Command (4 page)

Closer to, he saw that in fact the top of a cabin was flush with the line of the bulwarks, which would make it only about chest-high inside. He pushed open the door gingerly—and nearly fell down

Command

23

the several steps that led to the cabin spaces, comfortably let into the deck a further few feet.

This was his home—despite the powerful smell of turpentine, paint and raw wood shavings. He saw that he was standing in a diminutive but perfectly formed lobby; the door on his right was to the coach, his bedplace and private quarters. The door ahead was to the great cabin—the whole twenty-foot width of the vessel. Illuminated by the decorous stern windows he had seen from outside, it was a princely space, vaster by far than any he had lived in before.

He went to the mullioned windows and opened one: the miniature stern gallery was a charming pretence but just as pretty for that. All in basic white, it would soon see some gold leaf, even if he had to pay for it himself. His steps echoed oddly on the wooden deck—he looked down and saw a snug-fitting trap-door, almost certainly his private store-room.

The coach was little longer than an officer’s cot: washbasin and drawers would fill the width, but it was palatial compared with what he had been used to. He left the cabin spaces for the quarterdeck and marvelled at the cunning of the Maltese shipwrights, who had contrived the comfort of the airy cabin while keeping all along the flush deck clear for working sail.

He went forward to a hatchway and descended into an expanse of bare deck. This was the only true deck the brig possessed, above him the open air, below him the hold. It was empty, stretching from the galley and store-rooms forward to what must be the wardroom and officers’ cabins aft. Now it was gloomy and stank of linseed oil and paint: there was little ventilation—

all cannon would be mounted on the upper deck and therefore there were no gun-ports to open. At sea, this would be home to eighty men or more and the contrast with his own appointments could not have been greater.

He stood for a moment, dealing with a surge of memory
24

Julian Stockwin

relating to his own time as a seaman. A stab of feeling for those faraway days of hard simplicity but warm friendships crowded into his mind. It would be the same here in
Teazer
’s mess deck but he would never know of it. He had come so far . . . Would fortune demand a pay-back?

Voices drifted down through the hatch gratings: this might be the first members of
Teazer
’s company. Kydd bounded up the fore hatchway to the upper deck. A short man in spectacles and a shabby blue coat abruptly ended his conversation with one of the caulkers. “Do I see the captain of
Teazer?
” he said carefully.

“You do. I am Commander Kydd.”

The man removed his hat and bowed slightly. “Ellicott, Samuel Ellicott. Your purser, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr Ellicott. We’re only just in commission, as you see . . .” The man seemed nervous and Kydd added, “I would wish ye well of y’r appointment aboard us, Mr Ellicott.”

“Mr Kydd—sir. I have to ask you a question. This is vital, sir, and could well rebound on both of us at a time now distant.”

“Very well, Mr Ellicott.”

“When I heard that you’d—taken it upon yourself to commission
Teazer
like you did, I knew I had to come post-haste. Sir, have you signed any papers?”

“I have not, Mr Ellicott.”

The man eased visibly. “Fitting out a King’s ship new commissioned is not the place for a tyro, if you understand me, sir.”

“Although this is my first command, Mr Ellicott, it is not m’

first ship. However, it’s kind of ye to offer y’r suggestions. I do believe we have a mort o’ work to do—the people will be coming aboard tomorrow an’ we should stand ready t’ receive ’em. So we set up the paperwork first. Just f’r now, I shall use m’ great cabin as our headquarters. Then we start setting out our requirements for the dockyard. No doubt they wants it on a form o’ sorts.”

Command

25

A thought struck him. “Do ye know of any who’d be desirous of a berth as captain’s clerk? Someone who knows Navy ways, c’n scratch away at a speed, discreet in his speech . . .”

“There may be . . . but he is now retired,” Ellicott said. “A few guineas by way of earnest-money should gain his interest.

Was captain’s clerk in
Meleaguer
thirty-two at Toulon in ’ninety-three, as I remember. Shall I . . . ?”

