A King's Cutter

followed by crashes and the splintering of timber. He frowned. 'Swivel gun?' He turned aft. 'Call all hands! Pass word for the captain! Clear for action!' He was damned if he was going to be caught a second time.

In a few moments the lashings were cast off the guns and the men were at their stations. Griffiths emerged from the companion-way pale and drawn. Drinkwater launched into an explanation of what they had heard when suddenly the fog lifted, swept aside like a curtain, and bright sunshine dappled the water.

'What the devil…?' Griffiths pointed and Drinkwater turned sharply, then grinned with relief.

'It's all right, sir, I recognise her.'

Ahead of them, a cable distant, lay an ornate, cutter-rigged yacht, decorated aft like a first rate, with a beak head forward supporting a lion guardant. Alongside the yacht the painted bulk of the Nubb buoy was being systematically smashed by axes and one-pound swivel shot.

'Trinity Yacht ahoy!' Faces looked up and Drinkwater saw her master, Jonathan Poulter, direct men aft to where she carried carronades. He saw the gunports lift and the muzzles emerge.

'Hold your fire, damn your eyes! We're a King's cutter,' then in a lower voice as they closed the yacht, 'Heave to, Mr Drinkwater, while we speak him.'

The two cutters closed, their crews regarding each other curiously. 'Do you have news of the Nore fleet, is there any sign of them moving?'

A man in a blue coat stood beside Poulter and Drinkwater recognised Captain Calvert, an Elder Brother of Trinity House.

'No, sir,' Calvert called, 'and they'll find it impossible when we've finished. All the beacons are coming down and most of the buoys are already sunk. Another night's work will see the matter concluded… is that Mr Drinkwater alongside of you?'

Drinkwater stood on the rail. 'Aye sir, we had hopes that you might have news.'

'They had a frigate down at the Middle flying the red flag yesterday to mark the bank and the fear is they'll try treason… they've gone too far now for anything else… my guess is they'll try for France or Holland. Are you from Duncan?'

'Aye,' it was Griffiths who spoke now. 'Are you sure of your facts, sir?'

'Aye, sir. We left Broadstairs yesterday. The intelligence about the frigate we learned from the buoy yacht Argus from Harwich; I myself called on Admiral Buckner at Sheerness on my way from London.'

Griffiths reflected a moment. 'And you think they'll try and break out?'

'It's that or starve and swing.'

Griffiths eyed the pendant. 'Starboard tack, Mr Drinkwater,' then in a louder voice as Kestrel turned away, 'Much obliged to you, sir, God speed.'

The two cutters parted, Kestrel standing seawards again. Griffiths came aft to where Drinkwater was setting the new course.

'Black Deep, sir?'

'Aye if she'll hold the course.' Griffiths shivered and wiped the back of his hand across his forehead.

'She'll hold it, sir, with the centre plates down. I take it we're for Yarmouth?'

Griffiths nodded. 'Mr Drinkwater…' He jerked his head sideways and walked to the rail, staring astern to where, alongside the Trinity Yacht, the Nubb buoy was sinking. In a low voice he said, 'It seems we have our proof, Nathaniel…' His white eyebrows shot up in two arches.

'Aye sir. I'd come to pretty much the same conclusion.'

After Kestrel the admiral's cabin aboard Venerable seemed vast, but Admiral Duncan was a big man with a broad Scots face and, even seated, he dominated it. There was a story that he had subdued Adamant's crew by picking up one of her more vociferous seamen and holding him, one armed, over the side with the sarcastic comments that the fellow dared deprive him of command of the fleet. The general laughter that followed this spectacle had ensured Adamant's loyalty.

