Mutiny k-4

by Julian Stockwin

  'Why so?' came a shout.

  Parker smiled wolfishly. 'For anything to have any meaning, a rise in wages, a full pardon, everything, it has to have the force of Parliament, evidence to the world that for a surety things are to be changed. This means an Act of Parliament! Now, if you inspect this document carefully, you will see that the instrument they choose to promulgate these concessions is an order-in-council, which as you may recollect retains its force for only a year and a day. So, at the end of this time?'

  An angry muttering swelled. 'Show us th' paper!' snarled Hulme, the delegate from Director, who had no patience with his more moderate colleagues. Parker ignored him, and placed it neatly out of sight under the pile.

  'But the worst is to come.' He paused dramatically. 'I'm speaking of the pardon.' Kydd went cold. 'Our precious pardon! Without this to protect us, then everyone here seated today stands to dance at the yardarm within the month. Agreed?'

  His words were met with a stony silence. 'Very well.

  See here ...' he tapped a column in a printed broadsheet. "'... George R" - that's the King - "Whereas, upon the representation of our Lords-commissioners of our Admiralty, respecting the proceedings of the seamen ..." It goes on, but we are interested in one thing only — the date. This pardon is dated the eleventh of May. Therefore, it cannot possibly cover any actions after that date — and our rising was. We're not covered in any whit by this pardon. It's a scrap of paper only, and we must prepare for—'

  His words were drowned in a breaking wave of anger. Men used to the open sea were quite unfitted for pettifogging wordplay. Some turned on the committee, preferring to believe that this was a slip of the pen that could easily be altered later, others cursed the stupidity that had led them this far.

  'Still!' Davis roared. 'Shut yer noise, y' mumpin' lubbers, 'n' listen!'

  The meeting, now cold sober, turned once more to Parker. 'So. You will ask me why they do this. It's simple, and so predictable. Have you not noticed? In Spithead they have Admiral Howe to meet the delegates personally. The First Lord, Earl Spencer, he sees fit to make the journey all the way from London to treat with them, and in the end, according to Brother McCarthy, the admiral then has a rousing good dinner with them, foremast jacks and all, there in the governor's mansion.

  'Now, shipmates, you don't need me telling you, nothing like that has happened to us. No! And why? Because — now, don't take this amiss, I should have thought of it before — the government are deeply embarrassed by a successful mutiny. Therefore they pay it off to get it over with, and then they can turn all their attention to us. What does this mean? Again, it doesn't need too much thinking to see that without a pardon, just as soon as we return to duty, they're free to hang the lot of us. Friends, we're nothing else but political scapegoats for Spithead.'

  In the uneasy quiet came a lone call. 'So what's t' do then, Mr President?'

  'Just to get things on the record, is there any of you wants to trust the pardon and give himself up, hoping that I'm wrong? No? Then please write that down, Mr Kydd. We're still all as determined as we always were.'

  Parker leaned forward intently. 'Now this is what I say. You and I both know the only reason the government listens to us is that we hold the biggest hand of all — the keys to the kingdom, the fleet at the Nore. And a bit of thought says that, in truth, we have 'em at our mercy, or they wouldn't let us stay at liberty like this. So — seeing what can be achieved at Spithead, why don't we go further, do better than them?

  'First, we make sure we get a special pardon of our own.' Rumbles around the table indicated that his point was well taken. 'Then we make our own demands, good tough ones that finish the job that's just started. This way we save our necks, and at the same time earn the hearty cheers of all our fellow tars from this day.'

  There was a stunned silence. Parker sat down and waited. After a minimum of discussion, John Blake of Inflexible spoke for all. 'We're in. Now, let's be started. What about them demands?'

  The delegates started with a first article that Kydd noted down as:

  'Article 1. That every indulgence granted to the fleet at Portsmouth, be granted to His Majesty's subjects serving in the fleet at the Nore, and places adjacent.'

  That was never in dispute, but matters of liberty ashore, arrears of pay and prize money and so many others that presented themselves would not be so easily disposed of. By the dog-watches they had only two articles settled, and it was then that a message arrived from Admiral Buckner, addressed directly to the delegates.

