The seamen had decided: the mutiny was over.
They had fired on the King's ships, stood as a deadly threat to the government of the day and repudiated the King's Pardon. There would be no limit to the Admiralty's vengeance. It left Kydd numb, in a floating state between nightmare and reality, but also with a paradoxical sense of relief that all the striving, doubt and uncertainty were now resolved for ever.
He stood on the fo'c'sle with Parker, watching boats full of soldiers heading for any ship flying a white flag. The first made for them.
'It's finished f'r us, Dick,' Kydd said, in a low voice, ‘But we face it when it comes.'
Parker crossed to the ship's side and gripped a line. 'History reached out and touched me, Tom. Did I fail? Was it all in vain?'
Kydd could find no words to reply. He noticed the white of Parker's knuckles and saw that he was only just in control.
'Any with a shred of humanity could not stand by and see those men groan under the burden of their miseries. I could nod' He turned to Kydd, eyes bright. 'So you might say I am the victim — of the tenderest human emotion.'
He resumed his dogged stare at the approaching boats. "They could only ever see us as a mortal threat, never as sailors with true cause for complaint. At any time they could have remedied our situation and claimed our loyalty, but they never did. Instead they bitterly opposed everything we put forward. They offered redress and pardon at Spithead, but to us nothing.'
He heaved a deep breath. 'I was the one that the illiterate, base-born seamen turned to when they needed a leader - they elected me to achieve their goals, but. .. It grieves me to say it, my friend, but the material I had at my command was not of the stuff from which is wrought the pure impulse of a glorious cause. They were fractious, hot-tempered, impatient and of ignoble motives. In short, Tom, my friend, I was betrayed.'
The approaching boat came alongside, and the unbending Admiral the Lord Keith came aboard.
'Which one of you is Richard Parker?'
The president of the delegates walked towards him. 'I am.'
'Then I arrest you in the King's name. Provost corporal, do your duty.' Parker smiled briefly.
'That will do. I'll be back for the others. Get him ashore.'
Kydd watched Parker move to the ship's side. He turned once towards him, then disappeared.
The boat returned, and Kydd was ordered aboard with others for the journey ashore. A numb state of resignation insulated him from events, but when they approached the small dockyard wharf his heart nearly failed him. Nothing had prepared him for the degradation, the baying crowd, the noise and the shame. Hoots of derision, small boys playing out a hanging, the hisses of cold hatred - and Kitty, her face distorted and tear-streaked.
Flanked by soldiers who kept the crowds at a safe distance, the seamen shuffled off, shackled in pairs with clumsy manacles. They were taken to the fort, searched at the guardhouse and then on towards the garrison chapel. Under the chapel were the cells; dark, dank and terrifying. And there Kydd waited for his fate.
Renzi watched Kydd, with the others, stumble out of sight into the fort. He forced his mind to rationality: Kydd's incarceration in the fastness of the garrison with two regiments of soldiers in the guard was unfortunate for his plan. He would, in probability, be moved like Parker to the security of Maidstone jail until the court martial. This would be at night, and without warning.
The whole plan hinged on communicating with Kydd, passing on the vital message — and, of course, Kydd playing his part without question. But if he could not even make contact?
Condemned men — and Kydd was as good as condemned — had a certain unique position, and it was permitted that they could be visited by loved ones; no one would question a woman's privilege in this regard.
'O' course, you'd be meanin' Kitty Malkin. She's over on t' next one, Queen Street.'
She didn't answer the door, but Renzi saw inside through the curtained window that there was a light. He knocked and waited, feeling conspicuous.
Eventually the door opened, and a rumpled and tear-stained Kitty appeared.
'I hesitate to intrude at this sad time, Miss Malkin, but do you remember me?'
She looked at him without interest. 'No, sir, I do not.'
'I am the particular friend of Thomas Kydd.' Her eyes flared but she said nothing. 'Please, don't be alarmed. I come to you to see if you will do him a service. A particular service, which may be the means of saving him from an untimely end.'
'Why did ye not save him afore now, may I be s' blunt as to remark it?'
