once things 'r' settled, like.'
'A merchant?'
'An' wants t' see the fleet, tell 'is frien's all about it.'
Renzi quaked in fear at the rough sailors.
The boatswain's mate grinned wickedly. 'If he's a merchant, he'd be smart t' shift 'is cargoes a mort sharpish - we're goin' t' be puttin' a stopper in this 'ere bottle,' he said, grandly encompassing the estuary.
'Yer what?' one of the fisherman asked.
'A blockade,' he said proudly. 'We got the ships, we got the guns. After we finished, nothin' swims 'less we say so!'
In the sleepy quiet of late night hoofs crashed on the cobbles at the back of 10 Downing Street. The messenger slid down the flanks of his panting horse,
grabbed an Admiralty pouch from the saddlebag and sprinted up the stairs.
A little later, the Prime Minister of Great Britain, in his nightgown, was reading the urgent despatch. 'Good God above!' he said, slowly lifting his eyes from the page. 'Merciful heavens! Toby! Toby, here this instant, you rogue!' The major-domo tumbled out on to the landing, blinking. 'The cabinet — all of 'em, a meeting this hour!'
As the man hurried off, Pitt went to the empty cabinet room and sat, staring. His servant came with his long coat, which he draped over his shoulders, and later a small carafe of port.
He was granted minutes of thought only before a confused babble began at the door, getting louder. They filed in, shocked into silence by Pitt's unkempt, wild appearance. He nodded a greeting to the most eminent, and raised the despatch. 'This news is the worst I have ever received in this entire war.' He paused, fixing his gaze on everyone present. 'I will tell you. In brief it is that the mutiny at the Nore has exploded in our faces.'
He glared contemptuously at General Grey as he continued, 'There were those who thought that left to itself, cut off from the land, the mutiny would in some way wither and die. The same assured us that we should have nothing more to do with them. Now they've called our bluff. We have it from an unusually reliable source in the Medway that the mutineers will deploy their recently augmented fleet to instigate a total blockade on the capital.'
He paused grimly. 'Why I have called you here is obvious. The solution, however, is not. General Grey?'
'Prime Minister, I — I don't know what I c'n say, sir. We've got 'em boxed in, troops on the northern shore, defence in depth on the banks of the Thames, but, sir, I beg to point out, we are up agin a fleet of ships, not an army.'
'So, no further suggestions?'
'I regret, no, sir. We're helpless.'
Pitt sighed. 'Lord Spencer? Can you offer us hope of a way out?'
'Prime Minister, there are no ships of force closer than the Downs and the rump of Duncan's North Sea fleet. Together they are easily outnumbered by the mutineer fleet, and even if we suppose that the seamen will fire on their brothers, I cannot be sanguine with respect to the outcome. The sight of our brave Jack Tars destroying each other .. .'
Pitt's eyes half closed. 'Then I take it that our combined wisdom has been defeated by a mutinous rabble? Is there nothing that can be done before they fall upon our lifeblood?' His words lashed into the silence.
Spencer muttered, 'I fear not, Prime Minister.'
'How long can they hold out? Have we stopped all victuals reaching them?'
Spencer sighed audibly. 'Sir, it is of no effect. If they are going to bail up the river, then they will have all the provisions in the world there for the taking.'
'Have they broken out, rioted, loosed violence in some way?'
'No, sir, they have always comported
