'Now, Tom, whatever you think, this is the only logical reason for it being everywhere at the same time, and never being in danger of prosecution. My friend, if you can find another explanation that fits every fact — any other at all - I'd be thankful to hear it.'
Kydd looked away. It fitted the facts only too well, and he'd heard rumours of a conspiracy at the top. Was Fox right, that Pitt himself was as corrupt as any, that ...
'Ah, well, I have t' say, I've never really thought about it before, er, Dick. Ye'U pardon m' straight talkin', but c'n you tell me why you want t' be the one to — to—'
Parker stood up abruptly. 'Humanity, Tom, common humanity. How can I stand by and see my fellow creatures used so cruelly, to see them in their simple ways oppressed by these blood-suckers, their dearly won means torn from them, degraded to less than beasts of the field?' He turned to Kydd, his eyes gleaming. 'I have advantages in education and experience of the quarterdeck, and they have done me the honour of electing me their representative — I will not betray their trust.'
Moving like a cat, he sat down and faced Kydd again with the same intense gaze. 'Those brave men at Spithead, they gave the example, showed what can be done — we cannot let them down, Tom! They saw the injustices, and stood bravely against them. How can we let them stand alone? Are we so craven that we stand aside and take what others win by peril of their necks?'
'You ask 'em to go t' the yardarm—'
'No!' Parker said emphatically. 'I do not! Consider — the fleet at Spithead, Plymouth and now the Nore - all are now united, resolute. Does the Admiralty hang the whole fleet? Does it cause the army to march against the navy? Of course not. As long as we stand united we are untouched, preserved. If we hang back - but we did not, we kept the faith. And besides . . .' he left the words dangling, relishing the effect '. .. we now have word from Spithead - we have an offer. And it is for a full and complete Royal Pardon after we have had our grievances addressed.'
It was incredible: the mutiny had won — or was winning - an unprecedented concession that recognised . ..
'Now is the time! It is the one and only chance we will ever have of achieving anything! If we miss this chance . . .'
His forehead was beaded with sweat. 'At Spithead they know only their daily rations and liberty. They strive for more bread in port instead of flour; more liberty ashore; vegetables with their meat — this is fine, but we can see further. We know of the rats gnawing at the vitals of the navy, and we're going to expose them, force them into the daylight. We have to be sure the whole world sees them for what they are and howl for their extermination.'
Kydd was excited, appalled and exhilarated by turns. It all made sense, and here was one who was prepared to risk his very life for the sake of the men, his shipmates. And, above all, had the intelligence and resolve to do something about it. 'And if th' French sail?'
'Ah, you see, they won't. At Spithead it was voted that, no matter what, if the French moved against England, then the fleet will instantly return to duty and sail against the enemy. They know this, so at this moment they lie in their harbours, unmoved.'
Kydd took a deep breath. 'Then ye're still loyal - t' King 'n' country, I mean.'
'We are, Tom,' Parker said seriously. 'What could be more loyal than ridding His Majesty of such base villains - these scum?'
He rose unexpectedly and crossed to a cabinet. 'I want you to drink a toast with me, Tom.' He busied himself pouring. 'To success for our brave tars — standing against the whole world!'
Kydd took the glass suspiciously. 'Don't worry, this is not the admiral's, it's common grog only,' Parker said, with a smile.
'Aye. Well, here's t' our brave Jack Tars!' Kydd drank heartily.
Parker moved to a chair to one side. 'Tom. Let me be straight with you,' he began. 'Your common foremast jack is not best placed to see the whole of matters. He is brave and honest, but without guile. His nature makes him the prey of others, he has not the penetration to see he is being practised upon. What I am saying is that there are many who do not see the urgency, the dire necessity of our actions at this time, and hesitate. This is a folly, and puts at great hazard all those who have seen their duty to their shipmates and acted.'
He refilled Kydd's glass. 'We need men to declare their devotion to their shipmates, to end their hesitation, men that are fine and strong, men whom others look upon to set them a course to steer. Tom, we need you to stand with us. To give us your—'
'No!' Kydd slammed down his glass, suddenly icy cold. 'Parker, I believe in what ye're doing, but this, is not th' way — it can't be!' He turned to go, flinging open the door.
