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.'He is not.He has a hankerin' after the theories of Mr Rousseau, an' believes that we corrupt the savage by our civilisation.'Evelyn's eyebrows rose.'Rousseau? You have debated him?' He looked out over the glittering blue ocean and continued, 'For myself, I cannot bear the bigot or his loose thinking, but in this instance I am inclined to believe he is right, we are a plague on these people.The sooner we are sailed the better I shall like it.' He swung up to the platform again.'Pray excuse, I must return to my work.' Kydd knew he was dismissed from Evelyn's universe.Parry was not the officer to accept weak excuses.Absence from place of duty was a dereliction that could not and would not be forgiven.The offender would get no sympathy from the rest of the duty watch either, for they had probably themselves been torn from willing arms to report.Kydd fretted for Renzi, who had probably wandered off in search of some marvel of nature.Possibly he had found an old native philosopher and was carrying on a deep conversation by signs.Now he was on report to the Captain who would stop his liberty or worse.Duty ashore was not arduous.There were stands of muskets to hand, and the stockade to patrol, but against whom it was not clear.Companionable tasks included assisting the cook to prepare the evening meal, repairing the hut matting and the like.Less companionable was the sentry-go, which involved porting a heavy musket in solitude along the length of the stockade.Supper was served out, and Kydd considered whether he should save some of his ration for Renzi.Darkness stole in, conversations became desultory and those free to do so retired to the living huts.As the moon rose, huge and magnificent, over the craggy line of the peak escarpment, it charged every object with a deep silver radiance and created myriad mysterious shadows.Back on sentry-go, Kydd paced slowly along the stockade, peering over the top across the grassy slopes, which disappeared into shadow at the woodland edge.Nothing moved; the low soughing of the night breeze and creaks from the timbers of the stockade were all that fell on his senses.He shifted the musket over his shoulder and padded on.'Hsssst!' It was the beach sentry, hurrying up the path.He gesticulated sharply.Kydd hurried down to the man, who was in grave breach of discipline by leaving his post.'Come down to th' beach,' the man whispered urgently.Kydd knew that there must be good reason he should go, but if he was caught — he looked back along the line of the stockade.The other sentinels were indistinct dark blobs in its shadow.He turned and plunged down the slope.At the point where the stockade met the sea he saw two figures standing together in the moonlight, which lay still and liquid on the pale beach.'Well met, my friend.' It was Renzi.His voice sounded gentle and noble but Kydd approached in apprehension for what he might find.Renzi was in native dress, a waist-length skirt and headdress of woven flowers.Next to him was a native woman dressed similarly and looking at Kydd with a palpable tension.'Tohe-umu,' said Renzi, introducing her.'She will be my wife when I settle here after you have gone.'Kydd was struck speechless.Settle? What utter madness! To cut himself off from his own kind, to.'I wish to farewell you now, to let you know that I have found the contentment and fulfilment I have always craved — a union between Nature and Man that will purify and scarify the soul of the gross humours that come from artificial society.'Finding his voice, Kydd blurted, 'But how will you live? You have no means, no—''There is no need for money or anything else.We shall build a dwelling place, and all around shall be the bounty of the good earth.' His tone strengthened.'And I shall bring into the world infants who will learn humility and awe at the altar of Nature - and they then will enter their true inheritance.' He turned to the woman and tenderly spoke a few native words.Her tense expression dissolved into one of deep affection that Kydd saw had no room for others.Renzi held out his hand awkwardly.Kydd's thoughts chased each other.Once Artemis had sailed away Renzi would be reckoned a deserter for the rest of his days.There was no chance that they would ever see each other again.It was staggering — Renzi's fine mind wasted in this incomprehensibly remote piece of the earth.It was an insane impossibility to see Renzi tilling the soil, reasoning with the warriors.Then probably a lonely death among the savages.It was lunacy.'I go now, be so good as to remember me in the years to come, dear friend,' Renzi said, in a low voice.His head fell, but only for an instant.He fixed Kydd with a long look, his deep-set eyes moist, then turned and marched away.Kydd balanced easily on the main topmast cap, a hundred and twenty feet high with only the main royal mast above him.Just below, Doud, Pinto and others were seizing a futtock stave to the topmast shrouds ready to pass the catharping.They knew their job backwards, and Kydd had no need to intervene.While they had accepted his elevation to petty officer with equanimity he found it agreeable to his natural temperament to lead with a light touch.Far below on the quarterdeck stumped the foreshortened figure of Powlett, as irascible as a caged bear but energised by the prospect of getting to sea again.They had reverted to one watch in three on liberty, the other two watches devoted to work preparing for their voyage home in the fearsome roaring forties of the Great Southern Ocean.The only ocean to encircle the world completely, its stormy seas swept huge and unobstructed, and if there were any skimping on this work they might disappear from human ken for ever.At this height it was possible to see much more of the island, the variegated greens of the plateau and lower slopes and the blotchy bare rock-faces of the peak.Kydd couldn't see beyond the escarpment and wondered which part of the island Renzi would select for his native home.He would deeply miss Renzi, and the first sea-watch especially.He had heard that the scientists had nearly completed their work, and there was a very real prospect that they would put to sea in a day or so; it would be all over by then.Kydd touched the outer tricing line — it was worn and hairy with use, like much of the running rigging [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]