Table of Contents
Also by Julian Stockwin
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Maps
Dramatis Personae
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Author’s Note
Glossary
Timeline
Also by Julian Stockwin
Kydd
Artemis
Seaflower
Mutiny
Quarterdeck
Tenacious
Command
The Admiral’s Daughter
Treachery (US Title: The Privateer’s Revenge)
Invasion
Victory
Conquest
Betrayal
CARIBBEE
Julian Stockwin
www.hodder.co.uk
First published in Great Britain in 2013 by
Hodder & Stoughton
An Hachette UK company
Copyright © Julian Stockwin 2013
The right of Julian Stockwin to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978 1 4447 1207 0
Hodder & Stoughton Ltd
338 Euston Road
London NW1 3BH
www.hodder.co.uk
To all my shipmates, old and new
Dramatis Personae
(* indicates fictitious character)
* Thomas Kydd, captain of L’Aurore
* Nicholas Renzi, his friend and confidential secretary
L’Aurore, ship’s company
*Gilbey, first lieutenant
*Curzon, second lieutenant
*Bowden, third lieutenant
*Clinton, lieutenant of marines
*Dodd, marine sergeant
*Oakley, boatswain
*Poulden, captain’s coxswain
*Redmond, gunner
*Stirk, gunner’s mate
*Kendall, sailing master
*Saxton, master’s mate
*Calloway, master’s mate
*Searle, midshipman
*Doud, seaman
*Wong, seaman
*Tysoe, Kydd’s valet
Officers, other ships
Admiral Cochrane, Leeward Islands Squadron
Admiral Dacres, Jamaica Squadron
Captain Brisbane, Arethusa
Captain Pym, Atlas
Captain Dunn, Acasta
Captain Lydiard, Anson
Captain Bolton, Fisgard
*Captain Tyrell, Hannibal
*Lieutenant Beale, Hannibal
*Lieutenant Buckle, Hannibal
*Lieutenant Briggs, Hannibal
*Lieutenant Griffith, Hannibal
*Lieutenant Hubbard, Hannibal
*Lieutenant Mason, Hannibal
*Midshipman Jowett, Hannibal
*Midshipman Joyce, Hannibal
*Maitland, master, Hannibal
Army
*Captain Hinckley
*Major Wyvill
Others
*Hayward, seaman
*Richard Laughton, Renzi’s brother
Francis Mackenzie, governor of Barbados
*Jonathan Miller, American businessman
*Daniel Thistlewood, plantation owner
*Louise Vernou, French royalist
*Wilikins, confidential secretary to Dacres
*Miss Amelia Wrexham, society belle
*Charles Wrexham, chairman of planters’ association
Chapter 1
‘S-sir! Mr Curzon’s compliments, an’ we’ve raised Barbados!’ came the wide-eyed report.
The frigate L’Aurore had been at sea for long weeks, beating up the coast of South America in frantic haste on a mission that might well see the catastrophic situation of the British in Buenos Aires reversed. It had been a voyage of daring speed and increasing privation as provisions and water ran low under the pressing need for hurry. Reduced to short allowance, the griping of hunger was constantly with them.
Captain Thomas Kydd looked up from his desk. ‘Thank you, Mr Searle.’
The ship’s youngest midshipman hesitated, unsure whether to wait for a response for the second lieutenant.
Kydd laid down his pen. ‘Tell Mr Curzon I’ll be on deck presently.’
Apprehension stole over Kydd as he contemplated his task: to persuade a senior commander-in-chief to detach part of his fleet to go south in rescue of an unauthorised expedition that had sought to liberate South America from the Spanish.
It had all started brilliantly. Their tiny force had quickly captured the seat of the viceroyalty of the River Plate, Buenos Aires, but then the population had turned on their liberators and forced the surrender of their land forces. Commodore Popham, still at anchor off the port there, was desperately seeking support to retake the city.
From the quarterdeck Kydd gazed across an exuberant expanse of white-flecked blue sea to a distant light grey smudge, Barbados – where was to be found the Leeward Islands Squadron. There were just hours left to ensure that his arguments to its admiral for weakening the defences of the vital sugar islands by parting with his valuable assets were sound and convincing.
‘A noble achievement, our voyage, sir, I’m persuaded,’ Curzon offered, as they neared.
‘A damned challenging one,’ agreed Kydd, absently. There was murmuring that he didn’t catch from the group around the wheel behind him but it wasn’t hard to guess its drift. These were men who had left shipmates as prisoners to the Spaniards and they were expecting to see them freed soon by bold naval action.
Barbados was at its shimmering tropical best. After the intense blue of the deep sea, with its gaily tumbling white combers, and shoals of bonito and flying fish pursued by dolphins, there was now calm and beguiling transparent jade water above the corals. Along the shore coconut palms fringed dazzling white beaches. Neat houses on stilts with distinctive green jalousies perched above the tideline.
