Mutiny k-4

by Julian Stockwin

  'No!' Kydd burst out. 'This is madness! T' bring y'r country to its knees? We can't sink s' low we'd do this t' England.'

  'It would work.' Parker's reply was flat and final.

  Returning to Queenborough along the bridlepath, Renzi's mind was preternaturally alert in a cold race of logic and action. The rhythm of walking helped focus his thoughts, and he settled to the task: to review and test the rationalisations that had brought him to this.

  At base, the principle of deception, his pose as a merchant, with an interest in an early resolution to the mutiny who was prepared to use agents of commercial intelligence to that end, was successful; Hartwell had been covetous of a clearly first-grade reliable source in place of the usual illiterate ramblings from disaffected sailors. The harder part was to make the intelligence convincing, without jeopardising either Kydd or doing violence to his conscience.

  His ground rules were settled: first, the overriding objective was the saving of Kydd, but only in so far as it did not require betrayal of his country. The next was harder: he would transmit nothing that could not be concluded by any intelligent observer for themselves, a hard thing to make convincing. And, finally, no names of individuals would go forward.

  They seemed sound, and Renzi lightened. For the immediate future he must acquire intelligence to establish his credentials. He had already found a suitable observation post: there was an elbow in the sea-wall going away from the fort, which obscured him from both the fort and the mile houses.

  He slid down the wall into the marsh grasses at the water's edge and watched the fleet's movements through a small brass telescope. If he was caught with the instrument he could well be taken up as a French spy, but there was no other way.

  But he had to get closer. 'Good day to you, gentlemen,' he greeted the oyster-fishermen. 'Do you think today is a good day for seeing the sights?' He fumbled absentmindedly for some shillings, squinting at the silver.

  'But o' course it be,' the nearest said. 'Where'd ye like t' go?'

  'Oh, do you think we might go past the, er, fleet in mutiny?' he asked breathlessly.

  The fishermen grinned. 'Thought ye might. Why, o' course, they don't worry th' likes of us.'

  The oyster smack was a gaff-rigged cutter, decked in with hatches and reeking of shellfish. Renzi sat doubtfully on one side, then allowed himself to slide down the deck with a cry of alarm when the boat took the wind, and had to be hauled up to windward by an amused deckhand.

  They rounded Garrison Point and shaped course towards the end of the fleet. Renzi sat open-mouthed, apparently admiring the formidable display of naval might, but his eyes were moving furiously behind his dark glasses. All yards were crossed, topmasts a-taunt, the ships in an impregnable double-crescent formation.

  His eyes strayed to the biggest; there, in Sandwich, Kydd would be now with Parker and the Parliament, probably discussing some grave move. 'Could we go a bit closer, do you think?' he asked, only just remembering his high voice.

  The two crew exchanged doubtful looks, but closed with the nearest two-decker. 'Jem — over yonder!' one said urgently. It was a naval pinnace emerging from round the stern of the ship and foaming towards them.

  Tiller hard over, the smack went about, but only to end in the path of another. A musket was wielded in the boat astern, a puff of white appeared and a ball slapped through their mainsail. 'Give over, Jem, they'll do us, mate!'

  The pinnace came up quickly once their sails were doused. 'What're yez doin' here, then?' Renzi thought he recognised a boatswain's mate and shrank. No mercy would be shown an officer's spy.

  The older crew-member spoke up. 'Well, mates, y' know us t' be honest oyster-fishers, fr'm Queenboro'. An' this is a merchant cove wants t' do business wi' the dockyard, once things 'r' settled, like.'

  'A merchant?'

  'An' wants t' see the fleet, tell 'is frien's all about it.'

  Renzi quaked in fear at the rough sailors.

  The boatswain's mate grinned wickedly. 'If he's a merchant, he'd be smart t' shift 'is cargoes a mort sharpish - we're goin' t' be puttin' a stopper in this 'ere bottle,' he said, grandly encompassing the estuary.

  'Yer what?' one of the fisherman asked.

  'A blockade,' he said proudly. 'We got the ships, we got the guns. After we finished, nothin' swims 'less we say so!'

