Invasion (27 page)

So old, in fact, that the town lay far inland where centuries of silt from the river had extended the coastline out several miles into a flat, reedy estuary.

Teazer
let go her anchor in a lively sea, pivoting immediately to meet the waves, but when her boat reached the narrow mouth of the Rother it grew quickly peaceful. The river was dead straight for more than a mile, the result of untold years of striving to keep the port open as the land extended itself. Rye harbour was at the first bend; a pair of gunboats should have been maintained there by the Sea Fencibles to throw into any last desperate clash off the beaches. Kydd braced himself for what he might find.

The boat swept round the bend but then he was confronted with the last thing he expected: along the gnarled old timber quay were lined up men in smart jackets and trousers that would not have been out of place in a man-o'-war at divisions, and as the gig glided in, an officer in full-dress Fencibles uniform called his men to order and swept off his hat. “Welcome to Rye Harbour, Mr. Kydd,” he said. “I do hope we'll not disappoint.”

Collecting himself, Kydd suspected that word of his mission had been passed on—Dungeness suggested itself but, anyway, this was all to the good in the greater scheme of things. “A fine body o' men, Lieutenant. I shall inspect them.”

They were a stout crew: fit, well turned out, direct eye gaze, capable seeming. All the signs of a good officer looking after his men. Satisfied, Kydd turned to their charges.

The gunboats were secured to improvised trots out in the stream and Kydd summoned them alongside. One was in a pattern of the last war but wonderfully kept; gunboats were numbered but this one sported a nameplate on the bow, with
Vixen of Rye
picked out in gold on scarlet.

Kydd dropped down into it. Double-ended and capable of rigging a lateen on a folding mast it mounted a respectable eighteen-pounder on a slide on the foredeck and a handy carronade aft.

He went forward to the gun, the officer hovering anxiously. He inspected the bore—it was an old pattern requiring a quick-match to fire it rather than a gunlock. Kydd used the old gunner's trick of reflecting sunlight from the back of his fob watch into the bore but there was no sign of kibes, the bright metal of a flaw made by a shot loose in the bore striking along its length.

The vent-work was in pristine condition, and the rest of the boat quite up to it, so there was little Kydd could find to criticise. The other vessel, of similar vintage and named
Wolf of Winchelsea
, was in the same fine shape. Sensing Kydd's pleased surprise, the lieutenant rubbed his hands together. “They're to your satisfaction, sir?” he asked.

“Most certainly.”

“Then it will be my pleasure to invite you to our usual meeting at the George in Mermaid Street, sir.”

“Not so fast.”

“Sir?”

“I desire you should now attack my ship.”

“A-attack?”

“I shall be towing a barrel a cable astern. That will be your mark. You have powder, shot?”

The young man's face beamed with pleasure. “Why, certainly!”

“Then shall we say half a league offshore in one hour?”

Out in the bay the seas were as lively as ever, but there would be no allowances: this onshore blow was ideal for a fast French crossing and they would have to cope.

Vixen
emerged first, her plain lugsail set taut and making to seaward of
Teazer
in a swash of white bow-wave. The smaller
Wolf
remained inshore, but both bucketed along in the brisk seas. Kydd nodded approvingly.

When at the wind's eye to
Teazer,
the first lowered her long yard at the run and manned sweeps. Before long her single cannon opened up, the powder-smoke whipped away in the strong breeze. The ball, however, tore up the sea only a dozen yards ahead of the small vessel. “Too much motion for 'em,” was the general opinion of interested watchers.
Wolf
was not much better: her shot went somewhere into the unknown and
Vixen
's second passed close overhead with a vicious
whuup.

Kydd winced, but these were keen and valuable men who could not be expected to know how a gun was pointed in the open sea with no one to show them. It was time to take a hand. “Mr. Duckitt,” Kydd told
Teazer
's gunner, “you and Mr. Stirk each are to go aboard and teach 'em how to point a gun in anything of a seaway. Then, to spare
Teazer
's hide, we'll set the barrel adrift and you lie off half a mile, a pistol-shot apart to await the signal.

