Tenacious

For her junior lieutenant this meant accompanying the boatswain and carpenter on their rounds, a task congenial to Kydd's heart as it was an opportunity to make a closer acquaintance of his ship.

They began at furthest forward and, in a borrowed pair of sailor's trousers, Kydd was soon out on the eighty- foot length of the bowsprit with the two warrant officers. His experience in a Caribbean dockyard had shown him the difference between the dark, weathered fissures in timber a shipwright would call a 'shake' and therefore ignore, and the long bright-sided splits that would betray the much more serious condition of a sprung spar. He inched along the jibboom horse, careful to check under as well as above.

The foremast came next. They used a girt-line with a boatswain's chair at each side of the mast to close- inspect the fat timbers of the foremast, a 'made' mast constructed of several pieces keyed together instead of a single length of timber. It was unlikely to have sprung, and they moved on quickly from the foretop to the topmast.

As they worked, Kydd noticed the deference Pearce, the hard boatswain, was according the carpenter. Both were standing officers—they would remain with Tenacious even when put into reserve— and had been together for years. Kydd had never paid much attention to the carpenter, who figured on no watchbill and went about his business with little fuss.

They spread out over the yards, the older men moving deliberately while Kydd attended to the pole royal mast, and then it was time to move to the mainmast. As they inched out on the main-yard the double strikes of eight bells sounded, announcing grog and dinner for the hands.

The job had to be finished but Kydd could not in all conscience order the other two men to press on without something to eat. He leaned over the big spar and hailed the deck. 'Mr Rawson, ahoy!' The midshipman looked upward. 'Be s' good as to light along some scran for us—we've a job still t' do aloft.'

The upper yards were completed and they descended to the maintop just as a hand waved through the lubbers' hole from below. Kydd went over. It was Bowden, weighed down with a seaman's mess-kid slung round his neck. He took the steaming vessel, realising that it must have taken considerable resolve for the raw lad to make the climb. 'Where's Mr Rawson? I told him to bring this.'

'Ah, he had other duties that pressed, sir,' Bowden said neutrally. Kydd suspected that Rawson had coerced Bowden into making the climb, hoping for a spectacular disaster. Bowden disappeared, but then a younger midshipman popped into view, passing up a bag containing a loaf of bread, local oranges and mess-traps.

Kydd was quietly pleased at Bowden's climb up the mast and his initiative in co-opting another midshipman, who had not finished yet: he extracted a bottle of claret from his coat. 'Your servant said t' give you this.'

Kydd spread out his victuals. 'Gentlemen, shall we dine?' The boatswain hesitated before he dipped his bread into the common pot. 'Mr Feakes, if y' please?' Kydd encouraged the carpenter, who bent to his plate. 'You've been carpenter aboard f'r some years, I believe?' he asked.

'Aye, sir. Since launch.'

'That's before th' war, then.'

'Sir.'

'Bin wi' the old girl at the First o' June, he was,' Pearce put in admiringly. 'An' with Cybele in India.'

The Glorious First of June—the first great fleet action of the war, and both Feakes and Tenacious had been there. Kydd looked at Feakes; there was no sign of those momentous, dangerous times on his lined face and he warmed to the old sailor.

Kydd felt the stout bulk of the mainmast at his back as he took in the stately soaring of stays and shrouds, halliards and pendants in their precise curves, the sweetness of the deck-line from high above as it passed from bowsprit to old-fashioned stern. This was a ship to love, to remember with fondness down the years. He felt a curious pang as he thought about Feakes and Tenacious growing old together.

Kydd's feelings for Tenacious turned to a catch in the throat, however, as he realised that in the near future enemy shot might smash its way into her vitals. This time she might not be as lucky as she had been at the Glorious First of June and Camperdown. He got to his feet. 'We'll carry on,' he said gruffly. 'Our Nel's a-waiting f'r our report.'

Captain Houghton and the first lieutenant left for Vanguard with Kydd's report as first dog-watchmen went to supper. Within the hour they were back. 'Pass the word for Mr Feakes—the carpenter, ahoy!'

The captain's barge conveyed the carpenter to the flagship. It was dusk when he returned and hurried directly to Houghton's cabin. Minutes later Bryant was summoned, and before much longer the word was out: to Nelson's considerable satisfaction, Feakes had given out that Vanguard could not only be jury- rigged for the retreat to Gibraltar but might conceivably be put into some kind of shape to meet the French at sea.

In a race against time the flagship had to be fitted for sea with the only resources they had: spare spars, twice-laid rope and willing hands. And in recognition of Feakes's faith and intelligent direction, Tenacious was to perform the most difficult task. She would lash alongside Vanguard and, in a feat of seamanship that would stretch every talent aboard, she would be used to extract the stump of foremast and lower in the new to the flagship.

That night Feakes and his mates transferred to Vanguard and set about readying the ship for a complete replacement of all topmasts. Orion would craft the new mizzen topmast, Alexander would provide a fore-topmast while Vanguard herself would work on the main. Within two days the preparations were complete.

In brilliant sunshine and under curious eyes from ashore Tenacious was warped in close to Vanguard. As the ship working the evolution, Tenacious had charge of the operation—Bryant stood at the bulwark with speaking trumpet and the manner of a bull mastiff: should any hesitate or fail they could depend on an instant reaction.

When the partners of the foremast had been knocked out Tenacious's main-yard was braced around and with stout tackles and guys clapped on it, the ugly, splintered stump of the foremast was plucked out like a tooth. Getting the new one in was a more serious matter: the raw length of the three-foot-thick lower mast might, if it slipped, plummet down and transfix the bottom of the flagship.