It was an impossibly lovely prospect for those who had voyaged so long and endured so much but, mission accomplished, they must leave and return to that grey southern madness.
By the time they had made the bluffs of South Point and left the brown and regular green of sugar fields safely to starboard, anxiety returned to steal in on Kydd. There was the possibility that the Leeward Islands Squadron was at sea, in which case it could be anywhere and would have to be found. However, his real concern was that, as a junior frigate captain, he was going to debate high strategy with a senior admiral. But there was no alternative: too many brave men depended on what he was about to say.
He was in full dress uniform well before they opened Carlisle Bay. It was soon established that the fleet was in, an imposing sight – three ships-of-the-line, escorting frigates and many others. But Kydd’s eyes were on just one, the largest, which bore the flag of the commander-in-chief, Leeward
Islands Squadron.
He knew little of the man: that he was a Cochrane unrelated to the one Napoleon called ‘the wolf of the seas’, that by reputation he was cautious and punctilious but had nevertheless distinguished himself in battle, and that he was yet another Scot who had reached flag rank in the Royal Navy. None of this was going to help.
An officious brig-sloop rounded to under their lee and, after a brief exchange of hails, L’Aurore was shepherded into the anchorage to take up moorings with three other frigates. It felt odd after so long under a press of canvas to be at rest with naked masts.
In his mind Kydd went over yet again the burden of what he would argue. If successful they could be returning south within days with reinforcements and if not … Well, would he have to go back empty-handed?
An expressionless Coxswain Poulden kept tight discipline in the boat’s crew as they approached the flagship. Northumberland was in immaculate order, the welcoming captain in white gloves as Kydd stepped aboard, carefully lifting his hat to the quarterdeck and waiting while the boatswain’s call died away. Then he was escorted to the grand cabin of the commander-in-chief.
‘Captain Kydd, is it not?’ Cochrane said, in a dry Scots burr, rising from his desk.
‘L’Aurore frigate, thirty-two guns, sir.’
‘As I can see. Her reputation for speed on a bowline is known even here, Captain.’
‘Sir, I’ve news of great importance, a matter that sorely presses, bearing as it does on our situation in the south.’
‘Oh? Do carry on then, sir.’
‘I’m directed by Commodore Popham, my commander, to make my number with you in respect of an urgent operational request he has to make.’
‘I see.’ Cochrane’s manner became unexpectedly mild, almost whimsical, as if restraining a humorous confidence. ‘And you are his emissary. Then do tell what this might be at all.’
‘I’m not sure how much you know, sir, of our descent on Buenos Aires, which—’
‘You’ll take a sherry, Kydd? I favour a light manzanilla in this climate. Will you?’
‘Thank you, sir. We met with some success initially, seizing the city and quantities of silver, but –’
‘Do sit, Captain. I’m sure it’s been something of a trial, your long voyage.’
‘– but he now stands embarrassed for want of reinforcement,’ Kydd went on doggedly.
‘Which he begs I might furnish.’
‘Sir, the matter is pressing, I believe, and—’
‘And I’m therefore grieved to tell you that your mission is in vain.’
Was this a direct refusal before he’d even mentioned the details? ‘Sir, I have a letter for you from the commodore that establishes the strategics at back of his request.’
Cochrane laid it on the desk, unopened. ‘That won’t be necessary.’
Kydd felt a flush rising. ‘Sir, I do feel—’
‘Captain, two weeks ago your reinforcements touched here on their way to the River Plate.’
‘Why, that’s—’
‘Together with your commodore’s replacement. He is under recall to England to answer for his conduct.’
Kydd was thunderstruck.
‘So that disposes of the matter as far as you are concerned, wouldn’t you say?’ the admiral said, toying with his quill.
‘Um, yes, it does seem, sir, that—’
‘Quite. Then I suppose it would appear that you and your valiant frigate are now without purpose.’
Keyed up for a protracted confrontation, Kydd could think of nothing with which to meet this.
Cochrane leaned forward and said, with a frown, ‘I presume you realise how vital – how crucial – these islands are to Great Britain? You do? Then you’ll be as distracted as I am, not to say dismayed, when you learn that this humble fleet is all that is left to me in the great purpose of defending the same. After Trafalgar we were stripped – I say stripped, sir – of ships of force and value. Should the French make a descent with serious intent, I have the gravest reservations whether I’m in any kind of a position to deter them.’
‘Er, I see, sir.’
‘So I have it in mind that, following the stranding of Félicité frigate, I shall be attaching you to my station pending Admiralty approval.’
Kydd caught his breath. As a commander-in-chief, Cochrane was entitled to avail himself of the services of passing vessels, and there was little doubt that the Admiralty would be reluctant to go to the trouble of sending out a replacement when one had so fortuitously presented itself.