'A long story, er, Kitty. It is a simple enough thing - a message needs to be passed to him, that is all. You may be sure there is no danger or inconvenience to you—'
'You know I will! Who are you, sir?'
'I am Nicholas Renzi, and my friendship with Thomas begins with his very first ship. Please believe that since then we have been through much together.'
'What do ye want me t' do, Mr Renzi?'
Outside the Great Cabin of HMS Neptune, anchored off Greenhithe, the first batch for trial sprawled listlessly in leg-irons. Among them was Thomas Kydd, mutineer.
The numbness was still there but the misery had reached ever-increasing depths. The shame he was bringing on his family — his father would be trying to hold up his head in Guildford town, and his sister Cecilia would hear and her hero-worship of Kydd would die, her own situation with a noble family perhaps threatened.
He tried to move position: the clanking irons drew irritation from the other prisoners and a glare from the deputy provost marshal. The nightmare days before the end had left him exhausted and ill; lack of sleep was now sapping his will to live.
The interminable waiting, being prevented from talking - his mind tried to escape to other realms and hallucination was never far away. Bright, vivid imagery crowded into his thoughts: fierce, exhilarating seas so real he could taste the salt spray, the bloodlust of a gundeck in action with its death and exultation — and the many sights of great beauty and peace he had seen as a deep-sea mariner. It faded, as it always did, into the grey pit of desolation that was now his lot.
The door to the Great Cabin opened. He looked up; it was Parker. He stood there, white-faced. 'It's death,' he said, with no emotion.
The provost marshal came with the irons, clamped them brutally to his legs. 'Mark this, you damned one-eyed bugger,' Parker said venomously, 'when you put on the halter, I'll give you such a kick as will send your soul to hell.'
Davis saw Parker being dragged away, and murmured, 'If they serve me th' same way, I'd ask ter die with him.'
There was indistinct movement inside the Great Cabin, and a lieutenant emerged. 'Court is adjourned. It will meet tomorrow,' he informed the provost marshal.
They were brought to their feet and taken down to confinement in the gloom and mustiness of the orlop.
There, they were placed in bilboes, a long bar with sliding leg irons; it would be a dozen hours or more before they could hope to be released.
Kydd tried to lie, but his legs twisted awkwardly. Four marine sentries watched, their expressions impossible to make out in the dimness of the two lanthorns. Some of the prisoners talked quietly; most lay motionless.
Some had visitors; a dissenter chaplain led prayer for a Scots boatswain's mate and a disreputable legal gende-man escorted by a lieutenant attempted to question one prisoner, but left quickly. Fearon's mother came, but was so overcome she had to be attended by the surgeon.
The screaming and weeping tore at Kydd and he struggled to stay rational. Then a young woman, brought by the marine lieutenant, appeared before him. It was Kitty.
'Tom, m' darlin' man, t' see you here!' she said piteously, her hands writhing together.
'Kitty, m' dear,' said Kydd, his mind scrabbling to keep a hold on reality.' Y' shouldn't be here - why, it's a long way from—'
'Tom, oh, Tom,' she wept, and clung awkwardly to him. The marine lieutenant looked away politely. Kydd could just
get his arms round her, and held her while she sobbed.
She pulled away, dabbing her eyes, then leaned forward to whisper. Next to Kydd, Davis pushed at Hulme and they leaned away so as not to overhear the endearments. 'Tom, m' love, listen to me,' she whispered urgently. 'Are ye listening?'
'Aye, Kitty,' he said.
She kissed him quickly. 'Then mark what I have t' say, on y' life, Thomas. On y' very life, I said!'
He mumbled, she kissed him again. 'This is what ye must say th' very instant y' steps into the court. Don't ask any questions — just say it. For my sake, darlin'. Are y' ready?'
Davis appeared at the door, unbowed, and said, with a laugh, 'Aye, well, death o' course, I never doubted it.' His irons were clamped on and he shambled off to the condemned cell. They were accelerating the pace.
'Bring in the prisoner Thomas Paine Kydd.' A plunging fear seized him, but only for a second. His future was ordained: there was no mercy through those doors, he would leave as a condemned felon. He would therefore face his fate without flinching.
