work, the sunlight streaming in through the iron grille at the end of the casemate.
'Not so, sir,' Kydd said. 'My orders are to furnish you with such assistance as the Navy can provide, and the services of my ship, the brig-sloop
Fulton paused. 'Why, that's right handsome of their lordships,' he said. 'I guess for passage, trials, that sort of thing.'
'As will promote the success of your work.'
'To be a victim.'
'A what?' Kydd said irritably.
'If I'm to be creating a submarine boat, it will need a victim to practise upon, wouldn't you say?'
Kydd stopped. 'A submarine boat?'
'You have no idea, do you? Your government is paying me thousands for a plunging boat and they don't see fit to tell their man.' He shook his head.
'Mr. Francis, I was hauled off my ship in the middle of a war to be told I'm to assist a private contractor make a hill of money, not what he has to do to earn it.'
Fulton waited for the outburst to subside, then leaned towards Kydd. 'If I tell you how your Mr. Boney will be stopped in his tracks by this one device—against which there is no defence—will that be enough for you?'
'The submarine?' Kydd said sarcastically. 'If you're going to tell me now that you're the only one in the world can design it . . .'
'I've built such a one and I've used it—against the British Navy.'
Fulton's cold certainty was disconcerting. 'Go on.'
In a short time Kydd had the sense of it: a submarine craft that was able to navigate silently under the waves, completely out of the sight and knowledge of men until it had delivered its deathblow, and against which there could truly be no defence. What gun could pierce to the ocean's depths?
As Fulton revealed more, Kydd fought off the unreality that was closing in on him. This was more than yet another crazy idea, it was a new reality that threatened the world of ships and the sea that was at the centre of his life. It promised to render useless the great fleets that were the bulwark of Britain's defences and . . . and he needed time to think, to make sense of what he had just heard.
Kydd took to his cabin, telling Hallum and Tysoe that he was not to be disturbed, and let his thoughts run free. Should he even be party to such a devilish scheme? If he refused the duty, there would quickly be another found and, in any case, the question hinged on deeper considerations. It was barbaric and not to be contemplated by any gentleman—but was it morally wrong?
Probably. But did that mean it should be immediately discarded by any civilised country? That was the nub: if all nations refused such weapons, the answer was yes, but if this were so, then any weaker that ignored the pact might easily prevail over a stronger by their introduction. Thus, logically, all should acquire them to preserve the balance.
It was a melancholy but irrefutable fact: the genie was now out of the bottle and could not be put back. What was invented could not be uninvented. The future of war at sea, therefore, would now be one of submarines and sudden death of the defenceless.
There was, however, one question that, to Kydd, put all others aside: was this going to be the means to get at the invasion flotilla skulking in harbour and put to an end the mortal threat that hung over England, once and for all?
If it was then, damn it, he would give it all he had.
CHAPTER 9
KYDD FILED IN and sat next to Fulton. Others took position around them and all rose when the chairman, George Hammond, undersecretary of state for the Foreign Office entered and took the head of the table.
'Thank you, gentleman, and especially you, er, Mr. Francis, for affording us your valuable time.' He shuffled some papers, then looked up sharply. 'The purpose of this meeting—this informal meeting—I should remind you, is to discover how the committee for the examination of the submarine boat be most effectively constituted so as to give a true and fair view of its prospects in service.' A large man next to him gave an ill-tempered harrumph, which was ignored.
'I shall introduce you all. This is Mr. Jackson, an engineer of some repute; Major Wardle, for the Ordnance Board; Captain Gresham, for the Royal Navy,' the large man nodded and glared around the table, 'and, of course, Mr. Francis himself.'
Hammond looked enquiringly at Kydd, but before he could say anything Fulton said firmly, 'Mr. Kydd, of the Navy, who's my keeper and liaison man. If needs be, he'll be advising me—that's so, isn't it, Commander?' 'Er, yes. In accordance with Mr. Francis's conditions in coming to England I'm to assist in any way I can to facilitate his work by way of explaining our operational practices and arranging procedural matters on his request.'
'Very well,' Hammond said crisply. 'To business. Mr. Pitt strongly believes that the importance of this project demands that only men of the highest eminence need be asked to sit on this committee. Therefore I ask that you do consider deeply your separate professions as to who might best be approached.' He paused. 'For instance, the name of Sir Joseph Banks has been mentioned as chairman.'
Kydd was impressed: the well-born naturalist who had sailed with Cook to the South Seas, president of the Royal Society and adviser to governments and kings—this was eminence indeed.
Hammond continued, 'Mr. Jackson. Might we start with yourself? Who in the practice of engineering would you consider in this regard?'
The pleasant-faced man appeared perplexed. 'As I'm not well acquainted with what Mr. Francis proposes to do, I'm at a stand, sir. If it's shipbuilding—'
'No, sir, it is not,' Fulton said energetically. 'This is a new departure in the marine arts. As such it—'
'Damn it all for a lunatic charade!'
