“Ah, well, as t’ that, sir, ye must know that it’s an Admiralty order as we takes aboard twenty per centum fewer barrels.” A sceptical look appeared on the hovering boatswain’s face, which disappeared at Kydd’s sharp glance. “And, o’ course, ye’d be aware we gets less anyways, bein’ Channel duties only.”
“Are ye sayin’, Mr Duckitt,” Kydd snapped, “that we must land the powder we now has aboard?”
“Not all of it, sir. We keeps a mort o’ White LG for close-in work an’ salutin’. For th’ rest it’s all Red LG powder, best corned an’ glazed, charge a third y’r shot weight and a half f’r carronades, one fourth for double-shottin’. It’s all there in m’ orders jus’ received.”
It would take time to discharge from their magazine, cramped into the after end of the hold. Then there was the swaying inboard of the lethal copper-banded barrels from the low red-flagged powder-barges, no doubt only now beginning their slow creep down from the magazines further upstream. “Very well. I’d have wished t’ know of this afore now,” Kydd growled.
Purchet turned anxiously. “Shall I rouse out th’ larbowlines below now, sir?”
“No, no, Mr Purchet, th’ forenoon will do. Let ’em lie.” The thought of breakfast was cheering.
As he turned to go below he saw Standish emerge on deck, ready dressed for the day against Kydd’s shirt and breeches.
“Sir—a very good morning to you!”
“Oh—er, thank ’ee.” He had asked that his new first lieutenant present himself in the morning. Clearly the man had taken him literally and was prepared for the morning watch, which started at four. “I had expected ye later. Has all y’ dunnage been brought aboard?”
“It has, sir—all stowed and put to rights. Cabin stores coming aboard this afternoon.” He glanced up into Teazer ’s bare masts. “If we’re to get to sea this age it were better I begin my duties directly,” he said briskly.
Kydd paused. Was this an implied slight at Teazer ’s untidy state or the sign of a zealous officer? “It does ye credit, Mr Standish, but there’s time enough f’r that. Shall we take breakfast together at all?” he added firmly. There was no reason why he should be cheated of his own repast and it would give him proper sight of the man for the first time.
“Why, thank you, sir.” Standish seemed genuinely flattered and followed Kydd respectfully to the great cabin.
“Another f’r breakfast, Tysoe,” Kydd warned. His own meal was ready laid at one end of the polished table—wiggs, dainty breakfast pastries, and sweet jelly, quiddany of plums, in a plain jar, the coffee pot steaming gently. “Well, Mr Standish, the sun’s not yet over the foreyard but I’m t’ welcome ye into Teazer, I believe.”
Tysoe brought napery and cutlery and set another place.
“Pleased indeed to be aboard, sir. You’ll understand that to be idle when your country stands in peril sits ill with me.” Standish was well built, his strong features darkly handsome, hair tied back neatly in a queue, like Kydd’s, but with a studied carelessness to the curly locks in front.
Kydd helped himself to one of the wiggs, added a curl of butter and a liberal spread of the conserve, then asked casually, “Tell me, sir, may I know why y’ asked f’r Teazer especially?”
Standish seemed abashed. “Oh, well, sir . . .” He put down his knife and paused, turning to face Kydd. “Do you mind if I’m frank, sir?”
“Do fill an’ stand on.” The man held himself well and Kydd was warming to his evident willingness.
“You’ll be aware that you, sir, are not unknown in the service,” he began respectfully. “Your boat action at the Nile has often been remarked and, dare I say it, your courage at Acre has yet to see its reward.”
“That’s kind in ye to say so.”
“I will be candid, sir. My last post was a ship-o’-the-line, and while a fine enough vessel, she was to join Cornwallis before Brest.” He went on earnestly, “For an officer of aspiration this is, er, a slow route. A frigate berth is too much sought after to be in prospect—then I heard of L’tenant Hodgson’s misfortune.”
Kydd nodded for him to continue.
“Sir, my reason for requesting Teazer— you’ll pardon the direct speaking—is that I believe you to be an active and enterprising captain who will see his chance and seize it. In fine, sir, prospects of a distinguished action for all will be better served in Teazer than another.”