Light patterned prettily through the mullions of the sternlights in the Great Cabin. The room was filled with figures in blue and gold lace, grim faces.
'You may stand there.' An officer indicated with a sword.
'You are Thomas Paine Kydd?'
'I am, sir.'
'You stand charged, that—'
'I claim Cap'n Hartwell t' speak f'r me.' He heard his voice, weak but firm.
'You'll have your chance later, my man. Now, on the twelfth day of May 1797, you did—'
'Sir! I claim Cap'n Hartwell—'
'Silence! Silence in court! If you do not keep silence, I will see you gagged, sir!'
'Oh, yes. Ah, er, I do believe we have a rather nice point here.' Kydd's eyes focused on the speaker. 'Might I crave the court's indulgence, sir, and ask the court be cleared?'
'Do you indeed, Cap'n Hartwell? At this stage to be toppin' it the lawyer, dammit!'
'Sir, I have to insist.'
The president of the court glowered. Then, seeing Hartwell's quiet obstinacy, he agreed. 'Clear the court — prisoner can go to the officers' waiting room, but keep a damn close eye on the villain, sir.'
There was a general shuffling about the court: all save the sitting captains and president left the room. Kydd was taken under close escort to the admiral's sleeping quarters, temporarily a waiting room.
'Now, sir, what is this infernal matter that it must so inconvenience the court?'
Hartwell spoke in a low voice, but forcefully. 'Sir, this Kydd is one of the most courageous young men I have known. His loyalty to Crown and country was such that he deliberately sought out the friendship of Parker and the so-called Parliament and, in appalling danger, passed us vital intelligence — warning about the blockade and the best chance for Trinity House to play their part is only some of it. Sir, we can do no more than sympathise with his terrible ordeal, and instantly set him free with a full pardon.'
Rumbles of approval came from around the table, but the president remained unmoved. 'How do ye know it was this man? Did you go out t' the ship an' ask for him?'
'Sir, a good question, if I may remark. It was in fact through the loyal services of a Queenborough merchant that the information was passed.'
'I shall want t' see the merchant identify this man. Is he at hand?'
'He is on deck at this moment, sir.'
'Pray find him - an' make haste if you please, Captain.'
'Sir, this is the merchant in question. He wishes to resume trading at Sheerness shortly and therefore begs for your discretion in the article of naming. He will answer to "Mr X".'
'Harrumph! Well, Mr X, we will bring in a prisoner. You will identify him as your informant, and if it is, you will declare to the court, "This is the man," or "This is not the man," accordingly.'
'I understand,' said Renzi, his high voice raising eyebrows.
'Bring in the prisoner.'
Kydd returned and stood facing the court, swaying slightly.
'This is the man,' Renzi said.
'Very well. Remove the prisoner.' When Kydd had been led out, he resumed. 'You are asking me to believe that you boarded a ship in active mutiny to interview this Kydd?'
'No, sir, I wouldn't dare Those were desperate men—'
'Quite. Then, if I may ask .. .'
'I secured the offices of his — his paramour, if you will excuse the indelicacy, sir. She it was who regularly passed between, utterly without suspicion.'
'Then it only needs the young lady to be produced to identify both parties and th' link is complete. Is she ... ?'
'She is nearby, sir. I'll ask her to attend immediately.'
Kydd entered the court for the second time. 'Kitty!'
"This's the man, so please y sir,' she said, avoiding Kydd's eye.
The prisoner was taken away.
'And this man, do you know him?'
'Yes, sir, I do indeed.'
'Then the court thanks you, m' dear, for your assistance.' The president waited for them both to leave, then sat back.
'I find the identity proved and, in the light of what we have heard, find the man Kydd exonerated of all culpability. Are there any to gainsay? Then I rule that the prisoner receive a full and general pardon. This ruling is made in camera without prejudice to the prerogatives of the court and, for the protection of the individual concerned, is entered without record. These proceedings will not be discussed outside this court now or at any future date. Bring in the prisoner.
'Thomas Paine Kydd, this court finds that, for reasons not for record, you have been exonerated of culpability in the matter of the charges brought against you, and that the gracious pardon of His Majesty be deemed to extend to you. You are hereby freed. You may go.'
