Quarterdeck (36 page)

Kydd was proud of what he had done and chagrined at having to keep it quiet—Renzi had agreed to go over the report for him before he handed it in, but afterwards Kydd had promised him such a tale as would keep him tolerably entertained.

Halifax had seen ships come and go in wartime, and this occasion was not noticeably different.
Tenacious
anchored in the bosom of the fl eet, salutes were exchanged and Captain Houghton, in sword and decorations, went aboard the fl agship to make explanation of his prize—and the consequent accession to the admiral’s own purse.

By return new fl eet instructions were sent to her signal lieutenant, the effective date three days hence.

Kydd groaned with vexation. Signals and their meanings were a prerogative of the admiral commanding the station and were buried in the
Fighting Instructions,
detailed prescripts from the admiral for the precise manner in which he wished his ships to engage the enemy. Admiral “Black” Dick Howe, who had brought
272

Julian Stockwin

the fl eet mutiny at Spithead to an end the previous year, had done much to standardise operation of fl ag signals and Kydd saw that these from Admiral Vandeput were similar.

There were ten signal fl ags, then the preparative, and the sub-stitute—pennants and wefts, differences of meaning depending on where hoisted, night signals, recognition procedures, signals for individual ships, divisions, fl eets. This was the system that had resulted from so much practice over years of sea warfare. It had gone into battle with Howe on the Glorious First of June; only the previous year Jervis had signalled Nelson at St Vincent, and Duncan had used it with such effect at Camperdown.

Now Lieutenant Kydd had inherited this accrued wisdom and must prove himself worthy of it. He took the signal pocket book, which had been owned by his dead predecessor, as a model and with scissors and patience set about constructing the
vade mecum
that would stay with him while he was a signal lieutenant.

The fl ag-lieutenant himself brought the summons: Lieutenant Kydd to wait on the admiral immediately. Kydd fl inched when he recalled his previous summoning. What
could
be the reason now? It was astonishing. He was a mere lieutenant—and so many commanders would slay to be noticed by a commander-in-chief—and there was no apparent reason for it.

Kydd bawled at Tysoe in a fever of anxiety: only new stockings and faultless linen would answer. Decorations? He had none. Sword? The plain hanger he had bought in Halifax would have to do. He pulled on his breeches, watched by half the wardroom.

A gig was brought alongside and Kydd descended the ship’s side and sat bolt upright in the sternsheets. The bowman cast off with an excess of fl ourishes and the midshipman in charge set the men to pulling smartly.

Quarterdeck

273

The fl ag-lieutenant led the way wordlessly to the great cabin.

“Lieutenant Kydd, sir.”

“Enter!”

Admiral Vandeput advanced to meet him. “Well, now, is this the offi cer the fuss is all about?” He regarded Kydd keenly.

“Sir?”

The white-haired admiral spoke in an easy manner; this could not be a carpeting.

“Please sit, Mr Kydd.” He went round his desk and found a paper, while Kydd perched on the edge of an elegant Windsor chair. “This is a most particular request, not to say direction, and it comes from Mr Liston. Our minister to the United States, that is—what you might call an ambassador.” He laid the paper on the table and Kydd glimpsed the cipher of the Court of St James at the top.

“In it he desires me to release an offi cer for a particular service to a foreign power—as you probably know, we have had offi cers seconded to the Swedish Crown, St Petersburg, other countries.

This is not unusual. It is a little odd, though, that you have been named, and that you are so damn junior.” His quiet chuckle took the sting from his words. “It seems the United States is conjuring up their own navy and they have asked Mr Liston for an observer from the Royal Navy, if possible a Lieutenant Kydd. He feels that it would be right at this time to be seen co- operating with a neutral nation.

“There! What do you think of that, Mr Kydd? You’re noticed diplomatically.” His genial smile grew wider and he stabbed a fi nger at Kydd in emphasis. “And I’d wager more went on ashore in that backwoods village than ever found its way into your report, hey-hey?”