'Kydd!' called Parker from behind him. 'Just think on this. If you really care about your men, do something, but otherwise go away — and then try to live with yourself.'
Kydd left, Parker's words echoing in his ears, again confronting the dank, crowded decks, the misery in the faces of the men, the air of hopelessness and despair.
Only one thing kept hammering at his senses: he could no longer walk away.
'You've been aboard Sandwich? said Cockburn flatly. 'You're not such a fool, Tom, that you don't know the penalty for treasonous association, consorting with mutineers. Just for the sake of curiosity, you'd let it be seen . . .' Something in Kydd's face made Cockburn tail off.
'I know what I did.'
Kydd left the gunroom and moodily made the upper deck. His mind was in a spin of indecision as he paced along slowly. Abreast the mainmast he stopped. A young sailor was working by the side of the immense complexity of ropes belayed to their pins that girdled the mast. Spread out on a canvas in front of him were blocks and yarns, fid and knife.
Seeing Kydd stop he scrambled to his feet. 'Oh, Mr Kydd, I'm ter strap th' spanker sheet block 'ere fer the cap'n o' the mizzentop.'
'Carry on, younker. But what's this I see? You mean t' work a common short splice, an' it's t' be seen b' the quarterdeck?' Kydd hid a grin at the lad's worried look. 'Well, sure enough, we usually use a short splice, an' for our sheet block we turn the tail to a selvagee — but this is upon the quarterdeck, an' Achilles is a crack man-o'-war. No, lad, we doesn't use an ugly short splice. Instead we graft the rope, make it fine 'n' smooth around the block, then other ships go green 'cos we've got such a prime crew who know their deep-water seamanship.'
'But, Mr Kydd, please, I don't know yer grafting.'
'It's easy enough — look, I'll show ye.' Kydd picked up the strap and shook the strands free, then intertwined and brought them together, very tightly. 'Now work a stopper each side, if y' please.' The lad eagerly complied. 'Now we c'n open out Y strands, and make some knittles — just like as if y' was doin' some pointin'.' Kydd's strong fingers plying the knife made short work of producing a splay of fine lines above and below the join. His coat constricted his movements so he took it off and threw it over the bitts. 'An' now y'r ready to graft. Lay half y' knittles on the upper part .. .'
It was calming to the soul, this simple exercise of his sea skills: it helped to bring perspective and focus to his horizons — and, above all, a deep satisfaction. 'An' mark well, we snake our turns at the seizing — both ends o' course.' It wasn't such a bad job, even though it was now a long time since he had last strapped a block. He watched the lad admiring the smooth continuity of the rope lying in the score of the block and hid a grin at the thought of the captain of the mizzentop's reaction when he went to check the young sailor's work.
He put his coat back on and resumed his pace, but did not get far. A midshipman pulled at his sleeve and beckoned furtively, motioning him over to a quiet part of the deck. 'What is it, y' scrub?' he growled.
'Psst - Mr Hawley passes the word, he wants to see all officers an' warrant officers in the cap'n's cabin,' he whispered.
'What?.
'Please don't shout, Mr Kydd. It's to be secret, like.'
'I've called you here for reasons you no doubt can guess,' Hawley whispered. The sentry had been moved forward and the quarterdeck ab
ove cleared with a ruse; there was litde chance of being overheard.
'This despicable mutiny has gone on for long enough. I had hoped the mutineers would by now have turned to fighting among themselves - they usually do, the blaggardly villains. No, this is too well organised. We must do something.'
There was a murmur of noncommittal grunts. Kydd felt his colour rising.
'What do you suggest?' Binney said carefully.
Hawley took out a lace handkerchief and sniffed. 'The ship is unharmed - so far,' he said. 'I don't propose that she be left in the charge of that drunken crew for longer than I can help.' He leaned forward. 'I'm setting up communication with the shore. This will enable us to plan a move against the knaves with the aid of the army garrison—'
'Sir!' Kydd interrupted, his voice thick with anger. 'You gave your word!'
'I'll thank you, sir, to keep your voice down, dammit!' Hawley hissed. 'As to my word, do you believe it counts when pledged to mutineers — felons condemned by their own acts?'