Utterly confused, mind a-swim, Kydd had to be helped to the door. It opened, and there were Hulme, Fearon and the others looking up at him. 'P-pardoned,' he said hoarsely, and the manacles were struck off.
Chapter 11
‘For pity’s sake tell me!’ Kydd pleaded. Snuggled deep into Kitty's bed he was still feeling woozy after a deep sleep and the draught she had slipped into his negus.
She fussed at his coverings and replied, with a sigh, 'I've told ye before, m' dear, not until Mr Renzi comes. I promised him he'll be th' one t' tell you.' Lowering her voice she added wistfully, 'You are s' lucky, Tom, t' have such a friend as will do this f'r you.'
As consciousness returned, the past galloped back to crowd his thoughts, bringing with it all the desperate feelings of the last few weeks. He had to know why he had been spared, if only to be sure that he wouldn't in some way find himself back there again.
He dressed and looked out of the gunport window at the ships at anchor in Sheerness and further away, still where they had fled after escaping the mutineer fleet. The sight of them brought back dark memories that tugged at his sanity — but for now
Cockburnhe let the enfolding warmth of Kitty's caring soothe his soul.
Kydd sat in the armchair staring at the miniature of Ned Malkin, the simple patriotic Toby jugs and souvenirs of far voyaging, and let his thoughts drift.
A knock at the door shattered his reverie. Renzi entered diffidently, his hat in his hands. 'My dear fellow.'
'Nicholas.' Kydd was unsure how to treat a friend he'd last seen when on a riotous procession and who apparently had contrived to spare him the gallows.
'I pray I find you in good health?'
'With Kitty t' care f'r me, how can I not be?'
Renzi found another chair, and sat delicately on it. 'I'm wondering if you might be up to a little—'
'Why am I pardoned?' Kydd demanded hotly.
'Shall we—'
'I need t' know now, damn you, Nicholas. I have t' think, sort it out.'
They climbed silently up the hill to Minster and from the top looked out across grey, wanly sparkling sea and dreary saltmarsh. Kydd sought out the Sandwich, the largest black ship in the Medway, nearly lost
among scores of other craft. Then his eyes focused on the desolate scatter of dockyard buildings at the end of the island and, next to it, the huddle of hulks that was Kitty's home.
They sat down on a grassy ridge. Kydd was first to speak. "Then tell me, Nicholas.'
Renzi plucked a grass stem. 'I remember, years ago it was, in a place very far from here.' Kydd waited impatiently. 'The Great South Sea it was, on an island to which I was, er, particularly fond,' Renzi continued, 'and there you had the gall to thwack me on the calabash, so to speak, rendering it impossible for me to continue there. And, might I remind you, you have never once since begged pardon for the presumption.'
'God preserve me! Nicholas, be damned t' the history, this is m' life we're about.' Kydd snorted, then added, 'Aye, I do remember, but I recollects as well, while we're discussin' it, that if I hadn't you'd be cannibal scran b' now.'
'My point precisely.' Renzi smiled back, waiting. Kydd kept his silence.
'We each of us have our principles, some dearly held, some of which are of the loftiest motivation, some mere rank superstition. I rather believe that in both our cases principles were informed by the purest of motives, but were not necessarily grounded in strict practicality. My position is that I have merely redressed the balance, perhaps achieved a measure of revenge.'
'Nicholas, I have to know! What did ye do, tell me, that th' court thinks to pardon me so quick, like?'
'Oh, nothing but the judicious exercise of family patronage, the shameful deployment of interest among the highest on your behalf. Do you know, I met Grenville, the Foreign Minister, in Hatchard's the other day? Delightful fellow, much attached to Grecian odes.'
'Spare me y' politics, Nicholas,' Kydd threw at him. 'Do y' really mean t' sit there 'n' tell me it's by corruption that I'm delivered?'
'It was my decision to use any power within my reach to preserve for the service a high-principled and gifted seaman. I do apologise if I offended,' Renzi said, with the utmost politeness. 'And, of course, the deed is now in the past, all done,' he added. 'No prospect of winding back the clock.'
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