  In the sleepy quiet of late night hoofs crashed on the cobbles at the back of 10 Downing Street. The messenger slid down the flanks of his panting horse,

  grabbed an Admiralty pouch from the saddlebag and sprinted up the stairs.

  A little later, the Prime Minister of Great Britain, in his nightgown, was reading the urgent despatch. 'Good God above!' he said, slowly lifting his eyes from the page. 'Merciful heavens! Toby! Toby, here this instant, you rogue!' The major-domo tumbled out on to the landing, blinking. 'The cabinet — all of 'em, a meeting this hour!'

  As the man hurried off, Pitt went to the empty cabinet room and sat, staring. His servant came with his long coat, which he draped over his shoulders, and later a small carafe of port.

  He was granted minutes of thought only before a confused babble began at the door, getting louder. They filed in, shocked into silence by Pitt's unkempt, wild appearance. He nodded a greeting to the most eminent, and raised the despatch. 'This news is the worst I have ever received in this entire war.' He paused, fixing his gaze on everyone present. 'I will tell you. In brief it is that the mutiny at the Nore has exploded in our faces.'

  He glared contemptuously at General Grey as he continued, 'There were those who thought that left to itself, cut off from the land, the mutiny would in some way wither and die. The same assured us that we should have nothing more to do with them. Now they've called our bluff. We have it from an unusually reliable source in the Medway that the mutineers will deploy their recently augmented fleet to instigate a total blockade on the capital.'

  He paused grimly. 'Why I have called you here is obvious. The solution, however, is not. General Grey?'

  'Prime Minister, I — I don't know what I c'n say, sir. We've got 'em boxed in, troops on the northern shore, defence in depth on the banks of the Thames, but, sir, I beg to point out, we are up agin a fleet of ships, not an army.'

  'So, no further suggestions?'

  'I regret, no, sir. We're helpless.'

  Pitt sighed. 'Lord Spencer? Can you offer us hope of a way out?'

  'Prime Minister, there are no ships of force closer than the Downs and the rump of Duncan's North Sea fleet. Together they are easily outnumbered by the mutineer fleet, and even if we suppose that the seamen will fire on their brothers, I cannot be sanguine with respect to the outcome. The sight of our brave Jack Tars destroying each other .. .'

  Pitt's eyes half closed. 'Then I take it that our combined wisdom has been defeated by a mutinous rabble? Is there nothing that can be done before they fall upon our lifeblood?' His words lashed into the silence.

  Spencer muttered, 'I fear not, Prime Minister.'

  'How long can they hold out? Have we stopped all victuals reaching them?'

  Spencer sighed audibly. 'Sir, it is of no effect. If they are going to bail up the river, then they will have all the provisions in the world there for the taking.'

  'Have they broken out, rioted, loosed violence in some way?'

  'No, sir, they have always comported themselves, er, honourably.'

  'Pity. It would stir the people against them. Gentlemen — friends, we are at a stand. If this catastrophe is allowed to take place I would offer short odds that with the total loss of revenue and credibility this government would fall within a week, and the country would be lost in disorder and rebellion within the month.

  "This is now a war - a war of an increasingly personal nature, I'm sorry to say. The mutineers have a malignant genius conducting their affairs, one who seems to sense our motions and moves his forces accordingly.'

  'Richard Parker,' murmured Spencer.

  'Just so. My conviction, however, is that his origin
s preclude the notion that he is acting alone. I believe that he is secretly funded and directed by Jacobins.'

  There was murmuring around the table, but Pitt went on scornfully, 'This is neither here nor there. They expect to make their move in the next day or two, and just what are we going to do about it?'

  Nobody spoke, so Pitt carried on: 'We do nothing. Nothing! Any half-baked move would make us look fools, lose our moral standing as well as our reputations. If they carry out their threat then we suffer. But we let the world know that any mutiny without a cause must have the French at the bottom of it. This is our only hope. That they lose the support of the people, turn them against these knaves. Already they will earn the hatred of common folk for the ruination they will do to honest trade. That it is at the bidding of a Jacobin master will be hard to take.

