Quarterdeck (12 page)

Kydd smiled, but closed the book. He felt reasonably secure in his knowledge of signals and, despite Bampton’s acid words, surely there could not be much more to add that he needed to say to a crowd of merchant seamen. With the ship about to sail, it made sense to sup on the fat of the land while they could. “Nicholas! I have a fancy to step ashore again, are you interested?”

“Falmouth?” Renzi ruminated, hiding a smile. “This is the Valubia of Virgil—you have probably overlooked that passage in
The Aeneid
describing Falmouth. Let me see:
‘Est in recessu
longo lo cus; insula portum . . .’
it goes, as I remember. You will recognise the Dryden too: ‘Where vale with sea doth join into its purer hands; ’twixt which, to ships commodious Port is shown— ’ ”

“Sir!” It was a small midshipman at the door. “The captain, sir, desires Mr Kydd to attend on him before he lands, should it be convenient.”

“The convoy instructions have arrived, Mr Kydd,” Houghton
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grunted. His clerk scratched away to one side, a sizeable pile of paper mounting beside him.

“Sir.”

“And the convoy will sail in two days.” Houghton looked up at him. “I am senior offi cer and I will be calling a conference of ships’ masters for tomorrow afternoon at two. You will attend, of course, and will probably wish to prepare. My clerk, when he’s fi nished, will disclose to you my private signals and wishes in respect of the escorts.

“Mark my words, I mean to brook no insolence from the master of any merchant vessel, and I will have obedience. I want you to make this quite plain.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Kydd said, turning to go. “And may I have a convoy signal list?”

Houghton started in annoyance. “Of course not! Have you forgotten they are secret? The losing of just one such can lead our convoy into ambuscade, the loss of millions, disgrace to our fl ag. All are accounted for, sir, and are now under guard—I’m surprised you see fi t to ask such a thing.”

It was a shock: fi rst, the level of secrecy to which he was now privy, but second, that he had not given it much thought. Simple courage and seamanship were no longer the only things that would matter in the future.

Houghton grunted. “Very well. You may study a signal list in the lobby while Mr Shepheard is working. Any notes you take will be kept by him also. That is all, Mr Kydd.”

His heart sank; the mass of detail about fl eet signals was exhaustive. Once under way and at sea each ship would be an island, unreachable except for these signals. Kydd leafed through the orders for distinguishing signals and vanes, then the instructions on to the formation of the convoy; it would apparently be

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a multi- column square advancing over the ocean. The name of each ship was fi lled in and assigned a number, which turned out to be its column and row position, and the three escorts were positioned around them,
Tenacious,
with a tiny fl ag added to her name, in the van.

The bulk of the details however, was taken up with resolving problems before they occurred. He turned more pages in dismay.

Even putting to sea in good order required special fl ags to be hung out from odd places about the ship. A red and white weft at the mizzen peak indicated that a ship wished to speak, probably for some urgent concern; a signal of 492 required the unfortunate ship concerned to hoist a yellow fl ag and steer straight for an enemy in a warlike manner, imitating the action of a warship.

It went on: Kydd’s eyes glazed. He began to resent the implied assumption that a naval offi cer could do anything at a moment’s notice, and tried not to think of what he had to face in less than a day. Was it possible to get to grips with so much in that time?

Marines at the landing pier clashed to present arms when Captain Houghton stepped out of the boat, and more lined the way along Arwenack Street to the Customs House where the conference was due to take place.

With their marine guard Kydd paced along stoically behind Houghton and his fi rst lieutenant, lugging the padlocked bag of signal instructions and trying to ignore the curious glances of the townsfolk. At the Customs House, a big, square-looking stone building with a brace of captured French cannon at the entrance, they were met by a prosperous-looking individual wearing an old-fashioned tricorne hat. “Cap’n Houghton? Raddles, Collector o’

Customs. Welcome to Falmouth, an’ your convoy gentlemen are a-waitin’ within.” They passed inside along a musty-smelling
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passage. “Been here before, sir?” Without waiting for an answer he went on, “The long room is where they meets mostly.”

