The Admiral's Daughter

'As it dares,' Bazely grunted. Now at the punch table he found glasses and poured liberally. 'Getting bold and saucy, y'r Johnny Crapaud. Sees his best chance is not b' comin' up agin Nelson an' his battleships but going after our trade. If he can choke it off, he has us beat. No trade, no gold t' pay for our war, no allies'll trust us. We'd be finished.'

The punch was refined and had none of the gaiety Kydd remembered from the Caribbean. 'But ye asked me how I find the service.' Bazely smiled. 'Aye, it has to be said I like it. No voyage too long, home vittles waiting at the end, entertainments t' be had, detached service so no big-fleet ways with a flagship always hanging out signals for ye—and doing a job as is saving the country.'

'True enough,' Kydd agreed.

'Come, now, Mr Fire-eater, should Boney make a sally you'll have all the diversion ye'd wish.'

'Why here you are, Mr Kydd,' a silvery voice cooed. 'For shame! Neglecting the company to talk sea things. I'm persuaded a gentleman should not so easily abandon the ladies.'

'Miss Lockwood! I stan' guilty as charged!' Kydd said, and offered his arm, his heart leaping with exultation. The admiral's daughter!

CHAPTER 4

'HELP Y'SELF TO THE BATH CAKES, Nicholas—I did s' well last evenin' at supper.' Kydd stretched out in his chair. The morning bustle of a man-o'-war sounded from on deck but, gloriously, this was the concern of others.

'Then your appearance in Plymouthian society may be accounted a success?' Renzi asked. 'I did have my concerns for you in the article of gallantry, it being a science of no mean accomplishing.'

'All f'r nothing, m' friend. The ladies were most amiable an' I'm sanguine there's one or two would not hesitate t' throw out th' right signal t' come alongside should I haul into sight.'

Kydd's broad smile had Renzi smothering one of his own. 'Do I take it from this you find the experience . . . congenial?'

'Aye, ye do. It's—it's another world t' me, new discovered, an' I'm minded t' explore.'

'But for the time being you will be taking your good ship to war, I believe.'

Kydd flushed. 'M' duty is not in question, Nicholas. We sail wi' the tide after midday. What I'm sayin' only is that if this is t' be m' future then I find it agreeable enough. We're t' expect some hands fr'm the Impress Service afore we sail,' he added briskly. 'This'll please Kit Standish.'

Their eighteen men shortfall translated to a one-in-four void in every watch and station; he was uncomfortably aware that the first lieutenant had found it necessary to spread the crew of two forward guns round the others to provide full gun crews. The Impress Service would try its best, but after the hullabaloo of the hot press on the eve of the outbreak of war every true seaman still ashore would have long gone to ground.

Kydd finished his coffee—in hours Teazer would be making for the open sea. Out there the cold reality of war meant that the enemy was waiting to fall upon him and his ship without mercy, the extinction of them both a bounden duty. Was Teazer ready? Was he?

He nodded to Renzi. 'I think I'll take a turn about th' deck— pray do finish y'r breakfast.'

At two in the afternoon the signalling station at Mount Wise noted the departure of the brig-sloop Teazer as she passed Devil's Point outward bound through Plymouth Sound on her way to war. What they did not record was the hurry and confusion about her decks.

'M' compliments, an' ask Mr Standish t' come aft,' Kydd snapped at the midshipman messenger beside him. Battling Teazer's exuberant motion Andrews staggered forward to the first lieutenant who was spluttering up at the foretopmen.

'Mr Standish, this will not do!' growled Kydd. Their first fight could well take place within hours and their sail- handling was pitiful. 'I see y'r captain o' the foretop does not seem t' know how t' handle his men. We'll do it again, an' tell him he's to give up his post t' another unless he can pull 'em together—an' that directly.'

'Sir.'

'Only one bell f'r grog an' supper, then we go t' quarters to exercise gun crews until dusk.' He lowered his tone and continued grimly, 'We're not s' big we can wait until we're strong. Do ye bear down on 'em, if y' please.'

While they were exercising on a straight course south and safely out to sea, they were away from the coast and not performing their assigned task. Kydd kept the deck all afternoon. He knew that the sailors, so recently in the grog-shops and other entertainments of the port, would be cursing his name as they laboured. The occasional flash of sullen eyes showed from the pressed men—there had been only nine men and a boy sent out to Teazer before she sailed, all of questionable worth. There were so few of her company he knew and trusted.

When eight bells sounded at the beginning of the first dog-watch sail was shortened, and after a quick supper it was to the guns until the long summer evening came to a close, Teazer's bow still to seaward. Kydd would not rest: one by one the seniors of the ship were summoned to the great cabin and, over a glass of claret, he queried them concerning the performance of their men, their strengths and prospects. It was not to be hurried, the intricate process of turning a collection of strangers into a strong team that would stand together through the worst that tempests and the enemy could bring. Kydd knew that any weaknesses would become apparent all too quickly under stress of weather or battle.

The following day broke with blue skies and a clear horizon; both watches went to exercise and at the noon grog issue Kydd saw the signs he was looking for—the previously wary, defensive responses were giving way to confident chatter and easy laughter that spoke of a shared, challenging existence. This would firm later into a comradely trust and reliance.

Already, characters were emerging; the loud and over-bearing, the quiet and efficient, those who hung back leaving others to take the lead, the ones who made a noisy show with little effect, the eager, the apprehensive, the brash. His seniors would be picking up on them all and he in turn would be taking their measure—it was the age-old way of the sea, where the actions of an individual could directly affect them all.

In the early afternoon they wore about to reverse course back to Plymouth but Kydd was determined that his ship should take up her station without the smallest delay. When the misty, rolling Devon coast firmed again, there was only one decision to be made—with his home port at the mid-point of his patrol area, should he go up-Channel or down?

The weather was fair, seas slight with a useful breeze from the Atlantic. 'Mr Dowse to set us t' the westward,