Conquest

Brigadier General Ferguson

General Yorke

Colonel Pack

Lieutenant Grant

Dr Munro

Tupley, quartermaster general

Cape Town

General Janssens, former governor of Cape Colony

Willem van Ryneveld, fiscal

Barbetjie van Ryneveld, his wife

Oudsthoorn, chief clerk

Hohne, Renzi’s sworn translator

Stoll, personal aide to Renzi

Knudsen, Danish shipwreck survivor

Ritmeester Francken, captain of Fort Onrusberge

Van der Riet, landdrost of Stellenbosch

Others

Frederick Stanhope, Marquess of Bloomsbury

Marchioness of Bloomsbury

Cecilia Kydd

Lord Grenville

Marie Therese Adele de Poitou

Baron de Caradeuc

Poncelot, Chef de Bataillon des Chasseurs de la Reunion

Robert Patton, governor of St Helena

Chapter 1

Captain Thomas Kydd held his impatience in check. Still in thrall to the all-so- recent cataclysm of Trafalgar, he and his ship had played escort to the body of Admiral Nelson in their grief-stricken return to England. Then, immediately, he had been given orders for sea, falling back on the Nore to victual and store with the utmost dispatch before setting forth to attempt urgent rendezvous with Commodore Home Popham in Madeira.

Much affected by the loss of the great commander, Kydd had at first resented not being able to attend what would no doubt be the greatest funeral of the age, but as all of Nelson’s victorious battle-fleet, save the legendary Victory, were still faithfully on station, who were he or his men to complain?

Under a press of sail, L’Aurore had braved the hard south-westerlies and was now rounding the last point before the deep anchorage of Funchal Roads opened up.

Madeira was peculiarly well located at the crossroads of the pattern of trade routes that led to Europe; merchant shipping and naval vessels alike gratefully raised landfall before the last few weeks of far voyaging – or girded for long months outward bound. Now, in winter, the little island was at its best: an emerald jewel in the warmer reaches of the Atlantic, with crystal water, succulent fruits and blessed rest for mariners who had won clear of the Channel’s bluster on their way to exotic destinations.

Kydd peered through the throng of shipping to a denser group, and caught sight of the swallowtail of a commodore’s pennant high aloft in an elderly 64-gun ship. They were in time!

He assumed a strong quarterdeck brace. Kydd knew that his ship – a thoroughbred light frigate captured from the French a bare year ago – was at her best, even with all the haste in getting back to sea. His head lifted in pride at the impression she must be making on the eyes now upon her – and he remembered how, in a similar frigate, he had passed this way all those years ago, a young sailor before the mast, making skilled seaman from humble press-ganged beginnings. And now he was captain of his own frigate . . .

This was no time for reminiscing: he had served with Popham before and was eager to make his acquaintance again – and find out what was in store for L’Aurore.

Shortening sail, they threaded their way through the packed shipping, no difficulty for the nimble frigate on a favourable wind, and in short order their anchor plunged down and their thirteen-gun salute cracked out.

He was met on Diadem’s quarterdeck with all the ceremonial of a post-captain coming aboard a flagship. ‘A swift passage, Mr Kydd,’ Popham said, the intelligent eyes appraising. ‘I count myself fortunate that you shall now be able to join our little enterprise.’

There had been just the barest details about it in his orders, Kydd reflected, but he replied respectfully, ‘I’m honoured to be here.’ Then he ventured, ‘Er, you did say “enterprise”, sir? I’m as yet mystified as to its purpose.’

Popham gave him a quizzical look, then dealt with a hovering first lieutenant before inviting Kydd to a sherry below. He wasted no time on pleasantries. ‘The French fleet has been destroyed and the way is made clear for us to take the offensive. This is nothing less than the first move in a race to empire!’