The Privateer's Revenge

implication if it was intercepted but be undeniably authentic.

For Kydd time passed heavily. Then a hurried note came from Robidou to the effect that one of the investors had raised a serious objection. To him as captain? It didn't say, but Kydd knew that Vauvert and Robidou were relying on his name as a daring naval officer to offset his lack of experience. Would this suffice?

Two nights later a letter arrived by hand of messenger. Kydd ripped it open. There was agreement: he was appointed captain, and expected at the office at ten the following morning for the formalities, which would include his acceptance of the initial articles.

Kydd called his friends: 'Rosie! Richard! Raise y'r glasses, please, t' Guernsey's newest privateer captain!'

'Hurrah!' Rosie squealed, hugging Kydd. 'A real corsair! How romantic! We'll come down to the harbour an' see you off on your voyage o' plunder and adventure. You lucky man!'

At Robidou's office he picked up the memorandum and articles of association that were the foundation of his future. It was strange to see before his eyes, in sombre, weighty phrases, the financial underpinning to nothing less than a voyage of predation—but then he remembered that he was a mere employee of the association, the captain of their venture but, nevertheless, a servant of the owners.

This became even more plain when preparation began on the articles of the voyage. There was dignified discussion concerning his emoluments but this was merely a form of politeness: his basic income would be no more than a bare wage. The incentive for captain and crew would be a share in the proceeds of any prize they might take. This was apportioned out and agreed at a five-eighths share to the managing owners, the rest to be distributed among the privateer crew. The captain would receive sixty shares, twice that of the officers; the boatswain, gunner and other valuable members half that again. The common seaman could expect anything from twelve to two shares in accordance with his worth to the ship.

That settled, there was the question of the conduct of the voyage. In the merchant service there were no Articles of War, no regulations or Admiralty Instructions as a comforting guide and sometime refuge from decision. On a merchantman, aside from the venerable customs of the sea, the captain stood alone to rule as he saw fit—and be ready to take the consequences.

There had to be something sturdy and bracing in the articles, however, as this was the only binding document for a seaman, who must sign them before the forthcoming voyage. For a privateer it was a particular case: carrying on the profession of war but within the structure of the merchant service. Under Robidou's advice, Kydd compromised on simple clauses that required obedience to lawful orders and refraining from insolence and disorderly conduct.

As to provisions touching on combat, it was no use to make appeal to King and country. There was but one simple equation: those who flinched in action or showed cowardly behaviour would forfeit their share in the prize. On the other hand the first man to board a resisting prize would be rewarded: six gold guineas for him and one each for the next six; no pillage to be tolerated.

The articles went on to other details: no extra privileges to officers save the captain; a week's wages in advance on signing and a redeemable ticket for shares immediately on prize condemnation; none to suffer loss of wages or prize money if put ashore with illness or injury caused in the line of duty; and all monies due a seaman to be payable within three months of the end of the voyage.

These were clear enough, for Kydd had been master of a merchant vessel before and the legalities of such documents as the Portage Bill, and others concerning the crew, were no mystery to him. He must have impressed, for Robidou sat back in satisfaction and grunted, 'An' if ye'll clap y'r scratch t' the articles we can get th' venture under way.'

The armateur pulled out a bottle of malt whisky and glasses. 'Here's t' your good health, Mr Kydd, an' may our enterprise be profitable.'

It was time to find a ship.

'Aye, I did get sight o' one,' Kydd said casually. 'She's alongside by South Pier. Name of Cheval Marin. Fine lines she has, trim an' well fettled, wi' a deck as'll take a line o' six-pounders—'

'The brigantine? About two, three hundred ton, a mite over-sparred f'r the Channel?'

'Aye, but not a problem f'r a cruiser.'

Robidou's expression hardened. 'Pray tell me, Mr Kydd, why do ye think she'll make a privateer?'

'Why, she has the size t' discourage valour and looks a simple merchantman well enough.'

'And where did ye say y'r cruising?'

'Gulf of Avranches t' Brest,' Kydd said defensively, remembering the two quarry he had seen from Teazer.

'Then ye'll need to think again, I believe. There's two things y' may have overlooked. The first of 'em is, in those waters they're all coasters close in. Shallow draught is what's wanted in chase through shoal waters, bigod, an' that's not y'r Cheval.

'Second is, have ye costed the barky? Three hundred tons, a hundred an' fifty crew—puttin' aside th' purchase price, what'll she cost each day o' sea-time? Disbursements in harbour dues, wharfage, repair an' maintenance? Add all y'r other outlay with this an' we come to a pretty sum. Now, how much do y' reckon a coaster prize will yield, figuring on a ready market but fees o' thirty per centum at the least? Not enough t' cover expenses.

'No, sir. It will not do. You'll be wantin' a trim coaster y'self, I'm thinkin', no more'n eighty ton, probably lug- rigged an' country built, a hold well enough f'r a prize-crew. Y' won't need storin' past a week or so at a time.'

Kydd's dreams of cutting the figure of a rapacious privateer putting to sea in a proud craft in search of booty were rapidly fading.

'I did see one as I'll allow is more t' my taste,' Robidou went on. 'In St Sampson f'r repair, a saucy lugger, just y'r size. You'll want t' see her first, o' course. Name o' Bien Heureuse, been in th' salt trade this last twelve-month, a common enough sight to the French.'

'What weight o' metal?' Kydd asked dubiously.

Robidou chuckled. 'A Frenchy coastin' craft won't have more'n swivels, so a pair o' small carriage guns'll be enough t' terrify him. If ye're crafty an' go quietly ye'll outsail any deep-laden vessel o' y'r own class, an' then it's how well y' board.'