It was true that the only sure path to glory and promotion was distinction on the field of battle and subsequent recognition above one’s peers. Standish had heard something of Kydd’s history and had made a cool calculation that this captain would not hold back in the event of an engagement, so his chances were better for a bloody victory in Teazer than in a battleship on blockade duty.
“Thank ye f’r your frankness, Mr Standish. But it may be that within a short time th’ Channel Fleet will meet the French an’ their invasion fleet. Glory enough f’r all, I would say. Coffee?” The officer looked sincere and was clearly eager to be an active member of Teazer ’s company. “Tell, me, Mr Standish, have ye been fortunate in th’ matter of actions?”
“I was at Copenhagen, sir, third o’ the Monarch, ” he said modestly, “and was fourth in Minotaur when we cut out the Prima galley.”
This was experience enough. In Nelson’s squadron during the bloody affair against the Danes, and before, in the fine exploit off Genoa that saw the difficult capture of the heavily manned vessel. “Were ye in the boats?”
“I had the honour to command our pinnace on that occasion, yes, sir.”
This was no stripling learning his trade in a small vessel. Standish was going to be a distinct asset—if his other qualities were as creditable. “Well, I hope Teazer c’n afford ye some entertainment in the future.”
“Thank you, sir. May I ask it—do we have our orders yet?”
“None yet, but Admiral Lockwood assures me we’ll have ’em presently. Do help y’self to more wiggs.”
“If I might be allowed to make my excuses, sir, I feel I should make an early acquaintance with our watch and station bill.” Kydd noted the “our” with satisfaction. “If there is fault to be found I’m anxious it shall not be mine,” Standish added. He rose to leave, then hesitated. “Did I hear aright, sir, that your friend, our learned gentleman—”
“Mr Renzi?”
“—is he not also in the nature of a—a clerk?”
Kydd allowed his expression to grow stern. “In HMS Teazer he is captain’s clerk, Mr Standish. He is b’ way of being a retired sea officer and brings a deal of experience t’ the post. You will find him of much value when he assists ye, as he will.”
“Aye aye, sir,” said Standish uncertainly.
It was while the powder boy was alongside, and the ship in a state of suspended terror at the sight of the deadly barrels swaying through the air, that Teazer ’s two midshipmen arrived. Awed by the tension they sensed in the manoeuvres around them, they stood bareheaded and nervous before a distracted Kydd.
“Andrews, sir,” squeaked the younger. His wispy appearance was not going to impress the seamen, Kydd reflected.
“Boyd, sir,” the other said stolidly.
“Ye’re welcome aboard, gentlemen, but f’r now, clew up wi’ Mr Prosser. That’s him by th’ forebitts. Say ye’re to take station on him an’ I’ll attend to y’ both later.” Prosser was Teazer ’s only master’s mate.
The lads trotted off and Kydd turned back to events. Purchet was in charge: his style was to give few orders and those quietly, forcing the party of men to a strained quiet in case they were missed, the boatswain’s mate standing by meaningfully.
The morning wore on, and with the last of the powder aboard and securely in the magazine, the atmosphere eased. “Carry on, if y’ please, Mr Prosser,” Kydd said, and turned to go below.
At the bottom of the steps he nearly bumped into Standish. “Ah, sir, do you have a few moments?” He was carrying a sheaf of papers, and in the subdued light of belowdecks
Kydd saw Renzi standing politely a few paces back.
He hesitated, caught between courtesy to his friend and a captain acknowledging a mere clerk in front of an officer, and compromised with a civil nod. The two officers went together to Kydd’s cabin, leaving Renzi alone.
Standish spread out his papers: it was the watch and station bill and he had, no doubt with discreet hinting from Renzi, made sizeable inroads into the task. “Two watches, I think you requested, sir,” he said, with businesslike vigour, smoothing out a larger paper made of two sheets pasted together. “With a complement of eighty-two men in a brig this size I see no difficulty here, sir. I will stand watch opposite Mr Prosser and we will apportion the men to divisions in like wise.”
It was a good plan: both would see the same men every watch they would lead in detached service or for which they would take domestic responsibility.