They entered a large room with barn-style beams and imposing, fl oor-length windows. It was noisy, as some hundreds of plainly dressed and weatherworn seamen were present. The babble died as they entered, and those standing in groups moved to take chairs.

Kydd followed Houghton up the aisle to the front, conscious of heads turning. There was a small lectern, a chalkboard and a table. Just three chairs, facing the hundreds seated, waited.

Houghton took the centre chair and Kydd the left. Bryant was on the right. The talking died away. The collector introduced the offi cers briefl y with a bow and a gesture, then left.

The captain wasted no time. He stepped up to the lectern and fi xed his glare on the audience. “I am senior offi cer of the escorts. On this voyage you will have ships of force with you, and need fear nothing from the French, as long as you sail agreeable to the plan. Runners will not be tolerated unless arrangements are in hand. Do I make myself clear?”

Kydd knew that runners were individual ships that tired of the slower speeds of a convoy and struck out ahead alone. They were taking a chance and were on their own, but stood to gain a lot when theirs was the fi rst cargo landed.

“We have a favourable wind and I intend to proceed tomorrow forenoon with the tide. If you have any objections to the sailing plan you may see me in
Tenacious
up to six hours before we weigh. Otherwise I will take it that you agree to its provisions and will abide by them.” He gripped the sides of the lectern.

“Have you any questions? No?” A restless stirring went through the meeting. Houghton relaxed his stance. “Lieutenant Kydd here will present the sailing plan and explain the signals.” Kydd felt a moment of panic, but remembered to nod and smile under the scrutiny of so many eyes. He had a deep sense of responsibility

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that so many merchant seamen were putting their trust in the Navy.

“Then it is only left for me to wish you fair winds and a successful voyage. Good day, gentlemen.”

To Kydd’s relief, Houghton and the fi rst lieutenant strode together down the aisle and left. He had no wish for his performance to be seen by anyone from
Tenacious.
Aware of a rustle of expectation he moved to the lectern and stood before the sea of stony faces. “L’tenant Kydd, signal lieutenant in
Tenacious.
”

His voice came out thin and unconvincing. “I want t’ talk to you about our convoy to Halifax an’ Newfoundland,” he said, trying to toughen his tone. “And especially the conduct o’ your ships when given direction by th’ escorts. My captain has particularly asked me to—”

“So what if we can’t agree wi’ your
direction,
young feller?”

A hard-faced man towards the front had risen to his feet. “The King’s service knows aught o’ what worries us, so why should we do
everythin’
you tell us? Eh?”

Kydd stuttered a weak reply.

Another master got up, more to the back, but his voice boomed out effortlessly. “Tell us, Mr Lootenant Kydd, truly now, have ye ever crossed the Atlantic in a blow? Come on, son, don’ be shy!

When it’s blowin’ great guns ’n’ muskets, squalls comin’ marchin’

in a-weather, lee gunnels under half th’ time. Have ye?”

“Er, myself, I’m no stranger t’ foul weather.”

“Good. Then you’ll be able t’ tell us how in Hades we c’n spy all your fl ags an’ numbers in a fresh blow an’ all!” The two captains sat down to a murmur of agreement.

In front of him were experienced seamen who had been to sea before he was born and whose sea wisdom cast his own into pale insignifi cance. Kydd saw that Bryant had returned, and was standing at the end of the hall, listening to him. “Should ye not make out our signal, y’ keep the answering pennant at the dip,”

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he went on hesitantly. He saw some leaning forward, straining to hear. “If th’ weather—”

Bryant marched up the aisle, grim-faced. Kydd yielded the lectern to him.

“I’m L’tenant Bryant, fi rst o’ the
Tenacious,
” he began, challenging them with his tone and glowering at them individually.

“L’tenant Kydd is my assistant.” He fl ashed a dispassionate glance at Kydd. “Now we have a convoy to get under way afore noon tomorrow, so no more nonsense, if y’ please. Any who wants to argue with a King’s ship knows what to expect.”