  'Evil must cast out evil. I will ensure the newspapers receive plenty of fuel for their fulminations. Meanwhile I want to clamp a complete hold on their fleet — they are neither to receive nor send any communications other than through channels controlled by us. We smuggle newspapers and tracts to the common seamen so they'll have no doubt what odium the people of England now hold them in and drive wedges between them and their leaders. Tomorrow I shall introduce Bills to the Commons concerning sedition and treason that will treat mutiny with the severity it deserves, and mark out as treasonable any who aid a mutineer.'

  Pitt took a long pull at his port. 'This is a fight to the finish. Victory can only go to he who is still standing at the end.'

  'Ye mustn't do this thing - I beg of ye, don't!' Even as he spoke Kydd knew that his words were merely a useless echo in his own ears.

  'You are asking me to surrender our only real chance? To throw away all we've done so far? You're a sad dog at times, Tom. Now we have real power! Pitt can't stand his taxation revenue stopping or go against the City merchants, it's obvious. Nothing stands in our way now.'

  'Dick, till now, we've played it square, kept discipline, and all we c'n be accused of is not doing somethin'. Now we're guttin' the trade o' these islands - don't y' think that we'll lose any feelin' for us we had before?'

  'Feeling?' Parker said scornfully. 'Do we take feelings into account? Damn it, we're nearly there! Now if you feel qualmish about putting a halter around Billy Pitt's neck then kindly keep it to yourself. And if you have nothing further to add, then leave me alone, I have work to do. This will bring their lordships here at the run, and I'm going to consolidate our grievances and articles into one, to hand over to them when they get here.' He lowered his head and returned to his writing.

  Kydd's anger rose. 'An' if this doesn't bring their lordships, what then? Sail aroun't' Portsmouth an' give the Channel fleet a pepperin'? Fire on y'r—'

  Parker looked up, his face venomous. 'This is my concern, not yours. I'm president, not you! If you don't like the way we're proceeding, with democratic votes, then you'd better run.'

  Kydd sat in the deserted foretop, his back to the mast, staring out over- the Nore. There had been so little time to stop and consider: he had been carried along by events and was as powerless to affect them as a leaf in a fast stream. The ever-spreading consequences of their actions, the multiplying dire possibilities, the implications for all he held loyal and true, was it too late to turn away?

  It had begun with the noblest of motives, and this had held him to the cause. But this had not changed: what had were the stakes. Now it was the mutineers against the world on a numbing scale. Parker placed final victory for the mutiny against distress to the country as a whole, and this was something Kydd could not accept.

  But could he desert, and betray the trust and reliance of his shipmates, especially if at this point they might be winning? He knew he could not.

  He had respected Parker, even admired his knowledge and learning, but there were troubling flaws in his character. And his influence as president over the more hot-blooded men showed a worrying lack of common leadership. In effect, the belligerents were taking control.

  If they sparked off some sort of confrontation, it would most certainly end quickly and bloodily. He could not have this on his conscience, no matter what the outcome.

  This, then, was what it came down to: he would not desert, he would remain - not so much in devotion to the cause but to do what he could to restrain the hotheads. Resolved, he swung over the edge of the foretop and regained the deck.

  'Mr Kydd, we bin lookin' fer you,' Hulme called, catching sight of him. 'Plannin' fer the blockade in the bays - chop, chop!'

  The bays forward on the main deck, both sides, could hold more men than the Great Cabin, the better to hear the detailed planning. Kydd took up position to one side and noticed Parker looking at him suspiciously.

  'Our Great Plan,' Parker announced, once they had all settled. 'A complete blockade of the Thames.'

  It did not take long to go over the main items. The blockade was to consist of battleships spaced at half-mile intervals anchored right across the channel, lying to their anchors in the tide: this would ensure that any vessel passing through would take a full broadside on both sides from a ship-of-the-line — effectively, utter destruction. Each side of the line would be patrolled by a frigate and ship-sloop. An anchoring ground on both sides of the Thames was designed as a holding area for the arrested ships.

  'This will be your authority,' Parker said, holding up a paper. 'Warrant of detention, signed by the committee.'

  More details, then the meeting broke up in noisy cheerfulness. It was a daring stroke, and action instead of the boredom of waiting. Some were uneasy: perhaps this would set government and Admiralty implacably against them, with avenging to be wrought afterwards, no matter the result.

