Mutiny (44 page)
Hulme
sneered. 'Yair, you'll—'
'We
throw a blockade on London.'
There was an appalled
silence, then everyone spoke at once. Parker leaned back in his chair, a smile
playing, while he waited for quiet. 'Indeed. We have the power to clamp our
hold on the richest trade gateway in the land. No one would dare touch us while
we stop every merchantman, arrest everything that sails. Trade comes to a
standstill, the mills of industry stop for want of materials, companies fail
for want of exports — the City collapses, the government falls.'
'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 origins 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—'