'You gave y'r word not to move against them while y' had freedom of th' ship,' Kydd repeated dully.
'I choose to ignore the implication in view of your — background, Mr Kydd. Have a care for your future, sir.'
Kydd stared at the deck, cold rage only just under control.
'I shall continue. When I get word from the shore that the soldiers are prepared, we take steps to secure their entry to the vessel, probably by night through the stern gallery. Now, each of you will be given tasks that are designed to distract the—' He stopped with a frown. 'Good God, Mr Kydd, what is it now?'
Breathing raggedly, Kydd blundered out of the cabin. He stormed out on to the main deck, feeling the wary eyes of seamen on him.
A realisation rose in his gorge, choking and blinding. If he was going to do something that meant anything for his shipmates - and be able to live with himself later — then it was not going to be by throwing in his lot with those who wanted to turn the sky black with the corpses of his friends.
Kydd wheeled and marched off forward, scattering men in his wake. At the starboard bay, he stopped before the startled committee, panting with emotion. 'M' friends! I'm in wi' ye. What d' y' like me t' do?'
* * *
He emerged shortly from the fore-hatch, defiant and watchful. By now the news was around the ship and he knew eyes everywhere would be on him. The seamen seemed to take it all in their stride, grinning and waving at him. He went further aft. The master was by the mizzen-mast, hands on hips, staring down at him. He reached the gangways and passed by the boat spaces. Binney was on the opposite gangway and caught sight of him; he turned, hurried aft and disappeared.
He reached the quarterdeck but Cockburn pushed in front of him, barring his way. 'The quarterdeck is not the place for you any more, Kydd,' he said stiffly.
'I've got ev'ry right,' he snarled and, thrusting Cockburn contemptuously aside, he stalked on to the quarterdeck. All those who were aft froze.
Hawley strode out, and placed himself squarely in front of Kydd. He jammed on his gold-laced cocked hat at an aggressive angle and glowered at Kydd. 'You've just ten seconds to save your neck. Make your obedience and—'
'Sir,' said Kydd, touching his forehead. His gaze locked with Hawley's, not moving for a full ten seconds. Then he deliberately turned forward. 'You men at th' forebrace bitts,' he threw, in a hard bellow. 'Pass the word f'r the delegates.'
He turned slowly and waited until Coxall hastily made his appearance, Farnall close behind with a dozen men.
'I lay a complaint. Against this officer.' Kydd's fierce stare held Hawley rigid. 'He means t' break his solemn word, an' move against you - us!' There was an awed shuffling behind Kydd. 'I demand he be turned out o' th' ship, an unsuitable officer.'
There was hesitation for a fraction of a second: the incredible enormity of what he had done pressed in relendessly on Kydd, the knowledge that the moment could never be put back into its bottle, but in his exaltation that he had done right he would dare anything.
'Get y'r gear, sir. One chest is all,' Coxall said firmly. Two seamen moved forward and stood on each side of the officer, much the same as they would for a man to be led to the gratings for lashes.
'He's turned ashore — away larb'd cutter, Joe.'
Shocked, Hawley turned to confront Kydd. 'I shall see you dance at the yardarm if it's the last thing I do on earth.'
Coxall said evenly, 'Now then, sir, no sense in makin' it worse'n it is.'
It was like waking yet still being in a dream. Kydd moved about the decks, passing familiar things, trying to bring his mind to reality, yet all the while recalling Hawley in the receding boat, staring back at him.
Cockburn ignored him. The gunroom was full of tension, and it was impossible to remain, so Kydd slung his hammock forward. Some regarded him with wonder and curiosity, as though he were a condemned man walking among them.
The master waited until there was no one near and came up to Kydd, removing his hat. 'It's a brave thing ye're doing, Mr Kydd, an' I need to say as how I admires it in you.' His hands twisted the hat and he finished lamely, 'If it weren't f'r m' pension coming ver' soon— which I needs for m' wife and her sister livin' with us— I'd be there alongside ye an' all.'
In a half-world Kydd waited for word from the delegates — they said they needed to contact the president. He paced up and down, the exaltation ebbing little by little.
Then word came. 'Fr'm Mr Parker. He wants yer to go aboard Sandwich — an' help 'im personal, like. C'n we bear a hand wi' yer dunnage, mate?'
