Mutiny k-4

by Julian Stockwin

  'For the sake of friendship, I have to say again — it is no flogging matter, you are in mutiny. This is a capital crime!'

  'We'll have th' pardon!'

  'You think you'll have the pardon!'

  Kydd squared up to Renzi. 'You're sayin' as I shouldn't stand f'r what I know's right. How's that f'r y'r talk o' principle an' moral right as y' used to tell?'

  Renzi could see Kydd was incensed: there was no way to reach him. 'I do not dispute the tightness of your cause, only the way in which you pursue it,' he replied quickly.

  'Tell me how else we should, seein' as how f'r the first time we're gettin' the whole fleet to rise at th' same time? You say we have t' drop ev'rything now, just when we're a whisker away fr'm success?' Kydd snorted. 'Somethin' has happened t' you, Nicholas. Y' go around wi' the blue devils all the while, an' now when y' shipmates need y'r help an' understandin' then y' go cold 'n' condemn 'em. I recommend y' sort out whatever ails ye an' think about things. I have t' go -things t' do.'

  Renzi trudged back to the little public house in Mile Town. It was madness, of course: the government would not survive the crisis of a second mutiny and would not, could not, let it succeed.

  A small note sent later in the day to Sandwich inviting Kydd for a supper together was returned prompdy with an inability scrawled on the back. The noise and laughter of Blue Town echoed across the marsh, and Renzi needed to get away. Possibly there was a pardon on offer — unlikely, yet not impossible. But if not, there would be grim scenes soon.

  He decided to join the other shipless exiles in the coach to Rochester, where they would wait out the inevitable in the more agreeable surroundings of the ancient town.

  Kydd had regretted his manner even before he returned to Sandwich but he didn't want to see Renzi just now. He realised that it was due to the excitement of the hour, the exalted state of achieving so much against the world's antagonism and the extraordinary festive air, all being thrown down in the dust by his friend. There might have been some truth in what Renzi said, but he was not privy to the kind of information that Parker had relayed to Kydd from Spithead.

  There was movement in the anchorage as he returned to Sandwich. A smart eighteen-pounder frigate had unwittingly moored at the head of the Nore, just having sailed leisurely down-river. 'San Fiorenzo' Kydd was told. He remembered that this was the frigate assigned to take the royal couple on their honeymoon.

  Back aboard, Kydd looked at the ship. 'Has she declared f'r us?' he asked.

  'No signs yet, mate.' Coxall lowered his glass and gave it to Kydd.

  'Give 'em three good 'uns, lads,' Kydd said. Men leaped into the rigging and obeyed heartily, but through the glass he could see no sign of yard-ropes being reeved on the frigate, and there was no cheering. 'They'll come to it when they hears,' Kydd said.

  The bulk of Inflexible under topsails slid round the point, on her way to the Great Nore. From another direction came a pair of boats headed for San Fiorenzo. Kydd lifted his glass again. 'The delegates, lads. They'll put 'em straight.'

  There was activity on her deck, but nothing could be made out for sure until figures went down her side again and the boats put off. By this time Inflexible had drawn close, slipping past on the tide. A massed roar of cheers broke out, but the frigate remained silent. Another volley of cheers brought no response. The battleship did not vary her course, but as she drew abreast of the frigate, a sudden puff erupted from her fo'c'sle, and the sullen thud of a nine-pound gun echoed.

  'Be buggered!' The shot had gone close under the frigate's bowsprit, snapping ropes apart and tearing into the sea less than a hundred yards beyond. In one stroke the mutiny had changed its character. Kydd whipped down the telescope. 'Dick's below?' he snapped, but didn't wait for an answer and plunged down the malodorous decks to the cabins aft. He burst in on Parker without ceremony. 'Inflexible jus' fired on San Fi’ he shouted.

  'I know,' said Parker mildly.

  'Y' know? Dick — do y' know what they did? They fired on a King's ship! That's worse'n mutiny, that's treason!'

  'Tom, I know the Inflexibles are warm for the cause, they may have overstepped, but look there. San Fiorenzo is reeving yard-ropes and cheering as well as we.'

  Kydd looked past Parker through the open ornamental stern-lights at the ship, now manning yards and cheering.

