. He turned to the boatswain. “No liberty, all hands to store ship. Turn to, part-o’-ship.” The boatswain called his mates and stalked forward, the piercing blast of their pipes echoing up from the hatchways. “All the water an’
    provisions we can take aboard—our ships are on their own once we sail,” Bryant growled.
    But this was work for the warrant officers, petty officers and ship’s company. Kydd seized his opportunity. “Nicholas, should you step off with me, y’ could be of some service, m’
    friend . . .”
    Renzi raised one eyebrow. “Er, regarding Town Major

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    Mulvany and his wife, do you not think it a trifle rash to venture abroad in Gibraltar? That you may meet them?”
    Kydd’s infatuation with Emily Mulvany was nearly a year previously but Renzi’s gibe was enough to bring a flush. “I’ve heard there’s a new man in post now,” he said defensively.
    Bryant saw no reason to deny them both a few hours ashore, and within a short time they were speaking to the chief valuer for Moses Levy, the biggest jeweller in Gibraltar. “Your opinion on this, if y’ please,” Kydd said, passing him his hoarded treasure.
    The man took the object, scratched the surface with a hook-shaped pick and closely inspected the result. Then he took down a dusty vial with a glass dropper and deposited several drops of fluid on the tiny specks.
    “A remarkable piece,” he said grudgingly, hefting the hunk of raw gold. “May I know where this was found?” he said, as he set it on one pan of his scales.
    “No, sir, you may not.” Kydd’s uncle would find his haven destroyed by prospectors if ever Kydd let it be known. It had been his uncle’s gift to probably the last family member he would see, and Kydd was going to see it well