Parker was waiting for Kydd at the entry-port; his handshake was crisp and strong. 'A sincere welcome to you, my friend,' he said. 'Be so good as to join me at a morsel for dinner - we've a lot to discuss.'
As Kydd sat down at the table, Parker's eyes glowed. 'Tom, it's very good to see you here. It was my heartfelt prayer.' Kydd beamed. 'But might I ask why're you in the rig of a foremast hand? Where are your breeches, your blue coat?'
'O' course, I wanted to show me heart with our tars. Tell me, Dick, how goes things?'
Parker pushed back his plate with a smile, hooked his waistcoat with his thumbs and tilted back his chair. 'Success is very near, Tom, be assured of that.' He jumped to his feet. 'Come with me.'
They went out on to the sweeping curve of the admiral's stern walk. Before them was the entire anchorage of the Nore, dozens of ships of all descriptions, each tranquil and still.
'There! You see? Every one is owing allegiance to the great cause we have set in train. Each one like a link in a chain binding to the next, so we have an unbroken bond uniting us all. And see them - ships-of-the-line, frigates, even fire-ships — all with but one mind.'
'A rousin' fine sight,' Kydd agreed. The very presence of the fleet before him was a calm assertion of the lightness of their course, a comforting vision of thousands of like-minded seamen ready to hazard all for what they believed. He lingered, savouring the grand vista of men-o'-war about him, then rejoined Parker inside.
He was sitting at the admiral's secretary's working desk, rummaging and assembling papers. 'So! To work, then. Now, what are we going to do with you, Mr Thomas Kydd? Achilles already has her delegates, and Sandwich is the Parliament ship for the fleet. No, I fancy your talents can command a higher position. You seem to have a practicality rooted in intelligence that I have seen rarely, and a loyal heart. However—' He pondered, then looked up, vexed. 'The delegates can be a disputatious and difficult crew at times and, I'm grieved to say, not always motivated by reasons of selflessness. In you I perceive a purity of purpose and a noble soul, and if only it were in my power to raise you high — but this is not possible. We are agreed to be an assembly of equals, and as president I - I can only be the voice of my people. I'm sorry, Tom.'
'Don't ye concern y'self f'r me, Dick. I'll bear a fist with anythin' I can. Never did want t' top it the bigwig, anyway. But y' must find somethin' I c'n do — y' must have a clinkin' great pile o' things t' do?'
Parker's face eased. 'Well, now, since you offer — you've no idea how much detail such a venture as ours commands, yet to neglect it is folly, leading inevitably to calamity and ruin. Consider this. We are many thousand, here together. How are we to be fed and watered without there are arrangements of supply? And if we vote on regulations of conduct, how are these to be given out to the fleet,, unless they are written out fifty times? Do accept to be my aide at least, I beg, and take these duties from my hands.'
'Aye,' Kydd said firmly, 'I will.' This was something he could do that had clear value. He would find men who could read and write, set them up at their tasks, and he himself could be available to Parker as needed.
'My very sincere thanks, Tom.' He held out his hand. 'I'll remember this day.'
The papers were loosely organised: minutes of meetings, rough drafts of proclamations, messages from delegates - it needed pulling together. Kydd put a proposal to Parker: 'C'n I find two good men t' stand by me, an' a private cabin?' He would need somewhere his papers would be safe.
'Of course. The admiral's dining cabin will not be entertaining this age — the table will serve well, and we may meet round it. I have in mind two who can assist. Both have their letters and are not friends to the bottle.'
Kydd gathered his resources; he sent his assistants to secure boxes for the papers, then set about sorting and reading them. Parker had a fine, imaginative flair for words, with ringing phrases and legal-sounding threats. It appeared, though, Kydd had to conclude, that his inclination was more towards the florid than the detailed.
At one point a well-built, fine-looking seaman entered the big cabin. 'William Davis, cap'n of Sandwich' he rumbled, with a hard-jawed grin. 'Do I see Tom Kydd, come fr'm the Caribbee?' 'Aye,' Kydd said.
'Quartermaster's mate in Artemis as was, goin' aroun' the world? Gets turned over inta — what, some sail-o'-the-line?'
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