Betrayal

here a formidable weapon awaiting a boarder. But it has a fatal flaw.’

He took a cutlass from another and made to strike at the pikeman, who instantly responded, the deadly point turning unwavering on Kydd’s eyes. In a flash Kydd had dropped to one knee in the classic fencing pose for a lunge, but with his cutlass diagonally above his head. Then his blade swung up with a clash on the pike, preventing it lowering, and at the same time he rose, forcing the blade along the pike in a lethal slither – inside the man’s defences.

‘This man is now at my mercy, which does not exist in a boarding.’

Beresford acknowledged with a slow nod. ‘Pistols?’

‘One shot only,’ Kydd replied shortly, ‘into the face, then it’s aught but a club.’

‘Knives?’

‘Worse than useless.’

‘Tomahawks?’ He remembered some boarders had carried these.

‘Never carried by defenders as not for fighting – their use is to cut away defensive ropery when rigged.’

‘Then-’

‘Far better to stop ’em boarding in the first place – canister or grape from carronades, the marines and such with muskets seen to be waiting, and swivels on the breast-rail or in the tops. In harbour there’s boarding nettings spread from below the gun-ports, which can stop even the most vicious assault. We’ve naught to fear except in close battle with a larger.’

‘Oh. So your little show is nothing but a confection.’

‘No, sir. It has a purpose.’ Kydd waited until he had full attention, then went on quietly, ‘In all my professional life at sea, I’ve only been boarded by the enemy once, yet I’ve taken my men to the enemy three, four, five times. This is the reality: that the Royal Navy is more active, enterprising and resolute than the enemy.

‘I ask you, General, now to reverse the situation here and consider that each time you read of a valiant boarding or cutting-out we are the attackers who must overcome any or all of these defences which the enemy can be relied on to throw out.’ He had the attention he wanted.

‘Therefore, sir, think on the quality of the men that I have the honour to command, that I lead in perfect confidence that none will shrink, that all will follow me whatever the day brings.’

Beresford stood for a moment, pursing his lips and watching L’Aurore’s men cheerfully disperse. ‘Captain Kydd. I’ve never before given you an order, but I’m minded to, should it be in my power to issue it. Sir – and forgive if the form is wanting – do you splice the mainbrace!’

The gunroom dinner went off to the greatest satisfaction. Kydd yielded his customary position at the head of the table, when guest of the wardroom, to Beresford, who was unanimously voted Mr Vice by an awed mess. L’Aurore, under easy sail, daintily dipped and heaved, the gimballed lights setting uniforms a-glitter and casting constantly moving shadows, the feeling so beguilingly that of a living being that, for the thousandth time, Kydd wondered at how shore folk could be content with the inert deadness of the land.

After the cloth was drawn, Mr Vice was prompted for the loyal toast, restrained from rising in the Army way, and, suffused with good humour, did the honours most graciously.

Talk then became general, with anecdotes of service in all the seas of the world coming out.

Renzi, gently teased for his performance the previous year as a Russian to seize enemy documents, set the gunroom in a roar with his tale of a Lieutenant Kydd furiously signalling to an invading fleet in Minorca with a pair of red undergarments. Lieutenant Bowden added to the glee by detailing the forlorn state of Kydd’s first command in Malta when they had nevertheless formally commissioned HM brig-sloop Teazer with only themselves as both crew and witness.

Beresford responded with reminiscences of his adventures as a young captain at the fraught siege of Toulon in the first year of the war, when the royalist insurgency had been destroyed single-handed by the actions of an equally young French captain of artillery, one Napoleon Bonaparte.

A most agreeable evening concluded with the appearance of a midshipman to report the lights of Cape Town in sight.

‘A cognac in my cabin, General, while these gentlemen go about their duties?’ Kydd suggested.

This was what the entire day had been leading up to, uninterrupted access to the one who was seen as most likely to take the bait as military commander of the expedition – and he was the chief conspirator.

Tysoe served their drinks and silently withdrew. Kydd summoned his wits: this sly politicking was foreign to his nature but he knew it would not be the last occasion he would need to deploy it.

Beresford raised his glass. ‘I don’t mind telling you, Kydd, I’m impressed. In my twenty years in the Army I’ve learned to be a judge of men, and you have the best. I honour and envy you for it.’

‘Thank you, General,’ Kydd said, flattered, then, seeing his chance, added, ‘As they’ll no doubt be needed only too soon.’

‘Oh?’ said Beresford, with a puzzled frown.

‘The expedition, sir?’ Kydd glanced up with a guarded expression.

‘What expedition?’

Kydd looked hastily over his shoulder at the door, then leaned forward. ‘Sir, the one that has us all a-buzz. You know, to the River Plate.’

‘River Plate? I know nothing of this.’

Allowing a touch of anxiety to show, Kydd said, ‘I’d be grieved to hear it’s not been taken up, sir.’

‘An expedition to the Spanish Americas? I’ve never heard of it!’ There was, however, a telling gleam of interest in Beresford’s eyes.

‘Oh? I do apologise. I’d thought it dependable you would have heard it from Sir David or the commodore, it being a matter at the highest level.’

‘No, sir, I have not. Pray tell, who did you get this from?’

Kydd replied, in some embarrassment, ‘Well, it’s in the nature of a common rumour among the naval commanders, Commodore Popham letting slip once that he was privy to Mr Pitt’s designs on Montevideo and as how it was such a pity to let the opportunity go now that conditions are favourable.’

He briefly outlined the audacious plan with its breathtaking consequences, ending, ‘And it would seem only reasonable that the governor, having higher duties, must require one other to lead the Army ashore. If it seems that another has been chosen then I do apologise again for making mention of the subject . . .’

The fuse had been lit.

‘Time’s not on our side, Kydd,’ Popham said, with a sigh, when Kydd reported. ‘Every hour we delay a move, the more likely it is the Spanish will return to their station. Recollect, friend Waine has been some weeks on the voyage here and Miranda will be deeply engaged in his invading, but not for ever. I’d have thought you better advised to speak directly instead of spending days on your little circus.’

Kydd flushed. ‘Beresford is now trusting in the Navy and he has much to think on. I’d feel it the surer course, Dasher.’

‘We’ll see. If there’s no movement on this in the next three days I’m going to-’

A flustered officer-of-the-day appeared at the door. ‘From the castle, sir,’ he said, proffering a slip of paper. ‘And needing immediate reply.’

Popham read, and a broad grin appeared. ‘Why, by this it seems you’ve done splendidly, old chap.’ He handed it to Kydd.

It was a personal note scrawled by Baird himself. ‘. . . and the fellow’s raving something about a descent on the Spanish Americas! He says you know all about it and so I’d be most obliged if you’d tell me, Dasher!’

‘No reply,’ Popham told the waiting officer. ‘Captain Kydd and I will attend on the governor this hour.’

Baird was waiting with ill-concealed impatience. ‘Well, Dasher? Why am I always the last to hear of high things in my own kingdom? A conspiracy, what?’

‘As it’s in the nature of wry talk, is all, David.’

Baird looked suspiciously at Kydd. ‘Am I to be told why he’s here?’

‘Of his own concern only, sir. He wishes to hear from you directly why the River Plate enterprise is quite impossible at this time, and won’t be denied.’

‘Damn it, Dasher!’ Baird exploded. ‘All this tomfoolery talk about the Americas! Won’t someone tell me what it’s all about?’