“Then we'll have our sport. Shot b' shot you'll advance on the target and see who'll be first to hit.” As they drew closer it would be easier and thus one would eventually be sure to strike, with suitable effect on their confidence.

“Oh, and tell 'em that the winner will be presented with Mr. Duckitt's very own gun lanyard as will, er, be worked with a three-way Turk's head and other proper ceremonials.”

The barrel was cast off, bobbing jauntily, and
Teazer
hove to at a safe distance to await events, her sides lined with seamen pleased at the entertainment and, no doubt, happily placing wagers on the outcome.

The two gunboats squared off and, at the signal, first
Vixen
and then
Wolf
let fly. It would not have answered in a prime man-o'-war but at least the sudden plumes arising were in sight. Trying to wield rammers and gunpowder in the bluster out to sea without injury was a triumph in itself—but Kydd had seen it done before, and by the French, off Calais . . .

“Some sort of fishing boat, I think, sir.” Hallum pointed to a small craft under a single lugsail emerging from the river.

“If the codshead can't see what we're about he soon will.”

Kydd laughed, watching one lucky shot skim the tops of the waves to miss the cask narrowly.

“I do conceive he wishes to speak us,” Hallum said apologetically, looking at the direct course steered and the dark figure angrily gesturing by the fore-stay.

“He thinks we're frightening th' fish!” Purchet chuckled.

On balance Kydd thought that
Vixen
was making better practice, for
Wolf
was gamely taking seas over the bow, which must have been making it hard to keep a footing at the gun.

“Er, it seems there's a naval officer aboard,” said Hallum.

“Give that t' me,” Kydd said, snatching the telescope. The gesturing figure of a hatless post-captain leaped into view. “Man the side—we've a visitor.”

“You'll give me an explanation, sir, this minute!” fumed the officer, after he had heaved himself energetically aboard.

“I beg your pardon, sir?” Kydd said coldly.

“Austen, Captain Francis Austen, district captain of the Sea Fencibles and I'll have your explanation as to why you're stirring up my command to no purpose.”

Kydd allowed his gaze to move to the final stages of the engagement where, to the raucous joy of the seamen,
Wolf
's next shot smashed the barrel to flying wreckage. “I have a roving appointment from Admiral Keith as Inspector of Sea Fencibles, and—”

“Inspector? And you a commander?” Austen said, in disbelief.

“Shall we go below, sir? I'd be happy to explain.”

It took all of a bottle of Kydd's best claret to make good his position, that the inspectoring was no more than a cover for a deeper game but that he had to make a good show of it.

Austen made clear his conviction that the Sea Fencibles, by taking the second line of defence, were releasing the Navy for their aggressive first line at the French coast and, furthermore, by being part-time were able to support themselves between times providing fish for the nation and at no cost to the government.

As to the business at Ramsgate—which had sent him after Kydd in hot pursuit—Austen pointed out that the Fencibles had their own range and gun for live practice safely out of the way near North Foreland. Any dilatoriness Kydd had seen in mustering at the harbour was because their instructions were that, in the event of an alarm, maroon rockets would boom over the town and each then would know his duty.

Only after it was discovered that both had fought at the Nile and shared an admiration for Horatio Nelson did the atmosphere thaw and Austen accept the convenience of a passage back to Ramsgate.

“And you'll oblige me exceedingly, dear fellow, should you now allow my Sea Fencibles to go about their business without alarums and anxieties. Please believe, they're a fractious crew if they see themselves practised upon.”

“Ceased as of this minute, and my report will be a warm one, you may be assured, sir.”

Idly picking up a book lying on the sideboard Austen raised his eyebrows. “Descartes,
Regulae ad directionem ingenii—Rules for the Direction of the Mind
no less! I find I must admire your choice of literature, Mr. Kydd.”