As Griffiths, unwell and sweating profusely, strove to explain the significance of their news, Drinkwater examined the other occupants of the cabin in whose august company he now found himself. There was Captain Fairfax, Duncan's flag-captain, and Captain William Bligh. Drinkwater regarded 'Bounty' Bligh with ill-concealed curiosity. The captain had a handsome head, with a blue jaw and firm chin. The forehead was high, the hairline balding and his grey hair drawn back into a queue. Bligh's eyes were penetrating and hazel, reminding Drinkwater of Dungarth's, the nose straight and flanked with fine nostrils. Only the mouth showed anything in the face that was ignoble, a petulance confirmed by his voice which had a quality of almost continuous exasperation. The remaining person was Major Brown, summoned by telegraph from London and still eating the chicken leg offered him on his arrival.

'Now I'm not quite clear about the significance of this Santhonax,' frowned the admiral, 'if I'm losing my ships do I really have to bother about one man?'

'If he's the man we think, sir,' put in Bligh in his high-toned voice, 'I consider him to be most dangerous. If he is the man said to have been seen aboard several of the ships at the Nore as this gentleman,' Bligh indicated Brown, 'seems to think, then I'd rate him as the most seditious rascal among the clutch of gallowsbirds. They deserve to swing, the whole festering nest of them.'

'Thank ye, captain,' said Duncan, with just a touch of irony. 'Major Brown?'

The major always seemed to be called on for explanations in the middle of a mouthful, thought Drinkwater as he pricked up his ears to hear what news Brown had brought.

'It seems certain, gentlemen, that this man was indeed Capitaine Santhonax, a French agent whose current duty seems to be to suborn the Nore fleet. There were reports of him in connection with the Culloden affair. One of the sailing masters held aboard Sandwich recognised him as a Frenchman and smuggled word ashore by a bumboat. Apparently they had fought hand to hand off Trincomalee in the last war,' he explained, 'and a number of other reports,' here he paused and inclined his head slightly towards Drinkwater and Griffiths, 'have led us to take an interest in him… it would appear he has been the eminence grise behind Richard Parker.'

Bligh nodded sharply, 'And behind the removal of myself and my officers from my ship!'

'But he has escaped us now,' soothed Duncan, 'so where's all this leading us?'

Brown shrugged, 'Captain Fairfax tells me you captured the Nore delegates on their way here.'

'Aye, Major, Rose took Cygnet off Orfordness so our friend is not coming here.'

Drinkwater looked desperately round the circle of faces. Did none of them see what was obvious to him? He looked at Griffiths but the lieutenant had drifted into a doze.

'Excuse me sir.' Drinkwater could hold his tongue no longer.

'Yes, what is it Mr, er, Drinkwater?' Duncan looked up.

'With respect, sir, may I submit that I believe Santhonax was in the boat on passage to Holland…' he paused, faltering before the gold lace that appeared to take heed of him for the first time.

'Go on, Mr Drinkwater,' encouraged Brown, leaning forward a half-smile on his face.

'Well sir,' Drinkwater doggedly addressed the admiral, 'I believe from all the facts I know, including the news from the Trinity Yacht relative to the movements of the Nore ships, that a defection of the fleet was ripe. Santhonax was bound for Holland to bring out Dutch ships…'

'To cover the defection of the Nore squadron, by heaven!' Fairfax finished the sentence.

'Exactly, sir,' Drinkwater nodded.

'But that smacks of conspiracy, gentlemen, of collusion with a foreign power. Och, I don't believe it, man.' The admiral looked for support to Fairfax who, with the discretionary latitude of a flag-captain said gently, 'Your good-nature, sir, does you credit but I fear Mr Drinkwater may be right. Jack Tar is not always the easy-going lion the populace likes to imagine him…' They all looked at the old admiral until Brown's voice cut in.

'We have a woman in Maidstone Gaol that would support Mr Drinkwater's theory, sir.'

'A woman, sir! What in God's name has a woman to do with a fleet mutiny?'

Drinkwater's pulse had quickened as he realised Brown knew more than he had so far admitted. He was eager to ask the woman's identity but he already knew it.

'That, Admiral Duncan, is something we'd very much like to know.'