The Admiral's Daughter

mentioning that in uniform it was less likely Hodgson would be mistaken for a spy.

It was unsettling to order another into danger, particularly the harmless and well-meaning Hodgson, who had been almost fawning in his gratitude to be aboard—he had spent the last five years on the beach—but there was no other with the authority. 'Send th' boat back wi' the agent. We'll keep the rest o' the boats manned ready to ship th' refugees as y' sends 'em.' Kydd stood back while Hodgson called for volunteers. There were none: Teazer had yet to acquire that sturdy interdependence within her ship's company that would develop into a battlefield trust, and even the most ignorant could see the danger. Kydd picked the only names he could remember, 'Harman, Joseph,' then pointed at a nearby pair, 'an' you two.' Later the rest would find themselves manning the other boats.

In deference to the unknown tide condition the anchor went down a quarter-mile offshore and Teazer swung immediately to face upriver, a disquieting measure of the strength of current. 'Ye may leave now, Mr Hodgson,' Kydd said encouragingly. 'Red weft at th' main is y'r recall.'

The little boat leant jauntily under a single spritsail, bobbing through the hurrying waves in a series of thumps of spray. It disappeared round the headland to the small port beyond, leaving Kydd under a pall of apprehension, now the rush and excitement had settled to danger and worry.

It seemed an age before the jolly-boat hove into view; the busy river still had no apparent interest in the anchored brig with no colours and the boat wove tightly through the other vessels. Hodgson was not in it but a dark-featured man with an intense expression boarded quickly and hurried to Kydd.

'M'sieur le capitaine?' he said in a low, nervous voice. 'Nous devons nous deplacer rapidement!' Then, glancing about, he exclaimed, 'C'est guerre! Le tyran a choisi de se deplacer contre l'Angleterre!'

Kydd went cold, and the agent continued. Napoleon had suddenly declared war himself on the pretext that Britain had not ceded Malta under the terms of the 1801 treaty. The news was not yet public but dispatches were being sent even now all over France—and the worst was that, contrary to the rules of war and common humanity, the First Consul had ordered the instant arrest on the same day of every citizen of Britain, including civilians, on French soil.

It could be days, hours or the next minute that the orders came, and when the origin of the unknown brig off Honfleur was revealed the guns would open fire. They were inside the ring of forts and in full view: the time to leave was now. But ashore there were desperate people who had made a frantic dash to the coast. Their only hope was Teazer. Kydd could not just depart.

'Every boat in th' water. We're not leavin' 'em to Boney,' he yelled, and challenged the seamen with his eyes. 'Do ye wish t' see the ladies taken b' the French soldiers? An' th' gentlemen cast in chokey?' There were growls of unease, but they came forward.

'Well done, y' sons o' Neptune,' Kydd said heartily. 'There's those who'll fin' reason t' bless ye tonight.'

The first boat returned. The sight of the packed mass of forlorn, wind-whipped creatures brought mutterings of sympathy from those still aboard who helped them over the side, but Kydd did not want to waste time in introductions and waited apart.

Poulden dealt manfully with a tearful hysteric while the gunner took the brunt of a tirade from a foppish young blade. An animated babble replaced Teazer's disciplined quiet until the first passengers were shooed below at the sight of the cutter coming with others. More arrived, including a tearful woman who had been separated from her husband, and an older man with a strong countenance who looked about watchfully as he boarded.

How much more time would they be granted? A muffled crump sounded ominously from across the estuary, answered almost immediately from the Ficfleur battery further up the river. A horrified lull in the chatter on deck was followed by excited speculation, then alarm as another thud was heard. This time the ball could be seen, the distant plume of its first touch followed by an increasing series of smaller ones as it reached out towards them.

'Send up th' signal weft,' Kydd ordered. There was no longer any doubt about French intentions: the news had got through and they must now know of Teazer's origins. 'Be damned to it!' he said hotly. 'Hoist th' ensign, if y' please.' They would go out under their true colours. 'Hands t' unmoor ship.' There was every prospect of the situation turning into a shambles; so many were away in the boats still, yet he needed men to bring in the anchor, others to loose sail.

'Silence on deck!' he roared at the milling crowd, as more boatloads arrived in a rush.

Where was the damned jolly-boat? Was Hodgson having difficulties disengaging from the other frantic refugees who, no doubt, had arrived? His mind shied away from the memory of a similar plight in Guadeloupe and he tried to focus on the present. One more thud, then another—shots from cannon ranging on them. Distances over sea were deceptive for land-based gunners but sooner or later they would find the range and then the whole battery would open up on them.

He needed time to think: most forts faced the wrong way to be a serious menace at this stage but that didn't mean Teazer was safe.

Any warship hearing gunfire and coming to investigate would end their escape before it began.

A ball skipped and bounced not more than a hundred yards away to screams of fright from those who had never been under fire before. Kydd knew they had to go—but should he wait for Hodgson? Send someone back for him? There was still no sign of the jolly-boat but to put to sea now would condemn both the officer and the four seamen with him to capture and incarceration— or worse. Could he bear to have this on his conscience?

In a whirl of feeling and duty he made the decision to leave.

He lifted his face to sniff the wind again; it would dictate how Teazer should unmoor and win the open sea. Then he realised that while he had worried over other things the wind had shifted westwards and diminished—the arc of navigability for a square-rigged vessel was closing. Already their entry track was barred to them; more mid-channel and tightly close-hauled on the larboard tack was the only way out—and be damned to the half-tide banks.

He sent a hand forward to set axe to cable as others loosed sail on the fore alone. Tide-rode and therefore facing upstream, Teazer rapidly began to make sternway, and under the pressure of full sails on the fore, and a naked mainmast together with opposite helm, she wore neatly around until able to set loose at the fore, take up close-hauled—and proceed seaward.

A ripple grew under her forefoot: they were making way at two or three knots, and with the current from the great river this was increasing to a respectable speed. They had a chance. Kydd trained his glass on the