“Oh, er, that belongs to my ship's clerk and particular friend. He's a prime word-grinder, Renzi, and is now engaged in writing a book.”

“Goodness me. How curious! I wish he could meet my sister, Jane—she takes such satisfaction in scratching away and swears she will be published some day, bless her heart,” Austen said fondly.

C
HAPTER 10

“N
ICHOLAS
! T
AKE A SEAT
, m' friend. It seems the waters o' Bath are in truth a sovereign cure, you looking so well.”

Renzi sat in his usual chair by the stern windows and stretched lazily. “Such a quantity of women, each with a tongue that simply could not be still. That a man must find peace in a man-o'-war is a singular thing.” Then he gave Kydd a quizzical look. “Far be it for me to lay criticism at the feet of my worthy commander but did I not see a gaudy red at the ensign staff supplanting the pristine blue of our noble Admiral Keith?”

“Aye, you did. For now we are an unattached ship while I top it the inspector of Fencibles.”

“Oh?”

“Well, you should know this is b' way of a blind while we are on a secret tasking.”

Renzi jerked upright.

“Why, nothing t' remark,” Kydd told him. “In fact, we're not to trouble the French in any wise.”

“The Irish?”

“No. Oh, I'm sanguine you'll hear of it in time, but I'll ask you t' keep it in confidence. Our real task is to act as trials ship and Navy liaison to an American cove who's been inventing a submarine boat.”

“Was this by any chance a man called Fulton?” Renzi asked, with a curious note in his voice.

“Er, yes, but here he's known as Mr. Francis.”

Renzi's face tightened. “I didn't think to see that man again.”

In dawning realisation, Kydd said, “Then—then it was
you
conducted him to England?”

“Yes.”

“How did—you were
in
France?”

“Paris.”

Kydd's face was grave. “Nicholas, now the French know you did—”

“There is nothing to connect my quitting the country with Fulton's departing. It's rather him that stands into danger. The French may now rue his leaving and take steps to silence him. Is he guarded?”

“Yes. In Dover Castle.” Then Kydd challenged, “Why do you dislike the man?”

“Did I say that?” Renzi came back defensively.

“He's a genius who's going to give us the means t' get at Boney's flotillas,” Kydd said stoutly.

“He's a mendacious and deluded fool, who covers his motives for creating his evil machines with absurd nonsense about saving the world from itself.”

Kydd blinked in surprise at Renzi's intensity. “He's said some strange things, I'll agree, but if he's going to provide us with—”

“Have you not considered the nature of what he is doing, pray? He desires we send out these submarines, like assassins in the night, to fall upon unsuspecting victims who are powerless to defend themselves. This is never within the usages of war of any civilisation worth the name.”

“Well, Nicholas,” Kydd said lightly, trying to lift the mood, “if it is so dreadful, no navy will want to put to sea, and there you'll have your universal peace.”

“Do not insult my intelligence,” Renzi said. “In Earth's bloody history there will always be found those who place their lust for domination over any consideration of ethics or humanity and would, without hesitation, subject the world to a reign of terror for their own cruel ends.”

“Are you meaning that our employing this against Boney is immoral by
your
lights?” Kydd snapped.

“Damn it, I am! And I'm surprised—very surprised—that you should see fit to encourage such a means of waging war.”

“So, out of notions of honour we should lay aside the weapon that saves us from Bonaparte?”

Renzi did not reply at once, as if he were considering his response carefully. “If we're speaking of honour, consider this little analogy. What is the difference, may I ask, between he who faces another squarely in a duel, and the one who waits until darkness to break into his opponent's house to slaughter him in his bed?”

“Desperate situations call for radical measures.”

“There must be limits to acceptable behaviour in war or we're lost as a species. And pitting a man, sword in hand, against an unarmed, blindfolded adversary is nothing but contemptible.”