“Desire him t’ present himself this day or sooner and I shall look very favourably on his findin’ a berth in
Teazer.
” There were a number of Admiralty placements by warrant to which a captain was obliged to accede: the boatswain, gunner, carpenter and others. For the rest, Kydd was free to appoint whom he chose.

“Shall we find a stick or two f’r a table and begin?”

The prospective captain’s clerk, Mr Peck, arrived with commendable promptness, a dry, shrewd-eyed man of years who had clearly seen much. Together, he and the purser fussed away and came up with a list of essentials—which began with opening the muster book, in which the details for victualling and wages of every seaman of
Teazer
’s company would be entered.

Then it was the establishment of ship’s documents, letter-books, vouchers, lists of allowances—it seemed impossible that any man could comprehend their number, let alone their purpose, and Kydd was happy to leave them to it.

Shortly, another of his standing officers puffed aboard. “Purchet, boatswain, sir,” he said. The man had a lazy eye, which made it appear that he was squinting.

“I’d hoped t’ see you aboard before now, Mr Purchet,” Kydd said mildly. “We’ve much t’ do afore we put to sea.”

“Aye, sir,” Purchet said heavily, glancing up at the bare masts.

“An’ I hope you ain’t thinkin’ o’ them false-hearted set o’ rascals in the dockyard.”

26

Julian Stockwin

“They’ll bear a hand, I’m sure, but we’ll be setting the ship up ourselves. It’s a small dockyard I’ll grant, but I’ll have fifty prime seamen for ye directly.”

Purchet’s eyebrows shot up.

The carpenter arrived and was soon complaining of his lack of stores. Time was slipping by: Kydd needed to prime the dockyard to begin releasing
Teazer
’s stores and equipment forthwith.

If he failed, the men could not be accommodated on board or entered on the ship’s books and he would quickly lose them to other ships. “Mr Ellicott, be s’ good as to accompany me to th’

dockyard and advise.”

It transpired that the senior naval officer of the dockyard was neither a sea officer nor very senior. Owing allegiance directly to the Navy Board, Burdock’s immediate superior was no closer than Gibraltar, which gave him a certain room for manoeuvre in his dealings. However, even with veiled threats, it still cost Kydd a dismaying pile of silver, all from his own pocket, to generate any sense of urgency in the case. That, and the promise to set the son of a “good friend” on his quarterdeck as midshipman.

It had been a day of furious activity and Kydd found himself dog tired. They had made a good start, but in the absence of proper accommodation and with no ship’s cook he could not in all conscience require anyone to remain on board for the night.

Reluctantly he told them all to go ashore and return early the next morning.

The calm evening spread out its peace, the impressive stone ramparts speckled with light. Nearby vessels showed soft gold light in their stern windows; some had deck lights strung.

Teazer
was in darkness and he was left alone on board—but, then, nothing could have been more congenial. Kydd paced slowly along the deserted decks, seeing, in his mind’s eye, cannon run out through gun-ports where now there were empty

Command

27

spaces, a satisfying lacing of rigging against the bare spars standing black against the stars, men on the foredeck enjoying the dog-watches.

He stumbled in the gloom, his fatigue returning in waves, and, just as it had been for him on his very first night in a man-o’-war, there was no place to lay his head. A caulker’s ground-cloth and his own unopened valise would be his bed—but it would be in the captain’s cabin—
his
cabin! He grinned inanely in the darkness and a sudden thought struck.

Kydd found a lanthorn and carried it into the great cabin. The clerk had laid out the books of account, logs, journals and other necessary instruments in systematic piles, each new, some with slips of paper, scrawled notes, others with
Teazer
’s name boldly inscribed. He began searching, and it was not long before he found what he was after. He lifted it reverently up to the carpenter’s table that did duty for a desk.

Finding an ink-well and quill he opened the book, smoothed its pages and, in the dim lanthorn-light, he penned the first entry in the ship’s log.

“Winds SSE, Clear Weather, at single anchor. Hoisted a Pennant on board His Majesty’s Brig-Sloop
Teazer
by Virtue of a Commission from Admiral Keith . . . on the Malta Service . . .”

Duty done, he claimed his bed.

