Caribbee (19 page)

‘Which was that, sir?’

‘I thought all the world would have heard.
Étoile
32, Captain Sieyès out of La Rochelle, new sent to harass our Caribbean interests and already struck.’

‘No, I hadn’t heard. Now, you’ll oblige me with your papers, if you please …’

The rest of the boarding passed off without comment and ended with a shared Madeira in the saloon.

When Kydd returned to his ship he had much to think on and, first, the existence of a French commerce-raiding frigate in these waters, a serious development, which would be causing a deal of concern to Dacres. That it resembled his own French-built vessel was an inconvenience, frightening the innocent, but it couldn’t be helped.

What was more troubling was that, from what he’d heard, the standing of the bottled-up British merchantmen had changed drastically.

Commercial pressures had risen above fear of the unknown. While the L’Aurores had been disporting at leisure, one ship had plucked up the courage to sail come what may. Others had realised that if it won through to any kind of market it could set its own prices, an intolerable position for those left. They had sailed together, some risking a voyage without insurance, putting out in the desperate hope they wouldn’t be seen in the more than thousand-mile passage to the convoy rendezvous at Barbados.

As the word spread, from every sugar-producing port others would be joining the mass flight – an impossible number to protect. The French frigate and the ever-present privateers would, with great satisfaction, swoop to the kill.

All feelings of diversion and languor fell away. This was the new war and unquestionably
L’Aurore
was critical to it. It was probably the best course to return as soon as he could to Port Royal for orders – but they were on the north coast of Jamaica on the opposite side. There was little for it but to reach the eastern end by long, tedious boards in the Cuba Passage and call at Port Morant, the naval dispatch station, to see if anything had changed drastically in the meantime.

The atmosphere had altered in
L’Aurore
: the jollity of the past days had evaporated for it was plain to all that the balance had shifted to the defensive and they were in the front line. And if this French frigate was with another – they often hunted in pairs – they could at any moment be fighting for their lives.

In a near calm they reached Port Morant, at last to be met by an advice-boat with a general order that wherever
L’Aurore
was to be found she should be sent with all urgency back to Port Royal. The war had caught fire.

N
o sooner had
L’Aurore
rounded Port Royal Point than her pennant number shot up on the flagship – captain to repair on board immediately. Kydd had expected this and, as
L’Aurore
glided to her anchorage, her gig was already lowering.

‘Where the devil have you been, sir?’ Dacres greeted him, and when he tried to answer brushed him off with, ‘Belay that, we’ve a pretty problem on our hands. Sit down.’

As Kydd had already found out, after one or two had put to sea the rest of the merchantmen had scrambled to follow. ‘Never mind we can’t protect ’em, they have to do it.’ Dacres glared at Kydd as though it was his fault, adding, ‘And now they’re being taken.’

‘Enemy frigate?’

‘You’ve heard? Yes, they’ve sent a pair of raiders – a 32 and a 28 – under a dasher of a captain from La Rochelle, Sieyès. Damn desperate timing for us, I thought.’ His tone hardened. ‘They have to be stopped. Losses at this scale are not to be borne, sir.’

But if the Navy was to be employed in escorting, it could not be on patrol – a dilemma for the admiral that could only be solved by the removal of the threat. Kill the enemy frigates and the Caribbean could revert back quickly to its previous relative peace.

Dacres continued, ‘I have every one of my cruisers out after them, save
Anson
and yourself. Now you’ll have my orders before sundown to put yourself under Lydiard’s command, and the pair of you will have the Windward Passage and north of Jamaica to yourselves. You’re to store this hour and I’ll expect you to keep the seas in all weathers until they’re found and put down.’

All weathers – this was the tail end of the hurricane season … What was very plain was that while their Caribbean trade was so vulnerable this pair had to be hunted down, whatever it took.

Kydd lost no time in setting
L’Aurore
to storing and took the opportunity of going to
Anson
to confer. She was of forty-four guns, one of the class of heavy frigates cut down from a ship-of-the-line to a single gun-deck. Pellew had gone on to glory in one,
Indefatigable
,
and others had since distinguished themselves around the world. They had every chance of success – if they found their quarry.

‘Kydd? Good to meet you at last.’ Lydiard had a jovial manner, his twinkling eyes hinting at a well-developed sense of fun.

‘Er?’

‘At Alexandria in the last war. Saw off Mongseer Crapaud in fine style, if you remember, you being ashore with your, um …’

‘Plicatiles. And damnably unhandy beasts they were, too, those little boats.’

‘Just so. Well, we’ve quite another job to do now, one that’ll stretch us beyond the ordinary, I fear.’

‘That’s how to run ’em to ground first,’ Kydd replied.

‘Indeed. I’ve done a study of the captures so far, trusting we can chase up a pattern of where the devils are operating. And it’s the damnedest thing – some taken off the Leewards, others as far away as Honduras, then Santo Domingo. You’d swear they had wings.’

‘Privateers?’ Kydd offered.

‘Only if you grant they’ve more than doubled their numbers in a month. We’ve been getting the better of the beggars since the beginning of the year and we’ve kept good watch on Guadeloupe and their other nests. No sign of ’em breeding – and besides which, this big jump in numbers we’ve lost only happened since the frigate pair arrived in these waters.’

‘I’d like to know just how they’re causing so much ruin.’

‘Stands to reason, they’ve got us on the run by flying from place to place and never tarrying long enough for us to catch ’em by the tail. Odd, though – for all their seizures, no one’s ever come across a prize of theirs to recapture. Where are they sending ’em in, we ask?’

Kydd digested it all. ‘Taking the long way around to be sure?’ he hazarded.