“You are, of course, hoist b' your own petard, Nicholas.”

“Do go on,” Renzi said stiffly.

“Before, you said that there'll always be found those so lost t' honour who'd think to employ such a means. By logic, therefore, we must ourselves acquire the same, or the godly must surely be overcome by the unrighteous.”

“That's as may be, but it does not make it an acceptable course for an honourable nation.” He paused. Then, with a twisted smile, he added, “And yet, you see, you have omitted one small matter.”

“Oh? And what's that?”

“If this should be the manner of war then where might distinction be won by the valiant? Where is the triumph, the victory, in the mass destruction of unwary sailors?”

“Be that as it may,” Kydd said tightly, “but tell me this. If you feel as you do, why did you take such pains t' bring the man to England?”

Renzi sighed. “So as not to leave him to the French, the main reason. And—and he has created a wondrous undersea chariot with which to visit Neptune's kingdom that might yet be of incalculable value to science.”

Kydd said nothing and Renzi continued, “Since returning I have had time to consider, and now I've come to realise I loathe to the depths of my being what he is visiting on the world. I fear I cannot face him again. If he comes aboard I must tell you I will not sit at the same table with such a man.”

Troubled, Kydd could see that more than duty and morality had now entered his friend's thinking. But was there any other way to get at Bonaparte's menace?

Kydd found Fulton in his casemate, head in his hands. “Is there a problem, Mr. Francis? Are you not well?”

Fulton lifted his head and Kydd could see the ravages of fatigue in his face. “I'm as well as I can be,” he croaked. “Nothing to worry of.”

“Are the plans near complete at all?” Kydd ventured.

“Don't concern yourself, Mr. Kydd, if that's the purpose of your visit. My calculations show a working depth of thirty-five feet and an increase to thirty in the number of submarine bombs she can carry in her deck compartments—and you cannot but admire my undersea observation ports in the dome.”

Before he could look, Fulton pushed the plans to one side and swivelled round to Kydd. His eyes burned with a feverish glow. “Tell me, Mr. Sea Captain, what is it you're thinking? That I'm mad or a quack—that this is all a humbug to win gold from your king? Go on, say away!”

Kydd felt for the man. “You've been at your scribbling for weeks now. Have you had any bear you a hand?”

“There's no one on God's earth that's in any kind of position to help me. I conceive of it, I test the idea, do the calculations and then the draughting. Who else?”

“So all this time you've been here . . .”

Fulton slumped in the chair wearily. “I've worked every hour God gives, so help me. Night and day, meals brought in, don't wash, don't sleep much.” Then he sat up, energised. “It's just so . . . damned breathtaking, dazzling to the mind working on the beast, I can't leave it.”

Here was a man entirely on his own in a foreign country, grappling with devices and concepts far beyond the wisest philosopher and conjuring into being a mechanical sea-beast to plunge into the depths so that man could for the first time be truly a child of Neptune. “I'll tell you what I'm thinking about your submarine boat, Mr. Francis, but not here,” Kydd said. “You'll first hoist inboard a square meal, as we say in the Navy, then talk.”

“I can't—”

Kydd gave a friendly smile. “I'm not without means. It'll be entirely at my pleasure, sir.”

The snug of the White Horse Inn was unoccupied, and Fulton devoured his steak and ale pie in privacy, expressing every degree of satisfaction with the victuals. He dabbed his mouth with his napkin, then prompted, “So what, then,
is
your feeling, sir?”

“I've had space t' think about it, Mr. Francis. Therefore I say to you . . . it's the most fearful and wonderful thing I've ever seen. And I'm persuaded it's the future, sir.”

Fulton gave him a penetrating look, then threw back his head and laughed until the tears came. “At last—at last! A believer! And, dare I hazard, one who's ready to go with my
Nautilus
into that future whatever it brings, no matter that some name me a murderer of sailors, a charlatan and projector? You are to be congratulated, then, sir.”