  Parker leaned back. 'You see? They are now free to express their loyalty to a cause that before they could not. I will not hide it from you — when we rose, we had the advantage of surprise for success. In this way the rising was bloodless, direct. We no longer have this luxury. A ship may be in a tyranny, the seamen unable to throw off the trammels, but if then a superior argument is brought to bear, they are released to stand for their beliefs, and equally bloodless. You see?' 'But with guns?'

  'Just so.' Parker sighed and steepled his fingers. 'There is no escaping the imperatives of cold reason, my friend. You will agree that our cause is just, pure in motivation, the higher matter?'

  'O' course.'

  'And for this task we must set to, heart and hand, until it is finished?' 'Aye.'

  'Then we have the choice. Either we bow to the forces who oppose us, and allow them to carry off in despotism the very souls we are striving to serve, or we righteously show our determination, and make it possible for them to spring free of their shackles.'

  Kydd looked away, searching for objections. 'Ye're in th' right of it, as usual, Dick,' he came back. 'If we don't show firm, then it's t' betray y'r shipmates, an' that I'll never do.'

  'It may be,' Parker added softly, 'that we could be forced into some even more difficult choices before we prevail.'

  The day had turned to bright sunshine, and ashore families were enjoying picnics on the grassy slopes of the old fort. Boats criss-crossed the anchorage, ship-visiting, going to parades ashore, bringing delegates to Sandwich.

  Parker greeted Kydd warmly. 'If you please, my friend, we have a Parliament committee in the Great Cabin, and I would be happy for you to attend, in the character of a scribe or some such.'

  Parker clearly relished his role. As the delegates arrived he was punctilious as to seating and precedence based on size of ship, and greeted each with grave politeness or hearty welcome according to temper.

  Kydd sat at the other end of the table, preparing to take minutes in the best way he could. Farnall was there, representing Achilles, and looked down the table at him several times, but did not speak.

  The rumpled, middle-aged John Hulme reported Director quiet with Captain Bligh still aboard and in his cabin, the mutineer captain of Proserpine complained of short stores and Davis of Sandwich drily told the committee of one Thomas McCann. He had apparently been sent ashore sick, complained loudly of the lazaretto beer and returned to Sandwich; when his messmates sent him to another ship's sick quarters he had said he was afraid of the ship's butcher — he had helped duck the man the day before.

  Daily details dealt with, Parker turned to the more congenial task of further codifying the regulations. This was not particularly to the liking of most, who were visibly bored, but Parker and Farnall obviously enjoyed the cut and thrust of debate, the points of order, seconding of motions and the like. Kydd industriously covered the exchanges, but did not bother with the explanations demanded by baffled sailors.

  Parker's expression hardened. 'While Mr Kydd prepares a fair transcript of the regulations for copying, it is my sad duty to have to tell you that James Watt, in flagrant contravention of our regulations for conduct, was taken in drink in the orlop. Now I don't have to tell you that if there is a general breakdown in discipline then—'

  'Flog the bugger!' Hulme was in no doubt.

  Parker looked pained. 'First we must have a trial, at which—'

  'Fuck me, we'll be 'ere all day. I vote we flogs 'im an' done wi' it. Who says "aye"?' 'You can't just—' 'Aye!'

  The forceful shout drowned Parker, who looked around darkly. 'How will—'

  'I'll do it m'self, the useless skul
ker! Anythin' else, mates?' There being no further business, the meeting adjourned.

  Kydd arrived at the Chequers, weary from his unaccustomed writing, just as the sunny afternoon was giving way to a warm dusk. He found Parker in fine form, the centre of a crush of seamen. Kydd smiled, letting his friend do what he did best, and settled at a distance. 'Shant o' y'r best,' he threw at the pot-boy. He was looking forward to visiting Kitty: she would be finished with her work at sundown. The beer arrived, dark and foaming, and he took a grateful pull.

  He looked idly about: there were few he knew — one or two Achilles, a Sandwich or three. The Chequers was known as the rendezvous of the delegates, and Kydd could think of many who would be too apprehensive to enter. The buzz of talk and Parker's high voice droned on, and Kydd started to nod off. A noise outside did not register, and a young seaman burst into the room shouting: 'It's true, I swear it! It's all over, mates, an' we got what we want!' The room broke into a babble of excitement.

  'Gangway, yer mundungo-built beggar! Let's see what it's all about.'

  The crowd about Parker deserted him instantly and surrounded the ecstatic sailor. 'Spithead - they got it all setded! They gets pay. 'n' all - an' a full pardon, damn me eyes! Black Dick Howe 'imself signed the paper.'