Standish added, “As to petty officers o’ the tops and similar, as you have been to sea once with them I respectfully seek your opinion.” He handed over his list of stations for each seaman in the various manoeuvres that Teazer must perform; mooring ship, taking in sail, heaving up the anchors.
This showed a reassuring technical confidence. Discussion continued; mess numbers had been assigned and Standish had a useful suggestion about hammock markings and location.
It was always a tricky thing to find a man at night in the press of off-watch humanity below, and men did not take kindly to being clumsily awakened as the carpenter’s crew or others were found and roused out.
“We stand eighteen short o’ complement,” Kydd said—it was a nagging worry as they had to be fully prepared for war. “I’m trusting t’ snag some local men,” he added doubtfully. It was unlikely but not impossible: there must be a fair number of sailors thrown ashore from the crowds of coastal shipping he had seen lie idle on the mud in Plymouth. They might be glad of the security of a King’s ship known to be on service only in home waters.
Standish left as the purser came for more signatures. Suddenly, from the deck above there was a bull roar. “That pickerooning rascal in the foretop, ahoy! If you think to take your ease, sir, we can accommodate you—Mr Purchet?” It seemed Teazer ’s new first lieutenant was losing no time in making his presence felt.
Teazer ’s orders arrived; and Kydd sought the solitude of his cabin to open them. There were no surprises: the whole coastline between Portland Bill and the Isles of Scilly would be his responsibility “. . . to cruise for the protection of trade of His Majesty’s Subjects, particularly of the coasters passing that way, from any attempts of the Enemy’s Cruisers, using your best endeavours to take and destroy all ships and vessels belonging to France which you may discover or be informed of . . .”
He was to call regularly at Falmouth, Fowey and other ports to acquire “Intelligence, Orders or Letters,” and further it seemed he should neglect no opportunity to procure men for His Majesty’s Fleet who should then be borne on the Supernumerary List for victuals until conveyed to the nearest regulating captain.
There was, however, no mention of Customs and Excise but if any trade or convoy in the Downs bound to the westward should eventuate he was to “see them safely as far as their way may be with yours.”
All in all, it was eminently suited to Teazer ’s qualities and vital to the country’s survival. And it left full scope for a bold action against any enemy daring to cross her bows.
Kydd grunted in satisfaction, gathered up the papers and reviewed what had to be done now in the way of charts, victualling, manning. A small folded paper that he had over-looked slipped out. It was watermarked and of high quality and he opened it carefully. “Admiral Sir Reginald and Lady Lockwood request the pleasure of the company of Commander Thomas Kydd at a June Ball . . . at the Long Room, Stonehouse . . .”
Kydd caught his breath. There was no escape, he must go, and if Standish were invited separately he must make sure he accepted as well. It would be his first formal occasion in home waters as captain of a ship and because of his long overseas service it was, as well, his first entry into proper English society on his own terms— the Guildford assemblies paled into insignificance beside this.
This was something for Renzi. He knew all the finer points, the way through the social quicksands and the subtleties of conversational byplay, the rules for bowing and scraping. Kydd’s grasp of the fundamentals of politeness was adequate for the usual run of social events but if at this level he were to bring disgrace on Teazer with an unfortunate gaucherie . . .
Kydd stood up and was on the very point of passing the word for Mr Renzi when he stopped. How in the name of friendship could he summon Renzi to appear before him simply when it suited? It would risk alienating him and fundamentally affect their delicate arrangement; it was important for the future that Kydd find a way to achieve the same object in a manner that did not offend sensibilities.
Of course! In Renzi’s very words—the rules of politeness, the value of invitation: “Tysoe, do inform Mr Renzi that I request th’ pleasure of his company when he is at liberty to do so . . .” As it was done in the best circles.
• • •
“M’ friend, I’d take it kindly if ye’d give me a course t’ steer in this matter.” Kydd handed over the invitation.
Annoyingly, Renzi did not display any particular admiration or surprise. He merely looked up and asked calmly, “An invitation to a ball—is there an exceptional service you therefore wish of me?”
