Seaflower

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'Then sling the flowing bowl — fond hopes arise

The can, boys, bring; we'll drink and sing

While foaming billows roll'

Kydd sang lustily, enjoying the fellowship and good feeling. Luke brought another pot. The lad was growing, and now affected a red bandanna tied round his head like a pirate, with a smile that wouldn't go away. At the edge of the crowd Kydd noticed the wide-eyed young midshipman, Cole, and further away, the shadowy figure of the Captain, both drawn to the singing.

In the warm darkness something told Kydd that he would be lucky to experience an evening quite so pleasurable again.

Chapter 10

 

Captain Farrell returned from the flagship before ten the next morning, and immediately called the sailing master to his cabin. Overheard, the word swiftly went out.

'The Barbadoes wi' despatches?' snarled Patch, a privateersman. His shipmate, Alvarez, appeared next to him, his olive-dark face hostile.

Doggo glared at him. 'Stow yer gab, cully! Yer doesn't think the Ol’ Man is a-goin' ter let th' world know, now, do ye?' But Kydd caught his quick look: their tavern story might be recoiling on them, and gulled privateersmen would be hard to handle. 'Cap'n knows what he's doing,' he said harshly. 'Jus' be sure you does.'

'Haaaands to unmoor ship!' The boatswain's bellow reached every part of the cutter. Kydd cast off the beckets securing the tiller in harbour and tested the helm through a full sweep. It was his duty to take the vessel to sea, then when sea watches were set, he would take the conn and oversee the duty helmsman for his trick at the helm.

Strong running backstays were needed to take the massive driving force of the enormous gaff mainsail — two linked tackles were rove for this and, unique to Kydd's experience, the forestay had its own deadeye and lanniard secured to the stempost, both together in taut balance.

One by one, Stirk had Doggo and his party moving about the guns — six-pounders, a respectable armament for a mere cutter, eight a side and with swivels forward as chase guns. A cry from forward showed the anchor cable 'thick and dry for weighing' and Farrell, in full blues, consulted his watch. The anchor was a-trip. The Captain's arm went up, the saluting swivel forward went off with a spiteful crack and in the smoke both the foresail and mainsail rose swiftly, the steady north-east trades forcing the men at the main-sheets to sweat as they trimmed the sail to the wind at the same time as the waisters brought in the fore-sheets.

Seaflower responded immediately with a graceful heel, falling off to leeward momentarily before surging ahead. Kydd felt the rudder firm and, under Jarman's muttered direction, shaped course westerly to round the end of the Palisades. They slipped past the fortifications and the dockyard, then Port Royal itself, not a soul ashore apparently interested in their departure, and made a competent gybe to place themselves comfortably on track for the open sea. The jib was hoisted and conformable to the fair wind from the larboard quarter, her topsail was set. Seaflower quickly left the harbour astern. When they had cleared the hazardous cluster of cays to the south, they went about and headed along the coast for Port Morant.

Sea watches were set, and Kydd yielded the tiller to the helmsman. He took up the slate hanging on the side of the tiny binnacle and checked the course and details that the sailing master had scrawled. In this small ship he would have to maintain the conn himself — nobody to peg the traverse board, no marine to turn the sand-glass at the end of a watch.