  A rising elation swept away Kydd's weariness.

  'Where did you hear this?' Parker called, above the uproar. If it was true, and it was a victory, their own mutiny had lost its purpose.

  'I got it straight fr'm th' telegraph office. They just got word fr'm Spithead, an' the Admiralty sends it on t' here.' By a miracle of the clacking shutters spaced out between Sheerness and the roof of the Admiralty in London, apparently word of the settlement had been relayed to them over the long miles.

  'Clap a stopper on yer jabber, Joe, let's hear it all.'

  The young sailor paused. 'Well, t' tell the truth, Mr Wells it was tol' me. He works f'r Admiral Buckner.'

  The room grew quiet. 'So it could be a rumour, like?' someone piped up.

  'No, can't be!' the sailor said scornfully. 'He showed me th' signal 'n' said I was t' find Mr Parker an' tell him.'

  The room fell silent as the enormity of the event sank in. Kydd glanced over to Parker, who was shaking his head slowly, a weary smile on his face. 'What's t' do, Dick?' he said.

  Parker didn't answer at first, then looked about the room, catching the eye of this one and that.

  'Yair, what next, then, Dick?' came a call.

  Levering himself to his feet, Parker stood before them. His hands grasped the lapels of his coat. 'Brothers,' he began softly, 'can I ask you one question? Just the one! And if you can answer it to satisfaction, then I'll sit down again and be silent.'

  Uncertain smiles showed, men glanced at one another.

  'This I ask, then. If you were in power — at the highest — and your entire fleet was in the hands of those who have embarrassed you with the exposing of your perfidy, and you are desperate, would it not be a rattling good plan to win back control by a very simple contrivance? You tell the Nore that the Spithead matter is resolved, and to Spithead you say that the Nore is reconciled. In this way, you get both to return to duty, and having dropped their defences you are then at liberty to seek whatever vengeance ...' The words hung in the silence. "Then, this I ask, shipmates, is this an impossible plan?'

  'Be damned! They wouldn't—'

  'The slivey fucksters! Once they got us t' sea—'

  'They lied at th' Culloden trials. My mate—'

  The room broke into angry shouts, but Parker held up his arms for order. 'I say then, we hold fast. We keep the faith. Only when we have proof— solid evidence - will we even begin to consider the situation.' He sat down to shouts and gusts of applause, accepting a large glass as he did so. But when Kydd next saw him, he was looking distracted.

  'Why, Tom, m' darlin'!' Kitty laughed. 'Such a surprise!' She kissed him soundly. Then she gazed at him earnesdy, and hugged him tight. 'Do take care of y'rself, m' dear Tom,' she whispered. 'In m' bones, I have a dreadful feelin' this is all goin' to end wi' blood an' weepin' -there's been nothin' like it this age.' She let her arms drop, but when she looked up again, a smile adorned her face. 'Dick Parker, y' knows him now. What's he like — I mean, as a man?'

  Kydd laughed. 'Well, he's a swell cove, right enough, his beaver hat 'n' all. But a great one f'r thinkin' and plannin'. None o' this would've happened but f'r him, an' I'm proud t' call him m' friend. An' has a wife in Leith, who he's very partial of,' he added.

  They laughed together, but it died quickly and she looked him in the eyes again. 'Tom, there's somethin' on y'r mind.'

  'Just worries — 't would oblige me if we could talk a while, Kitty.'

  She caught something in his voice. 'We will, love. But not here - jus' wait for me to fetch m' bonnet an' we'll take a walk.'

  Arm in arm, they stood on Minster Hill, looking down on Sheerness and the dockyard. At this distance, a couple of miles away, they were close enough for details, but removed from the noise and distraction. The walk had cleared Kydd's mind, and the sparkling air was invigorating.

  'I jus' feel — well, it's such a - an awful thing that I did, Kitty,' he muttered. 'Here am I, master's mate, an' I turned an officer out of his own ship. It has t' be said, I'm a mutineer.'

  She looked at him shrewdly. 'It's a big thing ye did, Tom, that's f'r sure. But that's not all, is it?'

  'No.' In a low voice he went on, 'It's my particular frien', a shipmate o' mine since I was pressed. We — we had many a rare time together, been aroun' the world b' Cape Horn, been at hazard wi' the enemy so many times I can't count.'

