Conquest

Kydd shook his head. ‘A good notion, Mr Bowden, but I can’t allow it.’

‘Why not, sir? There’s every—’

‘Because, Mr Fire-eater, we’d lose the whole party when the powder-store blows and ten thousand angry savages swarm about looking for whoever destroyed their new weapons.’

‘We could take ’em off by boats. That’d thwart the . . .’ Remembering too late, he tailed off shamefacedly.

Their plans all fell down at the same hurdle. No boats. Kydd had gone to the tide tables to see if they could wring just a little more depth of water over the bar but even at the highest state of tide they would still ground on the hard sand by a considerable margin. With enough men – say, a hundred or more – they could manhandle the boats over the bar, but bringing them ashore would leave L’Aurore helpless if Africaine showed up.

No, they had to give up. It was not humanly possible to—

Or was it? The Naval Chronicle of a year or two ago, in an article on Venice – that was it – had related how even ships-of-the-line could be built at the famous Arsenal, which was set in the midst of a shallow lagoon. On each side of the vessel was lashed a series of half-sunken lighters. These were pumped out and rose in the water, lifting the ship, which was floated out of the lagoon.

There was some peculiar name for them – yes, camels. They’d devise their own camels and float the boats over the bar.

Kydd took in the uncomfortable expressions around the table and couldn’t resist a delighted smile. ‘So this is what I’ve decided. We do both – lay the charges and send in carronade-armed boats, which’ll serve to take off the party too.’

‘Sir – boats?’ Gilbey stuttered.

‘Why, yes. With camels!’

It was the breakthrough, and after Kydd had explained the operation, the plan quickly came alive.

A sapper party would approach overland unseen while the launch and pinnace were brought over the bar. When these appeared off the base they would open fire, drawing the attention of the defenders, while the charge was laid. In the confusion after the explosion, the sappers would race down to the jetty to be taken off and all would retire.

It was a neat solution. The number needed for the operation was minimal, the sapper party could be retrieved and, above all, in one stroke it would stop the rising before it began, giving Baird enough time to find a more permanent answer.

There was just one problem: at night it would be impossible to reload. While cannon fire would cause an adequate diversion, the guns would then be useless if called upon to deter swarms of warriors turning on the fleeing sappers. Some other distraction would be needed.

‘Who will lead the boats, sir?’ Gilbey wanted to know.

‘I will,’ Kydd said firmly.

‘Sir! I must protest. Surely the honour is mine as first lieutenant.’

‘No, sir. Did you ever see Lord Nelson hold back when hot work’s to be done? That wasn’t his style and neither is it mine.’ He softened at Gilbey’s expression. ‘There’ll be many more such in this commission, I’m in no doubt. If a plan is your conceiving then most certainly you will lead. And in this action, why, you’ll in course be to the fore – in command of the other boat.’

Then to the other details. The camels: casks lashed upright together in a row with lines connecting them under the boat, fashioned so the cradle could be floated under and then the casks emptied to raise the boat bodily. The charge: this would be two powder barrels brought together and a length of quickmatch leading into one. The timing: this very night, in the darkness before dawn when the tide was at its highest. And finally the volunteers: Gunner’s Mate Stirk would think it an insult to his profession and honour if he were not asked to lead the sappers, and Kydd would allow him to decide his own party.

They set to. The boatswain laid out the lines to form the cradle, the cooper and his mate trundling the barrels into place where they were seized together in a string. It needed some thought to arrive at a means, when the time came, of emptying them quickly, but one was eventually found.

In the magazine the gunner and his mate prepared the quickmatch fuse. This was in the form of three cotton strands, much like candle wicks tightly twisted around each other, which had been steeped with spirits of wine in a mixture of saltpetre and mealed powder. Forty-foot lengths of the deadly cord were connected together and threaded into a linen powder-hose, then coiled into a cartridge box for safety.

From their stowage below were swayed up the eighteen-pounder carronades. These were fitted to slide beds in the bows of the two boats, complete with gun-locks and lanyards, Kydd finally settling on one round shot and two canister each. Although it was not feasible to consider reloading at night this was a precaution in case of delay until after daybreak.

Even the cook was roped in, for the galley funnel needed to be tapped to provide soot to conceal the faces of the sapper party. Stirk knew who he wanted – he and the strongman Wong would lay the charge while Doud and his tie-mate Pinto would see to the diversion. It was a good team, and when the time came to board the boats there were high spirits and confidence.

Once on their way it was another matter. Barely visible out in the blackness, the pinnace was a slight dark shape on their beam with the occasional white swash of wake. Kydd felt it a monstrous tempting of Fate to challenge such odds with just a pair of boats against an army of ten thousand. So much could go wrong – an alarm given as they were halfway across the sand-bar, an overlooked strongpoint – but these were the familiar anxieties of any clandestine operation and he crushed the thoughts.

Their timing was good: they arrived at the ghostly silence of the river mouth some hours before daybreak. There was no lookout posted, but all whispered as they worked.

Kydd’s launch nosed in first, the men leaping out and steadying it as the clumsy cradle was passed under the boat, the big casks, heavy with seawater, thumping shins and balking every inch of the way. Sweating and cursing silently, they succeeded – and then a most remarkable sight followed. Two dozen brawny sailors, each armed with a galley pot, began furiously bailing out the casks.