McCarthy sidled round until he was behind Parker. He leaned forward and whispered hoarsely, 'Why don' ye settle him?' There was a scandalised pause until it was evident that no one was going to notice the provocation.
Parker crossed to the main-hatchway, gesturing unmistakably. 'Thank you for your visit, sir, we will not delay you further. Mr Davis!'
As soon as the admiral was clear of the ship, Parker turned on McCarthy. 'You lubberly knave! Do you think to destroy our reputation? Damned rogue!'
'Scrag the bastard!' Hulme shouted, and a dozen seamen threw themselves at McCarthy. Held by others, a halter was fashioned from a running bowline, and he was dragged forward along the deck.
Terrified, clawing at the tightening noose, McCarthy gurgled, 'What've I done, mates? What're yer doin'?'
'Let him go!' Parker shouted, but it had no effect. Stepping forward Kydd bawled at the leaders of the horseplay, but they obviously wanted their sport. Something snapped: he threw himself at the men, taking blows and giving them. Others joined in until the master-at-arms and boatswain's mates intervened.
'We gives him a trial first — a court martial,' Kydd snarled. They frog-marched McCarthy below to the Great Cabin and lashed him struggling in a chair.
'Court comes ter order,' growled Davis. 'Stands accused o' sedition.'
Parker arrived, breathless. 'You can't do this!'
'Guilty!' spat Hulme, who had taken a punch that had bloodied his nose.
'What are you about? This man—'
'Who votes fer guilty?' More seamen crowded into the cabin. 'Is there any who'll speak fer Charles McCarthy?' No one offered.
'It's m' sad dooty to pass sentence on yez, McCarthy. Are ye prepared?' The rope was produced again - but the sentence turned out to be one of transportation.
'Take him away!' He was thrown in a boat, turned out of his ship.
Kydd watched, brooding, but Parker was clearly nettled. 'At times I despair of the quality of these men's devotion to the cause we all share.'
The following day was sulky, grey and cool. Drizzle hung in slowly moving curtains over the Nore.
The morning wore on, but there was no word. Then a rumour came from ashore; it seemed extraordinary, but Admiral Buckner had been seen wandering about the dockyard, stopping any sailor he could find and urging him to persuade the delegates to submit; the Admiralty would never agree to terms.
'It seems apparent to me,' Parker said, 'that the cowardly knave has had his answer from their lordships, and is frightened to tell us.' His assessment seemed reasonable, and Davis went ashore to seek out the old man and find the truth.
The mutineer captain of Sandwich returned within the hour.
'So that's it,' Parker said, sitting suddenly. Davis remained standing, his arms folded. 'Did he give any hope of a parley?'
Davis shook his head. 'Nope. My feelin' is that he's got a cast-iron 'no' fr'm their fuckin' lordships, an' is too yeller t' tell us ter our faces.'
Parker stared at the table, his face grey. 'This I don't understand. At Spithead they talked with the delegates, the board came down to listen, they agreed their demands. Why don't they do the same for us? Why are we treated like lepers, criminals?' His voice tailed off in dismay.
'So what d' we do, then, Dick?' Kydd asked gently.
'Do?' With rising anger Davis pushed forward and said forcefully, 'We got a pardon not worth a brass razoo, no hope o' getting' our gripes heard, an' now no clear ways ahead.'
Parker raised his head. 'Possibly it might now be time—'