  Parker opened it. 'Ah - at last!' He laughed. 'Here, mates, our first official communication. And it says, ta-tum, ta-tum, "I wish to visit Sandwich to notify His Majesty's pardon upon the terms expressed in their lordships' direction ..." Be damned! It means they're coming to negotiate at last. Tom, let's work a polite reply, saying something like, "Being sensible of the honour . .." and all that, and we'll be happy to meet him next morning, and, um, escort him in a procession of grace through the fleet to Sandwich, and so on. That's what they did for Black Dick Howe in Spithead — we can't do less. But we've got to work on these demands, get 'em written fair to present to him tomorrow.'

  The meeting continued through the night, men of stalwart beliefs but plain thinking grappling with the formulation of intent into words, the consequences of the effect on meaning of word choice, the sheer effort of rendering thought on to the page. In' the morning there was a demand of eight articles ready for negotiation. The deputation went ashore at two, after taking the precaution of a restorative nap in the forenoon. They landed at the dockyard steps, where a curious crowd waited for the singular sight of what rumour promised would be common seamen making terms with a vice admiral in his own flagship.

  'Rare day!' Kydd murmured to Parker, as they formed up on the quayside.

  Parker seemed preoccupied, but he lifted his chin high and, with a bearing of nobility and resolve, told Tom, 'Today we make our mark for ever upon the annals of this fair country.' The moment was clouded a little by squabbles among befuddled sailors in the onlookers, spurring them on with impossible suggestions.

  Preceded by a large flag the deputation wended through the dockyard to the commissioner's house, a square and forbidding mansion with smoke-blackened bricks, many white-edged windows and a large black polished front door. The whole seemed in defiant repose, like a casde with its drawbridge up.

  The deputation quietened, and looked to their president and head of deputation. Parker hammered the big brass knocker three times. Immediate movement behind the door suggested that their arrival was not unexpected. It opened and a gold-laced servant appeared.

  'The president and delegates of the fleet of the Nore. We are here to be heard by Admiral Buckner,' Parker said loudly. The servant withdrew quickly, firmly closing the door.

  The door catch ratded, and into view stepped Admiral Buckner. He was in full uniform and sword, gold lace on blue, but appeared curiously shrunken, an old man. Kydd knew he'd been a lieutenant at Quiberon Bay and with Rodney at his smashing victory in the Caribbean.

  Hats flew off as naval discipline reasserted itself with marks of respect due a flag officer. Parker lifted his beaver cap, but did not remove it. 'Sir, we have come to escort you on a procession of honour to HMS Sandwich?

  'Thank you, er ... ?' His voice was dry and whispery.

  ‘Richard Parker, president of the delegates.'

  'Then, Mr Parker, shall we proceed? I have with me a plenary letter from their lordships that gives me authority to notify His Majesty's full pardon to you all.'

  Parker reached inside his waistcoat, and withdrew papers bound with a red ribbon. 'Yes, sir, but you may wish to read these in the boat before we sit down together.'

  'Wh-what are they?' Buckner said, taking them.

  'Why, sir, this is the substance of our negotiating. Be free to read them now, if you wish.'

  Buckner untied the ribbon. His hands trembled as he read. 'I — I cannot! No, no, sir — this is impossible!'r />
  Parker frowned. 'Sir, I cannot see that these articles in any way—'

  'No! You do not know what you are asking. I cannot do it - I have no authority. I cannot discuss anything, you understand.'

  'You can't discuss anything?' asked Parker, with barely concealed scorn. 'Then, sir, who can?'

  'Er, it is for their lordships to—'

  'Then that is where we must address these grievances.'

  The old admiral stared at Parker in horror. 'Common seamen? I mean — not an officer? It would be most improper, sir.'

  The papers dropped from Buckner's fingers. He stooped hastily to pick them up again, straightening painfully.

  Parker folded his arms and stared back. 'Then, sir, we are at a stand. You cannot treat with us, and the ear of the Admiralty is stopped to us.'

  Murmurs arose from the rest of the deputation. 'We'll give 'em to OF Knobbs 'imself, then.'

  'The King! You — you must not! Recollect yourselves, I beg you!'

  Parker held up his arms. 'Hold, you men, we're pleased to grant Admiral Buckner a period of reflection on this matter. May we see you at nine tomorrow, sir?'

