not cheated out of our very nourishment, that the purser's pound is not sixteen ounces but fourteen? I could go on with other sore complaints, but can you say I am wrong? Do I lie in what I say?'
'Aye, this is true, but it's always been so.'
'And getting worse. You've seen this ship for yourself - the navy is falling into a pit of ruin, Tom, and there's no help for it. And because you've got uncommon good sense I'll tell you why.
'Has it crossed your mind, there's been petitions from sailors going up to the Admiralty crying out with grievances in numbers you can't count, and for years now? Yet not once have we had a reply — not once! Now, I've been on the quarterdeck, I know for a cast-iron fact these do get carried on to London. But they never get there! How do I know? Because if they did, then we'd be heard and we'd get redress.'
He let it sink in, then continued: 'You see, Tom, they're not meant to arrive. There are, up in London, a parcel of the deepest dyed rogues who have ever been, a secret and furtive conspiracy who have placemen everywhere, and live by battening on those who can't fight back - I mean the common seaman, who is away at sea and never allowed ashore to speak.'
Kydd frowned. There was nothing he could think of that said this was impossible.
'You doubt? I've thought long and hard of why it is that wherever we go in the sea service we always come on those who have a comfortable berth and leech on the poor sailor. Have you seen them in the dockyards?
Such corruption, and all unchallenged! The victuallers, sending casks of rotten meat, the merchants buying up condemned biscuit and selling it back at a price — how can they cheat so openly? It's because they're protected by this conspiracy, who in return receive a slice of the proceeds ...' He sat motionless, the intensity of his expression discomfiting Kydd.
'Now, Tom, whatever you think, this is the only logical reason for it being everywhere at the same time, and never being in danger of prosecution. My friend, if you can find another explanation that fits every fact — any other at all - I'd be thankful to hear it.'
Kydd looked away. It fitted the facts only too well, and he'd heard rumours of a conspiracy at the top. Was Fox right, that Pitt himself was as corrupt as any, that ...
'Ah, well, I have t' say, I've never really thought about it before, er, Dick. Ye'U pardon m' straight talkin', but c'n you tell me why you want t' be the one to — to—'
Parker stood up abruptly. 'Humanity, Tom, common humanity. How can I stand by and see my fellow creatures used so cruelly, to see them in their simple ways oppressed by these blood-suckers, their dearly won means torn from them, degraded to less than beasts of the field?' He turned to Kydd, his eyes gleaming. 'I have advantages in education and experience of the quarterdeck, and they have done me the honour of electing me their representative — I will not betray their trust.'
Moving like a cat, he sat down and faced Kydd again with the same intense gaze. 'Those brave men at Spithead, they gave the example, showed what can be done — we cannot let them down, Tom! They saw the injustices, and stood bravely against them. How can we let them stand alone? Are we so craven that we stand aside and take what others win by peril of their necks?'
'You ask 'em to go t' the yardarm—'
'No!' Parker said emphatically. 'I do not! Consider — the fleet at Spithead, Plymouth and now the Nore - all are now united, resolute. Does the Admiralty hang the whole fleet? Does it cause the army to march against the navy? Of course not. As long as we stand united we are untouched, preserved. If we hang back - but we did not, we kept the faith. And besides . . .' he left the words dangling, relishing the effect '. .. we now have word from Spithead - we have an offer. And it is for a full and complete Royal Pardon after we have had our grievances addressed.'
It was incredible: the mutiny had won — or was winning - an unprecedented concession that recognised . ..
'Now is the time! It is the one and only chance we will ever have of achieving anything! If we miss this chance . . .'
His forehead was beaded with sweat. 'At Spithead they know only their daily rations and liberty. They strive for more bread in port instead of flour; more liberty ashore; vegetables with their meat — this is fine, but we can see further. We know of the rats gnawing at the vitals of the navy, and we're going to expose them, force them into the daylight. We have to be sure the whole world sees them for what they are and howl for their extermination.'
Kydd was excited, appalled and exhilarated by turns. It all made sense, and here was one who was