  But Thomas Jepson, the lively fiddler of Sandwich, put the sailors' feelings best: 'We gets what we ask, or all London '11 be in an uproar Sat'day night.'

  The next morning Kydd joined Parker on the fo'c'sle head. Standing in the desultory rain, arms folded and looking out over the grey expanse of the Thames estuary, the president of the delegates affected not to notice him.

  'Goin' well, then,' Kydd said.

  Parker glanced once at him. 'You're with us.'

  'Aye.'

  'Made peace with your conscience?' 'I know what I have t' do.'

  Unbending, Parker pointed to the battleships. 'I should suppose they'll kedge and warp across.'

  'Wi' this useful easterly an' on the ebb? They'd be lubbers if they don't cast t' larb'd an' make a board across t' their place, lettin' go the stream anchor .. .' He tailed off, aware that he was contradicting Parker.

  'You'd never make a politician, but always a damn fine seaman, Tom.' Parker laughed.

  They both looked out at the scene. Without officers, and with the minimum of fuss, the big ships-of-the-line took up their moorings and, under topsails and fore-'n'-aft canvas, leaned to the wind to find their allotted places. Within hours, they were in position, and the sea highway to the capital was securely closed.

  'This is what I want to see,' said Parker. It was the several picket craft sailing to intercept merchantmen, working together with the patrolling frigates to shepherd them to a holding anchorage. One by one merchant captains found themselves joining a growing number of vessels crowding the mud-flat.

  As the numbers swelled, Parker grew more sombre. 'To see it happen, to know it is my work - it gives me no pleasure, if you'll believe me. Did I do right? Or have I brought down forces of vengeance that will undo our precious cause?'

  Three sailors deserting from Lion were brought to the gangway. The committee decided on two dozen lashes to be applied immediately. But by night disaffected seamen could take boats and reach the Essex mud-flats, the remote marshlands of eastern Sheppey or the Isle of Grain, and disappear.

  HMS Maria was a victualler from Deptford. She was laden with stores and provisions for Jervis - newly created Earl St Vincent - and his fleet still at Lisbon. Given the Admiralty's non-supply to their own fleet, the committee deemed it proper that
the stores should rightfully go to where they were most needed. Kydd was soon entering this accession of stores in open declaration and making out disbursement lists.

  The Inflexible men took more direct means. Several boats were taken ashore where sheep were seized from terrified farmers and carried bleating out to sea. Others relieved a fishing smack of its catch.

  Days passed: newspapers told of fear and disorder, chaos on the trading floors, hunts for Jacobin spies.

  Editorials were full of rage at the mutineers. Still there was no word of a peace mission.

  Parker toured the ships to raise spirits. Some, like Montagu, Director and Inflexible, turned on him, demanding yet more acts against the silent Admiralty, while others begged a resolution before their world disintegrated.

  'We cannot cravenly surrender now,' Parker said softly. 'They'll crucify us for what we've done.' He smiled wanly. 'Do you know, Tom, there are now proclamations posted in Sheerness that accuse me of "divers acts of mutiny, treason and rebellion" and promising five hundred pounds for my apprehension? How long before we all have our fame published so far and wide?'

  Kydd saw Parker's despondent look. 'They must yield! It c'n only be a matter of time, Dick.' Parker didn't reply.

  The breakthrough came just after dawn. The lookouts in the maintop of Sandwich hailed the deck. 'Deck hooooo! Ships — men-o'-war, ships-o'-the-line — standin' toward!'

  Eager eyes identified the remainder of the North Sea squadron: Agamemnon, previously Nelson's own famed ship-of-the-line; Ardent, of equal force; Leopard and Isis, 50-gun ships. They all flew the Bloody Flag at the main.

  'Now! Now we have it! Dare I say it?' Parker said, exulting in the moment. 'We have a fleet, such a fleet that is the biggest in England!' The tension of the days fell away, men manned the shrouds and cheered themselves hoarse.

  'With this force,' Parker said, his eyes bright and staring, 'I can do anything. I've more power than any admiral — I can descend on whole countries and make them quiver. There's nothing I can't do. Think of it!'