  Soon after dawn, the sloop Firefly approached from the north under all sail. She went about under the lee of Sandwich, her boat in the water before she had lost all way. It stroked swiftly to Sandwich with five passengers.

  Parker lost no time in introducing them to Kydd. 'These are delegates from the North Sea fleet, Tom,' he said, satisfaction rich in his voice. 'This is our man from the Leopard, and this is the delegate from Agamemnon? Kydd shook hands; the men looked hard and capable. 'Come from Yarmouth to let us know what they think of our eight articles,' Parker continued.

  'We like 'em main well, Mr Parker,' the older delegate said, looking curiously around him. 'It's right good in yer to set us straight about their tricksy lordships, an' I can say we're with ye.'

  Later, in the capacious cabin, Parker exulted, 'Damn me eyes, but this is rare good news!'

  Kydd was scratching away at a letter but stopped immediately.

  'Tom, it means that in one go we've doubled our numbers. With the North Sea fleet, they dare not act against us now, and we will be heard.' Parker stared raptly into space.

  Kydd picked up on the relief he sensed behind the jubilation. 'Y' mean they've been foxed, the rogues. Found a tartar athwart their hawse, did they?'

  Parker's worry-lines had fallen away. He laughed sofdy. 'Yes, let's see what they think of that.'

  'Th' admiral will be aboard presently,' Kydd reminded him.

  'Oh? Ah, yes. Well, now, I do believe it would be a good thing were we to establish our respective positions in a more, er, imaginative way. Sandwich will not await his personage in the usual way, no. Instead he will wait on myself, president of the delegates. So, Tom, we'll absent ourselves, and return after himself is on board. We'll besides set the Parliament to debating our articles while we're gone, keep 'em out of mischief.'

  'Dick — he's a flag officer!' This ran against all the habits of respect and obedience Kydd had imbibed since his early days in the navy. 'An' Sandwich is his own flagship we turned him out of.'

  'All the sweeter!' Parker laughed.

  Admiral Buckner, the captain of Sandwich and another officer took boat and arrived at Sandwich at nine. They came aboard without ceremony and were told that the delegates were in session and could not be disturbed.

  Buckner paced slowly around the deck of his former flagship. After half an hour, Hulme told him truculently that he would be handed the demands after discussions were concluded. The three officers continued standing about the decks.

  At eleven, the delegates emerged in a body from the Great Cabin. 'You said we waits fer Mr Parker!' one whispered fiercely.

  'An' where's he at, then?' Hulme said, with contempt 'Skiving off, so he's not seen t' do th' dirty work? We does th' job ourselves.'

  Hulme carried the documents in a signal pouch, and pushed forward to the front of the group. In a previous existence an admiral in gold-laced cocked hat and silk stockings standing with his officers on his own quarterdeck would hardly notice a common seaman. Hulme seemed determined not to be affected. He removed his hat elaborately with a mock bow, and took out the papers.

  'Admiral, this 'ere is th' final word o' the delegates.' He looked around at his consorts grandly. 'An' I'm ter tell ye, we don't give up the charge o' this ship, or any other, until these conditions are done.' Passing across the sheets of paper, he added, 'As our brother seamen at Spithead wuz honoured b' the personal presence o' th' Board of Admiralty, then we got a right t' expect 'em to come t' Sheerness 'n' see us. Which we insists on.'

  He backed into the group again. Davis came forward and, in a quiet voice, said, 'Sir, we means no disrespect t' you or y' flag, but we will be heard.'

  Buckner passed the papers behind him without looking at them. His lips set in a tight line, but his voice was thin and weak. 'Do you understand that I have no authority to concede on any point?'

  Muttered discontent rose to shouts. 'Why did yer come, then?' It was McCarthy. 'Keep an eye t' wind'd, Admiral, we c'n easily set yez ashore like we did before.'

  Davis looked round and glared.

  'You may,' said Buckner, quavering in his indignation, 'but I also have my instructions, which are that I may not even discuss any points you might bring forward.'

  So engrossed were the seamen with the drama on the quarterdeck that they did not notice Parker appear from the main-hatchway. He strode quickly to the admiral and, without ceremony, deftly detached him from the confrontation.