‘Could be, but this is to say that on the main point we’ve no suspicion of where to look to ferret ’em out. That’s why every sail o’ war Dacres has is out in a different place. Spread thin, but it’s the only way. We’ve got a plum spot, the Windward Passage, but who knows?’

‘Um. So we’re a scouting pair,’ Kydd reflected. ‘Stay in sight until one of us spies something and whistles up the other.’

‘Ah – I was thinking more a distant sweep. Lay away to each side, return to an agreed rendezvous each dawn. Any sighting, retire instantly towards the other.’

‘Nelson before the Nile.’

‘Aye, Nelson style.’

The two frigates slipped to sea in a gathering dusk, their strategy decided; a fast run to the Windward Passage between Cuba to the north and Hispaniola to the south. Then put about for a more thorough search:
L’Aurore
to comb the waters along the coast of Cuba while
Anson
looked into the deep gulf in Hispaniola that led to the old French trading harbour of Port-au-Prince.

In the steady north-easterly they drove into the night and, at precisely midnight, went about on the other tack to lay north. Dawn found them flying onwards together, in the increasingly brisk conditions an exhilarating sail. This was a relatively rare experience, for generally there was always the nagging need to conserve canvas and cordage, spars and rigging.

They were therefore treated to the breath-catching sight close abeam of a fellow frigate stretching out under full sail, heaving majestically, every line and scrap of canvas taut and thrumming with a sea music that set the spirit soaring.

By the afternoon they neared the coast of Cuba and, in a neat evolution, both frigates tacked about simultaneously, now hard by the wind on course for their goal, which, given that the weather held, they would raise comfortably by daybreak the next day.

As it happened, the spanking breeze freshened and veered more easterly. As they took up on the new tack, it was with seas smacking hard against the bow, sending spray shooting up to curve and sheet aft, soaking the watch-on-deck, but at least there was no longer the jerking roll from before when the waves had marched in on their beam, now only a determined pitch and toss as
L’Aurore
butted into the weather.

‘Not to worry overmuch, sir,’ Kendall said quietly, ‘but I times these waves at less’n eight seconds now.’

It was the master’s duty to bring sea signs to Kydd’s attention, and this was one that could be of significance in the Caribbean in the hurricane season. ‘Oh? How’s the glass?’

‘Fluky – we’re under twenty-nine an’ a quarter, but hasn’t dropped worth remarking these last four hours.’

Kydd had been in hurricanes before and had no real wish to try his ship against one now; it was prudent to be wary. He glanced ahead: storms swept in from the east and all were individual in their characteristics but there were common portents. At the moment the horizon was clear and there was no high overcast. His concern diminished – it looked to be a regular blow coming in from the Atlantic, more boisterous than usual perhaps but—

‘
Sail! I see sail – no, two – up agin the coast!
’ The lookout’s hail broke into his thoughts, but already the heavier frigate with her greater height of eye was preparing to go about and Kydd lost no time in conforming. Two sail together was unusual to the point of incredible – there was every possibility that their hunt was over.

After an hour only, the pair were visible from the deck: two pale blobs against the darker green-brown of the Cuban coast, quartering the wind and making remarkably good speed. There was movement out on the yard at
Anson
’s main-course – she was setting bridles to the forward leech of the sail, with bowlines stretching it out into the teeth of the wind to claw the last particle of drawing power. They must do the same, for any delay in closing with the fast-moving chase there across their bows would end with
L’Aurore
losing them into the distance.

They were steering an intercepting course, paying off downwind as the two passed ahead five miles distant, then angling in to a stern chase. By now it was certain: the two were French frigates and they were declining action, preserving their ships for their primary task of hunting helpless prey.

It settled quickly into a hard chase. The two ahead stayed tightly together and had every stitch of canvas they could abroad, barrelling into the gathering sunset.
L’Aurore
and
Anson
similarly stayed close and tried every trick they could to claw their way up on the pair, but as time passed it was clear they had little chance of hauling up on them before dark.

Dusk drew in, the waves in contrast as they became shadowed, the white of combers startling in the gloom.

Anson
set lanthorns aglow in her mizzen-top and, without needing orders, Kydd fell in astern for the night, the weather showing no signs of easing.

There was a moon. It was clear and bright behind them, and with its light on their sails, the enemy frigates were pitilessly revealed.

It was an even match – the contest was anyone’s to lose, and by any man aboard: a mistake in the deceptive light, a line let go too soon putting intolerable strain on a spar, and the ship would be out of the race. Worse – for the remaining frigate it would then be two against one and a different story entirely. Of course it applied to the French as well: if it happened to them,
L’Aurore
had to be ready to take on the wounded bird while
Anson
raced on after the other.

Nerves at concert pitch, the four ships stretched out over the sea – until everything changed. A veil of light cloud had spread up from the horizon behind them, high and innocent; now it was joined by denser, lower cloud, which crept out, hiding the stars one by one until it reached the moon. Obscured, its light dimmed, the gloom deepened, then assumed the blackness of night, and the frigates ahead were lost to sight.

It was decision time and Kydd did not envy Lydiard the task. Because their speeds were so even, it was probable that the French would still be in sight in the morning. But they had the opportunity to get away, to make off under cover of dark. They could not turn to starboard for there lay the Cuban coast, but they could to larboard.

The enemy commander would be weighing the advantages of a turn-away against the probability that his opponent would second-guess that he would seize the chance to strike out from his course at some point in the night, in which case his best move would be to keep right on.

Which would Lydiard decide?

The seas were increasing: Kydd felt their savage urge under
L’Aurore
’s counter, heard the muffled swearing of the two helmsmen as they fought to keep her steady, and knew in his heart what it meant. Before midnight he had confirmation – the barometer was dropping. It was the rate of fall that was the most important, and since the afternoon, it had passed the twenty-nine-inch mark with no sign of slowing.