He took a wad of instructions and held them up. “As you all know, this is how we conduct our convoy. As usual I’ll start at th’

beginning, remembering all you’ve been told about keepin’ this under lock ’n’ key.

“Convoy assembles in Falmouth Roads, outside the harbour.

Each ship t’ rig their coloured vane to fl y at the fore or main, accordin’ to the instructions, not forgetting your number good and plain on each stern-quarter. Order o’ sailing and fi rst rendezvous, you should have by you, before we leave.”

Bryant leaned forward on the lectern. “Now, here’s a thing.

My captain’s a right Tartar, he is, a hard horse driver who’s always on our necks. He’s your senior offi cer now, so I advise you all t’ spread what canvas you need to keep the convoy closed up an’ all together.” He allowed that to sink in, then went on,

“Signal code for the convoy is in two parts, and provision is made . . .”

The presentation continued. Kydd stood awkwardly beside Bryant, resentful yet admiring of his easy competence.

Then the conference drew to a close and a line of merchant captains came forward to sign the register and take custody of their convoy instructions. They left to return to their ships; the Blue Peter would soon be at each masthead.

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Kydd picked up his gear, avoiding Bryant’s eye. He was startled to hear him give a quiet laugh. “They falls out o’ the line of sailin’, you know what we do? Give ’em a shot in the guts! Sets

’em into a more co-operative frame of mind, it does.”

Bryant helped Kydd heap paper rubbish into the bag; this would later be burned. “But the biggest threat we can use is to report ’em to Lloyds,” he continued. “They show stubborn, we tell Lloyds, an’ then they have to explain to their owners why their insurance premiums just doubled.” Before Kydd could say anything, Bryant had consulted his watch and stalked off.

Chapter 4

“God blast his eyes!” Houghton’s fi sts were clenched and he shook with fury. “I’ll see this rogue roast in hell! Hoist his number on the lee fore halliard and give him another gun.”

The signal for “lie to, and await orders before proceeding”

still fl ew from
Tenacious
’s mizzen peak together with
Lady Ann
’s distinguishing number. It was inconceivable that the shabby timber ship could not understand the need to form up the convoy properly before their voyage began. She seemed intent on heading off into the general distance, vaguely bound for the west, despite the plain sight of so many other ships hove to with brailed-up canvas waiting for the remainder of the convoy to issue out from the inner anchorage.

Kydd marvelled at the sight in front of him: 148 ships, large and small, a vast mass of vessels fi lling the wide bay. Bustling between them were the two smaller escorts. The whole scene was an expression of economic strength—and vulnerability. If Britain could preserve this great stream of trade goods arriving and leaving the kingdom, her survival was assured. If not, the end of this cataclysmic war would not be far off.

At last
Lady Ann
slewed and hove to, but her actions had meant
Tenacious
had moved well out of station and had to heave round back to the assembly points. Her captain was fum-

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ing, his offi cers on edge and the ship’s company thoroughly bad-tempered.

The last of the joiners came through the harbour entrance, past Black Rock and into the open sea. “Convoy will proceed,”

roared Houghton, glaring at his signal lieutenant as though it was all his fault.

Kydd found the place in the signal book, and hastily shouted the hoist to those at the taffrail fl ag-locker. Flags were bent on, soaring up the halliards as the thump of their fo’c’sle gun drew attention to them.

“Have they acknowledged yet?” snapped Houghton.

Kydd had his telescope up, trying to locate
Trompeuse
and
Viper,
just two sail among so many.

“Well?”

Kydd saw the three gunboats of the port’s standing force, which had been detached to see the convoy to sea and were tempo rarily under Houghton’s command, but he could not spot the low, half-decked, two-masted craft.

“Good God! Do I have to—”

“
Viper
acknowledges, sir.” It was Bampton at the offi cer-of-the-watch’s telescope.

“And
Trompeuse,
” Kydd added, fi nding the small ship-sloop.

Then he spotted the vessel sliding into the line of sight from behind a bulky salt-carrier, a red and white pennant at her signal halliards. “A gunboat answers, sir.”