In the morning, the decks were wet following a light shower.

Kydd called his standing officers to conference in the great cabin, the clerk at his notes. The cook finally arrived: a bushy-browed half-Italian, whose voluble explanations were cut short by Kydd: he wanted to feed fifty-odd hungry seamen whatever it took—he had just received a message that he should prepare to receive the body of men called for.

The seamen would come with their sea-bags but no hammocks or bedding; those must be supplied. And without doubt there
2

Julian Stockwin

would be some who had, by accident or carelessness, been left with no spare clothing; a slop chest would need to be opened.

More largesse, it seemed, would secure an early release of stores.

The ship must aim towards self-sufficiency as soon as possible.

Water, firewood for the galley, provisions, grog, its complement of ensigns, pennants, all proper devices. But this was only the first stage—mere existence. Then would come the main act: fitting out the ship for sea, using the skills of the seamen.

“They’re alongside!” spluttered Purchet, as a confused bumping was felt through the ship’s side, but it was not the hands, only the stores lighters from the yard being poled out as promised.

There was barely time for Kydd to apportion his best estimate of tasks by priority when the first launch was sighted. A small table was set up abaft the mainmast and Kydd took his place, his clerk to one side to note his decisions.

“Mr Purchet, any man desirous o’ the rate of petty officer make himself known t’ ye. Those I’ll see first.”

The men came over the bulwark with their sea-bags and bundles, and were ushered forward indignantly by the boatswain. Kydd wondered whether he should make a rousing address but realised he would have to repeat himself when others came aboard.

The first prospective petty officers came to the table: hard, skilled men, but wary as they spoke to Kydd. He immediately accepted those who had served in the rate before—he would have the measure of them later.

Laffin, a boatswain’s mate in
Tenacious,
showed no sign of recognition and stood four-square, gazing at a point above Kydd, even when spoken to. Purchet was entitled to one mate, he would do. Another, Poulden: Kydd recalled his fine seamanship and reliability, and rated him quartermaster. The man responded with a broad smile. One further was made quartermaster’s mate.

The first wave of aspirants had no sooner been dealt with than a second boat arrived with more. Kydd attended to them, then

Command

2

stood up and hailed the boatswain: “Mr Purchet!” he called loudly. “I’ll be dealing with th’ rest later. But I’ll have ye know that I want all these men t’ have the chance to choose their own watch ’n’ mess. As long as we has the same numbers in both watches they’re free t’ choose.”

There was an immediate stir: it was routine that men joining were assigned by ship’s need and had little chance to stay with their friends. Wide grins spread and a happy babble arose. Kydd was pleased: it was a little enough thing, but it would mean much to those whose freedoms were normally so few.

Kydd returned to his cabin to take stock. Each class of vessel had its establishment—its allowance of guns, personnel, stores entitlement: he had prepared his scheme of complement against this and needed to see how the numbers were proceeding. He was only too aware that he was taking outrageous liberties in his manning but he was relying on the fact that without there being a proper naval presence—the dockyard did not count—bold and resourceful moves would pay handsomely now, with explanations saved for later.

The most conspicuous gap in his list was that of his only officer, a lieutenant. He knew only his name—Dacres, and a Peregrine Dacres no less. He was said to be in Malta but had not left word of his whereabouts.

There was also the lack of a sailing master, and he had heard of no one yet appointed. Kydd’s allowance of two midshipmen was now filled with Bowden and the commissioner’s nominee, and most of the key petty officers were in place, with a surgeon expected soon.

But where could a master’s mate be found in so distant a post as Malta? It was a vital question because the master’s mate in a brig would stand watch opposite the lieutenant and without one Kydd would have no alternative but to direct the master to take over or stand watches himself.

30

Julian Stockwin

For the others he would make shift but
Teazer
’s final standing officer, the gunner, was still on his way from Gibraltar. Apparently a green, just-certificated warrant officer, he had probably been shuffled to out-of-the-way Malta where he could do little harm as he learned. Kydd bit his lip: skill at arms was the deciding factor in any combat and a strong figure at the head of the gunnery crew was an asset.