“I’m concerned t’ put on a brave face f’r Teazer ’s sake—that is, not t’ appear th’ drumble as it were. Y’ understand, Nicholas?” Kydd said warily.
“I think I do,” Renzi said evenly. “This ball. It is given by our admiral and to it will come all the officers under his command in order that he might make their social acquaintance and allow the same to discover each other’s wit and shining parts.”
“Aye—this is what vexes me. Shall I be found wantin’ in polite company? I’ve not attended a regular-goin’ society ball in England. What is y’r advice, Nicholas? What c’n ye tell me of how to conduct m’self? What have I t’ learn?”
“Dear fellow! You have the graces—polite conduct is the same in Nova Scotia, Malta and Plymouth. If you acquit yourself creditably there, then a mere ball . . . And be assured that as the captain of a ship you will not lack for admirers among the ladies and will command respect and attention from the gentlemen. I would not fear an ordeal.”
“That’s kind in ye to say so, m’ friend. So they’ll take me f’r who I am?”
“You may be quite certain they will not,” Renzi said immediately. “This is England and they will take you as they see you—an uncultured boor or salty son of Neptune. Your character will be fixed only as they perceive it.”
“But—”
“I will be clear. If the prescripts are not observed then, quite rightly, they will conclude that you are not of their ilk, their social persuasion, and would therefore not be comfortable in their company. In fine you would in mercy be excluded from their inner circle.”
Kydd remained stubbornly silent, but listened as Renzi continued, “You would no doubt wish to exhibit the accomplishments of a gentleman in order not to frighten the ladies. Among these that you lack at the moment I might list dancing, cards and gallantry.”
“I’m said t’ be light on m’ feet and—”
Renzi looked at him kindly. “On the matter of dancing, I dare say that you may well have been considered of the first rank, but I have to confide to you that those wretches the dancing masters, to secure their continued employment, are always inventing quantities of new dances. These you must surely hoist aboard, as unaccountably your female of the species sets inordinate store on their confident display. I would suggest some lessons without delay.”
“Cards? Ye know I’m no friend t’ gamblin’.”
“Cards. Do you propose to spend the entire evening stepping it out with the ladies? This would surely be remarked upon. It would be much more the th
ing from time to time to sit at a table with your brother officers being amiable to the ladies at loo, vingt-et-un or some such. To hazard a shilling a hand would not be noticed.”
“Then m’ gallantry . . .”
“Ah—gallantry. This is not so easily won and may be said to have as its main objective the reluctance of the lady to quit your enchanting company. The science you will find in the worthy tomes such as your Baldwin, and the art—the art you must discover for yourself at the first hand.”
“Baldwin?”
“My constant companion in youth, The Polite Academy, or, School of Behaviour for Gentlemen, which will repay you well in the studying. Now, if there is nothing else you desire of me I should return to my new acquaintance the Abbé Morelly, whose views on the origin of social ills is quite startling and—and interesting.”
“Please do, Nicholas!” Kydd said warmly, then caught himself and added, “I find that ye’re not t’ be invited, m’ friend. You should know this is not as I’d wish it . . .” He trailed off, embarrassed.
“No matter, brother,” Renzi said quietly. “You have earned your right to enter in upon society—I seek quite another felicity.”
There was a warm softness on the evening air, a delightful early-summer exhilaration that added to Kydd’s heightened senses. He tried to maintain a sombre countenance before Standish, who sat next to him in the hired diligence as they clipped along Durnford Street, but it was difficult; this was the night when he would discover if he had it within him to claim a place in high society.
They passed the last elegant houses and across an open space to approach the curiously solitary single edifice of the Long Room: it was ablaze with light in every window, and the sight brought on in Kydd a fresh surge of excitement. They drew up before the stately entrance—flights of steps ascending each side of what was plainly the ballroom.
Handed down by a blank-faced driver, Kydd clapped on his hat and fumbled hastily for silver, aware of the gawping crowd standing about to see who was arriving in their finery. He turned and saw a young lieutenant in full-dress ceremonials approaching. “Good evening, sir, and welcome to the ball. Might I . . . ?”
The Admiral's Daughter Page 5