  He stared at the cold hard line of the sea horizon. 'We had hard words together, Kitty. He doesn't see that sometimes ye've got to — to follow y'r heart an' do what y' need to. Nicholas is a taut hand at logic, 'n' it's hard to keep with him at times. Says that th' gov'ment won't stand a second mutiny, an' will be down on us like thunder, an' we're going at it the wrong way — don't say what the right way is.'

  Kitty squeezed his arm. 'I knows how ye feels, but there's sailors not born yet who'll bless ye.'

  'They say th' telegraph has news o' Spithead, that th' mutiny is over.'

  'I heard that. What d' you think?'

  'Dick Parker thinks it's lies 'n' treachery by th' Admiralty, that they want t' get us back under discipline an' take revenge.'

  'I asked what you think, Tom.'

  Kydd looked down at the disorderly revelry around Blue Town, and nearer, the streets of Mile Town clear of honest folk. Out at sea clustered the ships at the Great Nore, a broad cordon of open water around them. 'Fine view,' he said, taking it all in. 'Gives ye a perspective, as y' might say.' He turned to Kitty. 'What do I think? We wait 'n' see. Dick's right, we don't give up an inch until we c'n see proper proof, real things th' government can't deny after. We stand fast, m' love.'

  * * *

  As days passed, the rumpus ashore subsided, as much from satiation as from a shortage of means to continue, and the men stayed aboard. The people of Sheerness began to appear on the streets, believing that Spithead was on the point of settlement and that the Nore would soon follow.

  But without proof, the Nore did not drop its guard. Routines were maintained, watch was kept. Parker held apart. A lonely figure, he rose regularly at dawn and paced slowly along the decks, his face remote and troubled.

  Kydd became increasingly impatient. With the Royal Navy idle in port and a government set to defiance, a resolution must come soon. At the back of his mind, but as menacing as a caged beast, was the question: would the rumoured pardon be general enough to cover each and every one, no matter what their actions?

  He returned to his work. The business of victualling was in actuality no real difficulty: the pursers were in the main detested and had been sent ashore but their stewards were quite capable of making out demands on stores, which although signed by delegates were duly honoured by the dockyard.

  Even the press-gang was accommod
ated. New-pressed hands were processed in the usual way aboard Sandwich: the seamen and able-bodied were sent out to the fleet, the quota men and broken-down sailors kept aboard.

  Kydd lifted his pen. It was all very necessary, but quill-driving was no work for a seaman. His eyes glazed, but then a round of shouting and cheers broke in.

  'Dick!' called McCarthy, one of the delegates sent to Spithead to get the true lay.

  Parker emerged from an inner cabin. Kydd was puzzled that he did not appear more enthusiastic.

  More men crowded in. 'We done it! 'S all over!' Their elation was unrestrained. 'Got th' pardon an' all, the lot! Th' fuckin' telegraph was right, Black Dick did it f'r us!'

  The deck above resounded with the thump of feet as the news spread. A wave of relief spread over Kydd, until he remembered the pardon - the wording would be critical.

  'Have you any proof with you?' Parker said edgily.

  McCarthy lifted a sea-bag and emptied a pile of printed matter on the desk, some still smeared with printer's ink. 'An' we have one th't Black Dick hisself clapped his scratch on.' Evidently pleased with himself, he added, 'S' now I goes below an' I lays claim ter a week's grog.'

  Parker sifted quickly through the papers, and straightened. 'It does seem we have something, I believe,' he said, but the intensity of his expression did not relax. 'The Parliament committee meets here in this cabin this afternoon.'

  'No, it don't!' chortled a seaman. 'We meets at th' Chequers, an' after, we kicks up a bobs-a-dyin' as will have 'em talkin' fer ever.'

  'Meetin' comes ter order!' bawled Davis, a broad grin belying his ferocity. Red faces and loud talk around the table showed that perhaps the celebration had been a litde early in starting.

  Parker had the papers in a neat pile before him, and waited with impatience. The meeting settled down and, with a frosty look to each side, he began: 'You elected me president of the delegates because you trusted me to see through the knavish tricks of the Admiralty. I have to tell you today, I mean to honour that trust.' He picked up a paper. 'This,' he said, dangling it as though it were soiled, 'is what they intend for us. It's all here, and plain to any who have any schooling in law whatsoever. They've been forced to agree on certain points, only by the steadfast courage of our brothers in Spithead, but it's trickery.'