Tenacious

out he saw the frigates and in the far distance the transports. There would be English soldiers aboard who, before the day was out, might owe their lives to Kydd's actions in the next few minutes.

'Isabella, bring y'r washing.' He had just rigged an endless loop of washing-line passing out of one window and in the next.

'I'll have th' red shirt, y'r lady's shawl an' the pantaloons, if y' please.' A deft twist to form two bights, and a clove hitch secured the shirt first by one corner and then spaced to the other. The shawl and pantaloons followed, then Kydd hauled on his 'halliard.' The washing disappeared out of the window to hang innocently suspended along the wall outside.

He grabbed his glass and stared at Leviathan's mizzen peak until his eyes watered. Had Bowden reached the flagship in time? Did they believe his improbable story? Minutes dragged.

There it was! The answering pennant hoisted close up. Feverishly, Kydd hauled once more on his horizontal halliard to rotate the clothing inside, around and out again, the 'signal' repeated. The answering pennant whipped down—he had been seen. Near delirious with excitement he focused on what was next: 'troops are concentrated at Fornells.' 'M' dear, I'll trouble you for th' black bodice an' that fetching yellow skirt.'

The flagship's quarterdeck was tense and silent. Ahead was the enemy coast, the narrow entrance of Fornells Bay dominated by a fortress with a huge Spanish flag flying defiantly. A single massive peak was visible inland, with a monastery or some such squarely on the summit.

Duckworth stood with General Stuart, their expressions grim. A gun from the fortress thudded defiance, the sound and gun-smoke telling of a great thirty-six-pounder or more.

The signal lieutenant of Leviathan clattered down from the poop and saluted. 'Sir! We have signals established from shore.'

'Thank God,' said Stuart. 'What do they say? Quickly, man!'

'Er, at the moment, only that they have correctly authenticated.'

'Then tell me when you receive anything useful.'

The lieutenant returned to his post but was back just as quickly. 'Sir, signal received: 'enemy troops concentrated at Fornells.''

'Can we trust this?' demanded Stuart. 'It would mean postponing the assault, and that I'm not prepared to do —'

'Another signal, sir: 'negative,' and 'troops concentrated at Addaya.''

'No formations at Addaya? That will do. How far to Addaya from here, Commodore?'

'But four miles. Say, an hour's sail.'

'We land at Addaya as provided for.'

It was hard for Kydd, watching a battle unfold yet having such a restricted role of activity.

'They take no notice!' wailed Isabella. It was true: far from moving away from Fornells the two bigger ships moved closer, followed by others.

Kydd's heart sank. Then, in the flat image of his telescope, he saw activity at the rear of the fleet. Ships were hauling their wind to the other tack, moving back out to sea.

Inland he saw a line of dust arising. He focused on it: it was a column of soldiers marching fast on the road to Fornells. 'Bella, quick—th' apron and that small curtain!' It would read, 'reinforcements marching on Fornells.'

He took up his glass—and his heart leaped: they had not misread his signals. The ships at the rear were the transports, the soldiers, and they were heading to Addaya while the warships in the van made a feint against Fornells to draw forces there.

It was all unfolding to those who had eyes to see it: some ships advanced on the fortress, others disappeared into the haze to reappear suddenly off the rock-strewn entrance to Addaya. Boats hit the water and through his glass Kydd saw them pass between two low islands and head for the shore. One or two scattered guns opened fire but two frigates were in position and, over the heads of the boats, thundered in their broadsides. There was no further firing.

Kydd pounded his fist with glee and swung his telescope back to Fornells. There was chaos in the town—no doubt news had reached them of the landings in Addaya. It gave him a piquant thrill to think that while the signal station above them was frantically passing the dread news, his own signals beneath were having their contrary effect.

What was more significant were the soldiers now pouring out of the fort and flooding down the road. Where were they going? Were they reinforcements for Addaya? Whatever, this called for a 'negative' and 'heading for Fornells' and Kydd briskly plied his red shirt, the bodice again and a woman's shift.

When this had been completed he turned his attention back to Addaya. The experienced Highlanders had stormed ashore and he could catch the glint of their bayonets as they spread out in the brush. They were not meeting much resistance and Kydd saw why: the rough road away was streaming with soldiers in disor-der—they were falling back, not prepared to be cut off in a heroic last stand. That would be a definite 'negative,' 'troops at Addaya,' then.

Now the road from Fornells was streaming with men moving away—no question that these were reinforcements for Addaya: this was a 'negative,' then 'troops at Fornells,' and suddenly Kydd realised his job was done.

'Sir—they're abandoning Fornells.'

'Or reinforcing Addaya.' Stuart was not to be stampeded. The landings at Addaya appeared to be well in hand —Duckworth had a repeating frigate relaying news from there—but there was every reason to expect the Spanish to throw everything into a savage counter-attack.

The signal lieutenant reported once more: 'Sir, they're on the retreat from Addaya.' Stuart harrumphed and stalked up and down, but there was no mistaking his look of triumph.

Commodore Duckworth, however, was not so easily satisfied. He left the general, moved to the lee side of the quarterdeck and called the signal lieutenant to him. 'This is damned irregular, sir! I have not seen you refer once to your signal book and all the time you're advisin' the general of the conduct of the war. Where is this shore station