“Er, sir, I—”

“Never mind. Whatever it was, you did right. Now, let’s talk
274

Julian Stockwin

about what you’ll be doing. They’ve got together two or three frigates—built ’em themselves, damn it—and I’ve seen the gunboats their Revenue runs. Calls ’em their ‘treasury navy.’ Now, you’ll probably be shipping in one of their frigates—they’re fi tting out now. Your status will be supernumerary for the voyage—a passenger, any Christian would call it—and you won’t be called upon to serve a gun if it comes to fi ghting.”

“Er, who will be their enemy, sir?”

“Well, that’s a little diffi cult to say, but . . .” he tapped his nose “. . . I’ve been hearing that the French have overstepped their position, making hay with American trade, and they don’t like it. In any event, they’ll probably tell you about it themselves.

“Now, I know you’ll comport yourself as a gentleman should, marks o’ respect to all the proper persons, fl ags and so on. But I think what they’re probably after is a correct steer on how things are done in our service. I don’t see any reason why you can’t tell ’em anything reasonable they want to know. Must be hard to start from nothing,” he refl ected sombrely. “You go in plain clothes, will be victualled by the, er, United States Navy, and I don’t suppose you’ll be away from us for long. There’s a brig leaving for Philadelphia shortly—it’s their capital, where our Mr Liston is expecting you. Good fortune, Lieutenant!”

Kydd took in the sights as the brig rounded Cape May for the long trip up the broad Delaware. This was quite a different land from rugged grey rock-bound Nova Scotia or even pretty, forested Connecticut. Here there was well- settled land on either bank, farming and orchards, settlements and roads. The sails of coastal shipping thronged the river as it narrowed towards the capital. Kydd was impressed. No mean colonial sprawl, Philadelphia was a fi ne city that stretched for miles along the river, as busy as any he had seen in England.

Quarterdeck

275

Kydd followed his baggage ashore and looked to see if someone was there to meet him. A ferry loaded noisily and a market stretched away into the distance, improbably occupying the middle of a wide road.

“Mr Kydd?”

He wheeled round. “Aye?” he said cautiously.

A well-dressed young man inclined his head. “Thornton, secretary of Legation.”

“How—”

“Please believe, it’s not so hard a task to spy out a sailor, Mr Kydd.” He raised a beckoning fi nger and a coachman came for Kydd’s baggage. “So good in you to leave your wooden world at such short notice. His Excellency is returning from Mount Vernon and hopes to make your acquaintance tomorrow. I trust you’ll fi nd our accommodation congenial.”

With a growing sense of unreality Kydd boarded a high-wheeled carriage and the debonair Thornton pointed out the sights as they made Walnut Street at a fast clip. “Minister Liston keeps unfashionable hours, I fear. Can you fi nd it in you, dear fellow, to appear at nine tomorrow morning? It seems he’s anxious to see you.”

“Of course.”

“Should you like theatre, I have tickets for this evening.”

“Thank you,” Kydd murmured, his head spinning with the pace of events.

“Mr Liston,” Thornton said softly, ushering Kydd into a small drawing room and closing the door noiselessly as he left.

“Ah, Mr Kydd,” said Liston, fi nishing a letter. “Pray be seated, I won’t be long.”

While Liston sanded and sealed the missive, Kydd had the feeling that he was under discreet observation.

“Very well. To business. You will be aware by now that this
276

Julian Stockwin

country has seen fi t to begin the creation of a navy, arising from the grievous nature of the depredations of the French on their trade. For details of that you will no doubt have your professional sources.” He paused signifi cantly. “There are many elements of delicacy in this situation, and in a way I would wish that you were of a more elevated, senior character, but in this I am con-strained by their very fi rm petition for your own good self to undertake this service. Therefore I will be plain. The United States has done us the signal honour of embarking on a characterisation of their navy that is in the greatest measure our own. This is gratifying to us, of course, as it presupposes an alignment of purpose consequent upon a convergence of practices. This, naturally, has put the French out of countenance, for the Americans have turned their back on their traditional ally in this.”

Liston paused, considering Kydd. “And in this, as in all things, you will consult your honour as to how on foreign soil you will best conduct yourself in furtherance of your country’s interests.”