‘A light frigate, of little consequence to operations in the south, while here I’m in great want of frigates both for the fleet and to go against French cruisers and privateers. Yes, my dear Kydd, consider yourself as of this moment under my command. Flags will find you a copy of my orders and see you entered into the fleet’s signal card and so forth, and I’ve no doubt you’ll wish to water and store while you can. We’re shortly to sail on fleet manoeuvres, which will serve as a capital introduction to our ways.’
There was nothing for it: Kydd had to accept that he and L’Aurore were now taken up and Popham’s brave little expedition was replaced by a full-scale enterprise from England that didn’t need them. Their being was now to be found in the Caribbean.
Cochrane mused for a moment, then rose and extended his hand. ‘Therefore I do welcome you to the Leeward Islands Squadron, Kydd – you’ll find me strict, but fair.’ He rang a silver handbell.
A wary lieutenant entered. ‘Sir?’
‘Flags, this is Captain Kydd of L’Aurore frigate. He’s to join our little band and I leave him in your capable hands to perform the consequentials. Oh, and the residence will need to know that they’ll be having another guest at the levee.’
‘Aye aye, sir. Er, it does cross the mind that Captain Kydd’s presence might be considered fortunate at this time …?’
‘What’s that, Flags?’
‘The court-martial, sir. You now have your five captains.’
‘Ah, yes. Like to get this disagreeable business over with before we sail. Er, set it in train, will you? There’s a good fellow.’
Legal proceedings could not begin in a court-martial unless five post captains could be found to sit in judgment and cases had sometimes dragged on for months while waiting for the requisite number.
It was not the most auspicious beginning to his service here.
Back aboard his ship, Kydd cleared lower deck and told her company of developments, mentioning that with powerful reinforcements on their way their shipmates would soon be set at liberty, and announcing the agreeable news that they would be exchanging the winter shoals and lowering darkness of defeat in Buenos Aires for the delights of the Caribbean. It more than made up for the trials of the voyage.
In the time-honoured way, boats had already put off from the shore to the newly arrived ship, laden to the gunwales with tempting delights for sailors long at sea – hands of bananas, moist soursops, grapefruit-tasting shaddock, fried milk, not to mention bammy bread and live chickens, all dispensed with noisy gusto by laughing black faces.
Even Gilbey, the dour first lieutenant, was borne along on the tide of excitement and, wrinkling his nose at the mauby beer, insisted on picking out half a dozen fresh coconuts for the gunroom.
‘That no good for youse, de fine buckra officer!’ a stout lady said, snatching them back. ‘I got toppest kind, verra tender an’ young. You leave others t’ the kooner-men!’ She triumphantly produced some smaller ones, still enshrouded with fine coir hair.
Kydd kept a blank expression. He knew very well what was going on from those long-ago times in the Caribbean as a ‘kooner-man’ himself. Deciding not to interfere, he let Gilbey conclude the deal and stood back as seamen quickly moved in to relieve her of the store of bigger, older nuts. Quite soon there would be merriment of a different kind below decks: the L’Aurores would have wasted no time in ‘sucking the monkey’ – quaffing the powerful rum that had taken the place of milk
inside their purchases.
Curzon was compounding with Bowden, the third lieutenant, in the subscribing of a sea-turtle – calipash and calipee – and Kydd graciously acceded to joining them, looking forward to the warmth of a dinner with his officers.
Liberty ashore was promised as soon as storing was complete, but for Kydd there was first a stern duty. At the summons of the single court-martial gun booming over the anchorage, he boarded his gig for Northumberland. He noted others making their way over the glittering sea but he had been occupied with the rendering of myriad accounts, reports and the like to his new commander, and a probing survey of fitness of his ship. Today, therefore, was their first face-to-face meeting, and he was looking forward to making the acquaintance of those with whom he would serve in the future.
This time Kydd was gravely welcomed at the side by the admiral, then went over to join the group of captains standing together on the other side of the deck.
He lifted his cocked hat in greeting. ‘Kydd, L’Aurore frigate, new joined.’
‘New snaffled, I’d wager,’ one hard-faced captain retorted. ‘Always was tight with his ships, our Sir Alex. Oh – Sam Pym o’ Atlas 74. We’ll know more of you shortly, I’d hazard. Your first time in the Caribbee?’ he asked.
Kydd caught himself. It was not, for he had been here as a young seaman – it seemed so very long ago. ‘Er, in the last war, as a younker only,’ he admitted, then went on, ‘Do we know who’s to be tried at all?’
‘Won’t take long, if that’s your meaning. Some foremast jack out o’ Hannibal thought to offer his lieutenant violence on being given an order or some such. His Nibs can be relied upon to come down hard on any who—’
A sour-faced captain leaned forward and hissed, ‘Sssh, gentlemen. There’s to be no discussing the case before it’s heard.’
The court met in the admiral’s spacious day cabin, set out in its full panoply – dark polished mahogany on all sides, flag-draped side tables and the scarlet of marine sentries rigidly to attention. A long table set athwart dominated the scene.
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