  Kydd followed and stormed over to the delegates. 'What the blazes are ye about, y' swabs? Couldn't y' wait f'r Dick?'

  Hulme scowled. 'What's ter wait, cock? We done the talkin', we done the votin', admiral lies to, waitin' fer a steer — where's Parker?' His lip curled contemptuously. 'Not as 'oo should say, a real copper-bottomed pres-i-dent!'

  The admiral and Parker returned. Buckner faced the delegates. 'Ahem. I have your er, articles, and I shall send these by special rider to the Admiralty this very hour, together with my recommendation for their early attention. But this I have to tell you, I am not sanguine as to their reception.' His face sagged in fatigue, and his voice was barely above a sigh. 'But I beg you once more, do you please accept His Majesty's gracious pardon and return to duty.'

  McCarthy sidled round until he was behind Parker. He leaned forward and whispered hoarsely, 'Why don' ye settle him?' There was a scandalised pause until it was evident that no one was going to notice the provocation.

  Parker crossed to the main-hatchway, gesturing unmistakably. 'Thank you for your visit, sir, we will not delay you further. Mr Davis!'

  As soon as the admiral was clear of the ship, Parker turned on McCarthy. 'You lubberly knave! Do you think to destroy our reputation? Damned rogue!'

  'Scrag the bastard!' Hulme shouted, and a dozen seamen threw themselves at McCarthy. Held by others, a halter was fashioned from a running bowline, and he was dragged forward along the deck.

  Terrified, clawing at the tightening noose, McCarthy gurgled, 'What've I done, mates? What're yer doin'?'

  'Let him go!' Parker shouted, but it had no effect. Stepping forward Kydd bawled at the leaders of the horseplay, but they obviously wanted their sport. Something snapped: he threw himself at the men, taking blows and giving them. Others joined in until the master-at-arms and boatswain's mates intervened.

  'We gives him a trial first — a court martial,' Kydd snarled. They frog-marched McCarthy below to the Great Cabin and lashed him struggling in a chair.

  'Court comes ter order,' growled Davis. 'Stands accused o' sedition.'

  Parker arrived, breathless. 'You can't do this!'

  'Guilty!' spat Hulme, who had taken a punch that had bloodied his nose.

  'What are you about? This man—'

  'Who votes fer guilty?' More seamen crowded into the cabin. 'Is there any who'll speak fer Charles McCarthy?' No one offered.

 
; 'It's m' sad dooty to pass sentence on yez, McCarthy. Are ye prepared?' The rope was produced again - but the sentence turned out to be one of transportation.

  'Take him away!' He was thrown in a boat, turned out of his ship.

  Kydd watched, brooding, but Parker was clearly nettled. 'At times I despair of the quality of these men's devotion to the cause we all share.'

  The following day was sulky, grey and cool. Drizzle hung in slowly moving curtains over the Nore.

  The morning wore on, but there was no word. Then a rumour came from ashore; it seemed extraordinary, but Admiral Buckner had been seen wandering about the dockyard, stopping any sailor he could find and urging him to persuade the delegates to submit; the Admiralty would never agree to terms.

  'It seems apparent to me,' Parker said, 'that the cowardly knave has had his answer from their lordships, and is frightened to tell us.' His assessment seemed reasonable, and Davis went ashore to seek out the old man and find the truth.

  The mutineer captain of Sandwich returned within the hour.

  'So that's it,' Parker said, sitting suddenly. Davis remained standing, his arms folded. 'Did he give any hope of a parley?'

  Davis shook his head. 'Nope. My feelin' is that he's got a cast-iron "no" fr'm their fuckin' lordships, an' is too yeller t' tell us ter our faces.'

  Parker stared at the table, his face grey. 'This I don't understand. At Spithead they talked with the delegates, the board came down to listen, they agreed their demands. Why don't they do the same for us? Why are we treated like lepers, criminals?' His voice tailed off in dismay.

  'So what d' we do, then, Dick?' Kydd asked gently.

  'Do?' With rising anger Davis pushed forward and said forcefully, 'We got a pardon not worth a brass razoo, no hope o' getting' our gripes heard, an' now no clear ways ahead.'