The constable looked aghast. 'No, sir! Only citizens o' this town c'n attend a town meeting. Mr Dwight jus' wants ye to know that y'r matter is being looked into, is all.'
Kydd turned to go, but the constable pulled at his sleeve. 'Yon Frenchy is goin'—make sure an' be there as well, L'tenant. Th' meeting house is round the corner.'
People from all parts of the town were making their way to a small building whose lines reminded Kydd of the Methodist chapels of his youth. Several greeted him openly; others glared. Schroeder arrived in a carriage and was handed down by a black man. He ignored Kydd and waited; a little later a French officer arrived and the two fell into discussion.
Kydd found his eyes straying to the tall, elegant figure he recognised from the morning's events. By the inscrutable logic of war, he was being granted sight of the man who, as his king's enemy, was his duty to kill.
The discussion stopped. The two turned in his direction and Kydd felt the intensity of the Frenchman's glare across the distance; he hesitated, then withdrew his gaze. When he dared another look, they were walking away.
'All attendin' please enter!' bawled the constable. The latecomers and Schroeder entered, leaving Kydd and the Frenchman alone.
Should he follow the dictates of politeness that required he notice the man and introduce himself, or was there some form of defiance required that he had not the breeding to recognise? The Frenchman was tall, mature and had a languid elegance in his mannerisms that made Kydd aware of his own origins. His feelings of inadequacy returned and he stared back at the man with dislike.
There were bad-tempered shouts from inside, then a head-to-head crescendo. The Frenchman looked across at Kydd and raised his eyebrows in a gesture of refined amusement, but Kydd was unsure of himself, wanting no part in any kind of engagement, and turned sharply away.
Unexpectedly the door to the meeting house opened and Dwight appeared. 'Gentlemen,' he called, looking carefully between them, 'the meeting recognises that this is an, er, irregular situation, and wishes you each t' state your case now.'
There was a hush in the audience, and heads turned as Kydd followed the Frenchman up the aisle. At the simple table at the front there was no provision for extra persons. 'We have t' ask ye to stand, if y' will,' Dwight said apologetically.
The rows of faces that looked back at Kydd seemed either impassive or hostile, and anxiety rose in him at the thought of a public humiliation from the worldly Frenchman.
'Citizens o' Exbury, it's my duty to present—
'In view of Captain Junon bein' French as he is, and just to be fair, is there any man present can translate for him?'
Schroeder immediately stepped forward. 'I can.'
'Then let's begin. We have here a request from our English guest that it might be better to hear fr'm him direct. L'tenant?'
Kydd's palms moistened. He took a deep breath and turned to address the meeting. 'You have a French privateer alongside, here in Exbury. He has every right t' be here, to repair an' refit as he needs. But the law says he must leave in forty-eight hours. I request that th' United States do then enforce the law an' make sure he does. Er, that's all.'
There was a disturbance at the back of the hall and a distant voice shouted, 'Y' mean, send 'em out to just where y'r waiting for 'em?'
Another voice cut in, yelling at the first, and Dwight rapped sharply with his gavel. 'I'll have order in the meeting. Now, Captain Junon?'
There was an exchange in low voices, then Schroeder faced Kydd. 'Captain Junon understands L'tenant Kydd's duty in this matter and approves his spirit, but begs to be informed, what is this law of which he speaks? He has no knowledge of such a one.'
Kydd tried to remember Houghton's hurried words before he left. 'Ah, Captain Junon needs remindin' of the Rule of War of 1756. This specifies clearly—'
There was an urgent mutter from Junon, and Schroeder nodded impatiently. 'The Rule of War of 1756 is, of course, an English law and has had no jurisdiction in the United States after 1776—and, since the lieutenant apparently requires educating, deals with the opening of trade to neutrals and really has no bearing whatsoever on this affair.'
Scattered titters came from the audience. Kydd stared back stubbornly, but could think of no rejoinder.
'And while we are discussing rules, by what laws do the British press men out of American vessels and take their ships prize on the high seas?' Junon allowed an expression of injured pride to appear while Schroeder pressed home his words. 'Are the British so careless of the sanctity of a nation's flag that they dare attempt to demand from the citizens of a neutral country—'
Kydd glared at Junon. 'I saw y'r ship firing on an American flag vessel not two days ago.'
A rustle of interest was interspersed with occasional shouts. Junon allowed it to die away before he made his reply to Schroeder. 'Regrettably there are occasions when Captain Junon's government requires him to confirm that a vessel is not conveying contraband—there are some whose conscience is not clear in this regard and attempt to flee. It is sometimes a necessity to deter.'
'And is this the action of a friend to America, I ask the captain?' Kydd said hotly, incensed at Junon's facile delivery.
A burst of clapping provoked angry shouts from another quarter and Dwight called for order again.
Kydd's face burned. 'We also have our treaty!' he lashed out. 'And in it—'
'Sir!' Schroeder called, in mock outrage. 'You must recall that yours was not a treaty of friendship—not at all.
