Invasion

plot of greens.

At his knock the weathered wooden door creaked open and an old man in carpet slippers appeared with a steaming mug, looking at Kydd in astonishment. 'Why, gennelmen, what can I do f'r you?' he wheezed.

From within the hut a stronger voice called irritably, 'Who th' devil's out at this hour, George?'

Kydd held his temper and said levelly, 'Commander Kydd, Inspector of Sea Fencibles, come t' visit.'

'We ain't heard nothing o' no inspection,' came the voice from inside. 'Bid the bugger begone!'

'That's enough!' Kydd barked. 'Fetch your lieutenant,' he ordered.

The old man paused, then drew himself up with pathetic dignity. 'I am he, sir.'

Kydd pushed past him contemptuously into the hut. A pot simmered over a smoky fire in the corner and there were two rooms made snug with rickety furniture; a table stood across the single window looking out to sea, a well-worn telescope in brackets above it.

From the other room two resentful seamen appeared, one in underclothes. 'The other?' Kydd demanded. There should have been three manning the hut.

'As he's got his head down, ain't he?' one said truculently.

Wheeling on the lieutenant, Kydd ordered, 'Your log, if y' please.'

The man shuffled over to the table and found the book, but did not offer it. Kydd strode across and took it for himself. If it was not in order he would see the man dismissed instantly for crass incompetence. These old officers might be long retired from worthy service at sea but it was vital to the country that ceaseless vigilance was maintained when every hour could see an invasion fleet lift menacingly above the horizon.

He flicked the pages and was surprised to see it entered up with more than a score of vessels sighted that day alone. 'A busy day, then,' he said, mollified. Then suspicion crept in. It was a cosy billet: this ancient lieutenant, when closed up, was earning eight shillings a day for his trouble, near as much as Kydd's full naval pay, the men two shillings for every day on muster, the same as an able seaman facing the rigours of the sea and the malice of the enemy—and with it protection from the press-gang.

Was it impossible to believe they could have fabricated the only evidence of honest labour? A list of imaginary ships to justify their existence? He'd soon find out. He consulted his fob watch and noted the time with satisfaction.

Stepping outside he watched steadily to the left and, right on time, Teazer came slowly past the point. 'So, what happens now, Mr. Lieutenant?' Kydd said, with relish.

The man stood there, regarding him steadily.

'Well, that's number twenty-eight, is it not?' Kydd said testily. ''Name of Vessel Passing is Required,' or am I mistaken?' A finite number of signals could be sent from a coast signal station in their own code, which Teazer also carried and with which she must respond.

The lieutenant glanced at the older seaman and nodded. The man turned and went outside to hoist the two flags, then came back to wait beside him.

'Well?' exploded Kydd. 'The log! Find out if the private signal is correct, the name of the ship. Then enter it up, decide if this is an alarm—get moving, damn you for a mumping set o' lubbers!'

The lieutenant folded his arms and said quietly, 'Yon ship is the brig-sloop Teazer, Captain Kydd, Downs Squadron, having been on the coast these last two months. If 'n you wish me to make entry of our own forces as are already known to Admiral Keith, I will, or should you want an alarm raised . . .'

He was quite right, of course, and in a way that suggested Kydd had underestimated the ragged band. They were locals—fishermen, smugglers, whatever—and could be relied upon to know exactly what was afoot on their own doorstep. Could it be a much more effective system than bringing in highly trained man-o'-war's men who would have no idea of local conditions?

Only if they knew the rest. 'Tell me, an enemy flotilla is making t' land at Winchelsea beach. What is your action?'

'Red pennant at the masthead, three black balls at the peak,' the man said calmly.

'And?'

'At night, touch off the faggots in the fire-frame, lanterns and a blue light.'

'Where is it?'

He raised an arm and pointed to a twelve-foot post near the water's edge. It had a deep iron basket at the top, which it was ready charged with combustibles.

A wave of contrition came over Kydd. These men had the loneliest task in the Navy, miles from any other humanity but at the very bullseye of the invasion's target. On this flat desolation, exposed to cutting winds and driving rain, there was no escape from the tedium of duty, noting details of ships interrogated as they passed, such that lesser evils, such as privateers and others, were caught out and instantly reported down the line, the source, no doubt, of so much of the cryptic intelligence that had sent Teazer and her sisters off in righteous pursuit.

'Quite right,' Kydd said, with a sudden smile. 'Well, sir, I find your attention t' duty a caution to us. I'll bid you good day.' He turned to go, then paused, fumbled in his pocket and found a guinea. 'God bless you all, and here's rhino enough to drink the health of that fine barky you see out there.'

Ramsgate was a bustling trading port at the south-east tip of England, well-favoured by those of means to embarking on ocean voyages. Even the mysterious cartel ships returning from France disembarked on Harbour Parade.

This was no benighted, out-of-the-way exile for the Sea Fencibles. All the comforts of home and town were there, and no danger of being caught short by the weather, with the abundance of taverns on hand. Kydd saw what he wanted as soon as Teazer's boat passed the stubby piers at the entrance and told Poulden to lay alongside the seaweed-covered steps on the inner side.

Watched curiously by idle promenaders he cast a professional eye over two prime pieces: a pair of twenty- four-pounders atop the wall each side of the entrance with a field of fire to seaward. He went to the nearer one. It