The morning was a trial. With a throbbing head, he had to endure an icy, disapproving silence at breakfast. 'Guess you'll be on y'r way now,' Hay said meaningfully.
He left after breakfast for a walk in the cool morning to consider his situation. It was obvious that he must admit defeat. He would display the noon signal that would have the boat return to take him off.
At the end of the cross-street he went to turn down the road but, catching sight of the French privateer, he decided to go the other way. As he did so he caught a fleeting glimpse of a figure slipping out of sight. He frowned and continued, but stopped sharply and turned, to see the figure behind duck away again.
This might be a French agent on his trail or a crazed citizen seeking revenge on an Englishman—and Kydd was unarmed. He remembered the trees where he had met Peter. He walked on rapidly and, at the end of the road, turned the corner, then sprinted towards them. He heaved himself up among the leaves and on to a branch overlooking the path by the road.
His shadower swung round the corner and stopped, looking baffled. He moved forward cautiously but did not appear armed. Kydd waited. The man increased his pace and came nearer, treading carefully. Kydd tensed and, when the man passed beneath, dropped on his shoulders. The two fell in a heap, but Kydd was faster and wrenched the man over, gripping his throat one-handed in restraint.
The man ceased struggling and stared up at Kydd, who slowly released his hold. 'Er, if you'd kindly let me up, I'll try to explain.' The voice was American, polite and apologetic.
'Do, if y' please.' Kydd had never heard a footpad so well-spoken, but did not drop his guard.
The man dusted himself off and smiled ruefully. 'My name's Edward Gindler—Lootenant Gindler—and this kind of work is not t' my liking, I'll have you know.'
'Lieutenant—Army?'
'Navy.'
'Don't try t' gull me—the United States doesn't have a navy.'
The visitors had left. Liston climbed the stairs painfully to his private room, ruing the onset of age with its aches and pains, but he knew his duty.
He sat down and reached for paper, then selected a pen abstractedly. A woman's hand placed a glass of brandy by him, and her lips softly touched his hair. He twisted round, reached for her hand and kissed it tenderly. 'My dear,' he said softly.
His wife said nothing, just looked down at him for a long moment. Then she left, closing the door behind her.
Liston sighed and collected his thoughts.
In respect of the biggest question of the moment—would the United States enter the war against France— there was no answer . . . yet. Liston smiled grimly as he penned his appreciation of the difficulties faced by the beleaguered President.
Following the commercial success of the contentious Jay treaty of two years before, the French had retaliated by insisting on the letter of the law in their own treaty, which granted free passage to any vessel carrying a French
The consequences to the expanding trade of the young country had been nothing short of catastrophic. Liston picked up Pinckney's
It was staggering—worse even than the dire predictions of the fire-breathing Hamilton. In the Caribbean, worst hit, no less than three hundred ships had been taken and, counting the dangerous waters on the approaches to war-ravaged Europe since the Jay treaty, nearly a thousand American flag vessels had hauled down their colours and been carried into French ports; ship, cargo and crew.
Liston could barely credit that the proud Americans would submit to such intolerable and cynical actions by a so-called ally—but they had. President Adams had stoutly resisted all attempts by Liston and even his own party to be embroiled in a European war, whatever the provocation, but there had to be limits.
Even so, Liston could see his difficulty. The opposition Republicans were led by the astute and learned Jefferson, talked about as the next president, who would never allow him to declare war on an ally. In any case he did not have the means: he had only a few frigates that had been left part built after a brief alarm over Algerine pirates nearly half a dozen years ago.
Yet something had to give. In the last few months, insurance rates in the Caribbean had soared to an impossible 25 per cent of ship and cargo value.
The French were defeating whole nations; coalitions against them had crumbled and they were clearly about to break out of Europe to the wider world. It had made them arrogant and confident, but Liston felt that the latest act was beyond sufferance: envoys of the United States in Paris, attempting to negotiate an amelioration of French attitudes, had been met with a demand for two hundred thousand dollars as a pre-condition for any kind of talks.
This incitement to naked bribery had appalled the Americans, and when it had leaked out there had been outrage. For the first time it appeared President Adams would have to move—to declare war? And with what?
Liston dipped his pen and began to write.
Chapter 10
'MAY I CORRECT YOU, SIR? We
It seemed that there had been congressional authorisation for a 'naval armament' since the Algerines trouble, but this had been a War Department matter of the time. Now Congress wanted the reality, and had therefore recently established a Department of the Navy to act like the British Admiralty and was to appoint a full secretary of the Navy.
'So, our navy is born.' Gindler had an engaging smile, but Kydd detected a harder layer beneath his cheery manner.
Kydd's head was still muzzy after his visit to the Blue Anchor, and he tried to concentrate. 'Y' don't just
