The Admiral's Daughter

in good heart.

Kydd went to the lectern, notes ignored—these were his men and he knew what they wanted. 'Men of Teazer—Teazer's men,' he began. There was a distinction and it was rooted in the different allegiances between those merely on her books and those who had found their being in and of the ship. 'Let me spin ye all a yarn.' This got their attention. 'Years ago, when I was in m' very first ship we joined action with a Frenchy. And as we closed with th' enemy I was sore afraid. But my gun-captain was there, who was older an' much wiser. He was the very best kind o' deep-sea mariner, and he said to me words o' great comfort that let me face th' day like a man.'

His eyes found Stirk's and he saw the studied blankness of expression that showed he, too, had remembered that day.

''Kydd,' he said. 'Now, it's certain ye'll get yours one day, but ye'll never know what day this'll be when y' wakes up in the morning. If it is, then y' faces it like a hero. If it wasn't, then it's a waste o' your life to worry on it.''

Kydd waited for the murmuring to die, then picked up the Bible. 'He's in the right of it, o' course—but it was here all th' time. Matthew, the sixth chapter an' the thirty-fourth verse. 'Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.'

'Men, should y' need a course t' steer in any weather then th' chances are you'll find it here.'

Portland Bill was the eastern limit of Teazer's area, but it would do no harm to show the denizens that the navy was here. 'T' take us past the Bill an' round to, off Weymouth,' he instructed the master.

There was no real need to pass into the next patrol area, especially with the notorious Race extending out to the Shambles, but this was only bad in heavy weather and it was well known that the King took the waters at Weymouth in summer—what more loyal act could there be than to demonstrate to His Majesty that his sea service was dutifully safe-guarding the shores of his realm?

In the bright sunshine the distant wedge of the peninsula seemed too tranquil for its reputation and the irregular rippling over the Shambles was a tame version of the violent tidal overfalls Kydd had heard about. Teazer slipped between them and in an hour or so came to off the town, the hands that had been at their recreational make-and-mend, which was customary after divine service, now lining the bulwarks.

More than one telescope was trained shorewards as they slowed and swung with the current but the King was not at home—the squat King Henry fortress showed no colourful royal standard.

'Take us out, if y' please,' Kydd ordered. It would be harder to return now for the wind was veering more to the west, but if they took Lyme Bay in long boards it would not only give the men more time to enjoy their make-and- mend but enable them to raise Exmouth in the morning.

The next day, as they lay off Exmouth for an hour or two it had clouded over; if there were any urgent sightings or intelligence a cutter would come out to them. After breakfast they clapped on sail for the south and Teignmouth, where they did the same thing, heaving to well clear of the bar at the narrow harbour mouth.

Kydd felt a sense of unreality creeping in: this was not war, it was a pleasant cruise in a well-found craft with eighty men aboard who had nothing more to their existence but to obey his every whim. And before him lay only another easy sail south past some of the loveliest coast in England to Start Point, then a leisurely beat back home to Plymouth. When would it pall? When would come the time that Teazer had to justify herself as a man-o'-war? And when would he cross swords with Bloody Jacques?

Sail was spread and Teazer leant to it heartily; Hope's Nose was their next landfall and beyond it Tor Bay and Brixham. There was just time to go below and do some work, and reluctantly Kydd left the deck.

Renzi was deep in thought at his accustomed place in the stern windows so Kydd left him in peace, settling down with a sigh to an unfinished report. He worked steadily but his ears pricked at sudden shouts on deck and the rapidly approaching thump of feet.

'Sir!' blurted Andrews at the door. 'Mr Standish's compliments and the fleet is in sight!'

'A fleet?' Was this the dreaded invasion?

'Sir! Channel Fleet, flag o' Admiral Cornwallis!'

Kydd threw on his coat and bounded up on deck to find they had rounded Hope's Nose to the unfolding expanse of Tor Bay and come upon the majestic sight of the battleships of the blockading fleet entering their fall-back anchorage.

Looking up, Kydd saw their commissioning pennant standing out, long and proud, at precisely a right-angle from the shore. This meant a dead westerly, so the French in Brest were locked fast into their lair, unable to proceed to sea; the shrewd Cornwallis was taking the opportunity to refit and resupply—for as long as the wind held. Should it shift more than a point or two all anchors would be weighed in a rush and the fleet would stand out to sea to resume its watch and guard. Cornwallis was known as 'Billy Blue': his custom was to leave the Blue Peter flying all the time he was at anchor, the navy signal for imminent departure.

Kydd kept Teazer at a respectful distance while the great fleet came to rest. By the laws of the navy he was duty-bound to call on the admiral to request 'permission to proceed,' a polite convention that allowed the senior man the chance to co-opt his vessel temporarily for some task.

'Full fig, Tysoe.' Their salute banged out while Kydd shifted into his full-dress uniform and, complete with sword and medals, embarked in the pinnace for the mighty and forbidding 112-gun flagship Ville de Paris.

Tor Bay was a scene of controlled chaos. From nowhere a host of small craft had appeared, summoned by an urgent telegraph signal that the fleet had been sighted. Hoys, wherries, lighters and a ceaseless stream of boats plied between the ships. This was resupply: a population equivalent to one of the biggest towns in England had appeared magically offshore and demanded months of provisions, putting into motion a formidably complex system that was timed to the hour.

As Kydd journeyed across to the flagship, constantly at hazard of entangling with the furious passage of the small craft, his boat's crew marvelled at the scene. On each ship they passed, men were thick in the rigging, sending down worn canvas, re-reeving end for end the halliards and braces that had seen so much service in the ceaseless struggle to keep the seas. Lighters were being towed out from the breweries at Millbrook, laden deep with vast quantities of beer, a healthier alternative to water in the casks after weeks at sea; and hoys struggled with all the onions, cabbages and other greens they could carry. That very morning these had been in the ground