Something in the smooth fl ow of words alerted Kydd and he listened warily. “I will, sir, be assured.”

“Then if this is your prime motivation I can rely on your loyalty to the Crown?”

“Sir.”

“Then let me lay out the issues before you. You are in a unique position to allay the fears of your government on certain matters concerning the effectiveness of this armament . . .”

“Sir!” Kydd said tightly. “You’re askin’ me to spy on th’

Americans?” The warmth of a fl ush spread, but he did not care.

Spies and betrayal, this was not how he saw his duty.

Liston’s face tightened. “Have a care, Lieutenant! Recollect you hold the commission of King George. And in it you have sworn certain loyalties that cannot so easily be cast aside. What I am asking is no more than any offi cer of honour is bound to do

Quarterdeck

277

when on foreign territory, whether on parole or any other basis—

simply to keep his eyes open.” The crack of aristocratic authority in his voice remained as he went on, “And if I might remark it, you appear surprisingly defi cient thereby in your understanding of the bounds of gentlemanly conduct.”

Kydd stiffened, then dropped his eyes.

Liston’s tone softened: “We’re not asking you to report back on the number of ships and guns and so forth, if that is your scruple. It is something of far more signifi cance. I desire that you will return to me with an opinion as to whether you believe the United States is determined in this matter, has resolved to establish an armed force of credibility, or is merely embarked on a ploy to deter the French.” He fi xed his gaze on Kydd. “And if you conceive that they are in earnest, your professional opinion as to their effectiveness at sea. In short, whether they can fi ght—

should the world take notice.”

Kydd returned the gaze steadily. “I will do that, sir.” It was not an act of spying: it was an opinion.

Liston relaxed a little. “Then as we seem to have come to an understanding, would you care to join me for coffee? The American bean is generally accounted superior, and we have the remainder of this hour before your hosts make their appearance.”

Twenty minutes later there was a fi rm knock on the door.

Thornton appeared, with an indistinct fi gure behind him. “Sir, a gentleman for Mr Kydd.” It was Gindler.

Outside they shook hands gleefully. “Well, this must be the strangest coincidence of the age,” laughed Gindler, but his knowing look gave the game away.

“So, what has the American Navy in store for poor Lieutenant Kydd?”

“Ah, the United States Navy is what we call it—you English
278

Julian Stockwin

will have reason to remember the Continental Navy of the revolution; this is now the Federal Navy but some take exception to the term.”

“Noted.”

“And you are now talking to L’tenant Gindler, third of the United States Frigate
Constellation,
Captain Truxtun, now fi tting out in Baltimore.” He smiled wickedly. “And
I
am talking to the mysterious supernumerary on our fi rst voyage . . .”

Kydd laughed but his interest swelled fast. This was not to be a pettifogging political appointment but a real seagoing situation. “When—”

“Not so fast, good sir. I’m instructed that our new secretary of the Navy wishes to make your acquaintance before we hazard the briny deep.”

“Do excuse this mare’s nest of a room—my wife has not yet arrived in Philadelphia to take charge of my household.” Stoddert made ineffectual attempts to clear a space at one end of a plain table where a stout chair stood. His manner was distracted but his gaze direct as he greeted Kydd.

“Secretary Stoddert has only recently arrived in the capital,”

Gindler murmured, standing clear of the welter of papers and furniture.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Pray call on me before you leave Philadelphia. I may have something for Captain Truxtun.”

Gindler bowed and left.

“Now, you are Lieutenant Kydd of the Royal Navy.”

“Sir.”

“And you must be wondering why you are here, not to say concerned.”

“Aye, sir,” Kydd said, uneasy at yet more attention from on high. Stoddert lowered himself into his chair. “Then, fi rst, the wider issue. We are in the process of creating our own navy. We

Quarterdeck

279

have chosen to follow the example and traditions of the Royal Navy as a starting point for our own. It would be of the utmost value to us were an offi cer of that illustrious service to signify to us our success in this endeavour. As to why your own good self, Mr Gindler was good enough to render me a full and satisfying account of what transpired in Exbury—in confi dence, of course.