Kydd was discomfited by his ardour and took a pull at his drink. He caught the eye of the potboy and signalled for another round, then asked, as casually as he could, “Have you heard anything of the committee, sir?”

“Ah, yes. I meant to speak to you about it. They have constituted it and I'd be pleased to hear your opinions as to its members. We have Sir Joseph Banks its chairman, whom I met once, Henry Cavendish, a scientist—”

“Banks, of course, is of some eminence. I know but little of Cavendish,” Kydd said. “Who will be the naval representative? Gresham, I suppose.”

“Not at all! Note was taken, he's not on it. But I'd wager it's not the last we'll hear from the gentleman. No, it's to be one Popham, a high captain of sorts.”

“Popham! Then you've a right cunning fellow there—he has distinguished service, and is a scientifical and inventor too. He's introducing a completely new method o' signalling into the Navy. If there's anyone to convince, it'll be he.”

“Umm. Then there's Rennie, dockyards, and a redcoat Congreve from an ordnance department of some sort.”

“Seems sound enough but I'm not sure I can add much.”

“Ah, well.” Fulton took a pull of beer.

“Do you have plans o' business as will see your
Nautilus
a-swim? One man on his own . . .”

“Yes,” said Fulton crisply, “I do. The prime need is to get one party interested enough to fund my design. In this case, your Admiralty. She builds and off she goes under licence to my company and starts among the enemy like a tiger let loose. I will have a contract that says for every ship of size I put down, there's a royalty—tonnage or guns, I don't care. With these proceeds I build more and better. It's cheap, pays for itself, so other countries take a note and next thing there's submarine boats in every navy.”

“You said before as your intention is universal peace and liberty for all b' making it impossible for warships to put t' sea.”

“Just so. When all have my vessels, how can they? Some kind of mutual-destruction war? I don't think so. Therefore the high seas are made free for any and every man.”

“I see,” said Kydd. “Then I should wish you good fortune, Mr. Francis.”

“Look, my friends call me ‘Toot'—will you?”

“Oh, er, of course, um, Toot.” Kydd warmed to the man's need to reach out. He was alone in the country, yet with such world-shattering plans in his head.

“Thank you, sir. And you?”

“Well, I'm Thomas Kydd, Thomas Paine Kydd after the radical as charmed my parents.”

Fulton chortled. “Tom Paine! I'll have you know, the old feller's been a good friend to me, living in Paris all this time. Returned to New York only a year or so past. So right readily I'll call you Tom, my friend.”

Kydd grinned. Fulton's enthusiasm was infectious and he raised his beer in salute. “To
Nautilus
as will be!”

It was time. The plans were ready to present. Kydd and Fulton boarded the Canterbury coach to London. Kydd took rooms in the White Hart as before but Fulton rejected offers of assistance in the matter of lodging, insisting he preferred the independence and freedoms of more humble quarters in the Minories, on the pretence of it being close by America Square.

On the due day they waited together in a discreet anteroom of Somerset House, Fulton clutching his flat case of plans and in high spirits. “Do you think one guinea a ton royalty an excessive figure?” he asked Kydd. “Being a fraction of what it costs to build?”

“As you sense the mood of the meeting, I'd suggest,” Kydd replied, with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. No doubt the illustrious chairman would be taken with the novelty, the dockyard representative would be interested in the technology, the scientist with prospects for natural philosophy—but the one who stood capable of bringing down Fulton and his scheme was the representative of the Navy, Captain Popham. If, being creative and inventive in his own right, he took against Fulton for reasons of jealousy, or perhaps adopted a high moral stand, then he had the power to ruin the enterprise. Kydd was well aware of what that would mean to the courageous inventor.

The door to the meeting room opened. “The committee will see you now, Mr. Francis,” a secretary said quietly. Kydd rose as well. “This is a closed meeting, sir,” the man said firmly, ushering Fulton in and closing the door.